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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation. pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write!

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.”

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach.

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason.

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs.

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy.

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache.

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud.

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long?

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?”

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly.

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong.

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon.

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook.

You scream.

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—”

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!”

“Well… is he at least cute?”

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!”

“Tasteful nudes.”

“I’m gonna die.”

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.”

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates.

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM.

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?”

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.”

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot.

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram.

Of course, he’s stupid hot.

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well.

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more.

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend.

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league.

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on.

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen.

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen.

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?”

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot.

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?”

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?”

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.”

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!”

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.”

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?”

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance.

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing.

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.”

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures.

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.”

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something.

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie.

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.”

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.”

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy.

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really.

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing.

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.”

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment.

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film.

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic.

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?”

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.”

“You think right.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair.

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?”

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.”

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier.

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot.

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud.

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes.

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container.

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?”

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display.

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?”

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.”

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation.

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.”

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking.

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.”

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.”

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize.

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.”

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.”

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?”

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.”

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.”

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you.

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down.

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks.

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts.

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed.

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ???

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird.

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture.

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today.

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring.

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.”

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.”

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?”

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.”

You choke on your saliva.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?”

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.”

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?”

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!”

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.”

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.”

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.”

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off.

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?”

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?”

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.”

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.”

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens.

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists.

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger.

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine.

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.”

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.”

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?”

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.”

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag.

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin.

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio.

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony.

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him.

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.”

“It was.”

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table.

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.”

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.”

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity.

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die.

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more.

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them.

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.”

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists.

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset.

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself.

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.”

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.”

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink.

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set.

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.”

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.”

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.”

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?”

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?”

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?”

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.”

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself.

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.”

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.”

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.”

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame.

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home.

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead.

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade.

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?”

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?”

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this.

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”

#jungkook fic #btsghostiebingo #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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bourbonbees · 3 years ago

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Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

#suptober21 #cemetery boys #supernatural #destiel #jack kline #jack kline pov #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fan fiction

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dylanxmin · 4 years ago

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painkiller ∣ 3.3 ∣ J.HS

breakups are habitual, ordinary maybe even easy for some other people, and maybe it could be easy for you, too, if you haven’t been dumped by your boyfriend after finding out that you were pregnant. no, it wasn’t easy even a bit. and a stranger who wants to be your side doesn’t make this all easy for you, at all.

pairing; jung hoseok x reader (for this episode only it’s vmin:)

genre; angst, fluff, humor, pregnancy au, strangers to lovers au, single!mom au, slice of life au,,

warnings; swearings, VMIN!!, tease jimin, shocked taetae, mxm,,

word count; 715

rating; nc17

a/n; heyy everyone!!! this is little, and actually kind of not that important but i wanted to add some outside touch to this story, and my heart bloomed for some vmin:))) don’t hate me, it’s only platonic - of course in my heart, its real for the story -. And i will put some tiny, drabble ish parts to this fic and if you don’t want to be tagged to these ones (not only about vmin ofc), please let me know. Yes they are not that important but you might want to know what happened in these as to prevent any confusion? sooooo, please let me know and thank you for reading my work and supporting me, thank you!! love you ♡ ♡

previous ➭ ˚masterlist˚ ➭ next

taglist; @xxluckydreamsxx ,, @parkminhee

∣ send me an ask if you want to be on the tag list ∣

‘‘What is wrong with this place,’’ the red-haired man sighed, fingers ruining the order of his hair as he bobs his head from right to left, searching. ‘‘Okay, we get it, you are rich. But that’s not mean a hospital should be big like this. Ahh, seriously…’’ hand covering side of his hips, he really, really hates the hospitals once again. Talking to himself was one thing, but after going up and down for so many times, he was tired. Almost sick of not finding the cafeteria for buying goddamn water. He has so many questions, like why the place was so big and everyone was too busy to answer his useless question. But the lost man’s thoughts and tiredness wiped away when a tiny, muscular shoulder decided to bump into his. If it weren’t for his size, the red haired face would have licked the white floor.

He was lucky, maybe?

‘‘Oh fuc- I mean sorry. M’so sorry’’ hiding the f word very lamely, the shorter eyed the person he literally knocked down. A wide-eyed expression slipped by his face, but just for a second. Before even the man he apologised can notice it. ‘‘You okay?’’

Taehyung wasn’t a man who acts rude, or furious. But with the fatigue he felt both physically, and mentally - thanks goes to you as you drove him crazy while he drove you here - he was about to say something mean, something far, far away from his real self. Almost. Because all the bad words, nasty attitudes swoop down after seeing the black haired man, knot between his brows. It was ridiculously similar to the romantic comic books, something snapped in his vision, as having a concussion in his brain, flowers blossomed around the man who hurted his shoulder. Taehyung blinked for several times, but the stupid purples, pinks, and greens did not left his vision.

‘‘Y-yes. Okay.’’ he realised he was mumbling, still blinking for the sake of his mind. As the most beautiful man on earth was smiling at him. With the fucking flowers around him. Colors mixed with his silky white skin. Knot melted in his stomach as he continued, eyes snapped wide. ‘‘I mean- I’m okay. Yes, thank you.’’

‘‘For what?’’ a smooth, funny giggle beamed right in Taehyung’s stomach. He was losing his mind, for sure. ‘‘You are thanking me for?’’ the shorter ones' eyes curled as the grin placed on the milky face. Sphere eyes gleaming, something dangerous in them. It made the taller shift on his feet, little uncomfortable.

‘‘For. For… Well, now I’m not sure,’’ his brows drew together, Taehyung sighed once again, but this time out of embarrassment.

‘‘I thought so,’’ the smaller man did not have pity on Taehyung. Not while eyeing him from head to toe, nor when his pink tongue kissed his plushed lips. Taehyung was as sure as eggs are eggs they were not real. Shouldn’t be. He hoped. ‘‘So, if you are okay,’’ the intimidating man was about to leave before Taehyung could cry out loud a nonsense. But he was stunned after the squeaky sound left the taller’s lips. It was not mixing with his look, to be honest.

‘‘Can you tell me where is the cafeteria?’’ Taehyung placed a hand back on his head, scratching his hair. ‘‘I-If it's okay, please?’’

Something in his voice jerked the smaller ones attention, biting his lips, he gave the answer. Pointing with his finger. ‘‘As you asked so nicely, I might.’’ After thanking, thanking, and thanking for almost a thousand times Taehyung left the man behind. Truth to be told, the man left him behind, mouth almost reached to the floor, probably drooling. After a couple of minutes later Taehyung was ready to move, leaving the current spot where the magic struck him. Heart beating, blooming something in his stomach, he felt hot. So hot. Hot as much as the man he just met. Black hair, soft skin, angelic voice… Shit, now he had to thank you and find an excuse to take you to your appointments every time as the man was wearing a hospital worker cloth. He wasn’t sure about his duty, but Taehyung was sure he would see the man with the angel voice.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #vmin #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #jung hoseok #painkiller #dylanxmin #ITS ONLY VMIN FOR THIS LITTLE EPS

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cherryplasmids · 5 years ago

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☆ all that could have been ☆

pairing: john seed x deputy!reader fandom: far cry 5—non-game sequence prompt: it’s about time john knows how you truly feel, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. notes: first time doing far cry so please be nice lol — i was encouraged by @hopecountyhellcat and @punisherpage —check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Everything went wrong in a matter of seconds. In one moment, you’re flying high in the air with the intent of going to the Rye’s house for a drink of beer and some laughs. After a successful day of bothering the Seeds with no violent moments, you wanted to end the day right with your favorite people. You messed with the radio for a bit before turning it off in favor of humming your favorite song. The next moment, the engine explodes and you have no choice but to jump out of the plane. The parachute doesn’t do much to give you a safe landing. Instead, it gets caught in the sturdy branches of the tall Montana trees. It rips easily.

And you’re going down fast, bruising every body part as you hit multiple branches on the way.

There’s no time to think before your back slams against the forest dirt, head bouncing off the ground and connecting with loose rocks. A mixture of an agonized groan and a winded gasp emits from your lips. Tears gather up in your eyes immediately as obnoxious ringing vibrates through your head. Other than that, you can’t hear anything. Not even the loud explosion from the destroyed plane rattles you. You wouldn’t even notice it happened if it wasn’t for the flash of bursting colors and heat warming your skin.

You want to scream for help. To let out something besides the pathetic and agonized croak gurgling out of you. Your bruised throat disables that from happening.

Hopefully, the engulfing fire catches someone's attention.

An eternity later, you decide to move, no matter how excruciating. Every movement sends a stinging sensation through your arms as if a thousand wasps stung you all at once. Lifting yourself up into a sitting position, your eyes zero in on the rest of your body. It hasn’t faired any better. A rusted jagged piece of shrapnel sticks out of your thigh, with blood steadily pouring out the wound. With just the tip pointing out, a passing thought breezes by—10th-grade anatomy class mentioned important veins in the thigh. You never memorized the placements, but you might have an inkling now.

The watch on your right-hand beeps. The screen is scratched up but not cracked enough to hinder any information from being displayed. Messages upon messages come through, all from the Rye’s and Sharky. As you read through them, your mind gets all foggy, jumbling the words together. Removing your eyes from the bright screen, you begin to move with no direction. There’s no way you would die alone in the middle of this godforsaken county.

It takes a long time until you reach a clearing. Of course, it happens to be John Seed’s massive ranch. With nowhere else to go, you continue crawling to his front porch. When you reach it, you sit propped up against the wooden banisters. Despite the pain, your body begins to relax. You’re safe here. Always safe on John’s ranch. With the crash being in his territory, there’s no doubt he would go investigate. He’ll know it’s your plane once he sees the cropped baby blue sweater he bought you three days ago in the back seat and the expensive black jeans he left there after a quick rendevous a week ago. If he digs any further, he might even find the polaroid nude you tucked away in the back pocket. Only if the fire didn’t burn them.

Noticing the blood trail, you realized there isn’t enough time left before the inevitable demise. The thigh injury is pumping blood faster than a cheetah running to catch prey. By the time John comes, you’ll be done.

Jacob will celebrate the news.

You take a deep breath as you hear John’s orotund voice, mixing in with the low ringing still prominent in your ear. The pulsing sensation is thumping in your head is triggered, flaring behind your skull. He’s most likely a figment of your imagination, conjured up to keep you company until you die. A lazy hand travels slowly to touch your head. The matted hair is covered in blood and you let out a choked laugh.

“Rook?”

It takes a couple of seconds to register John’s walking toward you, eyebrows furrowed. He lifts his sunglasses and perches it on top of his head like normal. The closer he gets, the more his body mingles with the blurriness of the trees, swaying to the sporadic wind breeze. You wave at him, blood dripping from your hand.

He’s actually here.

“Hi, John.” Your raucous voice echoes in your head but you could tell it doesn’t affect him. In reality, it’s a whisper he isn’t close enough to hear. He runs to you once he notices the blood, his shiny Gucci belt beaming in the sunshine. A tired smile reaches your lips and you sigh, attempting to ignore the throbbing headache, the difficulty in swallowing, and the continuous blood loss. John’s here now. He’ll save you from this fuck up.

He’s yelling something but your hearing goes in and out. The words don’t make any sense when you attempt to piece them together. It only hurts to try. Once he reaches you, he tucks you into his muscular arms with his lips forming words. His lips are moving too quickly to be understandable so you opt to read his expressive eyes. Tears prick the baby blues for a few seconds before spilling over like a waterfall.

“Ro—Rook—Rook!” His voice like a high-piched foghorn, John successfully pulls you out of your daydream.

A smile still plays at your lips. “I had a little accident, John.”

He’s shaking his head. “A random fucking Angel shot down your plane.” He sniffles and cradles the back of your head. His body shudders when he sees blood oozing out onto his hands. Never once did he ever cringe from the substance in his adult life and yet, here is practically breaking at the sight of it. He doesn’t care if other people suffer—actually revels in the sight of it. But now, with you in his arms sporting the same pained expression as the rest, he’s afraid. A childhood flashback of Jacob bleeding from parental abuse takes over for a moment. The fear is vivid.

“I’ve called an ambulance.”

A thought conjures up in your head. He’s utterly stunning. Somehow John remains mesmerizing in every way. The splotchy redness on his cheeks, the peeking snot, and his frightened eyes do nothing to deter that fact.

“Joseph isn’t too happy, I bet.” You let out a weak chuckle before peering up at him. “You came for me.”

“I’ll always come for you.”

“What a tiring job.” Your words begin to slur, saliva gathering in your mouth. However, the way John’s eyes comically widen, you know it isn’t saliva.

“You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is coming and you’ll be fine—back to annoying us, okay?”

You cough up, blood splattering John’s left cheek in small droplets. “Maybe not.”

“No!” He yells and you flinch. He visibly softens, a fresh batch of tears seeping out of his eyes. The redness of his eyes interferes with his beautiful baby blues. You want him to stop crying, so you grasp onto his hand and give him a strained, reassuring smile.

“Sorry,”

He shakes his head and caresses his thumb across your split bottom lip. With such tender care mixed in with whispered lovely words, your body eases into relaxation. Every word or sound coming out of his mouth is like butter, all warm and comforting. Even in this time, the raging pain subsides for a moment to allow some clarity—to listen to John’s rich, calming voice.

Everything about him is magical.

“Do you think we could ever be together?” The pain from your bruised throat causes the words to take ages for it to come together. Soon, coherent sentences won’t be possible.

“Of course, we are meant to be together. Joseph said so himself. God wills it, Rook.”

You ignore his words and continue with your frayed thoughts. “Not in this lifetime. In another where your brother isn’t a psycho—” You take a deep breath, cutting the sentence short. The anger bubbling within your stomach at the thought of Joseph uses more energy than you would like. You’d be damned if your last words were about him.

“I love you, John Seed. It took me some time but yeah. I love you.” Your words are choppy, consciousness falling in and out as you strung your last sentences together.

He begins to sob.

“Would’ve married you too. Spend every day loving you. You deserve it, Johnny.”

After feeling numb for so long, John can’t lose you. You’re the only thing that encourages real, raw emotion from him. To come to terms with his traumas and twist it into a positive outlook. “You've been through shit, Johnny.” You told him months ago, the first time you stumbled upon his ranch. Why let that shit get you down? Stop you from living life? I’ll teach ya, free of charge. With a wink and a pat on the ass, John knew he was hooked. And you’ve done exactly that. Taught him that there’s more to life than suffering. A life where he doesn’t have to inflict pain to feel something. A life where he can live happily without the idea of sins carving him up at any given moment. You’ve been ingrained within every aspect of his life to the point where he doesn’t remember ever being without you.

