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edendaphne · 4 years ago

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“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

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(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

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I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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hotpinkhoshi · 5 years ago

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kiss it better | two

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies, how are we all doing? life is weird right now. i hope you’re all staying healthy and sane. please take care of yourselves! regarding the chapter, thank you guys for reading the prologue and chapter one! i know it’s a more subtle and slow burn than the pact was, but TRUST ME it will allll be worth it in the end. oh, and i wanted to point out: if you were confused by chapter one, make sure you go read the prologue first! i had titled it “preview” before but honestly, it’s important that you read it before diving into the story.

✩ index here ✩

“No way! I loved that show. I was so sad when it ended,” you said, fingers ripping apart a second slice of pizza for yourself.

Mark grimaced, shaking his head. “Agh, no. The special effects were laughable.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those people?”

His deep brown eyes narrowed at you from across the restaurant booth. “What kind of people?”

You licked your lips and shrugged your shoulders. “You know… a snob.” You fought a smile.

Shaking his head at you, Mark chuckled, a low gravelly tone. “No, no. I just can’t do it. When I was in school, I wanted to work on special effects. I know it’s hard work, but I think that’s why I hate seeing people do such a half assed job.”

You raised a brow. “You wanted to do special effects?”

“Mm,” Mark replied, chewing his slice of supreme veggie pizza. “Played a lot of video games… still do, but you know, it was all I did back then. I wanted to be in the business so bad, so I thought about it. It turned me onto graphic design, which turned me onto art, which brought me here.”

You’d been at this pizza shop for nearly an hour and you hadn’t stopped talking since. It was so incredibly easy to talk to Mark, and you weren’t sure if it was because in some way, he reminded you of home. But in an unexpected way that didn’t make you sick to your stomach.

He was also far more interesting than you’d ever thought he was. You found it so impressive how he’d found his passion and fought for it, even if it meant he might fail. If there was something Mark had an excess of, it was passion. You could easily tell from just the first moment you asked him about how he’d gotten into tattooing.

“Wow,” you remarked, licking pizza sauce off of your thumb. “I never knew you were into all this stuff back then.”

“Well… when I graduated you were, what? Nine?”

You grimaced. You remembered the ungodly long graduation ceremony you’d had to sit through with your parents, all while wearing the most itchy velvet dress and tights. At the time, Taehyung had seemed like such a grown up. It was no surprise that you’d seen him as the shining Polaris to follow as you navigated through life.

“It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago,” you said, leaning your chin upon your hand. “Weird. I can’t believe you and Tae are so…”

“Old?” Mark finished for you, one brow lifted.

You bit back a smile, shaking your head. “I’d never say that…”

“It’s alright, you can say it. Every morning, I wake up and a new muscle is sore. They say your health starts declining when you’re 26, so you’re living on borrowed time.”

“Hey, I still have a few years then. Besides, you look pretty healthy to me. I mean…” Without realizing it, your eyes glanced down at his arms, the firm muscles and veins on clear display.

Maybe it was weird, ogling your brother’s best friend, when he probably saw you as his little sister. But you couldn’t help it… he’d really grown into adulthood. His face was a mixture of sharp features and round, doe eyes and full lips. It was only your body’s natural response.

“Thanks,” he replied and you noticed the tips of his ears flushing red. “Alright, are you ready to get out of here?”

You were grateful for the change in subject. You nodded, and with only a little shame didn’t even bother trying to pay for the meal. Funds were extra low now after that tattoo, and you knew there was no way Mark would even allow you to pay a dime.

Mark led you out of the pizza shop and into his car, where your natural flow of conversation continued. You learned that Mark and Dahyun had been at the tattoo shop for almost five years now, and Mark was essentially the head artist. He had worked hard to get where he was, starting as an apprentice and moving up the ladder.

It seemed as if he wasn’t the most social employee, though. He was friendly with Dahyun and the guys, but he didn’t talk about them much besides when referring to work.

As Mark pulled up to the address of the hostel you were staying in, you drew in a deep breath as you prepared yourself for another night of thumping bass and blasting machine guns.

“Thank you for tonight, Mark. I really appreciate it. And… the tattoo, obviously. I love it,” you told him, gathering up your purse as you reached for the door handle.

“This is where you’re staying?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

It wasn’t the prettiest building, no. It was sort of falling apart, but it was all cosmetic issues on the exterior. Inside, it was… acceptable. No air conditioning and the blankets sort of smelled, but it would do for now.

“Yeah,” you replied, hand hesitating on the handle. “It’s not so bad. The owner is kind of creepy, and my roommate sucks but it’s a bed. I don’t need much.”

Mark was looking at you as if he didn’t believe a word you said. You saw his jaw working as he stared at the building, then averted his eyes back to you. Slowly, he shook his head.

“You’re not staying there. Just… why don’t you come stay with me? I have a free second bedroom.”

You shook your head. “No, no. Mark, seriously. I’m fine. It’s really okay, it’s just a place to sleep,” you said, repeating the mantra you’d been repeating to yourself each day before entering the hostel. Honest to god, it sucked. But you weren’t about to mooch off of someone else - you were determined to be on your own and that meant you wouldn’t take any favors.

“Seriously, Y/N,” he started, his voice turning gravely serious. “It might be a place to sleep, but I can see the termites from here. Come stay with me.”

“Mark,” you said, voice equally serious. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll text you if I have any questions about the tattoo, okay?”

You reached for the door handle once more and this time, Mark just watched as you climbed out of the car, turning just before you shut the door.

“Thank you again. I mean it,” you told him, forcing a smile that you hoped looked natural.

Mark’s face was a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. He was still worried about you, but for now at least, he’d given up. He didn’t look pleased with you, either. His knuckles were white where they held the steering wheel.

He muttered a ‘you’re welcome’ before you shut the door.

Turning towards the hostel, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for another night in hell.

-- -- -- -- --

You woke up, as usual, with sweat dripping down your neck and a kink in your lower back. You groaned, twisting your upper body in an effort to stretch as much as you could in the tiny bunk. It was a shit hole, you could at least accept that now.

The owner of the hostel had a no-closed-doors rule, which honestly, you felt was a little bit suspicious considering the fact that the bathrooms were also co-ed. But things were different in the city, you figured. Maybe privacy wasn’t such a big deal.

There were people talking loudly in the hallway, an American couple having an argument that apparently, couldn’t have been held outside or maybe a few hours later. You had to work tonight, and you’d been hoping to get eight hours of sleep for once.

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, your head just shy of smacking into the wooden frame of the bed above you. You unplugged your phone, finding two texts from Taehyung, one from your boss, and six from Mark. You opened your brother’s first.

Taehyung [07:04am]: Y/N, it’s been a month already. Stop being a brat and go home. You’ve made your point. Taehyung [07:24am]: At least tell me where you are, please.

You sighed and ran your hand over your face, your eyes falling shut as you tried to push his words out of your mind. He didn’t get it - of course he didn’t. He’d spent his whole life as the star of the family, getting anything and everything he desired. Any dreams he had, he was encouraged to follow them, no matter how crazy they were. Why couldn’t that same kindness extend to you?

As you always did, you deleted his messages, but not without the usual tinge of guilt.

You opened your boss’ message next, which was just a photo of your next schedule. A ridiculous amount of hours, but at least you could make up for the money you’d blown on your tattoo.

Next, you opened Mark’s texts.

Mark [12:33am]: Y/N, I was serious. That place is a dump and you shouldn’t be staying there Mark [12:35am]: Just come stay with me Mark [12:40am]: Even just for a little while, a couple of weeks Mark [02:03am]: Seriously Mark [02:05am]: I can’t sleep because I’m imagining you being eaten alive by termites Mark [08:03am]: I’m outside. Call me when you wake up

You furrowed your brows, eyes flicking up to the current time. 8:07. He’d only texted you a few minutes ago, then. Hearing your roommate peacefully snoring above you, you slid out of the bed and rushed through the doorway, dodging the couple still going at it in the hallway.

Once you were in the common area, you called Mark. He picked up right away.

“Mark, why are you outside?” you asked before he even had a chance to say hello. You couldn’t quite hide the irritation in your voice.

You heard him sigh on the other end. “Are you really asking me that?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

You felt a breeze and turned to the front desk, where the owner was standing, his eyes shamelessly roaming your frame. He had a fan pointing directly at you, causing goosebumps to form on your arms and legs. Usually, you slept in more than just a tank top and shorts, but you hadn’t been able to deal with the heat last night.

“I’m not leaving until you come with me,” Mark said.

Turning away from the owner, you walked over to the front window, one finger sliding the curtain to the side so that you could peek out. There he was, leaning against his car while he stared up at the building you were in. He looked pissed, which further annoyed you. Why did he care so much?

“I said no,” you told him, your voice as firm as you could make it. Mark rolled his eyes, a subtle smirk to the side of his lips.

“And I’m not accepting no as an answer. Just get your shit and let’s go.”

You huffed in annoyance, letting the curtain fall closed once more. “Go home, Mark. You’re not my brother.”

Mark laughed bitterly on the other end. “You’re right, I’m not. Do you want me to call him? ‘Cause I will.”

“No!” you replied quickly, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t call him. Please.”

You were met with silence on the other end for a long moment before Mark replied. “Either you come with me, or I call your brother and tell him you’re staying in an infested hole in the ground. It’s up to you.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you opened your eyes, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t get why he cared so much, or why he couldn’t just leave you alone and go on with his life. “Fine. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Ten,” Mark said. “I’m hungry and I don’t feel like waiting that long.”

You rolled your eyes, not granting him a response before you disconnected the call.

Needless to say, you took your sweet time as you gathered all of your things, tossing them into your duffel bag without any sense of organization. You weren’t quiet, either, figuring it was only fair if your roommate lost a few winks of sleep after all she’d put you through.

By the time you were walking out the front door to the car, Mark’s lips were set into a deep frown, eyebrows creased as he watched you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re going to get wrinkles,” you told him, tossing your bag into the already opened trunk. “In fact, you probably already have some, old man.”

“The hell are you wearing?” Mark asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

You looked down at your clothes. You hadn’t taken the time to change out of your pajamas, simply because you were worried Mark would storm in if you took too long.

“It was hot last night,” you tried, tugging the hem of your tank top down. Mark scoffed and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, muttering something to himself that you couldn’t catch.

Once you slid into the passenger’s seat, Mark handed you an iced coffee. It was only slightly melted, and you had to admit, it was just what you needed.

“How did you know I’d come with you?” you asked, taking a sip while Mark turned the key in the ignition.

“What?” he asked, barely paying attention to you as he pulled out onto the street.

“You got two coffees. What if I said no?”

Mark glanced over at you, his lips pulled into a cocky smirk. “It wasn’t an option. If you said no, I was going to walk in there and make a scene until you came with me.”

It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the seat. You wanted to ask him why it mattered to him where you were staying, but at the end of the day you knew why he cared. Your mom had taken him under her wing when he was a kid, even if you were too young to remember it.

Your family had fed and clothed him when his parents were too drugged out to remember they had a child to take care of. In a way, you figured, Mark felt a duty to repay the favor somehow. Or maybe he was just a controlling asshole - you couldn’t be sure.

“I’m not a kid,” you said under your breath, leaning your head against the cold glass of the window.

Mark didn’t respond, and you had to admit you were grateful. You didn’t need one more person telling you you were too young to know what you wanted, too inexperienced to make your own decisions. That was how you’d gotten into this situation in the first place.

You finished your coffee by the time Mark pulled up to his apartment building. Compared to the hostel you’d just left, it was practically a five-star hotel. Nothing fancy, but from here you could tell all four exterior walls were in good shape and even that was an upgrade.

You got out of the car, grabbing your bag from the back seat. Just as you went to follow Mark into the building, he stopped in front of you and turned around.

“Look, I’m sorry if I was kind of an asshole. I just,” he paused to chew at his lip, scratching the back of his head. “I felt like I had a responsibility. To your family, your parents…”

Mark trailed off and you couldn’t help the guilt you felt in your stomach. You were still a child when Mark was going through the worst of it, but you’d heard enough from eavesdropping on your parents’ conversations to know they quite literally saved his life.

You swallowed, wanting to reach out, but you resisted. At the end of the day, you hardly knew him, despite the connection you felt.

“It’s okay. I appreciate that you care… I guess I was just determined to do this on my own. Without anybody’s help,” you admitted.

Mark lifted his eyes to yours. “Sometimes you need to let people help.”

Like I did. You heard it, unspoken, in his words. Maybe you could have done it on your own, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you accepted a helping hand from Mark.

“Fine,” you breathed. “But only for a few weeks. And I’m gonna cook and clean for you to earn my keep.”

Mark laughed as you brushed past him, shaking his head at you. “You don’t have to ask me twice. How about you start with breakfast? I’m still hungry, you know.”

#mark tuan #got7 fanfic #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan angst #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan scenario #got7 imagine #got7 scenario #got7 angst #got7 smut #got7

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tamcitrus · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful.

pairing: model!Satori Tendou x designer!gn reader

genre: little angst, friends to lovers

words: 1 k

warnings: insecurities? , suggestive language

tam's notes: I just want to love Tendou forever. Thanks so much to @breakingpengui1 for letting me use their art to show you how model!Tendou looks in my work. He looks like this:

You spotted a blur of red hair from afar. It belonged to a nice guy who was sitting on a table with some friends. You breathe in and out, slowly, and gather some courage to talk to him. You were determined to have a model.

"I'm so sorry to bother you! Hi, my name is y/n. I have a clothing line and I was looking for a model and I feel like you're the perfect person for it."

Satori was confused. He looked at Ushijima across the table, his face stoic as usual. Semi, who was also there for lunch, gasped.

"I'm not a model," Tendou said and smiled to the cute person that approached them.

"That's not a problem, it's just photoshoots. I'll leave you my card and you can call me when you decide! Or whenever," you smiled at him and gave him your card. It had your clothing line name and your contact.

After a few days of thinking and Ushijima telling him he had to call you, he did it.

And that's how he ended up modeling for you and how he became your friend. Today, two years later, you had an outside photoshoot to get some nice shots of your newest designs in the city. Tendou wasn't having his best day. He just cut his hair and you didn't know about it, so he was afraid of what you would say. Mostly because of the photos, not because he was afraid you didn't like him like this. No, you were his friend and his boss. He shouldn't be afraid of you not liking his new look.

"Tendou?" you grabbed him from his shoulders and observed him. Even when you were smaller than him, you always made him feel little.

"Ta-dá," he said and tried to smile.

Oh my god you hate it right? I'm so sorry, I ruined this, I understand if you don't want me to- his mind started racing to the worst scenario.

"I can't believe you look even better than before!" you hugged him and took his hand to guide him under the gazebo where you had your make up and a place for him to change. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," he took the clothes you offered him and went inside the improvised cabin you put together for him to use when you worked outside. "I wanted to surprise you!"

You laughed. He really liked when he was the reason you laughed. But also, he felt dumb. How could he fall in love with his boss? Yeah, you were his friend too but still. And he knew you were seeing a girl so there was no hope for him.

"What happened?" you asked when he sat in front of you to get his make up done. "Did you have a bad day?"

Your tone was sweet and caring. You worried about him. You cared about him. You knew how he still struggled with his appearance and what people said about him. And he was so nice, on the outside and inside. Tendou was the most beautiful person you met in your short life. You wished to have some way to make people look at him the way that you did.

His mind wandered back to that couple and his son that looked at him in the mall. The adults whispered shit about his looks and his hair and the little kid wouldn't stop looking at him while he was shopping. Not even when he kindly smiled the kid would stop looking at him like he was an alien. He was too conscious of himself after that and took the dramatic? decision to just cut all his hair off.

"Kinda. I wanted to not stand out so much," he smiled and closed his eyes. The feeling of your hands working on his face with brushes and eyeliner relaxed him. You relaxed him. He always felt safe with you.

"If you didn't stand out then I wouldn't have found you," you said before thinking it twice. "What if I lose you now? How could I find you without your fire hair?"

"I'll make sure to share my location to your phone," he stuck out his tongue to you.

"Please do it, I don't want to lose you... Open your eyes," you admired your work on his face and kissed his cheek. "You're beautiful, you know it, right? And people are shit."

He laughed. He had to thank that you put foundation on him or you'd be able to see his blush. "You make me look beautiful. And you're not shit, y/n-chan, you're great," he needed to avoid your gaze for a second so his heart wouldn’t beat out off his chest. He looked at your tall photographer friend and tried to not think about how close you were to him.

"Thanks, I'm glad you think that of me. Wanna know what I think of you?" you sat back on your chair, still close but not on his personal space. Not that he minded to have you that close but he just felt nervous today.

"Please," he smiled at you. You took the eyeliner again and he closed his eyes to let you work. He felt you body coming closer but never felt your hands on his face.

"I love you, Ten, and I want to be more than friends," you whispered on his ear.

He opened his eyes to see you sitting back in front of him.

"I thought… you were seeing someone…" Satori needed a second to think. "That girl from the other time…"

"Oh yeah, but no. She was behind my work, not me. And I didn't like her. I like you, since a lot time ago," you laughed.

"Y/n, we're ready to start," Asahi, your photographer and co-owner of the line, interrupted your moment.

Tendou stood up and followed Asahi to the door of the building where you wanted the photos. You and Asahi started to guide Satori on how to pose and where to stand. Two hours passed and you were done for the day.

"Do you need a ride?" Asahi asked after you put everything in the back of his van.

"No, that's fine, we're gonna take a walk around. See you tomorrow!" you said goodbye to your friend and he left you two alone.

You started walking in direction to a nearby coffee shop. Tendou followed you in silence. He felt the warm of your body just by walking to your side and his hand brushed yours. He laced his long fingers with yours shyly, without a word. You smiled and squeezed his hand.

You entered the shop and both ordered without letting go the other. When you picked a table, you took a seat in front of each other and finally let go.

"I like you too, not that I need to clarify that," Tendou smiled.