What will he do when you’re gone?

Another heart-wrenching sob emits from him. His alarmingly begins trembling even more. Through all the anguished cries, he says your real name, chanting it as if it’s the only prayer he knows. He’s talking again and moving frantically. But nothing computes in your brain. He does all sorts of things in seconds: wiping his snot on his blue Prada shirt, tapping your cheeks when your eyes close for a nanosecond too long, waving at something beyond your restricted vision. All the quick movements send your mind spinning like a gravitron. It takes you back to the first time you ever went on one. You were 10 and they had to stop midway because you threw up in it.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy “Let’s take a nap, Johnny.”

“No,” his voice sounds like he’s speaking underwater. “You have to stay up, Rook or else—” He breaks off, choking on his own words before pulling you further into his arms to cry into your chest. “Please, just listen to me for once.”

You try to nod but your head is filled with heavy lead, weighing it to the point where it hurts to even twitch. All the words you want to say die in your throat, replaced by blood. It creeps in your throat before spilling out of your lips in a thin trail.

Slowly but surely, you begin to fade, sinking into a deep abyss of empty blackness. Your last thought is about John’s baby blues and all that could’ve been.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,848 published: april 18, 2020 [my birthday!] edited: n/a

#far cry #far cry fic #far cry fanfiction #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fic #john seed #john seed x reader #john seed fanfiction #far cry imagine #fanfiction #video games #my writings #original works #original masterlist #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed #x reader

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years ago

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A Cozy Cove Masquerade

Warnings: fluff, smut (Daddy kink, masturbation male & female, some what comical sex scene.)

Inspired by Ballroom Scene in Labyrinth

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel , A side of tits with your pancakes, Fires Burn Hot , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving, The end id not always the end, Axel Grease , Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass Dangerous Waters, Nursing the patient , Making it Work, Never Have I Ever The Masquerade .The Proposal,

tag: @dragsraksllib @super-pink-a-palouza @loomiz @waywardtigersandwich @shkaboodle @theskarsgardcult @babyboy-cody @bskarsgardlove92 @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @shenevertricks1831 @hornyhetero @taintedglass @grandpa-sweaters @bskarsgardlove92

Moodboard by @flowers-in-your-hayr

Susie walks in to the Cluney Ballroom in her pink princess dress with matching feathered mask unsure of the scene before her. It seems that the whole town is dancing around the room. Most in more monstrous looking masks with horns and exaggerated noses. It is like a bad dream in some ways.

She spins. Then goes in search of Axel. When she sees him in his dark black suite, she is instantly mesmerized. Then dancers swooped between them. When they veer away Axel is gone. She frets at the people surrounding her. Her heart races as they seem to laugh at her fears as she tries to get away from being engulfed.

Axel moves around the room trying to get to her also. He just misses her at a few turns. Both get frustrated. The amount of people seems to double keeping the couple separated. Axel watches her from as close as he can get to her. He smiles at how beautiful she looks. His Susie Q is the Princess of this this Ball surrounded by heathens.

She finally turns to see him within reach. His eyes say it all with no other expression on his face. He missed her more than he could bare to ever tell her. He took her tiny hand in his. His other hand on her waist. Her other hand on his shoulder. They held each in a gaze of love.

The others seemed to dance off forming a wide circle as they watched the young couple with adulation. Axel glided her around the circle with ease. He was more graceful than she ever thought he could be. When the music changed, he swished her off the floor to the bar.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Susie.” He brushed her hair back smiling. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” Susie beamed.

“I missed you.” They said in unison and laughed.

It is surprising to Axel that Susie was there. He was not even sure he would be showing up until the afternoon of the party even though his Father demanded his presence two weeks before. His Father stopped by the garage. They went into Axel’s office to talk.

“Axel, just grow up and wear the suit I send you.” Dr. Cluney screamed at his son. “We have been having this fight since you were eighteen and I expect you to make at least an appearance. It is not going to kill you to dress up for one night.”

“It could.” Axel smirked. “I could be allergic to the material and end up in the emergency room. Then you would feel like shit.”

His Father shook his head. “I know all your allergies boy. I think this year will be surprising good. Just stay the first half hour.”

“We’ll see.” Axel huffed. “I have to get back to work.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Cluney opened the door walking out. Axel was on his heels. “think about what I’ve said today.”

When Axel was home after work, he sat down with a beer in hand and his laptop ready to video chat Susie. She always made him feel better when something was on his mind. She was especially understanding when that something involved his Father. And he would always listen to what she was doing at college. He was proud she went back to finish her education.

Axel pulled his work shirt off before calling. “Hey, babygirl.” His eyes smiled at her even if his mouth was stagnant. “How you doin’?”

“I am doing good.” She smiled. Her hair in a messy bun. Eyes a little blood shot from reading off a computer screen for too many hours. His t-shirt hanging off one of her shoulders since it was so big on her. “Trying to get a little ahead of my studies. Maybe a coffee run before I hit a wall.” She giggled.

Her laugh lit him right up. “Don’t get too drunk tired. Make sure you sleep at least three hours. You know eight is better for you.”

“I’ve been averaging six hours a night.” She admitted. “How are you? You look a bit thinner, Axel. I hope you are eating.”

“I’m eating good enough.” He runs his hand threw his hair. “Work has been busy this week. My Father is bitching at me to go to the yearly family Masquerade Ball. I told you about it, I think. It’s not really my thing. I will run off to visit you, so I don’t have to go.”

“I think you were the one that told me not to run from my responsibilities?” Susie reminded him.

“Yeah, I guess I did tell you that.” He sighed. “You sure you don’t need an evening distraction?”

“You can be perfectly distracting from right there.” She grinned. “Take your pants off. Remind me what I am missing.”

“Babygirl, the things you're missing can’t be just seen with your eye.” He stood looking right into the laptop camera. “You know you want to feel it.” He started unbuttoning and zipping down his naturally distressed jeans.

She bites her lip as she watched him. “Yes, Axel show me what I am missing. I need to see it to really appreciate my loss.’

“I know what you want to see, dirty girl.” He palmed his cock over his boxer briefs. “How about you show Daddy those perky tits first.” A grin swam on to his face.

Susie giggled. “This is so bad.”

“You started it.” The grin still plastered. “Besides, you know this is being a very good girl for Daddy.”

She uncrossed her legs, putting the laptop between them. “Yes, Daddy.” She pulled off the t-shirt revealing nothing under it. “I am prepared to be a very good girl for you.”

“Fuck me.” he murmured not expected the view he was getting so soon. The way she was licking her lips slowly as her dominant hand ran between her breasts down to rest on her inner thigh was making his brain loose coherent thought as blood rushed to his concealed weapon.

When he unbared, Susie’s eye widened with excitement as wetness gathered between her legs. Her thighs pulled together.

“Daddy won’t have none of that babygirl.” Axel ordered softly. “Open up so I can see that pretty pussy.”

Susie did as she was told.

Axel groaned as he man handled his shaft. “Go on babygirl.” He was breathing heavily. “Run your hand over that nice wet warm place.”

She lightly ran her hand over her mound. “I miss you touching me so much, Daddy.”

“Daddy wants his face just buried right in there to taste it.” Axel panted, his thumb rubbing over his head feeling the precum emerging. “Run those fingers over your clit. I want to suck it so bad.”

She circles her clit slowly letting out soft moans. “Oh, Daddy.”

Axel bites his lip. “Fuck so beautiful. Work it babygirl. I want you...” he groans. “To fucking come when I say so.”

Susie whines. “I’ll try Daddy. Just...”

“You got it, right there.” He tries desperately to hold off to give her more time. He knows from experience how long she needs to work herself up. “fuck.” He groans.

She leans back on the bed ready, right on the edge of satisfaction.

Axel grits his teeth. “Oh, fuck now babygirl. Fuck, yesssssss.” his ejaculation just misses his laptop as he twitches coming down from the high. His head back against the couch as he floats in bliss.

Susie Sighs heavily as she comes down. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Cheeks flushed. She laid there a moment before sitting up. “I love you.”

Axel looks at her. Eyes still a little off balance. “I love you my Susie Q. Thank you. I guess we should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon...enough when I’m done with school.”

Axel didn’t notice her little word fumble. “Yeah, not soon enough for me sweet girl. Good night.”

“Good night, Axel.” She blew him a kiss before they both disconnected at the same time.

She hoped he didn’t notice she said soon. Axel’s Father had called her about the Masquerade. That is why she was trying to get ahead of her studying. She didn’t want to be thinking about school when she reunited with her lover for the first time in seven months.

Susie felt like Cinderella when she came back from class one day to find a dress box at the dorm check in area. She carried it straight to her room with a huge smile on her face. The dress was pink with a lot of sparkle to it. There were glass high heels and a mask that matched the dress perfectly. It fit perfectly when she tried it on.

She really had to hold back her excitement when she talked to Axel. It was easier when he intended to get her excited over something else completely. And she needed that to calm her hormones down just a little bit. Susie really hoped Axel decided to go to the Masquerade.

When she finally saw him there it was like magic. He looked so handsome in his suite it nearly took her breath away. She was pleasantly surprised he knew how to ballroom dance better than most people there. When the floor cleared for them and they were looking into each other's eyes, it was like her own personal heaven.

“I’m glad your Father talked you into being here tonight, Axel.” Her smile matched his.

“If I would have known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have given him such a tough time.” Axel kept playing with her hair as he talked in an airy husky voice. “I really want to kiss you right now. Then I want to fuck you up against the closest wall.”

“How long do you have to stay.” Her eyes fluttered thinking about what he wanted was exactly what she wanted.

“My Father suggested that I at least stay a half hour.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Part of him thought it could be a dream. “That was just to give you time to get here. We made a good showing by dancing. We can sneak out.”

“I should really thank your Father first.” She looked around the room trying to figure out who the Doctor could be in the sea of masks. “You should to. Where is he?”

Axel scanned the crowd. “See the guy with the long hair spiky wig over there?” Axel chuckled. “My Father thinks he can pull off David Bowie and be just as cool. I think not but we can keep that between us.”

Susie giggled. “We can do that.”

They made their way over towards Axel’s Father. When he saw them, he paused his conversation. “Their they are. My Son and his girlfriend Susie Quinnby. Don’t they just look like the Prince and Princess of Cozy Cove?”

The people Dr. Cluney was talking to all agreed. They fawned over the couple making Susie blush. Axel thanked them. He was trying hard not to roll his eyes at these kissed ups. They eventually dissipated so that Susie and Axel could talk to his Father.

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me Dr. Cluney and for the beautiful dress.” She did a little spin. “It's all so perfect.”

“I'm glad you made it dear.” He smiled. “I’m glad I got this one to show up to greet you as you needed to be, without telling him you were coming.”

“Thanks Dad.” Axel Kisses Susie’s hand. “I’m glad I showed up. She kept this secret. I think we’re going to take off if that’s cool?”

“Go on.” He shooshed them with a hand. “He has been sulking without you here Susie. He won’t be sulking for a while after spending some time with his girl. Now go on.”

They rushed off out the door as quickly as they could. A car was waiting to take them to Axel’s place. The chauffeur opened the door tipping his hat to the couple. Susie was giggling as she got inside.

“Put the privacy window up, Franklin.” Axel slipped him a tip before joining Susie.

“As you wish, Sir.” The driver did as Axel requested as soon as he got in the driver’s seat.

All Axel had to do was tap his thigh for Susie to be straddling him in seconds. His hands on her face pulling her lips to his. Her hands in his hair as she was kissing him back hard, grinding on his lap. He groaned, his pants tightening from the huge growth underneath.

Axel’s hand slid down under her dress grabbing her bare ass cheeks. “Thong?”

“Yeah.” her lips moved to his neck driving him wild.

“Pretty pink ones to match the dress?” He breathed.

“Yes, Daddy.” She nibbled on his ear.

“I’m going to rip them off you when we get inside.” He grabbed the back of her hair pulling her head back for his tongue to dive into her cleavage.

The car stopped. Susie got off him just before Franklin opened the door for the couple to get out. The chauffeur said nothing but, “Have a good evening,” when they emerged with Axel’s face smeared with her shimmery pink lip stick.

They walked to Axel’s door hand in hand. Axel pulled his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. They went inside and he tossed the keys in a bowl.

“Oh, so you weren’t just happy to see me?” She giggled.

Axel chuckled. “You were not feeling my keys, Babe. I assure you of that.”

He tossed his mask aside. She tossed hers. They were pulled back together as if magnets. Susie pushed his jacket off. He unzipped her dress. She went to pull his tie to undo it and it came off with a snap.

“Clip on?” She giggled.

“Yeah.” He chuckled.

Axel was fumbling trying to find the fasteners on her bra as she was unbuttoning his shirt.

“Front clasp.” She told him as she pulled his shit open. She started dropping kisses down his chest.

He stroked her hair. “I’ll tell you what. You have the count of three to run into the bedroom and have your bra and panties off before I get there or they both get torn off with my teeth.” He grinned.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I thought you wanted to rip off my panties?”

He snarled.

“One...” Axel started counting as he took off his pants.

Susie shot off towards the bedroom laughing.

“Two...” Axel continued while his boxers fell to the floor. “I hope you’re ready for me. Three.”

He ran in to find her on her knees in the bed. Her bra in hand. She flung it at him. “OOPS,” She grinned.. “I didn’t have time to get my thong off. I guess I’m in in trouble.”

Axel smirked. “You know what’s coming to you, babygirl?” He licked his lips. “You think you can handle it?”

Susie laid back and reached for him. “You come here to take all you want, Daddy.”

Axel pounced on the bed. He crawls over her like an animal. She watched him closely until his face ducked down. Susie felt his teeth scrape along her hip. It gave her chills; He bit the elastic there growling as he twisted madly pulling at it like a rabid dog. She wanted to laugh but he was too cute trying to be all rough and being more ruff.

Once he finally ripped them off, he was already sweating. He went for a condom in the nearby draw before he moved up to kiss her the way she was waiting for. His kiss was deep, loving, and full of all the passion he had built up in her absence. As he did that, he buried his cock inside her progressively moving quicker. She moaned biting his bottom lip at the moment of penetration. They were still perfectly in tune with each other's needs after not being together for months. Her hips caught up with his rhythm.

As he felt her walls clench around him, Axel did his best to hold out for her release. He didn’t quite make it, but she finished at the pure force of his release. They laid back a moment before he tossed the condom and pulled her into his arms.

“How long do I get to keep you?” Axel kissed her forehead gently.

“I have to be on a plane back to the University at 8a.m.” Susie frowned. “But I only have a few more months until winter break. We will have three months before my internship at NASA for six months. Then I graduate and I am yours if you will still have me?”

“I will always want to have you my Susie Q.” Axel smiled even though it made his heart ache that she would be away so much. “I think when you are working for NASA, I will have to come visit for a weekend to take you to Disney World.”

“I would love that Axel.” She smiled as her eyes fluttered shut.

Axel held her close until he drifted off to sleep. His hand fell to the bed. Susie was still snuggled against him happily.

#Axel and Susie q #axel cluney #love #love story #long distance love affair #romance #masquarade #masquerade ball #cozy cove #to be continued

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britishassistant · 4 years ago

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But I Like One Piece (16)

Surprisingly, Lee wraps his head around the idea of reincarnation from another world the easiest.

“It’s like when children at the Orphanage are adopted.” He explains blithely. “The parents who take them away give them new names, so you can’t ask to visit or see how Shinpachi is doing anymore, but the person who was known as Shinpachi still exists. He just has a new life with a new name somewhere far away.”

There’s a moment of contemplative and slightly horrified silence.

“Huh.” She says. “I-I guess it is kinda like that. I am Mayu, I just...remember being someone else before that. Somewhere very, very different.”

“Mayu—” Her mother pinches the bridge of her nose. “How-how do you know that this—this other world even exists?”

Well, she’d known they’d need proof to believe her, one way or another. Hopefully this will be complex enough that it should suffice.

She takes a deep breath.

«It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the will of the fight, risin’ up to the challenge of our rival. And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he’s watching us all with the eeeeeyyyyyyeee—of the tiger.»

Naruto grins. “Hey, it’s the singy thing!”

Lee gives a little round of applause. “You have a very nice voice, Mayu-chan!”

She tries not to blush and fails miserably.

Gai-sensei nods. “A most youthful tune, Mayu-chan. But do the sounds have any meaning?”

“Wait just a moment.”

All eyes turn to her father, whose head is hanging down, hair bracketing his eyes.

“Those sounds...aren’t they...”

She feels a drop of sweat slide down the back of her neck. Otou-san is the second son of a samurai clan after all; it’s no surprise that he can recognize a foreign language just by hear—

“They’re the noises you used to make when you were a little baby!!” Her father yells, pointing a dramatic finger at her.

“NO!!” She yells back, cheeks aflame. “Well, actually, yes, they kinda were, but they weren’t just baby noises!!”

Okaa-san gasps, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Dear, I can’t believe I couldn’t remember! You were so sweet, Mayu-chan, always going ‘aa dun uda’sta oo’.”

“That’s because I was trying to say «I don’t understand you»!” She groans, covering her eyes. “I didn’t understand this language back then! I just wanted to know what was going on!”

“Hey, hey, Mayu’s Tou-san,” Naruto says, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What was Mayu’s first word?”

Her father exhales and strokes his chin while looking off into the distance with a nostalgic twinkle in his eye. “Well, let’s see. She would’ve been about twenty months old or so—”

“IS NOW REALLY THE TIME FOR THIS STORY?!” She cuts in desperately. “I’m trying to prove the existence of another world by showing that I know a language that no one in this world has ever heard of and is far too insane for anyone with a brain to have made up!”

“Insane?” Says Lee, tilting his head in confusion.

“English is the pirate of languages.” She mutters darkly. “It goes around and beats up other languages and steals their words.”

“Is there anything about your past life that’s not related to pirates?!” Okaa-san asks, exasperation evident in her tone.

“I like pirates.” She says, hurt.

Her mother shoots her an unamused look. “Ketsugi Mayu...”

She holds up her hands in surrender. “Pirates were kinda mythical in my past life by the time I was alive. There were historical ones, but people romanticized them a lot. Like ninja.”

“What?! How dare they, that’s really rude, believe it!” Naruto fumes, crossing his arms. “...Kaa-san, what’s rom-an-ti-sized mean anyway?”

“It means they make up stories about them to make them seem...nicer.” Okaa-san explains. “Usually by pretending they aren’t as violent as they really are.”

“Oh.” Naruto thinks about this. “That’s dumb. Ninja are already cool, they don’t need to be nice.”

“Pirates are cooler.” She says.

“They are not—”

“Don’t start.” Her mother says in her scary week-long-ban-from-cooking voice.

“Yes Okaa-san.” They chorus.

“But wait.” Lee’s now frowning. “If the only ninja are historical, then how did countries in your past life defend themselves?”

“With armies of soldiers. Normal ones.” She replies. “ Though those might be replaced by flying robot drones by now. There used to be ninja in Japan—may still be even if only in name—but there wasn’t anything like chakra in my past life, so we developed technologically to fight each other instead. Now the world’s kinda in a stalemate peace because we’ve developed so far that the planet will become unable to support human life if we ever go all out.”

Lee stares at her, then drops his head, fists trembling in his lap.

Gai-sensei presses a hand to his shoulder. “Lee.”

She grows alarmed as tears begin to drip off of her friend’s face. Oh shit, she hadn’t meant to insult his dream. “Hey, Lee—”

“Mayu-chan.” His voice is surprisingly steady. “Did you mean everything you said? You aren’t making anything up?”

She hesitates but shakes her head, mouth twisting in consternation. “Yes. I did mean it. Lee, I’m sorry—”

Suddenly his arms shoot up in the air, fists still clenched. When he raises his head, his tears are sliding around a wide and dazzling grin.

“There’s a world of ninja without chakra.” He whispers, tone awed. “They don’t need chakra to become strong. To become ninja.”

Gai-sensei beams back and ruffles Lee’s hair into a haystack. “Of course! A youthful spirit and the willingness to work hard are what truly make a ninja!”

“And our Lee has that in spades.” Okaa-san says fondly, smoothing some of the now-haystack back into place. “You’ll be a fine ninja, I’m sure of it.”

Lee sniffs noisily. “Gai-sensei, Chie-oba-san...!”

“Yeah!” Naruto throws his arm over Lee’s shoulders. “An’ then you an’ me an’ Mayu-chan are gonna be on a kickass ninja team together, believe it!”

“I’m gonna be a pirate.” She interjects staunchly.

Naruto pouts at her for a moment, before he brightens again. “Fine then! Sakura-chan can be our third teammate, and Mayu’ll be the pirate mascot!”

“Sakura-chan?” Lee cries eagerly.

“Pirate mascot?!” She echoes indignantly.

Naruto sticks his tongue out at her triumphantly while her father and Gai-sensei turn away to muffle what sounds suspiciously like laughter.

She folds her arms and scowls at the stair in front of her while her mother pats her head consolingly.

Otou-san manages to get his chuckles under control enough to place a hand upon her and Lee’s shoulders. “We’ll always be very proud of you all, whether you’re a pirate mascot—” He fails to hide his snickering under her disapproving gaze, “—or a ninja. We just want you to be happy.”

“Jirou-oji-san!” Lee sniffs, eyes refilling with tears.

It takes another five minutes to get Lee and Gai-sensei to stop crying and hugging everyone in reach.

This is only exacerbated by the fact that her parents lose all rational sense and begin blushing and stuttering helplessly when they’re caught in Gai-sensei’s embrace.

Once everyone’s calmed down a bit, Naruto turns to her again. “So if this world was a story in your past life, does that mean you know the future, or any super cool jutsus?”

“No.” She says. “Because I never read that comic. I only ever read One Piece and argued with idiots who tried to say that that comic was better, which it obviously wasn’t.”

Her mother rolls her eyes at her as she lies, “I don’t even remember what that series was called, or any of the characters from it.”

Naruto narrows his eyes at her. “Then how’d you know you were here?” He fires back.

She stares at him as placidly as possible. He’s her best friend in this world—practically her brother in all but name. Lee is too, and Gai-sensei may as well be a third parent by this point.

She’s afraid of dying again, but she thinks that if it were for this family right here, her family, she’d face it with the kind of smile that only a D could muster.

She refuses to sentence Naruto to a miserable life of second-guessing and unearned guilt over things that he couldn’t possibly control.

Not this time.

Usopp, Nami and Robin give her the conviction to make this lie believable.

“The Hokage Monument.” She tells them smoothly. “It was in the background of almost every panel that idiots who liked the comic would try to show me. I didn’t remember where I recognized it from until I was about four years old though.”

Naruto doesn’t quite look convinced at first, but his expression becomes more accepting as he mulls it over.

Lee, bless him, just nods along trustingly.

Okaa-san tilts her head and stares at her with unnerving scrutiny.

Otou-san touches her mother’s arm, an eyebrow raised in concern, only for his wife to shake her head almost absent-mindedly.

Gai-sensei’s nose twitches.

She holds her breath.

His face breaks out into his usual beam. “I see! So the Will of Fire blazes strongly even in other worlds!”

She exhales, sending a mental thank you to the Rational Trio. “Yes. Any other questions?”

“Did you have a family in your past life?” Lee asks.

She flinches.

“Ah.” Lee’s smile is sad and understanding. “It’s okay if you didn’t—”

“I know it is.” She cuts in, grin feeling stilted. “It’s just—they weren’t anything to special. My Dad was a businessman and pretty strict. My Mum was a housewife and very spiritual. Kinda boring overall.”

Lee nods again, though he looks a little confused.

Okaa-san and Otou-san look...hurt.

She wants to hug them, but there’s a little part of her that whispers that doing so would be a betrayal. She forces herself to turn to a nicer topic.

“I did have a little brother, Harp.” She smiles to herself. “He’s a good kid, you guys would’ve loved him. He’s wizard at doing presentations and performances and things like that, really makes it easy to understand and believe what he’s saying, you know? He’s gonna be a famous actor when he grows up, or a politician, some really great speaker once—”

She freezes. “Shit.”

“Language!” Okaa-san says, but she barely hears her, knuckles white as her nails dig into her knees.

“I didn’t make a will.” She rasps. “I never made—and now they’ll get it all. They’ll take everything, and he’ll still be trapped.”

“Who will take everything?” Otou-san says, steely-eyed and serious. “Mayu, was someone you were related to threatening your family?”

She shakes her head. “Not—not threatening, exactly. S’just.” She makes an abortive movement with her hands. “Living with Mum and Dad was...not good. For me or Harp. They never got on with each other, and both of them were disappointed in us in their own way—anyway.”

“No, why were they disappointed?” Okaa-san says, eyes blazing. “I want to know what they thought was wrong with my little girl.”

“Okaa-san—” She tries to say, flattery and embarrassment warring inside her.

“Nothing’s wrong with Mayu-chan!” Lee interrupts, little chest puffed out. “She’s fine the way she is!”

“Lee—”

“Except that she does curry too spicy.” Naruto cuts in. “And argues with the Academy teachers a lot. But that’s not disappointing, believe it!”

She’s torn between the overwhelming desire to kick him in the shins and give him a great big hug.

Gai-sensei gives what, for him, counts as a discrete cough. “While I’m sure we can agree that Mayu-chan is one of the farthest things from disappointing there is, I believe you were in the process of explaining your dilemma?”

“Right.” She tries to will her cheeks to stop burning.

“Well, I had some money saved up so I could try to get Harp out—hire a good lawyer and see if, while Mum and Dad’s divorce was finalized, I could win custody so he’d get to live with me.”

“What’s divorce?” Lee asks.

“It’s when two people who are married decide they don’t want to be married anymore.” She explains. “So they go to a court of law to make it so they officially aren’t, and each person gets part of what they both owned.”

Naruto gasps, like the idea is somehow shocking to him. To be fair to him, the adults look equally scandalized, so she guesses that’s not exactly a common practice here. “You can do that?! But why? I thought married people were supposed to love each other forever.”

“Usually they do.” She says wearily. “But sometimes people fall out of love, or one person is hurt by the other, or both misunderstand the person they got married to. Dad thought a woman like my Mum would be very business-focused like he wanted. Mum thought a man like my Dad would be very spiritually enlightened like she wanted.”

Naruto looks confused but considering, so she moves on.

“Anyway, I had a lot of money saved up, but because I died without leaving anything that said how I wanted it to be used, Mum and Dad will take all of it, or at least argue over who should get the most of it in the divorce.” She clenches her fists. “And Harp’ll never see a penny.”

“Mayu-chan.” Naruto’s voice wavers slightly. “Did you not love your parents?”

For an awful moment, she’s struck by the paralyzing urge to say “No”.

Then the horror and guilt settle in her gut again like undercooked food and make her feel like she’s going to choke on bile.

“Wh—of course I loved them!” She sputters indignantly. “They were my Mum and Dad. You’ve got to love your Mum and Dad.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t!” Naruto holds up his hands placatingly. “They just don’t sound very nice! You said that they said you were a disappointment! And you didn’t want your little brother to be with them!”

He and Lee are staring at her wide-eyed, as if waiting for her to snap at them again. The same way Naruto and Kiba look around Sakura these days.

She takes a deep breath and tries to make her voice softer, gentler. “I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just, sometimes, you can love someone and know when they’re not very good at something, or in a position that they and other people aren’t happy they’re in. I did love my Mum and Dad, but they are the last people in that world I’d trust with a kid. It wasn’t their fault, but I thought if I could get Harp out, let him grow up happy—”

She shakes her head, worrying the scar on her lower lip.

She’d promised him she’d get him out.

She’d promised.

“How old were you?” Her father asks, voice low. “When...?”

She can’t bring herself to look at him, but he sounds weary down to his very bones.

“I was twenty years old.” She says to the stair in front of her.

“Is that.” Her mother hesitates for a moment. “Is that an old age to die at? Among the people of that world.”

She makes a face. “Nah. I’d been an adult for two years in the eyes of the law, but most people in my past life could expect to live until their lates eighties or nineties before dying of natural causes.”

She hears Gai-sensei whisper “late eighties or nineties” to himself in a tone filled with something like wonder.

It’s that wonder which spurs her to look up and say, “In fact, if you manage to live to your hundredth birthday, the Queen sends you a card wishing you a happy birthday and congratulating you. I had a friend whose great grandma got one.”

Only Gai-sensei looks as amazed by this information as she’d hoped they’d all be. Lee’s trying to muster up the same enthusiasm as their teacher, but he can’t quite. Naruto looks more confused than anything.

Otou-san and Okaa-san are just staring at her like they don’t recognize her.

It hurts too much to hold their gaze.

“How’d you die?” Naruto asks. “Were you fighting a bad guy?”

She rubs the back of her neck. “Not really. A man broke into the flat. I grabbed a knife. He freaked out and his gun went off. He said it was an accident.”

She hisses the last word with all the venom it deserves.

She doesn’t understand anymore why the One Piece anime tried to censor Belle-mere’s death by changing it from a headshot to a bullet to the chest.

A headshot is quick and painless, at least.

She’s so caught up in her own memories that she doesn’t hear her father’s question. “Pardon?”