"It's nice to hear it. I was freaking out until you took my hand out there," you blushed and looked out to the street. "I meant what I said. You're beautiful and kind. I thought that since the first moment I saw you."

"You're too sweet, y/n," Tendou rested his chin on his hand and smiled at you.

"Yeah, you won't be saying that when you have to pay for our meal," you leaned in over the table and kiss him quickly.

"If you kiss me again I'd pay for anything you ask," he said, his voice playful.

"Oh, really? I could do more than that if you take me home after," you smirked and bit your lip.

"Are you challenging me, babe?" he squinted his eyes.

"Maybe... What do you say, pretty boy?"

Everything went silent as the waitress left your order on the table.

"You brought this on yourself, y/n-chan," he mischievously said.

You wouldn't have any sleep that night. But it was fine because you would finally be with the person you loved.

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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

Note

The bullies with an S/O that’s just completely off the board? Like no matter how much they look the bullies can’t find /anything/ on them, all their school papers are forged and their home just isn’t able to be found no matter how hard they look? Maybe due to the S/O changing their identity after doing something bad?

That's hella specific and I love it?? XD

Sure thing boo, let me see what I can do.

Also, I'll change the ocs profiles to be paper drawings with digital coloring because believe me boo, I'm tired of redrawing them (and I believe y'all are tired of always seeing these new drawings).

I noticed that my paper art is a lot better than my digital art, and although I'm kinda proud of them I still feel a little petty because I wish to do cool stuff on the computer ;-;.

Anyway, just a heads-up if you see something off with the oc's bios.

TW/Tags: I have no idea what to tag this lmao // identity theft // illegal/unauthorized inscription // not an accurate representation of university/how universities work lol // abusive household/abusive parents // I may or may not have changed your concept a little, I'm sorry for it 😔

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Suspicion (fuck yeah, I don't know what to title this) [Yandere!Bully OC x Reader - Headcanon]:

→Adrien Coldwell:

For a person that prides themselves as the "know it all" when it comes to people's social media and reputation, he doesn't know anything about you.

This is a first for him, which is both annoying and honestly so intriguing. You didn't strike him as a person who would hide any secrets, and he had a hunch this was about to be good.

He searched for social media first, not finding anything about Avery Remington. Well, at least nothing with your face on it.

However, he did find something very, very interesting while looking at the school's documents, specifically the archives of all the students that have already studied here. He honestly didn't think he would find anything about you in these old papers, he was probably doing all this stupid work for nothing.

However, he was half right and half wrong. He didn't find anything about you, but this whole search wasn't completely lost, as he did find "you", Avery.

"- Student name Avery Remington, average grades and apparently no history of wrong doings or any bad behavior in general. Their registration to the Academy dates to 1980."

Oh. Ooooh, this was rich.

"- Huh." He said closing the documents and letting it where he found it. He was at least kind enough to let the palace a little organize after going through each paper trying to find your name.

Well, "your name". The only things that he kept for himself was photos of both the old documents about Avery Remington, and the earlier documents about Avery Remington. It was clear that you did something probably really, really bad, and you know he'll take advantage of it.

He had built his own theory about this, as in: you somehow found the paperwork of Avery's registration and their previous school's records so you could somehow impersonate them and get a free entrance to this institution.

He knew that you had something to hide, no one can be so perfect. But knowing the action itself wasn't enough for him, he needed to know the motive behind it.

For someone that is lazy and doesn't bother to care about important things, he sure spent a lot of time trying to scoop some dirt on you. When he finds the perfect opportunity, without any witness around, he'll take the chance to use this information against you.

"- Well, hello "Avery"." His tone was already suspicious, his voice not hiding anything from you. He came here to belittle you for his own entertainment.

"- H-Hi Adrien." You said shyly, hoping that your anxious mind was wrong and that this was all just a misunderstanding. You were hoping that the growing feeling of him possibly knowing about your fraud, was wrong.

"- Ya know, I'm kinda jealous of whatever plastic surgery you went through to look so young, maybe you should ask the faculty to correct your age tho." He said while showing the pictures he took of the documents.

"- Wait! I-I can-"

"- Honestly, I didn't think you were over 60 years old! Could have fooled me." His smug face was the selling point. You knew that you wouldn't find any form to convince him that what was on his phone was false.

He had a victorious smile on his face. Ever since you entered this school you always acted a little too paranoid and almost too friendly for his liking, and to confess to himself that he has fallen for you would be the bottom of the pit to him.

Still, he wanted to know why you did it. Why didn't you pay to get in if you wanted the scholarship so badly? What, you were too poor for it?

And what about a talent, or the test? Obviously, the university hasn't gone out of their way to pick a loser like you and insert you inside their classes on a whim, as they thought you were Avery Remington, a student that is already registered in school's documents (yet, of course, their system haven't verified the date of the registration, either by incompetence or by a "small mistake"). So you didn't do the test too, simply pathetic honestly.

Your sad dramatic story explaining how you managed to get into the academy. You did your best to get into the academy by legal means, but they always rejected you. Apparently you thought it would be a good idea to use your grandparent's documents to squeeze yourself into the institution.

"- But why in hell would you do such a thing? Are you that pathetic dearest?"

"- I… I wanted somewhere to go. Somewhere I could grow into a better person, a-away from-" You cut yourself short when the memories of your old home started to come into view.

For some reason, your parents couldn't stand the idea of you getting into a decent university, if anything, they thought you weren't capable of even washing some dishes at the local pizzeria. In their eyes, you were worthless.

When you found out your grandparent used to frequent this institution, and that they managed to disattached themselves from their familial routes and thrive as a musician you got instantly inspired! Determined to follow their steps and prove your family that you're just as worth ass-

"- Urghhhh- Boring! I don't care about all of that. Are you serious? You committed a crime just so you could stick it up to your shitty parents?"

"- …. Yes?"

"- Huh. Geez you're cooler than I thought. Listen, how about we make a deal?"

The deal was simple, he would not tell anyone about your little secret, and he would even help you keep your scholarship and help you reach your ambitions as long as you started spending more time with him. Which, at first you thought it sounded absurd, this man is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give him attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Adrien was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Come on now, after this we can go eat something okay? Where would you like to go this time? Our last date I chose the best restaurant I know, so you better choose something of equal value."

…. Date?

→Alexandra Coldwell:

You were suspicious from the very start. Overly friendly and too- Ugh! Too cute?!

You were always skittish whenever someone called you. What, you had a problem with your name or something?

And the worst part was how no one seemed to know where you lived. Every group project with you was considered annoying by most of your classmates, as you never called people in your house or never let anyone have your address, not even your phone number??

You didn't have any social media, what are you, a weirdo? What the hell??!

She is not even pissed about you being a loser, she is pissed that she has fallen for someone like you! A complete weirdo that was always panicking over nothing.

She started stalking you with the intention of finding at least one thing that she could hate on you so she wouldn't feel so- Lovey dovey towards you!

But what she really found was something worth an entire gold mine.

A private phone call between you and someone who was losing their shit. She couldn't understand too much of the conversation as she didn't have any context, yet she could hear a lot of things that you and the person were discussing.

The person yelled [Y/N] multiple times while in the phone call, saying how you were absolutely the worst mistake of their lives (which by the way, rude much? Who is this asshole?), that you were a selfish brat that needed to learn to appreciate their hard work.

Oh… Oh. She now knows who you're talking with. She decided to record the entire thing the moment she saw you taking your cellphone to have a private call.

She was planning on recording your voice for her own hearing pleasure, but this? This was so… Interesting.

"- [Y/N]?" She called your attention after the conversation ended, and because you haven't been accustomed to people calling you "Avery", you turned around saying "what" instinctively.

And when you noticed Alexandra smirk for a split second, you regretted answering your parents call. Not that you needed anymore reason to regret it, but this was certainly the last nail in the coffin.

You begged for her to understand that you couldn't go back, you simply can't go back to them, ever again! You told her the whole sob story about how your grandparent had decided to run away from home and fulfil their own dreams as a musician, even if people didn't really hear their music all that much, and now that you think about it, that's probably the reason why no one have recognized their name at all.

Your grandparent had a really small fanbase, and you knew that because you were part of them. They weren't popular at all compared to Amaryllis Academy standards, yet they were happy singing their songs to the world.

You kinda wish your family hasn't broken the old recorder that belonged to your grandparent. Their first album was in there, it was cheesy and filled with errors, yet they sounded so happy when doing what they loved, and you wanted something like that for yourself!

You needed to live that hell hole and so you did. You rented a small apartment that was falling apart, the reason why you never gave people your address was because you knew they would bully the hell out of you because of how poor you are.

After finishing your story you noticed Alexandra snoring beside you. You thought she was only exaggerating, but then you saw her drooling and acting really dizzy after you woke her up.

"- Oh my God, so… That was it? You ran away to follow your dreams and stuff?" She asked, still kinda sleepy.

"- What? Of course it was-" You were fuming with anger, how dare she-

"- And I thought you only looked cool because I liked you! You're pretty strong for sticking up for yourself." She interrupted you, looking at you with admiration in her eyes.

She proposed to you a deal. How about you two keep this secret together, and, if anything does happen she'll still help you stay inside the institution. However, you'll need to work your ass out to become the best you can be, and you'll let her guide you through, because you're too much of a dummy to do it all by yourself. You'll have to spend time with her and let her help you out.

At first, you thought it sounded absurd, this woman is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give her attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Alexandra was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Why you never hold my hand? Come on, "Avery", won't you hold the hand of your dearest girlfriend?" She asked playfully while taking your hand anyway.

…. Girlfriend?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere bully #yandere twins #yandere oc headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere bully x reader #yandere bullying #yandere headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #yandere

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chemicallady · 4 years ago

Text

Dr and Dr Reid

Part I , Part II.

A/N : Hello everybody! It's me again with the second part of my Dr&Dr series! I hope you will enjoy it! If you like this idea, tell me something about it. If is too boring, I’ll moving on another subject ^^

Couple: Spencer Reid x Researcher!Reader

Category: little angst

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies and decomposition.

Summary: BAU is involved in a casa in Golconda, Nevada. Reader is an expert in tools' marks for the local FBI settlement and Spencer isn't aware of it.

*****

January 17, 2007

Golconda, Nevada.

After a seven hours trip by car, you are already done. God only knows how are you supposed to work after that. Nevada’s unpleasant weather is drying your lungs breath by breath, while you’re reaching the area under federal surveillance. Your supervisor have asked you to keep the tools’ marks on a dead body in order to determinate the object used on the victim because, if you will be lucky, you eventually use the results for an article or your thesis. If the Feds wont have any problem with that.

The point is that... Well. The victim is not like you have figured out. You are an expert on skeletal remains but in front of you there is a full torso, coverd in tattoos and with a huge wound on the top of the sternal bone. No head, no legs or arms but a lot of dead meat. The view is awful but the smell is the worst. It’s taking your breath away.

You put a hand over your mouth and apologise, but you need a moment. Leaving your kit under the tend, you move some steps along the path and start to breath slowly with your mounth. It's too hot for your first dismembered body, but you can't let go this opportunity. Some agents are already look at you with a glaze of pity and you can't accept it.

You are strong, you can do it.

Or at least you can try, you attended a lot of authopsy before.

Back to the tend, your supervisor is talking with an old man and an awsome guy, both with the FBI badge. You look at them while you're wearing your gloves and this beautiful, fit special agent keeps his sunglasses off and look back to you.

With a blush, you start to work. The coroner gives you the permission to take some photos and apply a paste on the cervical bone and on the broken omerous. You are waiting it to be dry when the two agents approce you.

《 Hi ma'am. I am Special Agent Morgan and this is Special Agent Gideon. Can you tell us which tool was used on the victim?》

《Ah-Well; I need some minutes more but I believe that is more that just one....》 you slow while you're speaking, looking at the guy who are join the party right now. 《....tool.》

Morgan follows your eyes and looks at Reid, who seems to be really surprised by your presence. 《Hi pretty boy, don’t be shy. We are speaking with the expert to find out what was used on this poor guy. She is... I am sorry, I didn't catch you name.》

Because he didn’t ask. You open your mounth to answer but Spence is faster. 《She is (y/f/n). She is a PhD candidate at UNLV.》

《You really know everything . , says a young agent, following him. She is a slim brunette, sassy. You like her at the first sight.

Spencer blushes, 《I met her several months ago.》 He is speaking like you aren’t in there with them and that piss you off a lot. Then finally he speaks to you directly. 《Hi (y/n). Is a pleasure to meet you again.》

You are speechless. 《Yeah, whatever》 you cut the conversation, took off the paste and look at the marks closely. You dont wan’t to meet Spencer’s eyes because the afternoon is too hot and dry to pretend to be nice on him and faking a smile. 《In my opinion the murderer used two tools for dismember the victim's body: a serrated knife and a hand saw. I can be more specific after a visual confrontation if you ask to》

《Thank you miss (y/s/n), you are really helpful.》

Morgan smiles to you and you answer as well, before rise up and go to your supervisor, ready to reach the morgue for working on that traces.

Gideon moves on the car and Spencer is left with Emily and Morgan. 《She hates you》, she says, with a smirk. 《What did you do?》

For the first time in a while, he seems speechles. «Nothing», is the short answer he gives to them. ‘I was an asshole’ would be the real one. Or at last, what he feels.

****

You hear that the criminal- the guy who is called Unsub by the FBI’s agents- had taken a couple of hostages before disappear again. One of them is the sceriff herself. Than, you recive a call from you supervisor, who ask you to go to another location in the nearby, supporting the BAU squad after they clean the scene.

«There are probably human remains involved. Go and check with Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner.»

You start to believe that maybe the FBI needs you or maybe you need the FBI if even the boss is so hot like Aaron Hotchner is. You are young and always look at the bright side, even while you are keeping humans ribs off a lot of handmade garden decorations and it’s so gross even for you. You love Halloween and macabre arts project, but this is too far.

And Spencer is here as well. The two of you don’t have a proper conversation since you have reached Golconda because both of you are working, but now, in the middle of the country side, while you are puking your guts out, on the burned grass of the garden, he is the one who offers help to keep your hair back.

This isn’t you first crime scene, but the best part of your job is working on cold cases, if it’s need. You are a researcher (almost), a lab rat, not an investigator. You are use to bones and sometimes mummies from the desert, not to the harsh smell of blood and rotten meat which infested the shed in the backyard. There is a surgical room and a body inside, but they saved the sheriff at least.

A light breeze is caressing your face and makes you feel better. You are greatful to Spencer when he offers a bottle of water to you.

«When the work comes to the lab it looks nicer», you tell him, receiving a soft smile in return. «If it’s true that I’ll never forget the first time, I’ll be ashamed forever...»

«You don’t have. It’s a normal response of your body in front of a situation which is fondamental -»

«Thank you Spencer. I approciate your scientific enthusiasm, but.... Chill out.»

You sit on the ground, tying your hair and keep a huge breath. «How’s going on?»

«Better. Thank you for the approciation Dr Reid. You should go back to work before your sexy boss notices that you are wasting your time on me.»

«I am not wasting-wait. Did you just say that Hotch is sexy?»

«Hell, he is.»

Spencer looks confused for a moment, after looking around him, maybe to spot the subject of the conversation. That gives you time to reach for a chewing gum on your pocket.

The silence between the two of us is really unpleseant, but you dont have nothing else to say. Is Spencer’s turn and he doesn’t disappoint you. Not at all.

«I know why you are mad at me.»

«Do you know, Dr Reid?»

He sighs. «Can you stop, please? I dont like when you are so formal with me, I believed that we had passed it.»

«Yeah, well. You’ve stopped answer my letters and phone calls without having the decency to give me a solid explanation.... So guess what? We hadn’t passed over anything.»

He lowers his head, aware that he is in the wrong. «I just.... My job is demanding...»

A small, bitter laught leaves your lips. «You really believe that you’re the only one in the world who actually has a demanding job? C’mon you can find a better excuse. If you cared, you’d answered. Aren’t you able to write a message? with... 3 bachelors and 3 PhDs?»

You’re being mean, you know that, but he hurts your feelings. You two had 3 intensive months of letter’s exchange. You wrote the first one a week after you got his address at the conference in Vegas. A four pages letter, in which you explained to him your PhD project and shared with him throughts and stuffs. He replayed with a 14 pages letter. That’s how it started. He told you about his mom’s issues, his scholar experience and how was growing up in Vegas. You shared with him your experinces, moving away from home, how your family is, how you are fond of cats and dogs. You talked about your own pet, with him ...

That’s how you two became intimate.

It escalated fast.

After a month, you gave him your number and the two of you started to call each others, first twice a week, than more and more. Even just to sei ‘hi’ and know about how the other feels in that specific moment. From you, it was enough to hear his voice to be happier.

He helped you in the bad days and made the good days better.

And you fell from him, because Spencer is a nice guy. At least, he looked like a nice guy untill letters and calls stopped. And he disappeared from your life in a couple of weeks. You hadn’t a news from him since ten days before Golconda’s case. The Destiny is involved for sure, because you believed that you wont see him again.

But there you are, sitting next to him. In silence.

Is too much for you. And no, he doesn’t know why you are so mad at him. You are mad at yourself, because you don’t let people in, usually. You were hurt so much in the past that know you are tired of being everybodies fooled.

Guys are nice ‘till they are not, your mom always says.

That’s true. Men are all the same in the end.

That’s why you get on your feet, taking away your gloves. You almost forgot you’re still wearing them. «I need to go back to the morgue. Bye, Dr Reid.»

«Is better this way. (y/n)», he says, in a rush. You look at him standing fast and you rise a elbow. No clue about what he is saying. «Maybe my job is not too demanding for me.. But it will be for you. Trust me. Is better for you not being involved with me... I wasn’t aware that our relationship could be that deep.»

«Relationship? We don’t have anything. This is so stupid and... Selfish!», you almost yell, angry at him because it doesn’t make any sense! You calm down when you feel a glaze on you. SA Morgan is looking at you two, but he immediatly turns away when you notice him. «Have a nice day, Dr Reid.»