“What was your name?” Otou-san’s voice is soft and understanding, even though his eyes are pitying.

“...The girl who died was called Tamara Kaur. Her friends called her Tammy or Tim-Tam for short.” She says, a mournful grin on her face. “My name is Ketsugi Mayu. I’ll be in your care, if you’ll have me.”

The quiet that follows this statement, half joke and half plea, is enough to make whatever hopes she was still desperately clinging to crumble like a sandcastle in the face of the tide.

There aren’t many more questions after that.

Aside from the pointed conversation that began with “so if the person Naruto mentioned really was a comic character, then who was the home invader?” and ended with her exasperated mother asking “What do you mean, you ‘accidentally created divinity’?”

She winces. “Kinda that? I just, I was praying to them for normal stuff, and then that day I prayed for help with cutting the lamb and ended up with an entire meal I didn’t remember cooking.”

Okaa-san stares at her for a long moment before burying her head in her hands. She makes a noise Mayu thinks might be a sob.

Otou-san pats her back awkwardly and shoots her what she thinks is meant to be a reassuring smile. “Your Kaa-san’s fine. She just...needs a moment.”

“So it was Sanji?” Naruto whispers to her.

She nods rapidly.

Naruto’s face splits into a grin so wide his eyes almost close. “Awesome.”

“I know.” She whispers back, hardly able to keep from smiling herself.

Okaa-san sends her to turn off all the taps and hang her clothes back up upstairs.

She supposes she has wasted enough water for one day.

She blinks in the mid-afternoon sun when she opens the door to her bedroom, ignoring the masks that are all but pressed against the shut window more out of habit at this point.

She feels too drained to even feel alarmed by their proximity to her home. Talking about her Mum and Dad always did that to her, even when she was in the same world as them.

A phantom hunger pang pierces her stomach.

She shudders at the memory. Oh Luffy, she hopes Harp got out quickly, that he didn’t have to grow up on meals that were either pigswill or denied to him entirely.

He’d be...what, eighteen, nineteen by now?

Reading about Sanji and the adventures of the Straw Hats used to help her get through those punishments.

She sends a prayer to them now that Harp didn’t have to learn how to do that himself.

Otou-san, Okaa-san, and Gai-sensei are discussing something in low, serious voices when she comes back downstairs.

They quiet down for a bit when she steps between Lee and Naruto to get to the kitchen.

When she returns to the hallway, Gai-sensei pats her shoulder with a little too much force, shooting her a megawatt beam and a thumbs up.

“Do not worry, Jirou-san, Chie-san! I am certain that there will be no cause for concern for yourselves or Mayu-chan!”

Otou-san heaves a sigh. “We have every faith in you. It’s just—”

Okaa-san lays a hand on Gai-sensei’s arm. “Please, Gai.”

He solemnly takes her hand in one of his own, reaching out to grab her father’s arm with the other. “Everything will be as it always is. I swear it to you.”

The adults’ eyes seem to glisten as they stare at each other.

She glances at Naruto and Lee, eyebrow raised.

Naruto gives a quizzical shrug. Lee’s almost vibrating as he stares at their parents, eyes wide.

She hates to break up the moment, but there’s an elephant in the room that needs addressing.

She coughs a little. “Um, Okaa-sama, Otou-sama?”

Her parents look over at her, shoulders stiffening.

She worries the scar on her lower lip. “I, ah, just wanted to say, that if you need some time to-to process what I’ve told you, and you don’t want me a-around for it, I can get out of the house, go somewhere else for as long as you need me to—”

Otou-san and Okaa-san stare at her, expressions of pure horror on their faces.

Shit, has she really overstepped by that much? “O-or if you don’t want me to come back, I could always try to find o-other living arrangements for myself—”

“YOU FOOL!”

The slap to the back of her head isn’t nearly as painful as most of the blows she’s weathered during training, but the sheer surprise of the attack has her clutching it and looking up in bewilderment.

Gai-sensei looks madder than she’s ever seen him.

“...Or I could leave the village entirely?” She meekly suggests, unsure of what to say to appease her teacher’s anger.

“And when did anyone ever say they wanted you to leave?!” Gai-sensei booms.

What?

She blinks in confusion. “But I’m not who you thought I was, I have—”

“Are you Ketsugi Mayu?” Her mother asks, voice drier than an over-baked cake.

“Yes—”

“And do you enjoying cooking and feeding people?” Okaa-san walks towards her and leans down.

“Well, yes, but—”

“And you have an obsession with pirates that leads you to act without thinking a lot?” Her mother reaches out and grabs her cheeks.

“It’s not an obsession—” She feebly tries to argue through pursed lips.

“Then you are my daughter.” Okaa-san says. “And you are going to stay right here where I can see you, and we are going to lay down some ground rules about contacting strange deities, do you hear me young lady?!”

She’s so alarmed by the sight of angry tears gathering in her mother’s eyes that she just nods her head as best as she can in this grip.

Okaa-san lets out a little sob and then she’s being enveloped in a crushing hug by both of her parents.

Otou-san murmurs, “Our family stays together, damn what anyone may think. Even if we have enemies on all sides, the Ketsugi clan will weather any blows. Didn’t we already tell you that?”

Then she feels Lee and Naruto’s little arms squeezing her from behind, and the gentle weight that means Gai-sensei has joined the hug too.

“Please don’t go Mayu.” Naruto says, sounding small and scared. “Please.”

She can’t help it when she starts bawling like a little kid again.

#but i like one piece #my writing #one piece #naruto #reincarnation #isekai #naruto uzumaki #maito gai #rock lee #naruto oc #ketsugi chie #ketsugi jirou #ketsugi mayu #bottle episode #eye of the tiger #good parents #bad parenting #past life

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years ago

Text

Commission for Confidence, 11

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: The long awaited chapter! I’m so sorry, you guys, I know that I left a lot of you waiting. This semester completely wiped out everyone I know (even people that attend other universities have been like, ‘yeah this semester was the worst’), and I’m really going to try to get stuff out during break! This chapter might not be as long as I wanted it to be, but I figured, why not give you guys something with actual substance? (It didn’t have much in the way of substance until like 10 minutes ago lmaoooo) Anyways, here it is, let me know what you think and what you think should happen next!

Also, I’m taking some one-shot requests! Send me an ask; I’d prefer if they were winter/holiday themed, just for the heck of it, but you can ask for anything! (Send me nsfw requests tbh, I’m raring to write some)

As always, a strikethrough means that the tag didn’t work

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban, @paintballkid711

CFC Taglist: @scatterbrainedgenius, @wildlfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee, @willowtree42095, @134340-cm, @this-is-just-for-fanfic-lmao, @poc-gotbang, @sincereleygmg, @toastedpopsicles, @imstupidsblog, @casual-vaporwave, @xfangirl-trashx, @thefutureartteacher, @randomkpoplover97, @spaghetittiesbcimgay

Word Count: 3529

Warnings: some minor injury stuff, cuteness, some fluff, some anxiety/self-esteem things (v minor), things get a little steamy

Two weeks later, you were mostly healed, and you had been talking to Peter nearly nonstop. You had been able to meet up for coffee very briefly, and occasionally he would send you the works in progress he was creating to get some feedback. Peter also gave you written updates about your commission, but he hadn’t sent you any drafts.

You were getting ready to go to bed on a Wednesday when someone knocked on the window of your fire escape. Quickly grabbing your steel baseball bat, you hesitantly walked from your bedroom to your living room. Your other hand was holding your phone, poised to call the police. But your fear was unnecessary.

Spider-Man was waiting next to your window, his eyes widening as he saw you approach. You could tell that he was grinning at you, and you made sure to obviously roll your eyes at the superhero. Instead of unlocking the window, you stood next to it and feigned thinking about letting him in.

Spider-Man tapped again, and you could tell, just on instinct, that he was pouting at you. So, you gave in, unlocking the window and opening it for him.

“Thanks,” he said with the weird voice changer. “Thought I’d freeze out there.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed playfully, “it’s not that bad. I’m sure you generate a lot of body heat anyway, especially with that suit.”

“Maybe,” he chirped. “You tell me.”

Then, he was wrapping you in his arms in a hug, and your brain briefly short circuited. After a moment of thought, you hugged him back, trying to calm your pounding heart, and trying to register if he did run hot.

He did run hot, and as you didn’t want to move away, you cursed yourself for being touch starved all the damn time.

“You do,” you said into his chest, your voice muffled.

“That’s what I thought. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t cold,” he stated happily, not moving to let you go. His heartbeat was steady in your ear, and the longer he was wrapped around you, the more he seemed to relax.

“You alright, Spider-Man?” you found yourself asking.

“Yeah,” he sighed slightly, shifting a bit. “Just tired, you know? There isn’t too much crime going on lately, but that makes it feel like the other shoe is about to drop, ya feel?”

You huffed a chuckle into his chest and tilted your head up to look at him. “I understand what you mean.”

“What about you? How are things going with that guy you told me about?”

You sighed into his chest lightly before saying, “He’s one of my best friends.”

“But?”

“I don’t know, Spider-Man, that’s all I’ve got. I really like him, he’s a wonderful friend and a wonderful person. I doubt he’d be romantically interested in someone like me.”

“Not this again,” Spider-Man groaned slightly. “You’re wonderful, Y/N.”

"I know that,” you told him. “But I think he’d be more interested in someone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

You shrugged again, finally pushing away from him. “Like I said before, people aren’t really interested in me.”

“You don’t know that, either.”

“You don’t know that people are romantically interested in me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “Other than the statistical probability, how do you know? Huh, Spider-Man?”

“I’m interested in you,” he said quietly, almost sheepishly.

You blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh that you hoped would mask your pounding heart. “Thanks, Spider-Man. That actually does make me feel a bit better. Do you want some water or something?”

As you turned to go into the kitchen, Spider-Man grabbed your hand and essentially twirled you into his chest. You looked up at him in surprise as he tilted his head down to press your foreheads together.

“I mean it,” he admitted softly.

Your heart pounded in your veins as you placed your hands on his chest. He was so familiar somehow, so comforting. You were unsure of how to react and your skin felt like it was on fire, so you did the most logical thing. Tilting your head to the side a bit, you pressed a kiss to his masked cheek.

Spider-Man’s eyes, which had closed during the forehead press, opened quickly, going almost comically wide. He saw you pointedly avoiding his white gaze, your lip between your teeth nervously. After a few more moments of silence, you broke away from him and cleared your throat.

“I, um, sorry,” you stuttered slightly, walking into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down, sighing in relief as it cooled your throat.

As you turned around, you saw Spider-Man right behind you. His mask was pulled up over his nose, and you could see his lips. He stepped closer to you and your body was frozen. Your heart, however, was setting your skin on fire.

Spider-Man pressed his lips against yours softly. When you responded in kind, he was suddenly kissing you hungrily, as if he’d wanted to for as long as he’d been alive. He wrapped strong arms around your waist and squeezed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Kissing the superhero felt so… right.

After a few more moments of passion, Spider-Man pulled away from you. What you could see of his face was flushed adorably, in an achingly familiar way. He yanked his mask back down and you could hear the difference in his breathing because of the voice altering device he had in his mask.

It did hurt a little bit, in the corner of your heart, that he still wouldn’t use his real voice with you when you had just been making out, but you pushed it away. Swallowing dryly, you felt like the world was just a little sharper.

“I, um, I’m so sorry,” he stuttered. “There’s a… big thing going on right now, a robbery. I have to go, I’m so sorry, I promise I don’t kiss and run.”

Words were escaping you, so you simply nodded. He beamed at you through the mask before pressing a kiss to your forehead and hurrying to the window. After wrenching it open, he was gone into the night.

You stared after him for a few moments before you slowly made your way to the window. The cool air wafted over your burning skin; you savored the moment of relief as you filed the event away in your mind.

Shutting the window, you went to a cold, empty bed. Alone.

The next few days were uneventful. You went to work, ate food. You texted Peter, even talked for a few hours on the phone for no reason, but that was it. Nothing major happened, and Spider-Man didn’t visit you.

On Saturday night, you were curled up on your fire escape and reading a book in the light of your reading lamp. You were aware that it was getting late, but you were too engrossed in your book to really care. Not only that, but you were incredibly comfortable under your fuzzy blanket.

A body landed on your fire escape and you let out a yelp of surprise, scrambling to your feet and holding your hand over your chest. The body was still in the shadows, but you raised your large book in your hands to throw, just in case.

A weak chuckle made its way to your ears on the wind. “It’s me,” Spider-Man said.

“Jesus Christ, Spidey!” you swore, taking the two steps needed to be closer to him.

He chuckled again, the voice changer off and making him sound too familiar. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m getting blood on your fire escape.”

“Peter?” you breathed out, helping the man to his feet. “Jesus fuck, Peter, what happened?” you slowly helped him through the window to your apartment.

“I’m surprised you’re not yelling at me for stupidity,” he told you after a wince.

“You’re bleeding,” you explained as you let him drop into a wooden chair. “I’ll yell at you when you’re not bleeding everywhere.”

He huffed out a laugh. “That makes sense.”

You shook your head and hurried to get your first aid kit, mentally pausing for a moment to thank yourself for learning how to do stitches and taking a decent amount of first aid classes.

When you got back to him, Peter had taken off his mask and his suit was loose around him. You could see the bruises and cuts covering his neck, chest, and arms. There was a bad bruise on his jawline. The pain was obvious, written all over his chest, and it hurt your heart.

You sighed as you pulled the suit down more, uncovering more bruised and cut skin. With a steady hand, even while you were completely aware that he was watching you, you cleaned the cuts. There were only a handful of them that you thought would need stitches, so for the moment you bandaged them to stop some of the bleeding.

“What happened?” you asked Peter quietly while bandaging the other cuts.

Peter hissed as you tenderly pressed on a bruise. “Had a nasty fight with Doc Ock. Thankfully, no bullets with that guy.”

You huffed slightly as you wiped some blood from his chest. “If you came to me out of the blue with a bullet and showed me your secret identity, I’d be fucking upset, I do admit. Next time,” you gave him a small smile, “if you do come with a bullet, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled weakly at you.

Giving him some warning, you quickly sterilized your needle and got ready for the stitches. Peter watched you through his eyelashes, barely flinching as you passed the needle through his skin. You tried to block it out, you truly did, but his gaze was so intense that you nearly messed up a stitch.

“Do I make you nervous?” Peter murmured as you finished with one set.

“Do you want an honest answer, or do you want a lie?” you asked, glancing up at him only briefly. You started to stitch up another cut on his chest.

“Honesty, always.”

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“Why?”

“Do I make you nervous?” you asked instead.

“Yes.”