He watches you helplessly as you walk away. «Dont say anything», the warns Morgan, who is approching him with a smirk.

«Can I say that she is on fire and you look dumb, pretty boy?»

Spencer sighs, scrolling his shoulders. «It’s a long story.»

«Yeah? Such a pity that we don’t have time. Gideon found our man, we need to move now», he says, before teasing Spencer a little. «You’ll have time for your love business after we close the case.»

«There is no ‘love business’, Morgan. We are... fine. Friends. I guess we were...»

«You sure? That little bird probably thinks otherwise», Mogan says, claps him on the shoulder.

Spencer sighs again, looking you in the car, waiting the coroner to go back to the morgue. For a second, your glazes meet, but you look so... deeply hurt. And he understands that- again- he makes a mistakes on another, just because he wants to preserve someone who is dear to him.

But yes, he has no time now, but he have to apologize to you. And he will.

As long as they close the case.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds ff #criminal minds x reader

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itllsetyoufree · 5 years ago

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i always had the best intentions, babe

Sam smiles at her. “Alright, Luthor. Let’s hear it.”

Lena winces, gaze dropping to the ground.

“I almost killed Kara tonight.”

OR,

When Lex's automatic kryptonite countermeasures nearly kill Supergirl, Lena's forced to accept the fact that despite how angry she is, she still has feelings for Kara. So obviously she runs away to Metropolis where Sam makes her talk about her feelings and gives her a damn hug in the process

Or, after 5x08 when Lex's automatic kryptonite countermeasures nearly kill Supergirl, Lena's forced to accept the fact that despite how angry she is, she still has feelings for Kara. So obviously she runs away to Metropolis where Sam makes her talk about her feelings and gives her a damn hug in the process

It’s late. She knows it’s late, but she didn't know what else to do. She had stumbled out of Lex’s hideout in a daze, chartering a flight to Metropolis and texting Sam before she’d even processed that she’d taken out her phone. By the time the plane lands, Lena’s pulled herself together, and by the time her car pulls up in front of Sam’s house, she’s already sent her pilot a case of champagne as a thank you.

The downstairs lights are on despite the hour, yellow light spilling onto the front lawn, and Sam opens the front door before Lena’s even out of the car. She leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed with a curious but tired expression on her face as she watches Lena walk up the pathway toward the house.

Lena wonders not for the first time in the last few hours if she’s overstepped, made a mistake in reaching out for Sam and showing up almost unannounced at who knows what hour of night. Anxiety pools in her stomach as she climbs up the steps, but Sam just smiles tiredly at her and pulls her into a hug so warm and familiar her eyes water.

She allows herself to sag against Sam, tucks her head into Sam’s shoulder, boneless as she exhales properly for the first time in hours. Sam is solid against her, strong arms all but holding her up, and Lena treats herself to it just this once.

“I’m sorry to keep you up and barge in on you like this.”

Sam gives her an extra squeeze and pulls back, holding onto Lena’s shoulders as she dips her head to catch Lena’s gaze. “I’ve been telling you for years that you need a hug and some therapy. I’m not going to scold you for taking my advice.”

Lena snorts, “You’re not a therapist.”

“No,” Sam says, stepping fully back into the house. She gracefully picks up an already poured glass of wine and hands it to Lena, and the rest of Lena’s anxiety melts away when she sees a fresh pair of folded pajamas and a pillow perched on the couch. “I’m not, but I researched a list of them for you while you were on your flight. It’s in your inbox.”

Lena glares at her for a moment but relents when Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

“Thanks,” Lena says quietly. She sips her wine.

Sam smiles at her. “Alright, Luthor. Let’s hear it.”

Lena winces, gaze dropping to the ground.

“I almost killed Kara tonight.”

Sam freezes, wine glass dangling precariously in her hand. She lowers herself slowly onto the couch. “I think I’m going to need a little more than that, Lena.”

“I didn’t- it wasn’t- it’s not-” Lena stops, frustrated, and presses her thumb into her eyebrow. She shakes her head and starts over. “It’s not how it sounds, not really. Can I sit?”

Sam nods, and as Lena sits she marvels at the open expression on Sam’s face, faith in her she’s not sure she deserves, faith she always thought Kara had in her.

“She- Supergirl chased after me at one of Lex’s hideouts and his defense systems almost shot her down with kryptonite cannons. I barely shut them down in time.”

“Lex’s cannons?” Sam asks.

Lena nods, then regales Sam with the events of the evening that she already wants to forget, and by the end of her story, she can’t place Sam’s expression at all.

“His countermeasures armed with regular missiles first, which I let fly, but when those didn’t faze her, they automatically re-armed with kryptonite and wouldn’t allow an override, and she just stayed there watching me with her hands up. She wasn’t even trying to get away, she just-” Lena cuts herself off, her throat feeling thicker than usual and her eyes filled with tears. She notices her wine glass is trembling in her hand.

“She just looked at me. Another second longer, Sam, and I-” she shakes her head and takes a large sip of wine to steady herself. She’s not sure it’s working.

“Lena,” Sam’s voice is soft, but her face is determined as she calls Lena back from her thoughts. “You didn’t nearly kill her. To me it sounds like you saved her.”

Lena snorts. “If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have almost died in the first place.”

“Don’t you think she could have left when you, I don’t know, fired an actual missile at her?” Sam looks at her incredulously. “Wasn’t that a big enough hint? And don’t you think she could have flown away when she saw the kryptonite instead of just standing there waiting to be shot at?”

“She probably had a whole superhero speech prepared that she didn’t want to waste,” Lena rolls her eyes.

She lets out a long breath, staring down into the dregs of her wine. Then she shrugs, the snark draining out of her. “I can’t get that image out of my head, of her with her hands up just looking at me and waiting for me to gun her down with the only thing that could actually hurt her.”

Lena breaks her stare with the bottom of her wine glass and looks up at Sam, eyes pleading.

“You’re not a bad person, Lena,” Sam says softly, grasping Lena’s hand. “You didn’t program Lex’s defense system or set it to automatically shoot down Kryptonians. You stopped it from firing.”

“Yeah, the second round,” Lena scoffs, rolling her eyes at herself. “I actively deployed the first round. What am I doing, Sam, firing military-grade missiles at my best friend?”

Sam turns, facing Lena fully on the couch and leveling her with a glare. “When you know military-grade missiles wouldn’t even bruise her?”

Lena drops her gaze. She picks at a feather sticking out of the couch until Sam bats her hand away.

“And when she ripped your whole world to shreds and didn’t even have the decency to tell you about it?”

Sam is looking at her with a raised eyebrow, and Lena allows the corner of her mouth to quirk up in acknowledgment. “All that world-ripping, and the only thing I’ll let myself do back is yell at her.”

“And fire a couple missiles at her,” Sam says cheekily, a small smile spreading over her face.

Lena lets it cheer her up for a moment and smiles back, waving her hand dismissively, “Oh what does she care? Couple of gnats buzzing around.”

Sam snorts. Lena sobers, “But the kryptonite cannons… my heart stopped.” Lena trails off into a whisper.

Sam nods, “It would have killed her.”

“It would have killed her,” Lena agrees. “And she would have let me.”

They’re quiet for a moment, sitting together on the couch. Lena pours herself another glass of wine and downs half of it.

“A big part of me wanted to hurt her, Sam, maybe still does. But not like that, I could never-”

“I know,” Sam cuts her off.

She’s looking at Lena strangely, searching her face, and Lena steels herself.

“That’s not the only thing I wanted to say,” Lena whispers. “That’s just the background, really.”

“Shooting missiles at your best friend is just the exposition?” Sam teases, trying for levity, but she sobers at the look on Lena’s face.

“I, um,” Lena takes a deep breath then, glancing at Sam before looking around the living room to distract herself. She sees pictures of Ruby and Sam together, books, an unfinished art project, a photo of herself and Sam from Alex’s birthday party. “I think you probably know all of this already, but just let me say it, okay? I need to say it out loud.”

Sam nods.

“I love her.”

Sam’s expression softens, and Lena’s heart thumps wildly in her chest. The tips of her ears burn hot when she exhales shakily. “And yes, she did rip my world to shreds, but she also broke my heart. I think I broke hers too, but it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.”

Lena sighs, digging the palm of her hand into her eyebrow. “I thought I was past it because of all this. I’m so disgusted,” she pauses to gulp down the rest of her wine and sets the glass down a little too roughly, “and hurt and betrayed. Again. I was so sure that I hated her, but I don’t.”

She looks up at Sam wearily and then closes her eyes, resting her forehead in her hand. “She could have died tonight, and I’m in love with her.”

When Lena doesn’t continue Sam nods to herself absently, “I may or may not have figured a lot of that out already.” She says it with caution, watching as Lena uncurls herself and leans her head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

“I know,” Lena murmurs. She lets her head roll to the side to look at Sam. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sam blows out a breath. “There’s nothing to do but give it time,” she says quietly, “and when you’re ready, if you want, let her explain herself.”

Nodding once, Lena slumps into the couch and curls into herself again, but Sam stands and holds her hands out. “None of that. C’mere.”

Lena lets Sam pull her up and falls into her arms. Sam grips her tightly, and Lena indulges in the way it melts away the nervous tension in her stomach. “You are not a villain, Lena, not even close. All you do is good” Sam says to her, rubbing a hand over her upper back. “Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”

“I needed that,” Lena whispers as Sam lets her go. “And thanks for… everything.”

“Anytime,” Sam gestures at the pajamas on the couch. “Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning. And Lena… we’ll figure this all out.”

She waves goodnight as she heads up the stairs. Lena watches her go, a warm, content feeling settling into her bones as she snuggles into the couch and reaches for her phone. When she unlocks it she finds an email from Sam, a list of half a dozen therapists with a copious amount of notes and commentary from Sam staring back at her from her phone screen. Rolling her eyes affectionately, Lena pins the email for the morning and goes to bed.

#supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #supercorp #kara danvers/lena luthor #kara x lena #lena luthor needs a hug #fic tag #mine

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nexmakesquestionablefics · 4 years ago

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Dash wants to romance Phantom and he should do it - Chapter 1

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Tags: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, Kwan, Fluff, ship, Danny is an idiot, hurt/comfort, angst, dating, secret exposed

Summary: Dash had a big secret: he was a hopeless romantic. Taking that a step further, he was hugely pansexual. Put those together and you had a big idiot that had lots of love to give, but nobody to spoil with it. What else could he do but fall hard and fast for Amity Park's hero, Danny Phantom?

you can read it on Ao3 here, along with several new chapters, but otherwise i figured i should get this tumblr running properly and i figured why not do it with a ship fic

Dash Baxter had a terrible, horrid, mind-blowing secret; probably the biggest secret in all of history. The truth is, he was a giant sap. Furthermore, and perhaps worse, he was an absolutely hopeless romantic.

He watched the romance channel every night, eyes glued to the screen with his chihuahua, Pooky, sat in his lap, gazing with the same rapt attention as his owner. It was his favorite time of the day, when he could go home and be himself… well, sort of. His parents would definitely skin him alive if they knew about what he fantasized about (cruises in the moonlight… wide-blown confessions… desperate tears as his lover is begged to stay…). They probably wouldn’t appreciate his sexuality much, either, which he’d figured was pan at this point.

And here was where the main problem cropped up: when Dash fell for someone, he fell hard. Snap his nose, shatter his skull, brain oozing out the ears hard. To make matters worse, he just happened to be attracted to the one man literally all of Amity Park was after as well- Danny Phantom.

Everybody else just wanted Phantom because he was a hero, Dash was sure, but there was so much more to the teenage hero than just the heroics (even though they were fucking amazing!). For instance, the way he grinned after finally beating down a stubborn ghost and it seemed to light up the sky. How he went cackling into a battle at his own horrible jokes. How his hair fluffed cutely when he slowed down to land. How his eyes literally shone with determination and bravery.

Suffice to say, Dash could go on for hours.

Phantom was strong where Dash was weak, brave where he cowered, and beautiful where he was rough.

It was honestly pathetic how badly Dash swooned for the ghost.

---

Dash slid in beside Kwan at their usual table; they were the first ones there, and simultaneously glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

“So I got the pictures,” Kwan mumbled, sliding them over face down like some sort of shady dealer.

“Thanks, Kwan. I knew I could count on you.” Dash palmed the photos and tried to discreetly look at them under the table. Looking back at him were several snapshots of Danny Phantom in the middle of battle; most stunning was the one where Phantom was inches from fucking roundhouse kicking some ghost in the face.

“I thought you’d like them,” Kwan said, a little too smug, having seemingly have seen some reaction in Dash’s face, “they were in super high demand when I got there.” He sighed, looking over Dash’s shoulder at the pictures, “Phantom’s just so damn flexible… ”

“Imagine all the spider-man kisses…” he mumbled without thinking, but Kwan just sighed in sympathy.

Kwan was the absolute one and only person he’d ever told about the whole romance thing. Dash had been worried he’d laugh, but he was his best friend. They’d both been sat in front of the tv watching the romance channel within the hour. He couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

Finally, the other A-listers began to join them, so Dash tucked the pictures away and settled into the routine of gossip.

---

It’d been a long, long , wait, chocked full of flustered planning, working part time jobs, and reciting, but Dash finally had everything ready to confess.

To fucking confess!

“I’m gonna throw up,” he told Kwan through the bouquet of flowers he was clutching to his chest.

“No you’re not,” he reassured, “you know why?”

“Why…?”

“Because Danny Phantom is waiting for you!”

“...No he’s not? I haven’t told him yet.” Was this some kind of metaphor? He didn’t get metaphors.

“Huh? No, I meant, uh…” Kwan visibly struggled to salvage the conversation, “I meant kinda figuratively? Like… he’s waiting but he just doesn’t know it yet?”

Dash scratched his head, “I guess…?”

“...Whatever,” Kwan flapped his hands at him, shooing him toward the door, “go get in position and I’ll track him down, okay?”

“Alright. Good luck out there!”

“You too, Baxter,” Kwan called, waving optimistically over his shoulder.

Dash took a deep breath in, then out, both ways trembling, before finally turning and jogging off to the confession site.

---

If everything went right, the plan would go as following: Kwan tracks Phantom down after a fight and asks him- begs, if necessary, that the ghost come to Amity Park’s gardens for ‘something important.’ There was a trail of roses at the entrance, leading deeper in until it came to the secluded spot that Dash sat waiting on one of the fancy benches, wearing one of his Dad’s fancy jackets and his best clothes. Dash would stand, give him, the bouquet, and then his speech… and ask him out.

In theory it was fine… but now that he was here, it felt like he was gonna pass out. He went too far, didn’t he? The trail of roses was too much- way too sappy. And what the hell kind of bouquet was he even holding!? He’d tried to use flower meanings to his advantage, but now it looked like all the colors were clashing. There was way too much. It was actually kind of heavy- or was that just his nerves? Dash lowered the bouquet to rest in his lap and wiped his forehead with his forearm.

Oh god, was he going to sweat through his clothes? Was he about to confess to his only love while there were growing sweat stains under his pits? It was about time to call this off; it was fine, they could reschedule, Phantom popped up several times a day and-

Dash flinched as his phone buzzed in his pocket, alerting him to a text from Kwan. ‘Hes coming ur way!!!’ it read.

Dash scrambled to make himself look halfway decent, sitting ramrod straight on the edge of the bench. A second later he smacked himself and leaned back, trying to look confident. He threw his arm over the back of the bench, but second guessed it after remembering the sweat.

Just be polite, he snapped at himself, before settling back with his hands in his lap, bouquet leaning against his chest.

He liked it when the characters in his shows were nervous to confess, but absolutely hated it for himself. How did they deal with this?

Dash waited for about another five excruciating minutes before he caught a bit of movement in the corner of his eye and saw Phantom coming around the corner- he hadn’t even heard him coming, oh god.

The A-lister stood, quickly smoothing down his clothes. Phantom seemed to have been collecting the roses as he went, now holding a small handful of them close to his chest. There also seemed to be a nasty looking bruise on his neck, just barely visible thanks to the high neckline of his suit. When the ghost finally looked up and saw Dash having an internal crisis a ways away, his eyes went comically wide (actually that was really cute…).

“Phant-om,” he began, his voice cracking on the very first fucking word, “uh, first of all, I’m really, really happy you could meet me here. Second…” Dash trailed off; his nerves were frying his memory. He saw Phantom take a breath to speak and panicked, quickly thrusting the bouquet toward him. “This is for you!”

The ghost fumbled it for a second, what with already holding the other flowers he’d picked up along the way. The bouquet looked huge in his hands; it also looked prettier in his hands. Less child’s-hateful-crayon-art and more graceful-rainbow-over-the-sea.

Dash tried to take a steadying breath and spoke softly, “so I know you definitely have a lot of admirers… like a lot a lot, but… I decided that I couldn’t live without- that I couldn’t go on without at least trying. ” He felt a hot wash of shame at the slip up, but he couldn’t stop now, “I-I see you fight and you make me brave, I see you smile and my whole world lights up. You’re just- you’re beautiful and amazing and- and…” Dash finally made eye contact, remembering that confidence in these situations was important, when his mind blanked. Oh god- oh god- Phantom was blushing a green glow. That was kinda weird- actually nevermind- that was fucking adorable.

Phantom glanced away and laughed nervously, “Dash, I uh-”

“W-wait, let me finish,” he cut in quickly, in a bit of a panic, “please,” tacked unhelpfully onto the end. Phantom shifted awkwardly, but nodded; Dash would have missed the way he held the flowers a little closer to him, if not for the subtle crinkle of their wrapping.

He huffed and forced himself to continue, “the- the point is! ...It’s…” the script was a mess at this point… “it’s that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know and… I want you to go out with me. Please. I-...” he nodded with finality, blushing madly. He’d botched that so bad. He screwed up, hadn’t he? Oh god… Kwan was gonna be so disappointed in him…

Phantom took a deep breath and shifted the bouquet to one arm so he could rub the back of his neck. “...I, uh,” he began after awhile, “I really, really appreciate this, but,” Dash’s heart sunk in his chest- more realistically, actually, it hit the bottom of his stomach with a loud clatter. Phantom must’ve heard it, because he quickly went on, “a relationship with me of all would get really complicated really fast. I, uh, I don’t wanna pin that on anybody. Especially not you. Dash. So…”

Dash blinked stupidly for a second. “...You mean the ghost fighting? I know- I know! A-and I’m prepared for that! I thought it all out- you could go out and fight ghosts, no problem, but when you’re done, I’d be waiting for you back at home!”

Phantom gave him an odd look, “...home?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dash fumbled, suddenly embarrassed again, “I figured you lived in the ghost zone or something and that you could just come to my place whenever we wanted to hang. ...That! Also! Solves the whole thing about you being super famous and all, y’know?” Dash began gesturing wildly, his nerves getting the better of him at this point, “you don’t even have to tell anybody we’re dating! I know everybody’d be super pissed if you did. This whole thing can just be our little secret!”

The ghost winced before he could cover it up, “about secrets… there’s a lot I can’t tell you. About myself. About ghosts. It’s just… Dash. You’re- you’re a great guy and all, but… a relationship with me would seriously be a bad move.” Dash was about to cut in, but Phantom talked over him, “can’t you do better than a secretive, dead guy, who fights other dead guys for a living? Your still in highschool. Uh, aren’t you? So- so at the very least, go and like… be with somebody that can actually contribute to the relationship.” He shrugged awkwardly, “or, I dunno, marry some rich dude and ride out life with money instead. Whatever suits you.”

Dash saw his chance and snagged it with both hands, “ you suit me,” he blurted.

Phantom gave him a look and Dash would’ve fainted right then and there if it weren’t for the telling blush that came with it (those piercing green eyes could give grown men heart attacks, honestly).

“That’s not- ugh. Dash-” Phantom huffed in frustration.

“No! Okay, listen up, Danny Phantom,” the ghost seemed to twitch at the use of his full name, “I think you’re fucking amazing! I’ve been a huge fan since you just started out saving people. And the day that we both got shrunk super puny and had to run around a lot- that was really really tiring, but not the point! That was the best day I ever had!” Was he shaking? He was definitely shaking; he was practically yelling at Amity Park’s hero to date him. “There’s nobody else that I would even dream of being with other than you! I- I’ve…

“I’ve fantasized this moment a thousand times.” Dash swallowed thickly and deflated. “And I just… it would make me so happy if you agreed to go out with me.”

Phantom looked terribly conflicted- maybe even a little dazed. The longer Dash looked at him, the more he started to notice how banged up he seemed. Oh, right; Kwan had pulled him right out of a fight, without even giving him a chance to go rest up. Dash was swamped with a sudden guilt- Phantom had dragged himself way out here to listen to his blabbering while all Dash had been worried about were sweat stains and color coordination… oh god.

Quickly, Dash began patting his pockets, some of his nerves finally falling away now that he realized how bad he’d fucked up. He pulled out an antiseptic spray and bandages before offering them to Phantom. “I’m so, so sorry- I didn’t think you’d actually be, like, hurt hurt…”

“What? It’s fine, it happens all the time, uh…” the ghost awkwardly set the bouquet on the bench (very gently…) and took both items.

Shit, the ghost. “Wait, do ghosts even use that stuff? Dammit, I’m sorry…!”

“Again, it’s fine, chill. Just… why do you carry these around with you?”

“...Uhhh-”

“Duh, nevermind, most haunted city in America. My bad.” Phantom devolved into mumbling as he tore off a bit of bandages and reached below his neckline to press it, presumably, to his collar bone. When he pulled back, the bandages were dripping with green. He tore off more and repeated the process.

Dash watched for a moment before the guilt finally overtook and any hope of romance steadily fell away. He shuffled to the bench and sat down with a long sigh. “You can keep those. And… and you don’t have to answer all my earlier stuff. Not now- and… well, I guess not ever. ...Though I doubt I’ll stop coming to your fights.”

Phantom watched him warily for a second before floating to the bench and sitting down as well, leaving the bouquet to rest between them.

This is where there would be some beautiful parallel drawn between love and their relationship or some such, but Dash sucked at poetry and he wasn’t anywhere near smart enough to make metaphors on his own. So he just looked around the garden while Phantom dealt with the wound.

“...I didn’t take you for the romantic type…” the ghost mumbled after awhile.

Dash found his face flushing slightly, “uh, yeah… it’s sorta my secret.”

“I didn’t take you for being, what, gay? Either.”

“I’m pansexual,” Dash watch the collection of wadded bandages glow a collective, soft green, “and yeah… I guess that’s my other secret. I’m part of the A-list at school- they’re the best of the best. Cream of the crop. We’re the cool kids. The best- ”

“I get it,” Phantom huffed, but didn’t seem upset at all.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, I’d definitely get kicked out of the A-list if they knew about this stuff… well, my best friend knows, but he’s cool.”

Phantom hummed and they fell into silence. Dash felt like he should be apologizing, but he didn’t want to ruin this more than he already had. It’d just be a broken record anyway. He sort of wanted to go home and try to forget this ever happened (a lost cause), but he didn’t want to just ditch Phantom after all he’d suddenly sprung on the wounded ghost. That would just be downright unforgivable. Could he walk Phantom home? Was that possible?

Just when he was working up the courage to ask, Phantom spoke first, “what would you even want out of dating me?”

Dash blinked owlishly at him, though the ghost wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Uh, duh! You? I already said all that stuff about you being super cool and heroic and awesome and pretty, didn’t I?” Phantom seemed to choke a little at that last one; he’d have to remember that. “I just wanna get to know you and, like, do stuff with you and… y’know! Dating stuff! We could watch movies together late at night, we could kissss? We could, uh, share food, share stories, just… date! We could make each other happy and all that.”

Phantom seemed to visibly flounder for a long moment, having set aside the bandages in favor of resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. A scowl slowly stretched across his face until, finally, he groaned and leaned back into the bench. “...Y’know what,” he mumbled.

“What,” Dash parroted, even though he was pretty sure that was rhetorical. For some reason, his heart was pounding again.

“...I’ll date you,” Phantom mumbled, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

A grin broke across Dash’s face, but he had to slap a hand across it before he squealed in front of his crush like an idiot.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fic #phic #dash/danny #danny/dash #danny fenton #dash baxter #took me literal months just to make my first actual post #not a great start but it's fine

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all-things-skam · 5 years ago

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Title: Darkroom kisses

Ship: Wtfock | Robbe Ijzerman + Sander Driesen (Sobbe)

_______________

Truth be told, Robbe wasn't interested in the dance performance in the slightest. Sitting in uncomfortable chairs for over two hours to watch girls - and boys, as Noor had mentioned - shaking their body on stage sounded like a snoozefest to Robbe.

But, he still went. For the boys...and their future hook up.

And for Noor, of course.

Talking about her, Robbe should've probably been more supportive of his girlfriend and brought flowers or something, but he was broke and flowers were overrated. Why spending so much money on something that's going to die in a couple days?

He chewed his lip thoughtlessly as he took his seat beside his friends. The brunet wasn't looking forward to this and he'd rather be anywhere else but in this auditorium, but at least, moment in time, coming to this performance appeared to please both Noor and the boys.

When they first heard about the dance performance, Jens, Moyo and Aaron were so excited that Robbe had absolutely no way of getting out of it. He thought about faking being sick for a second, but knew that Jens would never buy his lie - not without checking.

The lights went down and the performances started one by one, Aaron practically squeaking in his seat, way too excited to watch girls dance. Moye tapped Robbe's arm, motionning at some brunette doing moves, but Robbe's attention was anywhere else but on stage. He looked around, letting the boredom creep in. Can this spectacle be over soon?

A duo of girls stepped on stage with tutus and heavy stage makeup as Robbe broke a yawn.

''Dude,'' Jens hissed, shaking his head at Robbe who shrugged.

''Sorry...''

Their attention returned to the stage, trying to focus on the ballerinas when Robbe felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He pulled it out despite knowing it was rude to check your phone during a performance, lips twisting up when reading Sander's name.

Sander: Meet me at the back of the auditorium

Glancing around, Robbe tried to look for Sander's platinum head. He knew he was there, being in charge of taking pictures of the spectacle, but Robbe couldn't see him.

Biting his lip, Robbe hesitated. According to the little pamphlet they had given at the entrance, Noor's performance was next and Robbe knew she'd be mad if he missed her dance performance. But, at the same time, the raven haired girl wasn't the one who made his heart do crazy things.

Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Robbe stood and nudged Moyo's knee so he could pass. Jens pulled his eyebrows, about to ask where he was going, but Robbe was already sneaking out of the auditorium.

''Sander?'' Robbe called, the heavy door flapping shut behind him.

Instead of a response, he was greeted by a camera flash, Sander's grinning face behind the device.

Robbe groaned at the harsh light of the flash, rubbing his eyes as if to stop seeing spots of colors. ''Stop taking pictures of me...''

Chuckling, Sander rolled his eyes. ''Never,'' he countered, his clear green eyes staring right into Robbe, causing a little blush to creep. Click. He was just too pretty not to photograph.

''Stop,'' Robbe dragged, using his hand to cover his face, shielding himself from the camera. Despite his attempt to sound annoyed, a smile was hidden behind his hand.

Sander dropped his camera, letting it fall on his chest. ''Let's go,'' he said with an undeniable grin.

''What?'' Robbe asked hesitantly, giving Sander a confused look.

He glanced around, checking his horizons and, once he ensured that no one was around them, he let his eyes wander back to Sander.

''Come.'' The blond grabbed Robbe's hands and pulled him along, determined to get them away from everyone, trying to be alone with Robbe.

''Where are we going?'' the smaller one asked as he followed Sander down the hall.

''Somewhere secret.''

Sander came to a halt in front of a black door, almost causing Robbe to hit his back at the sudden stop. Looking up, Robbe noticed a tag on the door: Darkroom.

Sander reached into his pocket to fetch a key, making the brunet even more confused.

''Are we allowed in here?'' Robbe asked, worried that they'd get in trouble.

''I am.'' He inserted the key in and twisted it to unlock the door. ''The janitor gave me a double of the key. I think he was annoyed to have to stay past his work hours whenever I stayed here late to develop photos.'' A light chuckle left his lips at the anecdote.

Sander rolled his eyes, seeing that Robbe still had an unsure look on his face and nudged the door open, flashing him a grin and motinning for Robbe to follow. He turned on the light, the red tint of the bulb tinting their faces.

''Welcome to my crib,'' Sander joked, imitating the infamous MTV quote as he Robbe closed the door behind him, preventing any outside light to get in. Robbe might not know much about photography developpement, but he knew that light ruined the photos.

At first Robbe was taken aback. It was his first time going inside a darkroom and, he'll admit, he was mesmerized. Containers, chemical bottles and other developing equipment were neatly placed on the counter by the sink. A string was hung across the walls, pictures pinned to it.

Robbe stepped forward and took a closer look at the pictures. ''These are yours? You took them?''

''Yes.''

Sander felt his heart flutter at the smile on Robbe's face as he inspected every nook and cranny of the space. Art - especially photography - was very important to Sander. It was a stress relief, a way of expressing himself with his creativity. At first, he felt nervous sharing it with Robbe, but it seemed like the boy was enjoying himself, his smile broadening as he glanced at the pictures.

''Is that me?'' Robbe asked, pointing to a certain picture. He recognized the warehouse Noor took him to do grafitis. ''That's a great shot. You're talented.''

''Yeah, getting a good picture is not easy when the subject is a sight for sore eyes,'' Sander countered with a flirty smirk.

A blush coated Robbe's cheeks, slightly embarrassed. Since they met, Sander has always been a flirt with Robbe. But, up until today, he had never flirted so explicitly.

Robbe looked away and focused back on the pictures. ''How did you get into photography?'' he asked, changing subject.

''You know how all the art kids have their thing? Well, mine is photography. I do other stuff like painting, but film photography is my favorite.''

''Film photography?'' Robbe shook his head mockingly. ''You're so old-fashioned.''

''You should know, film photography is making a big return. Digital photography is nice, but I prefer film. A digital camera does all the work for you. Anyone can do it. For film, you have to learn and figure out techniques, angles, lighting. You can also use different films to make cool effects.'' Sander stepped past Robbe, pointing to a particular picture. ''See? I recently learned to edit manually when printing. I can now adjust the exposure and contrast levels, and even apply dodges and burns to the images.''

Even though Robbe didn't understand what the blond was talking about - unfamiliar with the photography language -, he liked listening to him. You could feel his genuine passion through his voice.

Robbe returned his attention to the pictures hung up, grafitis around the city, portraits of who he assumed were Sander's friends and more artistic shots.

A particular picture caught his attention recognizing the skatepark he and the boys spend their time at, the ugly graffitis at the far back giving the place away. There wasn't much on the picture, just a boy in a brown jacket, mid jump on a skate ramp.

Pulling his eyebrows, the brunet unclipped it without asking. ''When did you take this?''

Behind him, Sander's heart started beating faster, getting nervous. Taken the wrong way, Robbe could be offended and call him a creep for taking this picture without his consent. ''Late september, I believe,'' he confessed, biting his bottom lip.

The younger one stilled. September? They didn't know each other back then, they hadn't even met yet. Why did Sander take pictures of him?

A minute passed and there was no reaction from Robbe.

''Robbe?'' Sander said, voice unsteady, apprehending Robbe's reaction, yet needing a reaction.

Breath caught in his throat, Robbe felt a warmth on his back from the proximity of Sander's body. He fought the envy to lean into him and gathered his courage to turn around, keeping his eyes down as he spoke. ''Why did you take pictures of me? I mean, why me? There's a bunch of skaters that are much better than me.''

Sander reached for Robbe's hand, fingers gently ghosting on his skin, hating when Robbe was thinking low of himself. ''I didn't take this picture because I thought you were a skateboard master. I took this picture because you caught my attention, you inspired me artistically.''

Robbe knitted his eyebrows, confused.

''The first time I saw you was when you and your friends started coming to the skatepark in the summer. I didn't know you, but all I could see was a quiet boy with a sad smile, sitting amongst a loud group of boys. Your eyes were giving away so much, but no one asked what was wrong.''

That summer, everything started going downhill at home. His parents were arguing a lot, and Robbe's mom had been struggling with her mental health more than usual. He was always caught in the middle of the quarrels and, although he wasn't the center of it all, it was tough. Hearing your father say cruel things to the one he's sworn to love forever hurts.

Swallowing thickly, Robbe felt tears well up in his eyes, trying to push away the bad memories. He was having a good time with Sander, he didn't want to ruin the moment because he got too emotional over past events.

Fingers laced through his, pulling Robbe from his thoughts. ''You okay?''

Robbe glanced at their intertwined fingers, lips twitching. He nodded, slowly raising his eyes to meet with Sander's. Sander caught his lip between his teeth, debating whether to go for it or not and cupped the back to Robbe's neck, closing the gap between them, pressing their lips together into a soft kiss.

It took the smaller boy a second or two to realize what was happening, heart hammering behind his chest. Robbe never thought this day would happen. That's he'd get to kiss a boy. Especially someone as good looking as Sander Driesen.

Heart hammering behind his chest, Robbe kissed back, parting his lips to capture Sander's upper lip between his. He didn't want to rush the kiss, enjoying every seconds of this moment, content with just their lips touching.

Kissing Sander felt so different than all the kisses he and Noor had shared. Firstly, there wasn't a lipstick in the way, just Sander's bare - and slightly chapped - lips. The sickly sweet perfume had been replaced by a woody cologne with slightly spicy undertone.

A hand came to rest on his hip, pulling the brunet closer, feeling himself melt under Sander's touch, so gentle on him despite his natural chaotic energy. Robbe raised his arms to wrap them around the back of the older one's neck, lips parting as a soft, satisfied sound escaped, cheeks flushing.

Sander grinned through the kiss, biting Robbe's bottom lip teasingly before pulling back, earning a small whine as Robbe followed the blond, not ready for the kiss to end.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #robbe x sander #sobbe fic #wtfock fic #I'm getting started on the prompts #keep sending!!

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soranihimawari · 4 years ago

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West Coast kind of Love

Summary: There were certain things you know off the top of your head. One, the fact that popcorn and M&Ms should not be sold separately at the local movies is a crime; two, every other Monday of the month, the neighborhood film club would host dollar monster movies (where one of your neighbors in your apartment complex would frequently attend); and three, you might have to pinch yourself when he asks you to take a photo with you as a proof of “how things are going abroad” to his friend in Argentina...

Word count: 4.685K

Taglist: @m0nstergeneration20xx 📷 (google docs proof reader), @oitoorus, @tkags & her ⛅ (anon fam) , @oikawalovely [open still]

“Do what you love and the rest will follow”-proverb

--September XX--Thursday, 23:13 (11:23pm)

“Oh come on Yukihira,” you knocked on the closed bathroom door of your apartment.”You know I called dibs to the bathroom after we ditched those jerks at the dancehall.”

Every month you and your roommate took turns in choosing public places to go out for a night on the town. With midterms coming up for what would be the junior year of your undergrad studies, your roommate decided giving a double date a try. Unfortunately for her, those jerks were thinking of doing the deed way too early for either of your liking. You decide that spilling your peach Bellini on your friend’s outfit during the middle of the date was the perfect excuse to end the night early. More often than not, you mostly came along these dates with her as an enforcer. You two might be as different as night and day (yukihira studies medicine all hours of the day whereas your focus was the visual arts). Tonight was just one of those nights where you being there was beneficial.

“Ugh, fine,” she said opening the door revealing her freshly brushed grin. “I can’t believe you had the gall to ruin that outfit y/n.”

“Hey, whatever helps you throw it out like you did your ex then I was doing the Lord’s work for you, Yuks.” You rolled your eyes at her when she stuck out her tongue when you slithered into the ivory tiled washroom. This earned a laugh from the other member of your household.