“Why?” you asked, finishing a stitch.

“Because you’re amazing.”

You scoffed and did another stitch. A few more, and you’d be done. You were a little surprised that you were so good at them, but perhaps because it was so methodical, you were doing better with it. Still, no matter what, you were glad you were almost done.

As you finished, wiping off the last bit of blood, Peter’s gentle hand raised your chin to look at him. He smiled at you, but his eyes were serious.

“Y/N,” he murmured, “you are amazing.”

You gave him a small, disbelieving smile, and moved back from him. “Let’s get you some ice for those bruises, and some water. Are you hungry?”

“No,” he said quietly, “not really at all. I’ll take that water, though.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and hurried to the kitchen. Preparing the ice bags, you wrapped them in some tea towels. Then, after pouring a glass of water, you carefully balanced everything in your arms and walked back out.

Peter had moved to the couch, his suit discarded, and was only in his boxers. You carefully kept your eyes from tracing down his body while you handed him all of the ice packs. He let out small hisses as he placed them on the most prominent bruises, before taking the glass and sitting back. It took him all of thirty seconds to down the glass and place it on the floor.

“Sit with me?” he asked gently.

You sat next to him, careful to put a bit of space between the two of you. Peter seemed upset at that, and instead gently tugged you over to him. Rather ungracefully, you fell into his side. Even though he winced with pain, he squeezed you closer to him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering with sleep. “You’re my favorite.”

You huffed with amusement and felt sleepiness come over you too. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. He hummed, the vibrations ringing through his chest almost like a purr, and you both quickly fell asleep.

You woke up a few hours later, noting how early it was. Peter was awake and watching you both sleepily and intensely, if that was even possible. He gave the plush of your hip a squeeze with his large hand before rearranging the both of you.

Peter slid you over his body while shifting to lay on his back. He settled you on top of his chest, staring up at you, before wrapping his arms back around your waist. Then, he turned his head slightly and fell back asleep, even snoring lightly.

As easy as that!

You kept your scoff to yourself and decided to instead live with what was going on. After snuggling into his bare chest, you hesitantly pressed a kiss to his heated skin.

At that moment, you were glad he was asleep.

You weren’t sure what to do with these pesky feelings of yours. Truth be told, you couldn’t even be sure if Peter returned those feelings; you hoped he did, but past experiences warned you to never, ever assume.

Then again, he had kissed you…

But then again (again), he had only kissed you as Spider-Man.

And he ran. Well, he ran to fight crime, but still.

“Maybe he only kissed you to make a point,” that voice in your head whispered.

“I can feel you thinking right now,” Peter’s sleepy voice mumbled.

“Sorry,” you muttered, tucking into yourself a bit.

“What’s on your mind?” he breathed.

“I don’t want to ruin your sleep.”

“You could never ruin anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” you muttered bitterly, sighing a bit.

“C’mon, what is it? You’ll never get to sleep if you don’t tell me about it.”

You sighed and sat up, crossing your legs and hunching over slightly. “I just… don’t know how to deal with it.”

Peter slowly sat up as well, wiping the side of his face. “How to deal with what?” he asked as he stifled a yawn. After a moment of looking at you closely, he took one of your hands and scooted closer.

“Deal with my feelings,” you admitted softly as you quickly glanced at him and away.

“Which feelings?” he asked, matching your tone.

This was it. It was time to take the plunge and tell him.

“I know that we’ve only known each other for several weeks, but… I really like you. A-and if you don’t, that’s okay, really! I just… don’t know how to handle it because you’re so cute and handsome and sweet and nice and funny, and fuck, I just… I don’t know.”

Peter blinked slowly at you as you avoided your gaze. “I kissed you,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you were Spider-Man, there could have been all sorts of factors for that.”

He seemed shocked at that sentence, and you closed your eyes to prepare for the inevitable. You prepared for him to laugh, or to tell you it was a joke, or to leave.

Instead, Peter leaned forward, cupped your cheeks in his hands, and pressed a long kiss to your lips. It wasn’t chaste but it wasn’t deep, and it made you feel as if all was right with the world. It was the best kiss of your life.

Peter drew back and you slowly opened your eyes. His gaze was warm and comforting; one hand moved down to cup your neck, while his other thumb passed lightly over your lips. You pressed a small kiss to it, making Peter beam.

You thought he was going to say something. He didn’t.

He simply moved forward again and kissed you deeply.

Feeling as though you could be contributing more to the experience, you let your hands move, sliding them to his shoulders and then around his neck. He let out a hum of happiness as you pulled him even closer to you, and Peter took that as permission to kiss you with more fervor than the previous two.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you melted further into him. One of his hands slid down from your neck to your hip, giving you a soft squeeze exactly as he nipped your bottom lip. Letting out a small whimper, you tangled a hand in his hair.

Peter let out the most delicious growl as you did, surging forward and carefully lowering you to the couch. Your leg wound around his torso as he perched himself over you, his lips only moving from yours briefly. He ran his tongue across your lips, urging you to open your mouth, which you gladly did.

You felt like you were on fire, in the best way possible. Still, your mind was racing, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions. The next time he nipped at your lip, you regretfully pulled away.

Adorably, Peter followed your lips slightly, making your heart skip. As you pulled back a bit more, though, he sat back slightly, his eyes overflowing with concern.

“A-are you okay, is everything okay, did I do something you didn’t like?” he blurted in a panic, starting to move back from you.

You quickly grabbed his face in your hands and pressed a small, gentle kiss to his lips. “Everything you did, I loved, okay? I enjoyed it very much. It’s just… so much right now. It’s almost like everything is firing at once, and I love it, it’s just that I think I need to breathe,” you reassured him.

Peter let out a sigh of relief and leaned a bit closer to you. “Is this okay?” he asked in a whisper as he put his forehead on yours.

You hummed and nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Slowly, your heartbeat began to return to normal and the world came back from the sharp yet soft glow it had taken on after Peter kissed you.

After a handful of minutes just sitting with your foreheads pressed together, you opened your eyes again. Peter seemed calm, the serenity on his face warming your heart even more than his kisses from earlier. You moved your hand to rest lightly on his knee, only to be shocked by something vaguely cold and squishy.

Looking down, you erupted into laughter. Peter’s eyes flew open, concern etched into his eyebrows. As you leaned back with laughter, you held up the melting ice pack.

Peter blinked before he laughed, pulling one out from behind his back. That made it all the more amusing to you, and both of you were laughing for a good three minutes.

As your laughter came to an end, you felt yourself being pulled into Peter’s arms. He cradled you to his chest, nuzzling your neck with a hum.

“Peter,” you chuckled, “it’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“Hm,” he pretended to consider your suggestion. “Alright, let’s go!”

As you prepared to climb out of his arms, Peter stood up easily. You, obviously, followed his body upwards. You flinched in surprised, clearly not used to being in the air. With an incredulous look, you stared at Peter’s face while he walked to the bedroom.

“Peter!” you nearly shrieked. “Put me down! I’m too heavy!”

“Not at all,” he said simply, not allowing you to budge.

“No, seriously, Peter, I’m too heavy!” He stopped walking at that point.

“You are lighter than an ice cube, don’t worry. Do I look like I’m struggling?”

Your arguments died on your lips as you realized that he didn’t even look close to breaking a sweat. As you grew quiet, Peter slowly began to walk again. As you looked up at him, at his jawline, your hand came up to cup his chin. He grinned down at you and squeezed you a bit before reaching out to open the bedroom door.

As he crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you stretched up slightly and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw.

A dark, delicious growl left Peter’s mouth as he looked down at you with a smirk. Then, he gently tossed you onto your bed, where you landed with surprise on your back. You propped yourself up on your elbows almost immediately.

You blinked up at him and he growled again, only for it to dissolve into a whine as he flopped onto his back next to you. Peter’s fluffy hair made you chuckle, and he opened an eye to look at you as you turned on your side, a hand propping your head up.

With a smile (and the echoes of those growls in your mind), you gently began to pet his fluffy brown curls. “What’s wrong?” you murmured.

Peter let out a similar whine and threw his forearm over his eyes. After a few moments, he admitted, “If you keep looking at me like that, or touching me like that… it’ll be hard to keep myself from absolutely devouring you and making you scream my name.”

#peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x insecure!reader #peter parker x reader #commission for confidence #artist peter parker au #plus size reader #plus size reader insert

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

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Middle of Summer - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: Hi :) could you please do a Gerard x reader based on “when the day met the night” by P!ATD? Hope you’re having a nice day Word count: 1 737 A/N: if you think it’s so unlikely that people sit down in a park with you to talk about weird stuff in their life, please know I once sat in a park, reading, and this elderly lady sat down on the bench next to mine, so we talked a little about books, and all of a sudden she told me her husband had died, and that he had just dropped dead in their living room. So I obviously offered my condolences and asked if it had happened recently. She said it had been over ten years, stood up and left.

Gerard ran his hand over his face. This was it, he thought, the end of the band. Mikey had left halfway through recording the new album, and without him, there was no My Chemical Romance.

Of course Gerard understood why Mikey had left, hell, with everything that was going on with the poor guy it would have been foolish not to do it, but that did not mean Gerard did not worry about the future of the band. He turned off his mobile and slid it back into his pocket.

After Mikey had left, he had heard no news for a couple of days, and since there was no signal in the Mansion, he had actually taken the car and driven out a bit, until he finally found a signal. Now, after the call to Mikey, and knowing that he was at least safe for now, he felt exhausted. Whatever was going on with this Paramore Mansion really fucked with his mind, and not having his brother around anymore made it worse.

Tiredly he looked around, finding he had wandered down the street from where he had parked the car, and now was standing in front of a sweet little park. Deciding a park would be the right place to take a relaxing walk he crossed the street and entered.

Between the trees the noise of the city got drowned out quickly. It was a hot summer, but the shadow and the pond helped to cool down the air. Soft, green grass and thousands of beautiful flowers grew next to the small path he was walking along.

Spotting a small pavilion that seemed to be used as a café, he suddenly realised how long it had been since he had last eaten anything. Checking if he had some cash, he walked over. The small building had an open front with small, filigree tables and chairs in front of it. Pots with flowers and small palm trees surrounded the sitting area that was covered in the shadow of the large trees next to it.

He had almost entered the pavilion already, when suddenly he spotted a movement from the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he found the most beautiful person quietly sitting at one of the tables. Had they not moved, he would not have noticed them, even though their silvery white shirt was basically shining in the shadow. Something about that person drew him in, and he found himself unable to take one step further away from them again, so he slowly walked towards them.

On the small table in front of them stood a small tea pot, made from porcelain that was painted in tiny, pink and red flowers. The cup and the milk pot matched the design, and the small spoon that was resting on the saucer, was engraved with small stars.

Carefully Gerard approached the person, who tore their glance away from the pond they had been watching. A smile spread over their angelic face, not the smile of recognition, like Gerard had seen thousands of times on the faces of fans, just a smile as if they were happy to see him.

“Hi,” the person greeted friendly, apparently not even surprised that in an otherwise empty café the stranger had walked up to them.

“Hey,” Gerard greeted back, feeling awkward as he lifted his hand as a greeting.

For a while the person just looked at him curiously, as if they expected him to talk, but when he did not find any words that made sense to string together, they reached over the table, and pushed the other chair back a bit.

“Wanna sit?”

“Oh thanks,” Gerard blushed, and quickly sat down.

“I’m (y/n),” you introduced with a smile, encouraging the stranger to do the same.

“Gerard, I hope I’m not bothering you,” he continued.

You liked his voice.

“Not at all! In fact I was starting to feel a bit lonely,” you admitted, “So what brought you here?”

Gerard blinked a little, his gaze wandering through the park and back to you.

“I- I was a bit upset earlier, and thought this would be the right place to calm down a little, and then I saw you and-“ yeah, and then what?

“Wanna talk about it? About what upset you,” you offered, your eyes holding nothing but concern and sympathy for the stranger.

Gerard hesitated a bit.

“Not really,” he confessed, “I just… is it okay if I just sit here a little and we talk about completely unimportant stuff?”

You laughed quietly.

“Of course it is,” you replied, “but only if you order something too, I feel bad having my tea without you having anything to eat or drink.”

Your request made Gerard remember how hungry he was so he ordered some coffee and both of you decided on some strawberry cake. For a long while you just sat and talked, ate cake, and watched the ducks on the pond. The park was peaceful, like something out of a fairy tale.

Gerard caught himself staring at you time and time again. He was not sure if it was your otherworldly beauty, or the kindness you treated him with. You had been so excited when he had told you about the comic he was currently working on, and he marvelled at the aquarelle painting you had only painted earlier today, obviously from this spot at the café, looking out over the grass to the pond. Eventually, although he had tried not to mention it, he even ended up telling you about why he had been upset earlier. He told you about the band and about the Mansion. And about Mikey.

“It just… seems to fell apart,” he confessed, and bit his lip.

The warm touch of your hand on his made him look up to you.

“It’s gonna be alright,” you assured him, “you just… need to go with the flow, and do what feels right. If fighting against where fate carries you feels wrong, then maybe it is. But if fighting this feels right… don’t be afraid to walk this world alone. If that path feels right, it is.”

Gerard looked at where your fingers were gently brushing over his skin, soft and warm, and somehow feeling so familiar, while your words echoed in his mind.

“That line… about walking the world alone… can I use that for a song,” he asked, still stuck on the strange poetry.

“Sure, if you like,” you laughed light heartedly, but did not pull away.

For a while you sat like this, your fingers seeking contact with his, until he eventually turned his hand to take hold of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You did not know what pulled you to him, it felt like vulnerability, a pain that had settled in Gerard’s heart, which he was fighting to get rid of. You wanted to help him, wanted to make sure he would be happy again. You knew what it felt like, that black grip around someone’s soul. Gerard had not been the only one to have talked about their problems, so maybe you two could help each other out a little.

Just when you wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to meet up some other time, Gerard spoke.

“This is probably really weird, because we don’t really know each other, but… I would love to see you again some time, preferably soon,” he nervously looked at you, “so… if you’d be interested, I could give you my number?”

You smiled softly.

“I would love that.”

For the first time in hours his hand lost contact with yours, as he pulled out his phone to search for his own number, so you quickly did the same, and quickly opened a new contact, into which you typed the numbers Gerard told you. Saving the contact, you pressed the call button to make sure he had your number too, before packing away the phone again.

It had gotten late by now, as the waitress reminded you when she started packing up the tables around you.

You had paid a long time ago, but you made sure to leave an extra tip, then Gerard and you both got up.

The sun had started setting, and in the dimming light your silvery shirt shone like the moon itself.

Golden light fell through the leaves, and tiny insects chased each other in the last beams of the sun. Side by side Gerard and you stepped out of the park. For a second he got scared that you would suddenly be gone, that everything had just been a perfect hallucination, but when he turned his head, you still stood by his side, a soft smile on your face.

“I need to go that way,” you explained, pointing over your shoulder.

“Me that way,” Gerard pointed in the other direction, where he had left the car.

“So, talk to you soon?”

“Yes, please,” he answered with a small grin on his face.

“Call me when you’re back at the mansion safely, it’s going to get dark quickly now,” vaguely you gestured to the golden sky.

“We don’t have a signal up there,” Gerard reminded you, “But you can send a text when you get home, (y/n), maybe I’ll get it while I still have a signal.” Damn, your name tasted so sweet on his tongue.

“I will.”

Quickly you leant forward, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, before you turned around, and started walking down the street.

Gerard just stood there, and watched you walk away, before you turned one last time, and waved at him, a beautiful smile on your face. Your silver shirt reflected the warm light of the setting sun, almost blinding Gerard a little, but he still saw how you blew him a kiss before you turned the next corner, and disappeared.

The whole way back to the mansion he kept wondering if you had been real or just a complex reaction of his brain to calm him down from the stress. Back at the mansion, he immediately went to his room and pulled out his phone. Sure enough there was a new text message.

“I’m home now, and I hope so are you. See you soon, good night.”

Gerard smiled. So he had not imagined you. He really had met the most amazing person, here in the middle of summer.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns @justawriterinprogress @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @500240

#gerard way x reader #gerard way x reader fluff #gerard way fluff #gerard way imagine #the black parade #when the day met the night #fanfiction #fanfic #my chemical romance #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance fanfiction

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harryandmolly · 6 years ago

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Ten Years - Part One

summary: ten years after 2007 Warped Tour, Shawn and Val come face to face in London

warnings: Language, that good yearning

WC: 3.3k

A/N: this is a post-epilogue miniseries of I Could Write It Better Than You Ever Felt It. I recommend you read that first or this will make you go 🤔

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Shawn has never felt further from his 19-year-old self than right now, squished into what has to be the world’s tiniest lift with Val and Alice and Alice’s very large, fancy pram.

The rickety lift slowly drags them up to the third floor of the old building. In the mirrored doors, Shawn watches them, saved from Val’s returning gaze as she focuses on making faces at her sleepy baby. Her back is pressed up against his chest. He can smell the achingly familiar citrus scent of her hair. But he can barely recognize the boy that ran away from this girl.

The lift stops with an alarming little jolt but Val looks unbothered. She hands the pram off to Shawn to steer while she fishes keys out of her purse. Shawn walks slowly, gazing down at Alice’s round and curious face. Who are you to be taking up my mommy’s attention? She seems to say. Shawn’s lower lip twitches. Who, indeed.

Val lets them into the dark flat. It’s roomier than Shawn expected, having seen the modest building from the outside. As Val flips on lights, Shawn’s hungry eyes suck in as much as they can, committing it to memory for further study.

The walls are a rich shade of deep, deep red. The furniture is modern but comfortable. There are bookshelves in every corner, packed full of fantasy, art texts and music biographies. He stumbles over a stuffed colorful caterpillar toy. It makes Val chuckle.

He looks up at her and watches as she drops her jacket onto a hanger and kicks her boots into a corner next to a teeny tiny pair of cleats that make him smile.

“Already got her on a club team?” he rasps, finding his voice has failed him slightly. Val graciously ignores it and glances over at the cleats.

“Aren’t those hilarious? Raf sent those for her a few weeks ago. They were his daughter’s when she was Alice’s size.”

Shawn smiles and tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth. He’s gazing around, memorizing as casually as possible, when he feels her warmth again. He looks down to see her smirking up at him. He ducks his head and chuckles. There never was any hiding from Val.

“Wanna stay for dinner? I was going to order takeaway.”

He grins at her British -ism and bites into his lower lip, nodding at her fridge. “I can cook if you want.”

Val’s eyebrows lift. Shawn’s laugh is low and gravelly. His voice is still not working quite right. He thinks it’s prolonged exposure to her coming out of nowhere. He doesn’t really mind. She could always understand exactly what he was saying even when he was babbling helplessly, even when he wasn’t speaking at all.

“You can… cook?”

Shawn rolls his eyes and shucks off his jacket, placing it on the back of a barstool at her modest kitchen island.

“I did grow up a little in the last ten years,” he sighs, wandering into her kitchen curiously.

“I noticed.”

Shawn freezes almost comically. His hand is halfway to the fridge handle. He blinks and turns his head slightly to look at her. She’s wearing the smile that’s haunted him for ten years, the one that’s so signature Val -- it’s a dare and a promise all in one. He swallows so hard his throat visibly bobs.

She’s fucking flirting with him. And she doesn’t look like she did it accidentally.

His motor function comes back enough to open the refrigerator and look around, and also hope the cool air will reduce the pink burning in his cheeks. Val busies herself with freeing fussy Alice from the pram, holding her against her hip after shedding all her tiny little layers down to a pair of leggings and a long sleeved tee with the Arsenal FC logo on it.

Shawn studies the contents of the fridge. It doesn’t take long. He looks up at her, frowning disapprovingly.

“You don’t cook,” he says plainly.

Val snorts, which makes Alice wriggle against her chest.

“I don’t cook. Never have, never will. It horrifies my mother, who sends five pounds of frozen homemade empanadas every month packed with dry ice.”

Shawn groans and lets his head loll back. “Fuck, I love your mom’s empanadas.”

A moment later, his head snaps up. His eyes widen. He claps a hand over his mouth.

“I’m so sorry!” The sound is garbled against the skin of his hand. He removes it to Val’s amusement.

“Don’t worry,” Val hums, pressing her nose and lips up against Alice’s patch of dark hair above her little ear, “I swear around her all the fucking time. Don’t I, nina?”

Shawn grins and turns back to the fridge. With a sigh, he unloads a carton of old Waitrose eggs, some wilted spinach and a bag of shiitake mushrooms. He snuggles the ingredients into his arms and nudges the door shut with his foot, glancing at her reproachfully.

“Don’t judge me on this, it won’t be my best work. But I have limited resources.”

Val takes a deep, calming breath, watching him start to sort out a cutting board and a pathetically dull knife at her kitchen counter. Because Shawn Mendes is cooking her dinner.

It’s been a weird six hours.

Val props herself up on a stool, planting Alice in front of her, holding her by the waist so her floppy, energetic baby doesn’t squirm onto the floor. Alice also serves as an excellent shield between herself and the man in her kitchen she can’t stop staring at.

She listens to him chop and crack eggs and melt butter like making dinner for her is some kind of Food Network challenge. She tries to tamp down a goofy smile at the thought. Alice smacks her tiny palm against Val’s lips for her attention. She holds her daughter’s hand and mimes nibbling at her fingers, making Alice squeal with laughter. Val peeks over Alice’s shoulder to see Shawn grinning at a frying pan, expertly flipping an omelette. Val’s stomach flips with it.

“So,” Val coughs, “How’ve you found London so far?”

Shawn slides the omelette sizzling onto a plate and cracks pepper over the top. He slides it over to her with a fork, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder while he gets to work on the second. Val mouths thank you, sealing it with a wink as she lifts the baby into a high chair and pops open a can of mashed carrot and swede from the countertop.

“I love it,” Shawn murmurs, nodding, “I’ve always really liked it here. My mum has family here. I’m over here a lot for work.”

He slides his tongue over his lower lip, making the black enameled ring quiver as he thinks about the comment he left out -- he’s long been considering getting a place here. Many of his favorite producers are based out of London. He and the guys love working out here. Forefront has remained more popular in the UK after the scene faded in the US. It makes sense.

“And… how long are you staying?”

Val hopes the eagerness doesn’t cut too deeply into her voice. If Shawn notices, he’s mercifully cool about it.

“I’m leaving Thursday to go home for the holidays.”

Val’s jaw tightens. She straightens up and stares at Alice, watching as she takes a fist of Val’s hair and shoves it into her mouth instead of the spoon of food Val is offering.

“I’ll be back after New Years to write the new album. Gonna spend a few months here.”

Val’s stomach swoops. She jams the spoon into Alice’s cheek by accident, reaching for her bib to wipe the food away before Alice can protest.

“That’s nice,” Val replies airily.

Shawn plops into the stool next to her with his plate and eyes her as she takes one bite of her food and feeds her daughter with her other hand.

“Ever accidentally mixed up the spoons and eaten baby food by mistake?”

Val barks a laugh. “Happens like, once a week.”

Shawn, Val and Alice eat in comfortable silence. Shawn chews a little slower than usual because he knows he’s probably getting kicked out after dinner and he’s not really ready to let go of this just yet.

This.

What is this?

Shawn shakes the thought before it can sprout in his brain. He’s not going to freak out over this. This is fine. It’s dinner with an old friend and her baby. Nothing weird can happen with a baby around, right?

Val stands and scoops a squirming Alice out of her high chair, walking toward the nursery with a glance over her shoulder.

“I’m gonna get her changed and put her down for the night. Want to open that bottle of wine there?” She nods at a bottle of cabernet and Shawn’s eyes get a little brighter.

“Yeah,” he responds enthusiastically, nodding, “Good night, Alice!”

Val beams and flaps Alice’s little hand at him. “Night night, Shawn!”

When Val emerges twenty minutes later with the baby monitor, Shawn has the dishes cleaned and the wine breathing with two glasses out on the counter while he flips absently through his phone.

“I’m gonna get changed, too,” Val says softly, gesturing down at her leather pants and chewing on the inside of her lip, trying not to read too much into all the different cozy-cute outfit ideas in her head.

Before she can overthink it, she swaps out her urban mom chic look for clingy charcoal leggings and a black camisole with her favorite cable knit cardigan over top. She gives her hair a flip in the mirror and pinches some color into her cheeks.

You know, just because.

When she walks back into the living room, Shawn has the wine poured. She tips her glass against his and murmurs “cheers,” willfully ignoring the way Shawn is trying not to check her out.

They sit at the bar. Shawn watches Val cross her long, slender legs, her bare, black-lacquered toes glinting up at him. He hums a chuckle and sips his wine.

“What?” she giggles.

He nods at her. “You. Your black nail polish. Some things never change, I guess.”

The words feel heavy as soon as they leave him. It swirls around them, all that has changed, all that hasn’t.

It would be easy to look over at Val now and see a stranger. It’s been a full decade. The amount of life experience packed into the ten years between 22 and 32 could have made her an entirely different person. But Shawn’s been watching her, listening to her all day. She’s still Val.

It’s a comfort and a curse, he thinks. It’s not like he hasn’t wondered about her, about how much the years have changed all the things that drew him in. It hurt to think she was changing and he didn’t even know it, couldn’t see it. And now he knows just how… Val she still is.

This night won’t last forever, even if they did just open a nice bottle of wine. He’ll go back to the hotel, he’ll leave London. He’ll be stuck with knowing the woman he loved is still every bit as incredible as he remembers her. Hell, she got better. He can’t believe it, but Val Moreno got better with time.

He shakes his head and pushes a hand through his hair. “Wow,” he mutters.

Val takes a gulp from her glass and nods. “I’m kind of feeling that, too.”

“It’s just…” Shawn hisses, finally cracking with the help of the fine cabernet, “It’s been… ten fucking years.”

Val looks over at him. She’s silent for a few long, slow seconds.

“So tell me about them.”

Shawn looks at her as she stands and reaches for the bottle and her glass, heading for the couch.

“Didn’t we do that all afternoon?” he laughs, standing and ambling after her.

Hey moron, he thinks to himself, Do you really want to give her a reason to make you leave sooner than you have to?

To his relief, Val persists, swinging her legs up to fold beside her and patting the cushions. He settles in and continues sipping from his glass for courage.

“Well,” she starts, looking a bit uncertain as she gazes into her glass, “If your ten years has been anything like mine, you have a list of things you’ve been wanting to tell me, saving up for if we’d ever see each other again.”

Shawn’s fucking fingers tingle. She’s been making a list. For him.

He nods. “Y-yeah. I mean… yeah.”

Val smiles. It’s soft and encouraging. “Ok. I’ll start.”

Shawn’s heart softens its battering ram motion in his chest. He bobs his head.

“I was… so scared when I got pregnant with Alice. God, it was the most frightened I’ve ever been of anything. More scared than when I told Raf I was leaving Streets, even more scared than when I was pregnant with Rafael. Because I felt so ready this time. If she was taken from me… god, I swear to god, I held my breath the entire nine months with her. Even after she was born, I just stared at her. Like if I blinked, that would be it. She’d be gone. I think it’s only in the last six months that I’ve started to fucking relax.”

Shawn’s body surges with affection and protective instincts he barely recognizes. He nods eagerly.

“I think it’s amazing you decided to do it on your own. I mean, I bet you hear that all the time. But…”

“But you know better than most how much of a risk I felt I was taking,” she says softly, leveling him with her gaze.

Shawn is quiet remembering the night she finally released it into him, a flood of words he was too young to hear, to feel, to accept. It was the night they said ‘I love you.’ It was the night he ran.

“Your turn,” Val whispers, refilling their glasses. Shawn drinks eagerly.

“Uhm… I… fuck. The closest I ever came to calling you was six years ago, after Making Midnight. I felt like shit. I think I knew all along it wasn’t right -- none of it. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t us. It was a bad album. I had no business being as pissed as I was that it sucked and everyone hated it. But I was so angry with myself. I just felt powerless. It took me so long to be ok with speaking up and saying when I thought something was wrong. It took me so long to find a way to be a leader. I think that’s the way I’ve changed the most in the last ten years.”

Val watches him thoughtfully. She takes a short sip and shakes her head.

“Maybe that’s one of the ways. I’m not sure it’s the biggest. I think 19-year-old you wouldn’t have lasted through a walk in the park with me and my kid. 29-year-old you held her for over an hour. I think you fell a little bit in love with her.”

She chuckles but she’s not joking. Shawn goes crimson.

“She’s… god, Val, she’s amazing. You’re so lucky. You… you both are.”

Val’s eyes drift shut. She drains her second glass. When she opens her eyes again, Shawn’s warm honeyed eyes are watching her. He doesn’t look scared. He doesn’t look anxious. He looks a little lonely.

Val fills their glasses again. She’s warm enough now to slip out of her cardigan and leave it beside her on the sofa. She watches Shawn watch her toss her hair over her shoulders. He chews on his lip until it’s red and swollen.

“Say it.”

He looks up from his already half empty third glass. He blinks quickly. “What?”

“Say it, whatever it is.”

Her voice is calm and smooth. He swallows.