“But because this was a bad date and I didn’t think things through this time again, that means I get to set you up on a blind date.” Her singsong voice reached your ears as you turned on the faucet to drown out her mocking tone. You paused for a brief moment while waiting for the make up remover serium to bubble up on your face before wiping it off effectively.

“With who?” you asked after you patted your skin dry post-makeup removal ritual complete. Your hair was undone from the hair elastic you pulled out of your inherited islander curls.

“I don’t know. Hmm...Maybe the guy in unit 23C? He’s awfully cute,” Yukihira mused as you leaned in her doorway. Her brows wiggled in delight when she noticed how you stared at your neighbor on move in day during your freshman move in day three years prior.

“Iwazumi? You can’t be serious,” you said. Your voice betrayed you because your eyes shined like the gods of furtune finally found their way to you.

“Do you want to or not? He’s focused, witty, determined; I have my physiology study group with him tomorrow. Why don’t you come with, best friend of mine?”

You really hated when she pulled the puppy eyes on you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to refuse (not by a long shot).

“Ask him if he prefers coffee or tea.”

A few days later, you came home from your department’s masters class with your portfolio sling over your shoulder. Your hands were covered in literal ink stains from your latest mural macro-micro project.

“Hey, Yukihira! Have you seen where I kept my lacquer thinner?” You raise your voice slightly as you kick off your shoes by the entrance hallway. It was only then you realize there were a couple of other pairs of shoes that did not belong to either of you. That’s when you remembered your friend’s warning about her study group coming over. All color drained from your face when you rounded the corner to your living room area converted into a mini lecture hall. You clear your throat to announce your presence which went unnoticed (with the exception of your roommate). Without even looking at the board, you chose to mess with the med students’ practice case.

“And I’m telling you this is a bilateral cut to the optic nerve, Josefina.”

“The microabraisons on the left thoracic cavity allowed the victim to bleed out on the table due to the elevated use of blood thinners, ” your voice quiets the pre-med students and you smile in a nonchalant manner. You have read this problem with Yukihira so many times prior at the start of the semester that you were able to recall the prognosis off the top of you head. Being friends with a pre-med major does have its redeeming qualities although you were seen mostly honing your crafts in the art department and this was just the prime time of their study week.

“Oh! You’re back early,” Yukihira says in a warm tone. She stands at the end of the table in between you Her eyes glazed over as if to communicate that you were about to be formally introduced. You bite your tongue prior to allowing your roommate to clap her hands together as she went naming every member starting with the person on her left who was the aforementioned Josefina. When she had come full circle, her voice trailed off with a small apologetic smile.

“Aaaand this here is my roommate, y/n. To answer your question about the lacquer thinner, I put the bottle on your desk when it arrived last time,” Yukihira made sure to watch everyone’s response. She was more interested in seeing how the third member of her study group (the aforementioned neighbor in 23C) would react. His minuscule smirk was doubly noted, prompting you to fill the few seconds of silence with your own voice. After a brief trip down memory lane, spear headed by your best friend as they took a break from studying for a moment, Yukihira explained after years of being friends you learned about the medical cases for exams via osmosis. You were an unofficial member of the study group since the medical arts building was located near the visual arts department offices on campus. You chose to not let them be pushed back any further especially since their content exam was coming up later that month, so you bid them good luck.

“Don’t mind me,” your brass tone conveyed an even temper at the time. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to head to my room. You guys aren’t the only ones with an exam this week.” You raised your portfolio canister so they could see the poster sized dyed cylinder. Reams of paper filled with sketches made from ink and graphite poked through under the flourescent lights of the kitchen dining room table. The med students along with Yukihira waved and said it was lovely to meet your acquaintance.

With that you made a beeline route to your room, opened the door, and promptly shut the door. You dropped your portfolio canister next to your desk, turned up the volume of the lo-fi radio station playlist on your sound system, grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a muffled shriek to expel the remaining bits of embarrassment your friend threw you in. You were good at smaller group studies, but to be fair, given the fact that your friend was a social butterfly, you mostly seemed to rub off the “talented-artsy, yet focused,” type of woman. That night you cleaned up your outline for your stencil art piece of a fox and a hound for your take on minimalism class which had its peer critique at the end of the week.

You didn’t physically speak to Yukihira for the rest of the week. With both of you burning the midnight oil within the last few days before the exam, you noticed that the number of study group being held in your apartment had become the norm every other day (causing you focus more on a certain individual). Funny thing was he was also doing the same thing...

『from Yukihira: how many times do i have to apologize? You know I didn’t plan on having an emergency study session with iwazumi. He just showed up & wanted to chat. Besides the TA & professor chose to move up the exam date...』

『from y/n: you should of told me earlier before I came home. You know I forgive you... only if you buy me the latest ice cream along with the new Jun Ito novel. I’ll be out there in a minute till make some coffee for us.』

『from Yukihira: Mmkay & thanks. Coffee sounds good right about now anyways.』

--October XX-- Friday, 15:55 (3:55p.m.)

The weekend came through soon enough and on a Friday afternoon with no where to go, you were chilling at the comfort of your own living room. You were quick to thank the test gods for the exam being moved up once you had a proper conversation with Yukihira that morning. She mentioned she was going be out all day making sure she was able to finesse her study guide with her fellow medical study group. Since it was the end of the week, Josefina opted to have a free for all study day at the book store for those who wanted to go over last minute things according to the note yukihira left on your door that morning.

At the time of the day, you were expecting to be alone, curled up with your favorite cup of English Earl Grey Tea and a Lovecraft radio program you downloaded via the student Spotify network. Your phone vibrated and pinged with a notification from the bookstore where Yukihira placed the order for your horror novel to arrive sooner than the estimated timeframe. Because life finds it funny to pull another prank on your clown assery with your little cynical attitude, you were startled when the formal knocker was used.

“Shit!” you said when you clutched your heart as you placed your cup of tea down on the coffee table. As your put two fingers on your neck’s pulse point, you waited a few minutes for your heart rate to calm back down; you stood up and began to make your way down the hallway. Lo and behold, you were greeted by a casually dressed man who was clutching your new novel in his sunkissed hands.

It takes your brain a few synapses to register that it was Iwazumi who has been taking a liking to coming over for extra study hours with your roommate, but if anyone asked him to reply honestly, he wanted to know more about you. The human body has more than 240 bones, yet the more frequent his visits become, the more he felt himself become accustomed to befriending you both. There were instances where you joined them at the kitchen table glancing at their open notebooks and case studies; you often made tea or coffee depending on the hour of the day. On the days you had come home from the art department, Yukihira was quick to notice how Iwazumi’s usually tense face seemed to visibly relax when you came to prepare your favorite snack (m&ms and buttered popcorn). Your friend was quick to relay a text to his phone, which caused her study partner at the table to become more flustered than he already was.

Regardless of the various near misses over the next couple of weeks between you and Iwazumi (sometimes it was Yukihira’s fault other times, it was coincidental juxtopostional humour: it has happened twice on Iwazumi’s side when his friends back home noticed he was not at his usual place. [Yukihira called for a mini-study break] However, that didn’t stop you from asking him if he preferred sugar or honey for his tea & all hell broke loose (Hanamaki & Mattsun were cheering him on while Oikawa.exe has dropped the call).

All this back and forth for the past five weeks caused this moment to occur:

“I-Iwa-chan?” your voice went up several octaves before clearing your throat with a cough. “If you’re looking for Yukihira, she’s actually not here at the moment...”

“To the scientist there is the joy in pursuing truth which nearly counteracts the depressing revelations of truth.”

The audio from your radio program was keeping you company. The disembodied voice coming from the main sound system you helped set up when you first moved into the building with Yukihira quoted Lovecraft as the program continued to serve in the role of filling the silence between you and Iwazumi. The gods really did that, didn’t they? your thoughts were running away with you again, chasing a reality that would be yours--or so you think.

During that thought hurricane you conjured up, you decided to pause the train of thought for a few minutes. You released your hold on your front door knob as you pulled the door a little wider in order for you to lean against the frame of the front door. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun (on your days off, you were typically clad in tapered mint green pants and a spare white button down blouse due to laundry day), but it was enough to see the usual semi-talkative and stoic demi-god of a neighbor wear such an embarrassed expression. You pretended to not hear the barely audible, “woah,” that escaped his mouth prior to him holding up the book to you.

“Did the mail carrier drop it off to your box again?” you ask taking the book in your hands. “Sorry about that. You can come in if you want.”

You were quick to notice that something caught your arm in an attempt to stop you from walking. When you chose to not try to pry yourself away from Iwazumi’s hold, he took it as a sign to bend himself to your ear and say the following in a powerfully low tone: “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t looking for her?”

“Yes,” you say in a timid manner, yet it was paired with a curt nod. You both had the tenacity to swat away any lingering negative thoughts.

Iwazumi took this moment to turn you around to face him by the arm he held you with. His smile disappeared when he let your arm go and instead moved his hand to hold yours with his opposite hand, he pulled the door shut behind him. You were probably too proud to admit this aloud, nonetheless, you liked the way Iwazumi’s firm grip felt in your hand; his were rough and calloused as much as yours were from years of honing your independent crafts. You gave him a kind smile before your neighbor decided to take advantage of the fact that the other person in your apartment wasn’t home; you squeezed his hand slightly and he let your hand go.

You placed the Jun Ito novel on the kitchen counter motioning for Iwazumi to meet you there. Your kettle was still warm, however you made a cheeky joke to your newly acquired friend. (Perhaps this was Yukihira’s plan, you think). You reached into the dishwasher and was about to pour him a cup of tea, yet you couldn’t help but make a small joke at his expense for holding your hand so intently.

“For the record, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have done so earlier,” you mention stifling a laugh, pouring the steaming water into the mug. Iwazumi mumbled something about how he liked the way your hand fit, yet you chose to throw caution to the wind and quickly planted short kiss on his cheek when you extended the cup toward him after placing the tea strainer in it.

With one hand on yours and the other was wrapped around the ceramic mug,. Your kindness was always something Iwazumi found alluring. You might not have been in the same course of study as him or Yukinira, yet you were good finding the beauty in the mundane. A few of your pieces of work were hung around the apartment and from his line of sight, your dedication to your craft was something to be admired.With every sip he took a sip to deflect from the way his thoughts were heading into uncharted territories; OIkawa, Mattsun, and even Makki were the ones more verbose on love & conquest during the days of their you:

“You’re always over at your neighbors’ place, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased.

“I wonder what his reason is,” Makki muses. “Mattsun thinks it’s a girl. Typical.”

Makki also noticed one of your sophomore symposium art pieces hanging behind the place where Iwazumi was sitting at the time of their weekly video call. Your avant-garde view of viewing the world was enough to set the sky amethyst hues. California does have it’s moments of striking beauty and somehow Iwazumi found it hard to keep to a straight face around his friends. His expression was usually hardened or bold, but today you sat across from him at the beginning of the call, reading up on the use of gold leaf detail work for your art restoration classes. Across the myriad of scattered medical books and various notes that were pertaining to another medical case were a tell that their friend was clearly not alone. You glance up at him quietly, a minute smile formed between you two; you write on a spare piece of paper the word, “friends” to which he nodded.

“Aww, is our little ace growing soft on us?” Oikawa’s whining was something you often heard Yukihira describe after nights like these.(She usually hung out in your room as you were placing the final touches of your latest art assignment. This month was dedicated to historic downtown with a twist of horror: modern mania & the ruiner of man. Right now, you didn’t mind the shared space of the dining room while Yukihira was out on a grocery run at the time the call was initiated.)

“Shut your mouth Shittykawa,” Iwazumi barks. His dark eyes hardened like stone and that was when Makki let out a wicked grin.

“I owe Mattsun 500 yen,” Makki chuckled.

“Holy shit,” Oikawa’s eyes bounced between his best friends and let out a low whistle. “if this woman is capable of such an amazing feat, ask her if she has a friend [for me].”

Iwazumi ended the call right then and there. He didn’t expect his heart to be beating so irratically when you walked room in your house attire for a moment to make yourself a cup of the same Earl Grey Tea. The hazy lights emitting from your room blended effortlessly with the flourescent ones in the kitchen; each beam clung to your body in such away Iwazumi was glad neither of his friends witnessed the moment he fell in love with California and all that came with it.

This afternoon was a different story as you liked the way Iwazumi allowed his natural blush to bubble to the surface of his cheeks and you could swear you saw a fraction of the high school volleyball ace shine through. The sunlight danced around the stainless steel details of the kitchen where you shared secrets, recipes, and drinks with your best friend. His free hand chose to move away from the counter finding its resting place under your chin. The cup of tea Iwazumi held earlier was placed next to the stove on the coaster by the sink.

You steady your breathing right before you felt Iwazumi’s breath on your cupid’s bow; his lips pressed against yours gingerly as though he felt his brain light up and catch a fire he needed to not run away from; everything he wanted to know about you was answered as soon as your hands cup his face. I think I like this, your conscience is egging you on to pursue his touch for a while longer. It was a silent acknowledgement of the other’s presence in the present moment.

“Hm,” you hear him hum in mutual amusement when you return his kiss. The pads of his fingers trace the highest points of your face teasingly. He wanted answers to the questions your lips asked. When you two separate for a moment, you realize you might have been too forward, but when you move your hands away from his face only to hug him in a loose embrace, you couldn’t help the next words from posing a question.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” your coquettish tone made Iwazumi’s answer very apparent as you suddenly took into account the last couple of weeks and the way both of you came to enjoy each other’s company during study group hours at either your place as the primary location or the cafe down the road from the apartment complex. (Iwazumi’s frequent visits weren’t for tutoring necessarily, about a majority of the time it was to see you as an added bonus).

Iwazumi did not have to be told twice; he enveloped you in his strong arms, he hoisted you up from under your knees and placed you a top the counter with gentle assertive force. Your legs wrapped around his fit waist as you gripped his biceps for leverage prior to letting the old ace prove his strength by placing you on top of the graphite counter like a doll.

“Comfortable?” Iwazumi’s expression was more seductive than profound.

“Very,” you reply as you unwind your legs from his body. “Where were we?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck before pulling him close to you again. A smug smile cut across both of your faces for a brief moment until your lips hovered over his for the second time. This time, you let him kiss you the way you knew he had been meaning to since he showed up at your door less than fifteen minutes prior book in hand. When Iwazumi kissed you at the current moment, the world crumbled and fell away; it was somehow comforting in a way that words would not compare to. His actions listened to the way you were setting the pace with the same tenacity as he showed you. The scent of his sandalwood conditioner mixed well with your ocean scented dry shampoo.

Your eyes were still closed when you felt your hands card through his ever-present spiky hair. His right hand rested below your ear, using the pad of his thumb and forefinger to caress your cheek and jawline again. You feel him smile against your own lips when you nipped the corner of his mouth playfully. You break apart long enough for your partner in the kitchen to began to sneakily undoing your top two buttons of your blouse to press his lips against your exposed skin. You let out a whimper in the heat of the moment the second his lips began to leave a trail of reverberating echoes in the simplest of ways securing his hold on your soul that very day.

“Beautiful girl,” Iwazumi murmurs as his eyes met yours when he was done having his fun. His voice was cautious, but when his arms began to hover over your own, you felt your heart rate speed up right as he told you this: “Tell me, what other sounds can you make for me?”

“Is that a challenge?” you retort, your hands disappearing under his hoodie to feel the fabric of his undershirt. Your hand stopped roaming atop of his chest; he was liking this. You could tell by the way he was taunting you with his smirk. “Because I was wondering the same thing. Do you want me to remove my hand?”

“No.”

Your hands could have been made of branding tools and Iwazumi wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He chuckled at your question before you brought him down to your level and your lips met again. The sound he made upon impact was as though you broke him yet healed him at the same time; time was on your side for this one and you proved he wasn’t the only monster in the kitchen. There was a hunger there behind every kiss you let him have; you were smiling in the between long enough to feel his heart beat faster through the fabric of his undershirt.

Your hands automatically removed themselves from his shirt and were found holding on to the aglet of the drawstrings from the hoodie he was wearing. Iwazumi kissed your fingers before proceeding with posing a question to you.

“Just so we’re clear,” your voice was bold and daring. It was one of the many things he liked about you both in and out of campus grounds. The small details was what Iwazumi liked the most and the subtle tells of how you, Yukihira, and even the other members of the study group didn’t make him feel so alone like when he first arrived to California to study.

“Whatever this is between you and I, does it mean we’re...together?”

You make a sign in the air with your palms up and point between you and him. Iwazumi clears his throat as he taps his lips to tease you and that was when he saw it: a younger version of you covered in sidewalk chalk in your neighborhood (much the same as you saw reflections of the former ace/vice captain).

“If you’ll let me take you to the Monster Movie marathon on Monday,” he answered when he linked his right hand digits with your left and you capture his lips again on your own volition. Your ears perked up at this, you drop the string you played with and patted his chest with a light rapt.

“Eager to make me your girlfriend aren’t you?” You laugh and Iwazumi furrowed his brows, but you silence his worries in one swift and simple move: you kiss him with the intent of either being his salvation or his torment, either way Iwazumi was not complaining. The girl who loves to read about Lovecraftian monsters and the boy who was a monster chaser shared a love as unique as themselves: like a secret they each wanted to keep behind closed doors.

His only vice was the fact that his social call was coming to an end and every ounce of his well being was fighting to stay here with you. You back down for a moment only to showcase your best attempt at a flattering smile to match his own. Iwazumi would never let you know this at the time, but seeing that smile on your face made his list of top three things he found most precious in the world. This wasn’t a crush anymore was the proper conclusion you both concluded.

“Meet at your place at 7:30,” you suggest. Iwazumi released your hand from his to step back as you hopped down from the kitchen counter you made a seat of.

“I’ll see you then ‘Ms. Lovecraft’.” The nickname he bestowed upon you was one that made the butterflies come back in a flurry; this was the start of something special, but you didn’t know it at this point in time that the name will be used to describe your affinity for Iwazumi’s unyielding devotion to you (the seeds were planted in both of your hearts and the two of you waited for them to bloom).

Iwazumi made his way back toward the hallway and faced your apartment’s front door again. You refastened both buttons he undid prior to reaching for the door knob.

“For what it’s worth,” your not-so-innocent tone in your voice begins to come through. His darkened eyes observe you undo your top knot and shook your shoulder-length hair to reveal the fullness of your wavy locks. You place your hand on his wrist and the other was on the door knob. He stopped you from opening the door with a softened glance; pressing his lips lightly on your brow bone.

“I really like it when you come over Iwazumi. Thank you for dropping off the book.” You tap your fingers thoughtfully on your lips as a silent form of thanking him for the other part outside of the tangible order.

“Hajime, y/n,” he whispers his given name in your ear in order to get one last rile out of you before kissing your temple, and you could swear you could hear your heart beat in your ears. “Call me that from now on, ok?”

“Ok,” you swiftly reply. “Only if you continue to call me Lovecraft, haha.”

Iwazumi takes his leave when he thinksof how the next time he sees you, it’ll be filled with magic, mayhem, and the movie playing in his heart was one he would like to share with you for as long as it takes.

You rush to your room to retrieve your cell phone and immediately text Yukihira who was in the middle of her break between classes:

『from y/n: i have a date on monday night. the book came btw. thanks yukihira』

『from Yukihira: iwazumi asked you to go out with him, didn’t he? have fun and remember to not do anything i wouldn’t do. ;) 』

『from y/n: of course. and even if we did, i wouldn’t even hear the end of it from you. you’d might have an easier time talking to iwazumi than me, let’s be honest.』

『from Yukihira: (n˘v˘•)¬ oh you know me so well. see you later tonight.』

—November XX, 14:43 (2:43pm):

First dates & a glimpse into their social medias (ft. Iwazumi, Babs (y/n), & Yukihira)

Iwazumi credit

Suffice to say that Mondays became your favorite day after this kiss...😌

Bonus:

Instagram posts from our UCIrvine trio ft. Iwazumi, Yukihira, & Y/N-san

#iwazumi x reader #timeskip!iwazumi x reader #collegiate au #first kisses and monster movies #neighbor to lover #⏱queued post #iwa-chan wore glasses one day #west coast kind of love completed #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻.txt

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years ago

Note

omgomg could you please do another cinderella story?

Omg I love this one

Another Cinderella Story AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Mary Santiago

Spot Conlon — Joey Parker

William Snyder — Dominique Blatt

Morris Delancey — Bree Blatt

Oscar Delancey — Britt Blatt

Jack Kelly — Tammy

Katherine Plumber — Dustin AKA The Funk

Riddle — Natalia (this is an OC of my friend @bexlynne. She’s amazing)

TW: Child Abuse (I mean obviously... it’s Cinderella.)

Race is a high school junior living with his legal guardian, a big time producer, and the man’s sons Oscar and Morris. He’s lived there since his mother died. His mother was a dancer that Snyder had “helped out” several times. He got her jobs in an exchange for… well you can imagine. Snyder took Race in when he was only six, after his mother died in a car crash.

He raised Race as his own personal servant, only pretending to be kind to him until the social services worker was done with the visits and Race was officially in his care. That’s when Snyder started to really “discipline” Race whenever he got something wrong. He’d hit him, knock him down, trip him and lock him in closets. Race hates being locked in the closet, it’s his least favorite punishment.

Snyder always tells him that he has nowhere else to go, even when Race tries to run away one day, having somewhere to go. But eventually, Snyder gets inside his head and Race believes at least somewhat that he’s dependent on Snyder, because he is. Snyder keeps a roof over his head and food in front of him, at least most of the time. But in exchange, Race is basically just a maid to him.

Race doesn’t complain too much about it. He’d learned the hard way that complaining was a bad idea.

Growing up, Morris and Oscar and him never got along, as they also treated Race like the hired help.

Race lives in the guest house which is a small shack in the backyard with no sort of lock or anything. Snyder never drives him anywhere. Snyder doesn’t even drive himself. He gets transported around in a limo and Race has never seen the inside of it, mostly getting around on a skateboard. It was a gift. But not from Snyder.

Anyways, Race’s dream is to be a dancer, just like his mother. All he has left of her is a couple of photos and a necklace. The necklace is a small music note on a chain. Race wears it everywhere.

One night, it is announced that a pop star named Spot Conlon is coming back to high school for his senior year. He used to go to the same high school as Race and Race used to have a big crush on him that he tried to keep as quiet as possible.

This year, Race goes back to school knowing Spot’s coming back. The morning off, he does Snyder’s laundry, cleans two bathrooms before skateboarding out of his house until he manages to get around the block where an orange truck is waiting to pick him up.

Snyder forbids Jack from stepping foot on his property. He can’t stand Jack.

Jack is Race’s half brother. Same dad, different moms. Jack was put up for adoption after his dad overdosed and Medda adopted him. He never knew his mom. Jack and Race did grow up together, but never lived together. Their father wanted them to know each other. Jack is Race’s best friend in the world. Jack’s a year older than him. He’s the one who buys Race gifts and tries his best to spoil him because he’s the only one who knows how Snyder treats the other boy.

That morning, he gives Race a zune and Race is over the moon about it.

Jack’s orange truck is basically falling apart, but he loves the thing. He worked hard for it and fixed it up all by himself even though Medda offered to help him pay for it. Race loves that he loves it. But he can’t stand the truck. It’s broken down on them before.

Jack is an artist and designer. He makes clothes and wants to own his own label. He makes Race dance clothes because Snyder won’t buy Race any.

Anyways,

Once they get to school, they’re ambushed by Race’s adoptive brothers who throw a soda at him with their good friend Riddle, who also just happens to be Spot’s old girlfriend. They tell him they didn’t see him standing right in front of them because he was practically invisible.

Jack goes to pound them into the ground but Race stops him, pulling him into the school behind him.

Jack and Race are pretty much attached at the hip during school hours. They aren’t popular or well liked, but they don’t mind.

When Spot arrives at the school, there’s a huge group of people waiting for him when he steps out of his limo with his best friend/manager, Katherine Plumber.

Katherine is punk and I love it. She has purple hair and a ton of piercings.

They go through the school, Katherine fending off Spot’s fans so that he can get to his classes. While not paying attention, he runs smack into Race, knocking him down and sending papers everywhere.

Jack is right about to pull Spot up and give him a piece of his mind, but Spot apologizes and helps Race up, helping him collect his things before Riddle swoops in and pulls Spot to her, giving him a big kiss and trying to flirt with him, even though Spot’s pulling away trying to talk to her. He tries to tell her they broke up a year ago, but she doesn’t seem to understand it, even after Katherine intervenes and pulls him away so they can get to class.

This is also when Kath and Jack have their first interaction. Race doesn’t stop teasing him about it.

Riddle gives Race a smug look and walks away. But Oscar and Morris stand in Race’s way when he’s trying to get to class. Jack once again goes in for a soaking, but Race stops him again, hissing about not wanting to spend his night in a closet. It’s only that that gets Jack to back down.

He puts an arm over Race’s shoulders and leads him away, glaring at the other set of brothers the whole time.

After school, Jack always offers Race a ride, but Race declines. Even though he’s supposed to go straight home after, he goes to dance class, like he does most days. But since he’s not supposed to go there, he can’t have Morris or Oscar spotting Jack’s truck outside.

He skateboards there and sneaks in through the back, jumping a fence and using a two-way mirror to take class while also not being seen. He’s the best dancer there, even if no one can see him.

Today, he finds that Spot Conlon is coming in to help teach the class. Everyone goes crazy. Race is happy to see him, even if Spot doesn’t know he’s there.

Throughout the whole class, Riddle is trying to show dominance over everybody and dance with Spot, determined to win him back even though Spot clearly seemed to be over her.

Race just rolled his eyes and kept on dancing the whole time.

Until his phone started ringing.

The teacher can hear it. He, quite literally, dives for his bag and answers his phone in a whisper even though Snyder is screaming at him on the other end, telling him that tonight was an important dinner and Race would be suffering consequences later for being late.

So Race rushes to the grocery store to get dinner that he can make for Snyder and whoever he’s having over. When he gets home, Morris and Oscar, who were at the same dance dance class he was, are standing there waiting for him. Race tries to get past them, but the brothers pull him into the living room, telling him that he must know who’s joining them for dinner.

Only Spot Conlon. His crush.

Race denies he has a crush on Spot. It’s something he tries not to think about it. After all, he doesn’t have time for things like that, not with trying to graduate early and get into the Manhattan School for Performing Arts and all. Medda and Jack are trying to help him get in. They support him fully.

But Morris and Oscar force Race to sit between them on the couch so they can watch an old tape that Race made when he was younger of him confessing his love for Spot Conlon. It’s embarrassing and ridiculous and Race yells at them for going through his stuff and gets up to rip the tape out, ruining it, but Morris and Oscar reveal that that’s not their only copy.

Race rolls his eyes at them but goes to make dinner anyway, knowing there’s nothing he can do about it.

Later, Spot is waiting for Snyder to arrive with Oscar and Morris trying to be his friend and even though he’s clearly uncomfortable, they’re still trying to win him over.

Katherine and Spot’s parents are getting restless just along with Spot who states that if Snyder doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’s taking Katherine for burgers.

Morris and Oscar ask if they can come.

Spot admits that he doesn’t really want to work with Snyder because Snyder is a “has been”. His parents scold him for being rude and get into an argument about who’s actually managing Spot, as they both think they are, even though Spot knows that Katherine is.

Eventually, Snyder shows up, claiming he had problems with “the help” and joins them, barely managing to keep Spot in the room.

He tries to gain some business with Spot as he calls in Race to start serving them.

Race tries his best to hide his face, not really wanting Spot to see him as some kind of servant, but he doesn’t really have a choice.

He serves them while a small argument breaks out and is pulled every which way until Spot finally stands, pushing him backwards and making him fall over, sending appetizers and drinks all over him.

Spot apologizes profusely and tries to help clean Race up as Katherine announces that she’s Spot’s only manager. His parents pull him from the room, leaving Race on the floor alone.

Once they’re gone, Snyder grabs Race by the arm and pulls him up, telling him to clean up the mess he made within the next thirty minutes before shoving him back onto the ground and taking his phone, telling him he’s not allowed to use any phone for a month.

After Race cleans up, Snyder locks him in his closet, leaving him there till the morning.

The next night, Jack sneaks into Race’s room to sit and talk with him. He brings a laptop and popcorn so they can watch a movie but they mostly just end up talking. And Race tells Jack he doesn’t want to go to the black and white ball.

The black and white ball is supposed to be the best dance of the year. It’s a masquerade.

Jack is upset by this, telling Race that he has to go because he’s been working on Race’s suit and mask for months and Race never gets to have fun.

They’re interrupted by Snyder shouting at Race from inside, telling him he’s supposed to be cleaning. Race flinches and Jack tells him he can run away with him for a night, but Race says that it’ll only make things worse. So he goes, but not without a hug from his big brother.

But Morris and Oscar heard him and Jack talking and warned Snyder about it, pissing their father off more when Snyder realized that Jack was even there to begin with.

So the next day Snyder tells Race that he has a new chore for him, for Race to clean Snyder’s bedroom. Race knows that place is a disaster and tries to argue, but it gets him nowhere, only causing Snyder to threaten his privilege to go to school and see his friends, or his one friend, Jack. Race tells him he can’t do that, that Jack is his brother and he has a right to see him but Snyder backhands him, telling him that he owns Race and can do whatever he wants.

Race calls Jack, telling him he can’t go to the ball with him and almost crying when Jack demands to know why. But Snyder picks up the phone and tells Race that he lost his phone privileges and that meant the landline too. Race gets pushed around a little bit, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

Snyder leaves for the night, so Race starts working, knowing he has to.

That night, someone rings the doorbell. Race opens it to find Jack, standing there with two suits with him.

He tells Jack he can’t, but Jack thinks otherwise, stepping aside to reveal a full fledged cleaning crew, courtesy of Miss Medda who told Race to have an excellent time at the ball.

Until midnight when Snyder swore he’d be home.

At the ball, Oscar and Morris are with Riddle, trying to pick Spot out of the crowd, though everyone is wearing a mask.

Katherine is hanging with Spot, wearing devil’s wings and wearing a black and white dress and a fedora. She looks amazing. Spot is wearing a simple black suit and a mask that covers most of his face. He’s chilling. Spot told Katherine they were going to a costume party but she doesn’t mind.

When she looks up the stairs, she says that it looks like she wasn’t the only one.

Race is wearing a deep red suit with black and gold detailing. Jack is clearly proud of his work on the suit and on his little brother’s black and grey mask. Jack is wearing a grey suit he designed as well as a black and gold mask and a fedora, much like Katherine’s.

Jack forced Race to go down even though Race gets nervous and wants to run.

Race immediately runs into a nice guy who Jack immediately finds Race getting flustered with. Race gets all awkward when the guy flirts with him. Jack encourages him and swoops in on the guy's cute friend who he has to admit he loves the devil wings too. She takes a liking to him and tells him she’s Spot Conlon’s best friend to which Jack replies “am I supposed ta be impressed by that?”

They go off to dance, leaving Race alone with the mystery guy, otherwise known as Spot Conlon.

Eventually, Spot asks Race to dance and Race gives his zune to the DJ asking him to play a specific song.

And they dance.

It looks choreographed and professional and they move so well together.

Riddle and Morris and Oscar realize that one of the guys must be Spot but they don’t know who the other is. Riddle “accidentally” trips Race and Spot can’t catch him, but he tells Race he was amazing anyway and reveals who he is by taking his mask off.

Race is shocked but doesn’t have time to talk as Jack rushes to him and tells him it’s almost midnight.

So Race grabs his zune and rushes to get away, dropping the thing on his way out, almost going back for it, but Jack forces him to keep going, getting very excited for him in the car and telling him he was amazing and looked like a natural dancing with a famous performer. Race is embarrassed.

He manages to get back to Snyder’s clean room barely. Snyder finds him in there, sitting on his bed. Race slips out without a hit that night and goes to his room to find Jack waiting for him with a midnight snack and a hug.

This is why he loves his brother.

The next day, Spot is determined to find the boy that he danced with. (Spot is openly bisexual). He manages to charm his way into the morning announcements where he says he has the boy’s zune and will give it back to his muster boy as long as the boy knows the top five played songs on the thing.

Jack encourages Race to tell Spot but Race says that’s not in the cards for him.

Spot and Kath think it’ll be easy, but practically the whole school lines up, boys and girls, claiming to be the person he dances with at the ball. Race is not one of them, but Morris and Oscar hear Jack telling Race to admit it on the stairs.

When Race gets home that day, Morris and Oscar tell him that if he even tries to tell Spot the truth, they’ll post the video they have of Race online and then order him to make dinner. And Race can’t do anything about it.

Then Morris and Oscar go separately to Race’s room to find the songs on his zune hidden on an old laptop.

The both go to school the next day, trying to convince Spot they were his mystery guy even though not even both of them are gay.

Jack finally convinces Race to go for it, but Spot believes Snyder is just trying to get him to do business with him and blows him off, remembering him as “working for Snyder”.

So Race gets back in Jack’s car and hides for a minute, feeling trapped and alone. Jack holds him for a minute because he’s honestly the best brother.

A few days later, Snyder is hosting a birthday party for both of his sons and it seems like the entire word is invited. Race is put on the catering team and is there to serve at the party instead of actually attending it and Jack shows up to help him, knowing Snyder won’t even know he’s there because there’s so many people.

Katherine shows up, still determined to find Spot’s mystery guy for him at the party. Instead, she runs into Jack. She recognizes him and he pretends not to remember her though he notes that her cute purple hair looks familiar.

Jack finally admits to Katherine that Race is Spot’s mystery guy so Kath calls Spot into the party and Race is finally about to try and tell Spot again because he can’t keep living life pretending he’s invisible.

Just as he’s about to admit it, the video of him starts playing and he flees the room, completely embarrassed.

He runs into his room crying before he gets an idea and takes a stereo out into the backyard, playing the song that he and Spot first danced to.

That’s when Spot finds him.

He apologizes immediately for blowing Race off. And Race says it’s fine and that Spot doesn’t have to pretend to be nice to him. He knows he’s just some kind of charity case and he doesn’t want that.

But Spot assures him that he genuinely likes Race and then proceeds to ask him out. So Race accepts.

They’re dating for almost a month before Race gets a letter telling him he has an audition for his dream school and Race is so excited he literally skateboards through the halls to find Spot and tell him the news, after he tells Jack of course.

Spot offers to help him with some choreography.

Little do they know, someone called to schedule an audition for Race, but Snyder answered their phone, cancelling it.

While Snyder is out of town for the weekend, Race invites Spot over, finding a huge list of chores left there by his foster siblings who are trying to break him and Spot up for Riddle who still believes she can make Spot fall for her again.

Spot stays to help him clean.

After they’re done, Spot asks Race to help him finish a new song he’s writing. He’s definitely writing it for Race.

They hang out and cuddle and do some more in Race’s room. But Riddle gets jealous and devises a plan with Morris and Oscar.

They send Race flowers telling him to meet Spot at his place the next night, only for Race to find that Spot is in his bed with Riddle. Jack had dropped him off, telling him to call him if he needed a ride, but Race insisted he did not.

He doesn’t know that Riddle broke in and woke Spot up. That’s not what it looks like.

He runs home, devastated and angry, not knowing what to do with himself. When he gets home, he finds Snyder waiting for him. He tries to get past but Snyder demands to know where he’d been. Race grumbles something about being happy that he’ll be leaving in a few months to go to college and Snyder smirks, telling him he got a letter that says they rejected him and offered him an audition by mistake.

This just upsets Race more.

He gets into it with Snyder, ending up with a bruise under his left eye and a cut on his forehead.