“I was just… wondering if you’ve been in love in the last ten years.”

Val’s head tilts. “Honestly? I didn’t really try. I didn’t want to be. I just wanted Alice. Even before I was ready for her, though, I wasn’t all that interested in looking around. I guess I figured it would fall into my lap when it was right.”

“Why didn’t you look?” Shawn asks, a little too quickly.

Val notices. She takes a slow, deep breath. Shawn watches it inflate and deflate her chest as his tightens. With a resigned smile, Val reaches out and cups his cheek. Her whole body is warm, humming with alcohol in her veins. Her fingers have him choking down a gasp.

“Do you know what I think is really the most incredible part?” she breathes. He blinks at her again, dumbstruck.

“We were together less than three months. It was Warped Tour. We were… fuck, we were kids. I never expected that I’d be hung up on it after all this time. That years later, I’d be on dates and thinking of you. That I’d be sleeping with other people and still thinking of you. I thought this is something that would fade. When I saw you in the garden today, it felt exactly the same as waking up next to you in my bunk on that stupid tour bus, like it was 2007 all over again.”

Shawn’s eyes have fallen shut. He’s overwhelmed, breathing heavily. He turns his face to nudge his lips against her thumb, leaving a gentle kiss.

“God, I still write songs about you. Like, all the time. I thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. I don’t know. Maybe we both are.”

Val waits a beat, then drags his lips to hers. Her kiss is firm but sweet. Her face softens as soon as his mouth touches hers. His fingers curls into the ends of her hair as he edges closer, carefully, dropping himself headfirst into the kiss because who knows if he’ll get another.

They break apart, panting for air. Val plants her hands on his shoulders and wastes no time hauling herself into his lap.

Shawn whimpers, gasping into her mouth. She feels… perfect. Fuck, he’s on fire. It’s been so long. Her tongue slips against his, she groans into his mouth. Her arms are slung around his neck so all he can see and hear and feel is her. How did he go without this for so long? How did he let her go? How could he leave?

But he knows why he left. He left because he was a kid. It took every ounce of strength and maturity he had to walk away when he let himself realize it. He left for him.

Shawn inhales deeply and scoops his hands around her cheeks, easing her back gently. Val’s eyes are heavy. She’s panting.

“Wait… wait,” he grunts, shaking his head as he breathes heavily, in synch with her, “It can’t be like this this time.”

Val feels his words snapping into place in her head. She looks down at the baby monitor she dropped next to her sweater. She lets her head fall forward as she laughs breathlessly.

“Ok. Add that to the list of things you wouldn’t have done ten years ago.”

Shawn grins and tugs her forward until her head rests against his shoulder and his arms drape around her back.

“You deserve so much better than what I gave you last time,” he says softly. It’s not pained or self-deprecating, it’s simple and honest. “I want it to be real.”

She turns her lips against his neck and sighs. The same scurry of goosebumps she remembers she always left on him marches across his skin.

“Then let’s talk about it in the morning,” Val murmurs. Carefully, she unfolds her body from his, takes his hand, and leads the way to her bedroom.

-----------

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ma-lemons · 6 years ago

Text

carved

a request! by @olyollyoxenfree

Okay, cool! Maybe rosegarden centered around a rainy day (sitting indoors, splashing in puddles, or whatever runs through your mind)?

thank you for sending this in!! (see you said whatever runs through my mind... and now you will see the result of me using the wildness that runs rampant in my brain)

*****

“Rainy days are the worst,” Ruby sighed. She sat on a stool, staring outside the window, the rain pouring hard outside. You could hear it as started from soft pitter patter to the loud rush, somewhat like a waterfall.

“Something’s telling me it’s going to flood soon,” María sighed, resting on the sofa. The old woman was letting Weiss braid her hair, as she had grown quite fond of her.

“No doubt,” Yang agreed. No one seemed worried about a possible flood? Ruby was. Yang and Blake were curled up by the fireplace, deeply immersed into some book which Ruby would swipe from them later tonight. Jaune and Ren were sparring in a room somewhere, and Nora was napping. Qrow was writing letters to Taiyang. Everyone seemed to be occupied. Everyone except for Ruby and Oscar.

Oscar had walked into the room, boredom clearly written on his face. He pulled up another stool and sat next to Ruby, sighing.

“Bored?” Ruby asked.

“Oh, most definitely.” He turned to Ruby, a smile on his face. “I’m kidding.”

“So you’re not bored?”

Oscar shook his head. “Are you crazy? There so many things you can do in the rain! Once, my aunt and some of the people in my town chased down the milkman’s cow and it took us hours—and then we got caught in the rain!! We all started to like dance around and splash in puddles, it was totally cool,” Oscar beamed.

“Wow. Is that what farmers do? Jump in puddles? Did you ever find the cow?” Ruby asked, teasingly.

“Nope. But the rain was fun. The milkman got over it.”

“Weird. Well, on Patch, it’s sunny. So I’m used to the sun. I hated how cloudy Beacon was when I got there and now it’s raining here, it’s so ugh. I miss the sun.”

“The rain is fun too,” Oscar argued back.

Ruby shook her head. “The sun is where it’s at. No sun, no fun.”

“You’re so childish!” Oscar exclaimed.

“That’s coming from the actual child!” Ruby yelled back. Their voices were rising in volume.

“Both of you, quiet down! You’re both children and no one cares about the weather!” Yang yelled from her spot near the source of heat.

Oscar put his head down, clearly finished with the conversation.

“I’m almost 17 years old, why don’t you leave me alone,” Ruby was muttering to herself.

“I’m going to go outside!” Oscar announced, standing up. Maria and Weiss looked up simultaneously. “Be careful,” Weiss warned. Oscar nodded.

“Don’t get hurt out there or the sparky one will have you head,” Maria chuckled, referring to Nora as the “sparky one”.

“You’re going outside? In the pouring rain?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah. I’m a farmer, remember? We splash in muddy puddles and chase after lost cows?” Oscar huffed, and marched upstairs. Ruby didn’t understand why he was getting upset. All she said was that she liked the sun better than the rain. Was that offensive? Did farmhands hate the sun? She thought they would like the sun because they needed it for their plants! Right?

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice when Oscar came back downstairs, wearing a plastic raincoat over his clothes. He changed his other boots into black galoshes which Ruby didn’t recall him purchasing.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, he headed outside. Ruby faces back towards her window, and gazed outside it. She decided she hated the rain. It was so boring! She had finished all her comics and there was no comic book store near the cabin! She didn’t feel like sparring, surprisingly, and she wasn’t in the mood for a silver-eye power lesson with Maria. There was much more to do outside. She was happier when it was sunny.

She focused her attention to the farm boy, who had made his way into her view. She watched as he ran back and launched himself into a large, muddy puddle. Water flew everywhere, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. She watched as a wide smile grew on his face and he began to splash into different puddles. He looked childish. But... he also looked... at ease. Did doing this remind him of home?

It suddenly dawned on Ruby that Oscar wasn’t upset because she called him a child, but because... he missed home. He had told her something so personal, and she brushed it off. She may have not understood the significance, but it was one of the memories he treasured with the people he knew back home.

She wished she could have even a minute to spend with her mother. But she didn’t get that time. Oscar was ripped forcibly away from home. He was just doing his best to cope, not because he was afraid of losing his aunt. He was afraid of losing himself. That he would eventually become a lost soul, and never be the same again. He would go home and no would recognize him anymore.

She pushed herself back in her stool and headed outside, her hood pulled over her head. She never bought anything for the rain, but didn’t care too much. She was covered enough. Hopefully.

Shutting the door behind her, she watched Oscar spin around in the rain, his eyes looking at the sky. The woods were usually quiet, but today, you could hear the rush of water and the scuttling and chirping of animals. Carefully, she stepped into the grass, and she could feel the cold mud even in her thick boots. She stepped towards Oscar, sidestepping the puddles. The rain was cold on her skin, but it strangely, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like a kiss from an ice queen. Nature was in a way wonderful, and Ruby never truly appreciated it.

“Hey, Oscar?” she piped up, when she reached the boy. He turned around, his face twisted in confusion and hurt. His clothes were spattered in mud, and she could see tiny flecks of dirt around his cheeks. Kinda looked like extra freckles.

“Hey.”

“I—I’m sorry about what I said earlier, making fun of you. I didn’t understand how important that was for you.”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t. No one would. It’s... It’s stupid anyway. It was a dumb story.”

Ruby shook her head and inched closed to him. “No. It wasn’t stupid. You were trying to tell me you miss home. Right?”

Oscar shrugged. “Yeah.”

Ruby didn’t know what to say, and she felt quite useless. She let her arms hang to her side and stood there, as the rain assaulted her and made her clothes stick to her body.

Oscar turned away from her and she figured he was still mad. He jumped in a puddle, and another, and another.

Here goes nothing.

Ruby took a little leap and sprung herself into a giant puddle. It was exhilarating, actually! She was getting a bit sticky, but it was fun nonetheless. She stomped and laughed, spraying water around her. This wasn’t that bad. It never rained this much in Patch. Even when it did, she didn’t like it.

“ Oscar, look!” The farmhand turned to look at her. He couldn’t resist as a laugh bubbled from his lips. He broke into a smile, a wide grin, his eyes lighting up. That’s what Ruby liked to see.

“I don’t need this stupid coat!” And with that, Oscar peeled his raincoat off and let it fly into the wind. Ruby... thought he was taking it a bit too far. But she was glad he was happy nonetheless. He started to spin in circles, his mouth open, catching raindroplets in his mouth. Ruby did the same, spinning in wild circles until her head spun.

She let her hood down and shook her hair in the rain. It felt cool, like she was taking a cold shower. Even the smell of the woods appealed to her. Did Oscar posess some kind of nature magic?

“Oscar, is there something you’re not telling me? Are you some kind of wizard?”

The farmhand cracked a grin. “Nope. I’m just a 15 year-old farmer’s kid who likes to dance in the rain. Hey! Come here, there’s something I want to show you!” He grabbed Ruby’s arm and lead her into the direction of the woods.

“Uh, don’t you think we should tell someone where we’re going?” Ruby asked.

“Didn’t you leave into the woods, only giving your dad a note?” Oscar inquired.

“Right. Um.”

“I’m joking too, Ruby. Now we’re even. I know you miss your dad as much as I miss my aunt.” Oscar turned down another path until they came to a large tree, quite gnarled and hideous. Its roots curled up and snaked every which way and in the trunk was a large hole, where someone could easily sit in.

“Welcome to my haven! Come on!” He dragged her into the large hole and he plopped her down. Then he sat next to her. Ruby was starting to feel sticky and warm. They were seated on moist leaves and the smell of the earth consumed the air around them. Ruby, being taller than Oscar felt a little bit cramped, but she managed to stick her legs out, into the rain.

“I found this place when we started staying here a month ago.” Oscar stroked the inside of the bark. Ruby could faintly see markings etched out in the wood. Oscar allowed her to scoot closer. She could make out letters. She read them, stringing them together. “Dreams... to win the fight against... Salem, to see my aunt again... to be good enough... and to get to know Ruby Rose better.” She stayed silent for a minute as she took it in. Clearly Oscar had returned to this place many times. These... these were his desires. Things he wanted to accomplish.

“Oscar...” she didn’t know what to say.

He shrugged. “Don’t say anything. Writing in the tree kinda lifted this hero burden off my shoulders for a bit. I don’t want you to feel the need to apologize, I just wanted you to see the place I go to find a peace of mind.”

And that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He simply wanted to show Ruby something special to him.

Ruby nodded in realization. “So that’s where you’ve been going all these times.”

“Yeah. It’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone. But it gets better.” He quickly got on all fours and crawled out of the hole. Ruby followed him, eager to see what it was. She didn’t know what to expect when Oscar started to climb the tree. He was lighting quick, and she didn’t even know what he was grabbing onto, he just did it! The tree was about 50 feet high, and Ruby wasn’t sure if Oscar would be able to come back down.

As soon as he reached the top, he called to Ruby. “Get up here!”

“Uh, yeah... I don’t think so! I’m getting kind of cold!” Ruby yelled back, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Ruby Rose, Huntress, is afraid of heights,” Oscar teased. Even though she couldn’t clearly see his face, she knew he had that cocky look on his face. Fine then. She’d climb.

She figured it would be harder with her chunky boots so she chucked them off and stood in her stockings. Great. Now they would be soaked. She grabbed onto a low branch and hefted herself up. She had to admit, this was a bit difficult. She climbed trees back home all the time. Maybe she was a bit worn out.

“Aha! You’ve been getting lazy!” Oscar sang from where he was perched in his tree. Ruby growled, droplets of water hitting her cheeks.

“You say that from up there, but let’s see who’ll be on top when I get up there!”

Long story short, Ruby made it up there after 30 minutes, because at one point she fell, laid in the leaves and refused to get up. Oscar kept taunting her so she had no choice but to keep trying. When she got up there, she impulsively took Oscar’s galoshes off and chucked them to the ground below.

“What the heck, Ruby?” The farmhand cried.

She stuck ot her tongue and swung her legs over the thick branch, nestling herself on the tree. “So this is what you wanted to show me?”

“Look beyond the trees. Look at everything,” Oscar said, his voice in awe. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t truly here. Ruby was beginning to think he was possessed by some tree spirit. The boy was indeed possessed, but not by something of nature.

Ruby followed his line of sight and gazed at the land below them. Even in the rain and the thick grey clouds above, she could see the land sprawled out in front of them. The town was so far, so many miles away. In the distance, mountains stretched far ahead. Everything seemed so small from where they were. It was as if they were kings of the world, conquering all the land in the world.

Ruby loved it. She loved sitting here, engaging in a fantasy. Like she was a queen who had no responsibility but to be free. And swing deadly weapons time to time. But she was a queen who didn’t have to save the world.

“Oscar,” Ruby muttered quietly.

“Hm?” The boy turned to her, the faraway look gone from his eyes. He was attentive.

“Do...do you think it’s wrong of me to—to sometimes... back out of this war?” She hesitated, afraid of what he’d say.

Oscar didn’t seem shocked at all. He nodded. “I expected you to ask this once. Everyone else but you has questioned the possibility of this mission, the outcome of this war. When you think about it, we’re just kids. There are thousands of Huntsmen out there who we could recruit, but we’re putting ourselves against an immortal being. The only chance we got is Ozpin and the Maidens, and your silver eyes. So when I think about the unlikliness of everything, no, I’m not surprised you have doubts.” Oscar paused for a moment, his head somwhere else. “Shut up,” he muttered. Ah. He must be talking to Ozpin.