But he still goes to school the next day. Spot tries to catch up to him, not realizing anything should be wrong. But Race pulls away from him and tells him it’s over, even when Spot tries to ask him where he got the bruises from.

Race just leaves, swearing that he’s done dancing.

So Spot grabs Katherine and rushes to find Jack who shuts both of them out immediately, knowing exactly what happened. But Katherine manages to stop him from shutting and locking the back door to the room he’s in, and that’s when Jack threatens to give Spot a nice shiner. Katherine stops him, but Jack just pulls away from her even when Spot is begging Jack to just tell him what he did wrong.

Jack rolls his eyes and tells him that Race knows he was cheating on him with Riddle and that he broke his little brother’s heart and to get out of his life.

That’s when Katherine explains that Riddle broke into Spot’s house that night and tried to get with him but Spot got her out on threat of calling the cops.

Jack says he’s just as upset as Spot is. He’d finally seen Race happy for the first time in his life, and now he’s stuck with Snyder for another year because Manhattan rejected him.

Spot is confused by this and says that they have to get Race his audition back. But he needs Jack help.

Back at Snyder’s Race is locked in Snyder’s closet again. He’s crying but trying not to because he’s used to the closet by now but he still hates it. Snyder put him in there because he’d mouthed off that morning. He can hear the phone ringing but he can’t answer it.

Eventually, after a couple minutes of sitting outside and trying to call his brother, Jack gives up and breaks into the house, calling for Race because he knows he’s there. Starts calling for him for a minute until Jack literally breaks the door down to get to him.

Race doesn’t move for a minute, saying how much he hates the closet. And Jack just says he knows before he picks Race up and puts him over his shoulder getting him to change before telling him they’re going somewhere to make him feel better.

When they end up Spot’s competition to see who will be a star dancer in his next music video, Race gets irritated and asks Jack to take them somewhere else.

Katherine admits she’s the host that night and has to be there but promises to take Race to get food afterwards. So Race stays.

Him and Jack watch the show together.

Most of it’s really good. But Race gets annoyed watching Riddle dance and gets a standing ovation for sloppy, simple choreography. He has to suffer through Morris and Oscar doing whatever the heck they do. But it’s okay because Katherine flat out calls them horrible and sends them away.

Race has to hide in the back of the stadium as they find Snyder is there watching the show. Jack promises him that he’s not letting Race go back to that house that night. Or any night. Eventually, Katherine jokingly announces the end of the show, before doing a bit of choreography herself and announcing that someone else will be making an appearance.

The entire stadium goes black before the lights come back on to reveal Spot.

Race tries to leave at this, knowing Jack won’t let him. But Spot starts singing the song he’d written for Race only to stop after a moment and say he can’t perform it alone and someone is missing.

That’s when he calls Race onstage.

Race refuses at first, even with Jack’s prompting. But Katherine just steps up on a bench and starts chanting Race’s name with the whole stadium joining in. A spotlight is put on him and he finally agrees and starts to walk forward only for his arm to be grabbed by his guardian who warns him against it. But with Jack standing behind him, Race takes a deep breath and shoves him off, continuing on towards the stage until he takes Spot’s hand and they dance together again.

Race tries to be smug and angry about it at first, but quickly realizes he loves it too much to do that. He let’s Spot give him the floor as he sings and Race dances completely improved, doing impressive tricks and technically correct and appealing moves. It’s not technically a duet as Spot steps aside and only sings while Race dances alone for the majority of the performance. (And he doesn’t need an obvious stunt double to do it for him because he’s Ben Cook).

After he performs, Spot pulls him in for a kiss and hugs him tightly and tells him he never cheated and that he loves him while the judges add up the scores and decide that Race won. Race is stunned by this not even realizing they’d truly put his name in the competition. He is then confronted by Snyder who tries to grab him by the neck and take him home, but Jack and Spot both step in his way before another stranger confronts them, telling Race he moved spectacularly well for someone with two broken legs.

That’s when Race realizes Snyder must’ve cancelled his audition.

The man who is with the academy Race had wanted to get into says he made it, full ride and Race waits until the man leaves to literally cry in relief. Spot catches him before he collapses on the ground.

But Snyder tries to tell him he’s forbidden to go and tries to grab Race again, this time getting a punch in the nose from Jack who just can’t hold back anymore. Snyder falls backwards off the stage, breaking his lower back and ending up in a wheelchair.

Snyder doesn’t press charges because Race threatens to expose how Snyder treated him to the world, inevitably ending up in a courtroom and losing Snyder his job and a lot of his money.

Jack, Kath and Spot all help Race pack the next day. Race stays with Jack and Medda until after he and Jack graduate at the same time and then they all help him move to Manhattan Performing Arts Academy.

Jack and Katherine get married two years later when Jack’s own clothing line takes off and he does eventually become rich off of the profits. Spot proposing to Race after Race graduates from college. All four of them are lifelong friends.

And they all live happily ever after.

For more Mood Boards and AUs, check out my list! And if you’d like to see any scenes from this one, drop me an ask!

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jo-kuron · 4 years ago

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( LANA CONDOR, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER, VIRGO, 25 ) I just spotted JOSEPHINE KURON at the beach today. Don’t you know them? They live down by the TOWERS and usually hang out with the RICH KIDS cliques. From what I’ve heard, they can be CONTROLLING, but they’re also DETERMINED. I always think of them when i hear JUST LIKE MAGIC by ARIANA GRANDE and tend to associate them with parchment paper on a cookie sheet at 3AM, a worn copy of wuthering heights for annotations, sunglasses covering bags under sleep deprived eyes . ( bree, she.her, 21, est )

HI EVERYONE! So, this is one of my fave muses, Jo. She is an amazing and complex female who will constantly amaze, I PROMISE. This is mostly her backbone, there’s more headcanons to follow!

BASIC CHARACTER QUESTIONS

Full Name: Josephine Avila Kuron

nicknames: Josie, Jojo, Jo, Superstar, Dreamer

date of birth: September 20, 1995

age: Twenty Five

Star Sign: Virgo

Chinese Zodiac: Rat

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

hair style? Typically seen with a half-up do.

glasses or contact lenses? Black Tortoise shelled frames from time to time.

scars or birthmarks? a birthmark of a crown sits on the front of her right ankle.

tattoos? A small silhouette of her ex dancing, specifically a jump mid-air.

physical or mental handicaps? Dyslexia.

type of clothes? Typically in Alternative clothing. Lots of ripped jeans and pleated skirts.

mannerisms? When nervous, Jo will tug at her sleeves or excessively push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

PERSONALITY

are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic now, the past self was optimistic.

are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Extrovert.

do they ever put on airs? Sometimes, if she feels intimidated.

what bad habits do they have? Nail biting, and joint cracking.

what makes them laugh out loud? Silly dad jokes and situational humor.

how do they display affection? Gifting small items.

how do they want to be seen by others? Strong and put together.

how do they see themselves? Weak and a mess, irredeemable.

strongest character trait? Trusting

weakest character trait? Controlling

how competitive are they? Very, she loves a challenge.

do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? She takes time to consider the majority of the time, but she will make a quick decision from time to time.

PAST AND FUTURE

Jo was a miracle baby, she was her parents fifth time trying for a child. It wasn’t for lack of pregnancy, her mother couldn’t carry all the way through term. After Josephine took her first breath, nearly every breath after that was in the vicinity of her mother. Although most kid would’ve hated that, Jo found it comforting. She was very nurtured. After her birth, Jo’s mother became a stay at home mom. This often led to her feeling like it would teeter on the side of helicopter parenting from time to time. However, the extra time with her mother led her to find her love of reading and writing.As a child Jo was a huge teacher's pet. She always loved the idea of learning, no matter who or what was teaching her. Even when she hit the age of nine and learning became hard for her, she still enjoyed someone looking out for her and trying to help her be her best self.

Even though she overcame her disability, she shies away from compliments. She finds herself undeserving of them, and openly welcomes criticism. She knows that she isn’t perfect, but she wants to work on being the best version of herself she could be.

She grew up thinking she was poor, but her parents were actually well off because they never wanted her to grow up thinking that money made anyone better than anyone else.

All she wanted was to get into college to make her parents proud of her. Yes, she could’ve done anything and got their approval, but she wanted their approval to mean something. So she worked as hard as she could to get into the top education program in the nation. She wanted to pay the experience she had in school forward. She was on her way home to tell her parents that she had did something that would actually make them proud, her mother called her and told her the terrible news. Her father had a heart attack and didn’t make it to the hospital. She was ready to drop all of her plans to be with her mother and just do school at a local college. However, once her mother found out that she had gotten the scholarship she worked so hard for, her mother demanded that she went to Yates. That’s how she ended up on the green slopes of campus her freshman year of college.

TL;DR: JO WAS A MIRACLE BABY THAT WANTED TO BE A TEACHER HER WHOLE LIFE. SHE ALMOST DIDN’T GO TO COLLEGE BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO TAKE CARE OF HER MOTHER AFTER HER FATHER’S DEATH BUT HER MOM WOULDN’T LET HER GIVE UP ON ONE OF HER DREAMS.

LOVE

do they believe in love at first sight? Yes.

are they in a relationship? No.

how do they behave in a relationship? She likes to keep everyone at a distance except her significant other. She treats them like her best friend, and more often than not they are. She loves to have a friendly relationship so she doesn’t feel like she’s a totally different person in love.

has your character ever been in love? Yes.

have they ever had their heart broken? Yes.

what is their sexual orientation? Bisexual.

FAVOURITES

what is their favourite animal? Koala

what place would they most like to visit? Pasadena, California

what is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? The sunset in New York City. Her ex-boyfriend

what is their favourite song? Heebiejeebies by Amine

music, art, reading preferred? She prefers YA novels, loves Musicals, and isn’t the biggest fan of literal art. She just likes to look at pretty things.

what is their favourite color? She loved the color black for the longest, but now her favorite color is a sky blue.

favourite food: She loves all types of Italian food.

what is their favourite day of the week? Tuesday.

POSSESSIONS

what is in their fridge: She always keeps Apple juice and water bottles in her fridge to drink and enough random snacks to make it look healthy even though she has a stash of chips in the pantry

what is on their bedside table? She keeps a candle and wireless phone charger that looks like a glowing rune when her phone is charging.

what is in their car? She always keeps back ups to all of her bathroom items in her trunk. If you think about it, she has it in there. In her center console she keeps napkins, a reusable straw set, and a few pairs of chopsticks. In her glove compartment she has an extensive rotating collection of cds. She likes the nostalgic feeling.

what is in their purse? She keeps her debit cards, an old photo of her ex, a packet of tissues, headphones, an emergency twenty dollar bill, and a few packs of salt and pepper in a small pouch.

what is in their pockets? Her phone or her headphones

what is their most treasured possession? Her locket.

DAILY LIFE

what are their eating habits? Typically whatever is easily accessed. If it takes longer than an hour to cook, she probably won’t make it.

are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? She would like to believe she’s a minimalist, but her closet would say otherwise.

what do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Make a cup of coffee and read a book on her kindle.

what do they do on a sunday afternoon? Yoga while their roommate watches.

what do they do on a friday night? Either hangout with her friends or play board games while getting drunk with her roommate.

what is the soft drink of choice? Dr. Pepper

what is their alcoholic drink of choice? Tito’s and crystal light. Old Fashioned

what does she do for work? An English Teacher to GED students. A Cam Girl.

#hqclique.intro #about-jo

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thecozywhaleshark · 5 years ago

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All That You Are

Word Count: 1268

Summary: For the days when you feel like nothing can go right and everything is awful, especially yourself

Everything sucked. It had been six months and you had done absolutely nothing.

Actually, that was a lie. You had done something, but everything had been deleted in a blink of an eye. You were told your harddrive had been corrupted, nothing was recoverable. You had lost every photo from your high school days and the first three years of college, as well as every paper, noted idea, and story you had ever come up with.

It had started with one document, one document that held over 60,000 words that disappeared into thin air when you woke up one morning.

Then it had been the entire computer.

If that wasn’t bad enough, your student loans were coming due and you didn’t have a job yet. It had been six months, and in that time you had worked on a world of stories, including one which you hoped would win a prize and give you some money.

Six months of frustration and anger and joy and effort, all down the drain with nothing to show. Nothing to submit to the competition you wished to enter. No money to win.

It wasn’t fine, but you pretended it was, saying “it’s okay at least I still have my brain,” and started again. You wouldn’t make the deadline, but you had to start somewhere. Maybe you could submit it next year.

But in the mean time, it was time to get a job. You had sat down and job searched, typing all in all your qualifications - qualifications that you had worked hard for, through college jobs and degrees and internships. You pressed enter and... nothing. As you scanned, you only found jobs that wanted more than you had. Jobs that wanted masters degrees or three years experience in the position you were trying to apply for.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You seethe, scrolling through the jobs. “Needs a masters degree... needs three years of customer service, specifically in receptionist work... needs to still be in school... unpaid internship.... only part time...”

Closing your laptop you rested your head on your knees and tried not to cry tears of frustration.

“I went to school all that time and studied my ass off, got an internship, studied abroad, got a bachelors and all they can offer me is an UNPAID INTERNSHIP?!”

You grab a pillow and scream into it, finally letting the tears of frustration fall. Everything didn’t seem worth it. You were jobless, art broken, in debt, all your friends were married, perusing their dreams, or in different states and countries, living their best lives while you... you were sitting on the floor of your childhood bedroom in your hometown with nothing to show... and nowhere to go.

Of course, that’s when the rest of the unwanted thoughts came trickling in... “You’re unwanted, a failure, a complete and total failure, look at you, you can’t get a job, you can’t write a story, you don’t have a boyfriend, you’re unloved and nobody wants you... it’s because you’re fat, you sat too much and ate too much and-“

Your spiral into misery is interrupted by your phone ringing. You peer miserably out of your arms and see the screen light up with your best friend Jackson’s face. You make a face at it and almost don’t answer. He had it all, the career, the fame, the good looks, the luck. And you had nothing. You didn’t really want to hear about how his day was going. But at the same time, maybe it would distract you.

“Hi,” you pick up and answer, trying to hide your voice behind a fake cheerful smile, and failing miserably.

He caught on way too quick for your liking. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

Jackson called everyone babe, and you normally like the term of endearment, but not today. Today it just hurt.

You considered lying, but that would just made him mad. You could say everything, but you didn’t want to sound whiny. So you chose option three, lash out.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, clenching the phone tighter in your hand.

“You don’t want me to call you babe? I thought you liked it.”

“Well I don’t,” You retort, wiping the tears off your cheeks furiously with the back of your free hand. “I really don’t.”

He’s silent for a moment before he reply’s. “What’s really going on?”

“Can’t you just accept that I don’t want you to call me babe?” You sniffle and immediately hate that you have, knowing he’s picked up on it.

“Y/n,” he says gently and you hate hate hate it. Hate that he can break you down so easily. “What’s wrong?”

You cradle the phone against your ear and bring your knees to your chest, hugging them to you.

“Everything.” You whisper, letting fresh tears fall down your face.

And then it was like you couldn’t stop. You hated complaining but you told him everything that was on your mind, breaking down until you were able to pause for breath, hugging your knees tighter to yourself.

“I know it might not help, but everything is going to be okay. You’re going to find a job, move out of town, and get your own place. Everything will work out in time. You know that I’m proud of you, right?”

You sniff and wipe you nose with your sleeve. “You are?”

You can’t see him but he’s nodding enthusiastically on the other end of the line. “Yes! Are you kidding me? You’ve been working so hard to go after what you want, and you’ve never given up. Even though you lost like everything on that project, you still started over, and you started again when you lost it a second time. That’s some pretty strong determination if you ask me. Actually, what it is is badass.”

You give a shakey laugh and shift the phone to your other ear. “I... I just feel like such a loser. Like everyone seems to have it all figured out and I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“Trust me babe, they are just as clueless as you are.”

You snort. “They don’t seem like it.”

“I guarantee you everyone’s trying to fake it through the day. Fake it till you make it, right?”

“I guess.”

You breathe for a minute in silence before you speak again. “I’m sorry I wasted this entire phone call complaining... was there something you wanted to talk about?”

He laughs softly. “I don’t mind babe, it’s good to be able to let things out.”

You sigh and stand up, moving to your bed. “My life sucks.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does.”

“Lies.”

“I’m not lying!”

You continue to argue with Jackson as you stretch out on your bed, sinking into the pillows and pulling the comforter over your body.

“You’re gonna get there,” Jackson says softly in your ear and you snuggle deeper into the covers.

“How do you know?” You whisper, pulling the blanket over your head.

“Because you’re the most determined person that I know, and you’re so freaking strong. You’re gonna get there, I just know it.”

You sigh in defeat and turn off the lamp on your bedside table. “Thanks Jackson.”

“You know that I love you right?” He whispers and you smile softly into the mic.

“Even though I have a hard time seeing why, but yeah. I do.”

“I love you for all that you are,” he answers softly but with conviction.

“I love you too.” You whisper, finally allowing your eyes to drift close and fall into a much needed sleep.

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thevengeanceuniverse · 4 years ago

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Truce? Ch 2.

The PR team planned their dates, making sure they were seen regularly going to coffee shops and galas, all the regular things that someone dating Tony Stark would attend.

Bucky struggled to adjust to his new level of fame, followed everywhere he went by people who insisted on shoving cameras in his face and asking for quotes on how his relationship is going. To this day, he didn’t understand how “Fine” or “Good” was a bad answer. The PR people kept telling him to be brief, but positive. What was negative about good?

Tony found his discomfort hilarious and took great joy in taking him to events filled with folks that his company did business with—and 200 of their closest friends. They would go around, making introductions to get Bucky familiar with the people that inhabited Tony’s world and engage in small talk. Tony’s favourite game was when someone would say something along the lines of “And recently, I’ve been devoting time to the exploration of blah blah blah,” and Tony would jump in with, “You know who loves blah blah blah? Bucky! Why don’t you tell them all about your own progress, sweetheart?”

And Bucky would have to rapidly come up the details of a fake interest in tree pruning or velocity equations or non-Indians trying to cleanse their chakras through their navel—or whatever else they decided to talk about.

All he wanted to do was get out of the uncomfortable bow ties and into some fluffy socks and sweatpants, curling up with Steve to watch Finding Nemo and dreaming about sea turtles. Instead, he was going through his own personal nightmare, talking to people he had no interest in—who were much too invested in talking about themselves.

After a few of these events, Tony quickly lost interest in Bucky’s impressive ability to adapt and decided that if they had to go on dates anyway, they might as well go somewhere actually fun. Two days later, he dragged Bucky to a trampoline park a little upstate from the city, which of course they had to rent out for the afternoon to prevent being mobbed by a crowd of Tony Stark fans (the Bucky Barnes fans were laying low on account of the controversy).

The park was housed in a huge building with various areas of trampoline activities for them to try out, from the wide-open space meant for being your best acrobatic self, to basketball hoops and the dodgeball courts. On one side, there was an entire glass wall to let in the light and looked over the green hill the park sat on. It would be beautiful if the view wasn’t covered by the eyes of the world that were watching them, pressed against the translucent surface and fogging it up with their hot breath.

Bucky now knew what it was like to be a goldfish trapped in a glass tank and hated it, but at least it meant that they were getting the attention they needed to.

“Okay Barnes, here’s the deal.” Tony stood in front of the obstacle course with his hands propped on his hips, clad in a stretchy t-shirt and tights with the sheer material at the bottom to show off his legs to perfection. Even when working out, Tony Stark was the epitome of style.

“If I beat you to the other side of the course, you have to dance to a song of my choosing. Right here, in front of everyone.” He gestured expansively to include the staff and their crowd of watchers, all of whom had their phones out to catch the play by play of the Stark-Barnes date.

Bucky’s browed furrowed. “I don’t dance.”

“Exactly,” Tony replied, a smirk twisting his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the same bet. You’ll get me to perform anything you want if you win.”

Bucky looked over the course again, knowing that he could easily make his way across without even breaking a sweat. It would be unfair, but even as he silently acknowledged the fact of his physical advantage, he couldn’t help but think of having the snarky genius dance like a chicken in front of their hordes of admirers.

That would be a photo highlight worth saving.

“Fine,” he agreed, already tasting his victory. “I’ll take the bet.”

They lined up at the starting point, a staff member at the beginning with a stopwatch to time them and another standing at the end, ready to declare the winner the moment someone reached the finish line.

The one at the start line, nametag marked Sarah, raised a paper towel in mimicry of a checked flag. “3, 2,1, GO!” The towel dropped and they were off.

Bucky launched himself on the first obstacle, slanted braces that were spaced a foot away from each other on opposite sides. Shifting his weight, he skipped from one side to the next like an intense game of hopscotch and jumped forward to the net. Scaling its rough surface quickly, he pulled himself up and over and made his way to the next part, a wall that he made his way across by shimmying sideways and using the handholds provided.

It came to a tiny ledge at the end and he stood balanced in a crab-like squat, angling his body and propelling it upward to grab the bar hanging from the top of the obstacle course cage. Using his momentum to trapeze swing forward, he reached out and grab the rope when it came into reach, Tarzaning his way to the platform that led to the next obstacle.

Pausing there for a bare moment, he looked back to see where Tony was. He hadn’t gone through the obstacles as easily as Bucky, but he was still determinably keeping up. Bucky watched as he swung back and forth on the bar to build up the momentum for the leap, adjusting for his shorter height so he wouldn’t fall short of reaching the rope.

Not looking to see if he made it, Bucky stepped forward on the tire swings. balancing on its ridiculous bumpy ride to move from one to the other. He got into the swing of it, making sure to soar forward and leapt before one tire hit the other and sent them both careening in opposite directions.

Halfway through, he heard clanking from above and looked up to see Tony, who instead of following the path of the course, had decided to use the rope to pull himself up to the ceiling of the cage. He weaved along the bars, moving quickly across them in a feat of frightening agility.

Bucky swore when Tony moved past him, speeding up and outright leaping from the last tire to the next platform that preceded the rope walk. They were neck and neck at this point, but Tony leapt from up top a split second before Bucky, reaching ground and beating him.

“You cheated,” Bucky accused.

“Did I though?” Tony grinned unrepentantly, taking a long drink from his water bottle and savouring his win. “The deal was that whoever made it to the other side of the course first was the winner. I didn’t say anything about having to make it through all the obstacles.”

“That’s c h e a t i n g,” Bucky emphasized slowly, wanting to shake the genius now that the reality of his being duped sunk in.

“Eh, potato, potahto. Now,” Tony rubbed his hands together gleefully and pulled out his phone, “time for the penalty.”

“Okay, Stark,” Bucky said, striding over to Tony and grabbing his phone out of his hand, “I’ll dance for you. But since you cheated, I’m choosing the music.” Tony tried to snatch his phone back, but Bucky simply held him back with the metal hand and pushed him away.

Tony grimaced, “Way to suck all the fun out of it, Elsa.” But he didn’t protest as Bucky choose the song and asked the mobile version of JARVIS to play it through the speakers of the park.

“Trust me, Tony, I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself,” Bucky whispered the last bit in Tony’s ear as he pulled him in close, arm braced against Tony’s back and the other grasping his in a firm hold.

As if on cue, the opening strains of Dean Martin’s “Sway” started filtering through the park, the dramatic flourishes at the beginning matching the shift in Bucky. His posture tensed in preparation and his eyes hooded, intense focus directed utterly on Tony.

“You know how to tango?” Tony asked, shocked, as he was pressed into Bucky’s body, feet between each other neatly as if they were meant to be this close always.

“Don’t you?” Bucky challenged and unable to resist, Tony let his lessons from long ago take over his body, letting Bucky hold his body close while they fought for ground in the seductive dance.

He let Bucky direct him, but he made sure that he was just as an active participant. If Bucky spun him, he let his hands slide across the breadth of his chest. If Bucky moved him across the floor in a smooth sway, he leaned his head close as if to press a kiss to his lips before letting his body twist into an artful bend.

Pulling away briefly, Tony let his body fall into a kneeling dip, not resisting when Bucky knelt behind him and his arms came back around Tony, skin touching skin when their movement dragged his shirt upward exposed Tony to the warmth of Bucky’s hands.

Somewhere along the way, they lose all awareness of the staff around them, the crowd watching from the windows, everything but the press of their bodies together, the momentum of the spin. All that existed was the sound of the music that guided them, the crooning of Dean Martin mixed with guitar strings and violins.

They forget that it’s not real.

Ch 3 on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497?view_full_work=true

#consider reblogging if you like?#winterironshield #stuckony #fake dating #post-civil war #enemies to lovers #stony #stucky #winteriron #vengeanceworks #fanfiction #fanfic

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sincerelymarinette · 5 years ago

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A Recorded Life (11/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 2316 Chapter Summary: Time for Marinette to get some work in for Jagged Stone's project! Also, Adrien drops by, maybe it's time to make a video. Author's Note: I'm running out of prewritten chapters and have so little time to write. I'm here trying, and I'm also trying to figure out when the climax is a good time to have in the story. ALSO there may not be a few updates for a few weeks: I will be on vacation next week, then moving off to college the following few weeks. Gonna be crazy.

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Impromptu Q&A with Adrien

---

Marinette was completely focused, sketching out an idea she had for one of the album covers. She had a bad case of art block, and now that she had some inspiration, she wasn't going to lose it. Jagged's song was playing in the background on repeat so she would get all aspects of the song, and Tikki was watching from her perch above Marinette.

Laying on the floor, she was sketching Jagged on a raised platform with lights pointing at him, creating a silhouette. His hands were pointed up towards the comers of the paper. As Marinette began to outline the background, she heard her name being called. "Just a second!" She shouted as she continued drawing.

A minute passed, and Marinette had already forgotten about her name being yelled. She jumped when her trap door opened, and she lost grip on her pencil, and it flew across the room. "Marinette?" Adrien's head popped into her room. "Throwing things?"

She sighed and laid her head down when she realized it wasn't an intruder, only Adrien. "You scared me."

"Couldn't tell," He smirked and picked up her pencil once he got into the room. "What are you up to?"

"I'm working on one of the designs for Jagged's album project. I was inspired," She showed Adrien the sketch. "What are you doing here? Did we have something scheduled? Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

Adrien put his hands up and shook his head. "No, no, we didn't. Don't worry," He told her. "I sent you some texts and called, Alya was worried because she hadn't heard from you all day. So I called the bakery, and your mom said you were designing and probably would not pay attention to that stuff, so she recommended if I needed something from you to just come over," He shrugged. "But, I now realize you were in the zone, and I probably ruined that."

Marinette giggled. "It's okay; I needed to take a break. What's up?"

Adrien chuckled. "Oh...not much. Alya texted me to ask if I had heard from you, so I tried to get to you, and now we're here. My father and Nathalie are out of town, and the stuff they had planned for me fell through, so I feel like a free man!" Adrien replayed his day. "And I let Alya know you're alive, she was just worried. But that was such a tough adventure, now I'm starving," Adrien said.

"I would think so; you've had a busy day," Marinette smirked.

"Well, want to come with me? It seems as if you've had a busy day as well," Adrien motioned towards her sketches. "Reward yourself."

Marinette shook her head with a little laugh as she went to stand up. She grabbed her supplies off the floor and loved them to her desk. "Where are we going? Do I need to bring a camera?" She asked.

Adrien shrugged. "Who knows, weird things could happen at any time. We do have a Hawkmoth around, and maybe Alya needs a run for her money if you document it."

"I couldn't steal her brand!" Marinette gasped. "But I'll bring the camera just in case," Grabbing the camera, Adrien opened the trap door back up and started to head down with a smile on his face. Marinette grabbed her little purse and opened it just enough to let Tikki in. "Where are we headed?" She asked and followed Adrien down the steps.

Adrien shrugged. "I don't know; there's this little cafe near the park if you want to try that?"

"Perfect!" Marinette smiled. As they left the bakery, Marinette snapped a quick photo of the two of them and posted it on Instagram.

@MarinetteDupainCheng Between bad art block and sudden bursts of inspiration for the album project, Adrien got hungry, and now I'm going to lunch. I need to find a reason to get him in a video again...even though it's only been a few days. How would you guys like to see us play our favorite video game?

Adrien chuckled at the post when Marinette let him read and approve it before posting. He clicked post for her and waited for the likes and comments to roll in. I'm only a few minutes of random conversations, they ended up at the cafe and waited for their water to be served. "So, Adrien," Marinette switched to English when pointed her camera at him as they waited. "I just posted that picture, and now there are a good couple hundred questions on it. Maybe I should make a question and answer vlog where we answer the questions on the picture, but not tell anyone, so people get the real questions answered."

"I think that is an amazing idea!" Adrien smiled widely. "I'll pull up the picture and find some comments, but first I'm going to figure out what I'm having for lunch. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I'm starving."

Marinette's eyebrows raised. "Wow, you really are a free man today. Choosing your own food and everything!"

"Hush," Adrien put his finger up. "This is an important decision."

A few minutes passed, and they placed their order, and Marinette had the camera back out to answer questions. They were sat in a booth, so she jumped to the other side to be next to Adrien, and set the camera in front of them so they both would be in the frame. "Some of these questions are so good, I can't wait to talk about them," Adrien chuckled as he scrolled through the comments.

Marinette shook her head and clapped in front of the camera to sync everything up. She pressed record and waited a few seconds to start this segment. "I'm over here now!" She waved into the camera. "We have successfully ordered lunch, and now we're going to answer some questions for an impromptu q-and-a. For the record, I did edit the caption on my post so people would ask questions, but it was an hour after I posted it. So it's kinda a surprise," She winked at the camera.

Marinette pointed to Adrien to have him ask the first question, and he smiled. "How did you two become friends?"

Rubbing her hands together, Marinette chuckled. "Buckle up, kiddos," She said. "It all started on our second day of school a few years ago. I walk in, and I see this blond boy putting gum on my seat. I yelled at him and put a tissue over it and sat out of the way of it. I hated him, he was brand new to school and already didn't like me! What a bully," Marinette rolled her eyes. "So, I was mad at this boy, right? Wouldn't even look his way, and when he tried to explain himself, I didn't listen," Marinette crossed her arms.

Adrien giggled as he listened to her dramatically tell the story of their friendship. "This also happened to be the day of the first Akuma France had witnessed, so everything was crazy, too. After the Akuma, we ended the day at school with rain, and I didn't have an umbrella. And of course, there comes blond boy with his umbrella to stroll by me. I didn't look at him, and he just sighed. Then, I let him explain himself. Partially because I was stuck standing there waiting to call my parents for help, but I hesitantly listened. Then he told me he was only trying to remove the gum another girl put there and only wanted to help, and then he gave me his umbrella. I stole it, and it's still at my house."

"To conclude, Adrien wasn't involved in this story at all. He sat behind me in class for three years before I even noticed him- hey!" Marinette chirped when Adrien nudged her with his elbow, a hurt look on his face.

Adrien rolled his eyes. "To conclude, it was my first day of school! I'd basically been stuck inside all my life; I had no idea how to interact with other people my age that wasn't Chloé. I was lucky I was even allowed to go to school," Adrien shrugged, then furrowed his eyebrows. "You still have my umbrella?"

"It's a nice umbrella. Probably going to be worth something someday," Marinette shrugged.

A smirk appeared on Adrien's face when he tried to hold in a laugh. "You forgot the best part! You opened the umbrella; then it closed on you! That was so funny, made my day!" Adrien continued laughing, while Marinette rolled her eyes.

"And that was only question one!" She announced. "Find me another one, my trusty assistant."

Adrien scrolled for a few seconds to find a good one. "How do you guys balance everything you do?" Adrien asked, then laughed. "Ha! I don't!" He said. "I barely get any sleep. Between school, and modeling, and all the countless activities, while also trying to maintain a social life...you think I balance it?" He joked. "I try to balance it, but it's hard. There's always so much going on."

Marinette nodded in agreement. "I'm the same way. I average very few hours of sleep every night with everything I do," She said and peered at the phone. "Ooh, this one next."

A second after Adrien read it, his facial expression was difficult to read. "What's something you wouldn't have expected to know about the other, but you do?" Adrien asked. "Hold on; I'm confused."

"Like something you wouldn't think the other person would do, or a personality trait I have you weren't expecting...kind of like that," Marinette tried to explain.

Adrien nodded and struggled to think. "See, everyone thinks I'm going to say I didn't expect you to be as passionate, or determined, but you are so passionate and determined that I knew that and everyone can tell. I'm never really surprised by things with you...I have to think on that," Adrien concluded.

Marinette's smile grew wide. "I didn't expect you to be such a rebel. I know you have a lot going on, and when we first met, you listened to nearly everything your father said. Now you're telling me you fake your piano classes and sneak off from time to time," Marinette said.

"Hey! What if he sees this? Shh!" Adrien jumped.

With raised eyebrows, Marinette gave him an annoyed look. "You think he watches my videos? Really? Adrien, come on," She said.

Adrien shrugged. "Who knows, he could be scoping out his up-and-coming competition. But maybe it's an excuse to check up on everything I'm doing," Adrien reasoned. "But he's got a real storm coming if he doesn't get you on his design team...you'd run him out of business!" Adrien told her.

Marinette scoffed and shook her head. "Next question?" She asked.

"Is Alya jealous that Adrien is taking her spot on the channel?" Adrien asked.

Quickly, Marinette shook her head. "Not at all! You guys may not know it, but Alya does so much work behind the scenes to help me with videos. More so for my main channel, but she helps me come up with ideas, shoot many videos, and runs my website. Not to mention, she's never shy giving me ideas for this channel as well and is always ready to help. I'm sure she enjoys the little break she gets when Adrien butts his way in, she's working really hard at her reporting internship and getting into the school she wants to. All while trying to maintain the Ladyblog, her social life, and her love life!" Marinette explained quickly. "She's like, a superhero."

"Say it louder for the people in the back!" Adrien cupped his hands around his mouth.

Marinette snatched the phone out of Adrien's hand to ask a question. "Who's your favorite superhero from the Avengers?" She asked and sighed. "I don't know about Adrien, but I love so many. Let's see-"

"Oh!" Adrien shouted. "I'm surprised you're such a big Chat Noir fan!" He interrupted.

"What?"

"From the question earlier! I'm surprised you like Chat Noir so much. I would have bet money on it that you liked Ladybug more, and I was shocked to find out!" Adrien gushed. "I'm sure he'd be flattered, by the way. Especially with that awesome outfit you made inspired by him. Still excited, I got to wear that."

Marinette chuckled. "I've met Chat Noir, and he seems really down to Earth. He protected me when an Akuma fell in love with me, and once I confessed that I was in love with him because I panicked over something? It was weird, but then my dad got akumatized, and I was basically Rapunzel, and he helped save me from that too. I haven't seen him in a while, but he was pretty awesome- minus all the puns."

Adrien gasped. "You don't like puns?" He put his hand over his heart and pretended to be hurt.

"I don't dislike them. He was just...very annoying when it came to puns. There were so many, Adrien," Marinette explained.

"I don't know if our friendship can survive this, Mari," Adrien said. As he crossed his arms and turned away from her, the waiter walked over with their food. "Perfect timing, now I have something to distract me from the traitor!" Adrien quietly shouted.

"I guess this is as good a time as any to end the video. Make sure to leave a like if you want more and subscribe to never miss an upload! You can check out all of mine and Adrien's social media around our faces or in the description below! See you guys next time!" Marinette made a peace sign and nudged Adrien with her arm. His arms were still crossed, and he tried not to giggle as he looked away from the camera.

The video ended with Adrien grumbling "traitor" as he made a peace sign as well.

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies@bookishserendipity03@avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl@kat-thatoneweirdo@strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman@lilgaga98

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