“Anyway. Like I said. It’s okay to doubt this mission. I know how much you want to save the world, so I know you will. But... I don’t expect you to always be the mediator in our group. Basically,” Oscar said, resting his eyes on hers. “What I mean is, I’ve got your back. And so does everyone else.”

Ruby took in the words he said and nodded. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He looked back at the land. “This is so beautiful,” he grinned, craning his neck out.

“Be careful, Oscar,” Ruby warned. The farmhand nodded. “It’s so–“

Oscar had somehow slipped and was heading towards the earth. Rapidly. Ruby had no time to think as she shifted herself into petals, into wind, into speed. She didn’t think as she cocooned herself in red and shot herself towards Oscar. She barely saw him, but could feel his aura.

It was a large crash landing into a pile of leaves. The two started to roll, mud and leaves coating their clothes. When they finally stopped moving, Ruby found herself squashing poor Oscar.

She lifted herself off his body. Gasping, she managed to speak. “A—are you okay?”

Even in the rain, Ruby could see Oscar’s cheeks were stained pink. I mean, she wasn’t surprised. He had fallen 50 feet and was caught in midair.

The boy only managed to nod and Ruby realized that he probably needed space to breathe. She loosened her grip on him and scooted back. Oscar shuffled back, his hair falling over his eyes.

Ruby stood up, her hands stained with thick mud. They needed baths. They both looked like they had been living in the woods for weeks.

She walked over to Oscar and stuck out her hand to him. “Come on. We’re both dirty.”

Oscar looked up and gripped her hand. She pulled him up, and they began to walk back towards their safe house.

After a while, they reached the house. They were both exhausted and knew everyone would question where they had gone.

They walked in, their limbs sore.

Weiss shot up and ran to them. “I was about to look for you guys! You were gone for two hours!”

“No, you weren’t, Weiss,” Yang called from the kitchen. “You said they’d be fine.”

Weiss reddened and looked them over. “You smell. I’ll go get water for you guys. You need a bath.”

Ruby chuckled at the encounter.

“What did you do! What were you doing out there?” María asked, hands planted on her hips. She hobbled over to the children. “Why are you messy?”

A hot bath, two cups of cocoa and three cookies later (Ruby stole an extra one), Ruby and Oscar were seated at the window again, watching the pour that had slowed to just a drizzle.

“Thanks for showing me that tree today,” Ruby murmured to the farmhand. Oscar nodded.

“Thank you too. For everything.”

It was an unexpected adventure for sure, but one that reminded them of things they held dear to their hearts.

#i cant believe ppl kinda like my writing #i do need to improve a lot #but im really grateful for those who like and reblog #rosegarden #ruby rose #oscar pine #roscar #rosepine #olyollyoxenfree #i need to make a masterlist one of these days #lord almighty i ran out of space AGAIN #tumblr mobile stop #like you cant even do the BASIC of tasks #anyway whatever this is enjoy it

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halfusek · 6 years ago

Text

You Left Me in a Heartbeat

I wrote a fic about my interpretation of how things were between Joey and Henry: from before founding the studio to the moment they split up and a bit more. Also it includes a certain theory I would like to discuss in a seperate post some other time. Hope you enjoy! Huge thanks to @pipesflowforeverandever for beta reading and helping me with getting this thing readable! <3 Warning: ...violence.

✪ ✪ ✪

There is nothing wrong with dreaming. Excitement filled his head and buzzing thoughts were running million miles per hour through that brain hidden under dark hair. Although none of that amount of thinking was focused on the real world. At least not yet. Which is why the owner of fancy looking (but actually really cheap, he was just a broke student with nothing but dreams and 60 cents in his pocket, well, at least for the rest of the month) black shoes didn't even notice his feet were constantly switching being attached to the ground between toes and heels. His sight seemed to be focused on a certain covered in lights sign which was hung way above the cogitating head, at the top of an entrance. He was standing close to the gate with the cinema's ticket booth in the middle, his pointy nose pointed at the sky, expression peaceful, shoulders relaxed, and body slightly bending back and forth.

Oh, no, surely nothing wrong with dreaming, especially dreaming big, but who is to say those smaller ones cannot be fulfilled as well? Even those silly ones.

The cinema was showing an animated production tonight. And he had just enough money to see it and only slightly starve for the next week!

He arrived way too early for the show, but he couldn't just sit at home! So he went out for a long walk, well dressed, which wasn't most comfortable, but God, did he feel good!

To be fair it wasn't just the show his mind was currently so occupied with. Oh, it surely is fun doing alone, but what an experience it must be with a company!

He heard his name being shout out from across the street. The man turned around on his heel and sent the best grin the mouth under the pencil moustache was able to make.

Especially good company!

Henry was with some woman.

Joey stood still.

When the pair finally approached him, he whistled under his nose and then bowed. Both of his arms moved right away, one behind his back, and the other one in front of him, reaching for her hand.

"What a pleasure meeting you, my lady,” she giggled and Henry couldn't help but roll his eyes, though his lips twitched, forming a smile, "Can I know your name?”

"Linda,” they exchanged an energetic handshake, "You must be Joey?”

Said man gasped and put his hands on his chest in disbelief.

"Wow! Well...” he pouted comically and put his finger on his chin, other hand resting on his hip, "It is a possibility.”

Linda snorted.

"You know,” she took Henry by his arm and turned her head to him, cascade of blond hair flowing with that movement, "When you said it's just some cartoon I had second thoughts about going... but it might be fun after all,” she bit her lip as she turned back to Joey.

"Oh?” Drew asked, his mind completely ignoring the compliment, "You don't like cartoons?”

"I mean... I never really tried watching any... who knows, maybe it's fun. I know a fella or two who seem to enjoy it," she showed her teeth in a beautiful smile.

Joey noticed with how much affection Henry looked at her face. His eyebrows frowned a tiny bit.

"Let's try making it a three then," Henry beamed and pulled his girlfriend after him to buy the tickets. He did it in such an adventurous way, she couldn't help but laugh.

Joey watched them from behind. He couldn't move his feet. This was stupid.

He was stupid.

He wanted to pay for them. Only the two of them. He didn't expect-

His body shaked for a second. Only now he noticed how cold it was outside. Or...

He took the first step.

They won't last.

He took another step.

They will break up soon and he will never see or hear of Linda ever again.

He came up to the gate and bought a single ticket, then followed his company for tonight.

He won't lose just like that.

After the seance, Linda’s love for toons started and was growing ever since. She couldn't draw a straight line, but was interested in her partner's passion.

He can't lose.

Few years from this night they are planning to get married.

✪

Music was so loud as if the world was ending and it was the last opportunity to dance ever. Wonderful combination of bodies moving to the wild rhythms, people shouting as long as they had air in their lungs, liters and liters of alcohol and pure happiness – truly the most humane form of insanity. Everyone was dressed in their most expensive clothes they should take care of and nobody cared as they waved their arms and legs, drowning in the ocean of sweat and panting breaths.

They owned the place tonight, newcomers could either join or stay being outsiders which ended for all of them in leaving. Judging by how, hm, unusual the party was, it effectively scared away those who could have something against some of its rules. One woman entered looking for someone to make love to, but went out scoffing as her moves resulted in nothing because she aimed at a wrong pal, currently making his own moves towards another pal. How weird!

Oh, those artists. Such deviants!

Joey was forcibly pulling Henry away from the table, despite all of the yet-to-come-animator's protests.

"Come ooooon!” tall man’s voice sounded lower and slowed down. Also very demanding at the moment, "Don't tell me you're not gonna dance at a celebration of YOUR OWN show!”

They finally both ended up in the middle of the chaos which was the said celebration. They were like two pales standing still in a storming sea. Now they either drown or move. Henry didn’t seem up for swimming.

He doesn't like dancing. Joey only knew he performed a few slow ones with Linda, but she wasn't there to get him out of his comfort zone this time.

Obviously Joey was obligated to step in.

"I-I don't know what to do, I feel weird everytime I do this, I-"

"Don't think about it, just do it!” they had to yell in each others ears to make anything out of their conversation.

"I can't. I can't!” light reflected in Henry’s glasses as he looked back at the table.

"It's like slow dancing! But faster!” Henry didn't need to turn again to his friend to see that big grin of his, but he did it anyway just to send him a mildly annoyed look.

"It's not!”

"It is! I'm gonna... fucking... show you!” Joey grabbed his hands and pulled, which took Henry by surprise.

"What the-"

"Think of waltz! But don't be strict! Use some instinct, for crying out loud you're the one with a girl!”

And so they took few first steps like in a classic waltz, which didn't go well with everyone else's tempo but Joey didn't care. Henry got more nervous.

"I told you I-"

"Shut up! Keep! Trying!”

Drew can be really exhausting with his motivational attitude and never-giving-up speeches, but Henry decided to listen to him. After all, he was usually right.

They took their steps faster. Then Joey started leading them into slightly different ones, and with time and occurrence those differences started increasing.

Henry found himself catching up and they both noticed that.

When they achieved a somewhat satisfying pace and didn't bump into others as much, Joey suddenly pulled Henry closer and whispered to his ear something the shorter man couldn't quite catch but it surely included the words "dancing demon" and he bursted out laughing.

Sillyvision pitched their idea.

Way later that night two figures struggled with walking down the street, both clinging to each other. They were trying hard to keep their balance yet still ended up moving between both sides of the road. Luckily for them it was quite a quiet neighborhood, no cars in the sight. There was only one cyclist who tried their best to avoid them with the accompanying sounds of the bike’s horn.

Their long walk was completed at a construction field. Not a recommended place for the drunk, but things were about to start happening here in a few days, only several materials have been gathered for building.

Joey wants to stand on his own but Henry didn’t let him – he knew that would end in the tall man laying face down on the dirt – so instead of making a majestic spin in the middle of the place with his hand pointed at the surroundings, he did an awkward turn-around, which almost knocked Henry off his own feet.

"Look. At. This!” words were pouring out of his mouth in a bulky mutter, "This will be ours. This IS ours.”

"Yeah,” Henry simply replied but then decided to elaborate a bit, "It’s… it feels amazing.”

"Yes! It does,” dark hair fluttered as the head it was on nodded. He kept doing that as he responded, "I think I’m gonna return today’s alcoholic be… be-ve… rages.”

"Ew. Let go of me then. And not on our future floor.”

"Imagine s-someone will be, like, sitting there, like, drawing, and then, I’ll like come to them from behind and be like-"

"Oh, Jesus.”

"Sir.”

"God.”

"You’re sitting on my barf.”

Henry didn’t let this low level joke make him giggle. He made an excessively serious face.

"You’ll be the worst employer.”

"I’ll be an amazing employer. So honest.”

"Please, don’t.”

"Yeah, no, I’ll lie on occasions.”

"I meant don’t puke on our legacy.”

"Oh.”

They took a sit on a stack of desks and breathed in silence for a while. Their shoulders were touching.

"I think I’m better now.”

"Good.”

"I’m so happy,” Drew’s voice broke as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It sure doesn’t sound like it,” Henry made an awful joke attempt as his own tone hit a higher pitch and he felt a sudden urge to blink more.

Both men raised hands to wipe their eyes- only to be interrupted by their own bursting, bubbling laughter. Cartoonists put their arms around each other and they wobbled, they laughed, and they cried.

They were tired but it was the best kind of tired. The kind you feel after successfully achieving something, so you can rest a bit and let that accomplishment bring some joy into your life.

Henry rested his head on his best friend’s shoulder.

It was so warm. The night was cold and the alcohol wouldn’t help them keep a decent temperature for long, but they simply had each other.

At that moment, Joey could swear he was burning.

His hand found its place on Henry’s hip, long, thin fingers were trembling. He took in a deep, shaky breath.

Henry felt the chest he was almost laying on shiver and for a short moment there was a sensation grabbing his face by the hot hands of confusion. It lasted a few seconds until Joey stood up and took three steps forward. Henry, not expecting this, ended up falling on his elbow, so he was in a kind of semi-recumbent position, his mouth slightly opened. He watched Joey put his hands on his sides, and turn back to him. Shorter man almost expected some sort of negative expression, but the other surprised him with a smile which could only be described as a smile of a dreamer.

Henry forgot to remind him of being careful, because he knew his friend had something important to say. So he listened to the man of ideas.

"This,” he threw one hand in the air, "This will be great.”

His hand fell back on his hip.

"But it’s just the beginning. It will be greater.”

Henry raised his eyebrows and blinked.

"We will expand!” Joey suddenly released an excited shout and lifted both arms to the sky as if he wanted to grab all the stars.

At that moment Henry was almost certain he did. He got up and approached him.

"What do you mean?”

"We’re gonna make it big! Literally!” Joey let out a laughter before he explained, "The grounds were so cheap because most of them are located above a huuuge cave found many feets underground! Of course we won’t start building above that part, but later we could easily use it for building something…” he made a pause and put an emphasis on the next word, "under!”

"Oh, my,” Henry mumbled, genuinely surprised. This lack of knowledge didn’t bother him much. Not now, "That’s… that does sound great… although it will take a lot of hard work before we’ll be actually able to use something… something like that.”

“Yes. Hard,” he grinned widely, "and happy.”

Eyes behind the glasses rolled.

Joey noticed this is how Henry tries to mask his lack of confidence. He patted his friend’s shoulder.

Back then he used his observations for motivation instead of manipulation.

It’s funny how things change over time.

"We’ll make it,” corners of his mouth fell down a bit so the smile appeared to be more gentle, "You just have to believe.”

"Yeah, yeah,” Henry sighed and closed his eyes for a second, before looking up at his pal and reaching his hand to the one resting on his shoulder to grab it in a reacourging grasp, "Thanks, I will try my best. We will try our best. Right?”

Joey turned to look at the foundations of their workshop and released his hand from the touch. He repeated quietly but undoubtedly, "Right.”

Henry didn’t seem to notice weird reactions on his friend’s side and Joey was both relieved and disappointed by that.

He could have tried to make a move on Henry. Well, in fact, he has been trying. His crush already was in a few relationships before and he always waited them out and they always eventually passed.

(He had a bad feeling about this one.)

He didn’t want to interfere. He wanted Henry to be happy the way Henry wanted to be happy. It was the only fair way. But he didn’t see any dangers in his current one. Linda wasn’t… a threat.

(This time he didn’t have a girl just because of social pressures.)

He could try lying to himself, but in reality he was scared of rejection.

(Henry really loves her.)

What if that dream does not happen?

He closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened again, green irises shined with determination.

They will make it. Belief is all they had before and it’s all they need. It’s all he needs.

They will make their dreams come true.

It’s a funny thing.

How so much can fall apart so fast.

✪

He stretched his back and let out a silent groan. No, he needed to stand up, even for a few seconds. And so he did, all his limbs tried to go as far away from his torso as possible. Brain automatically got filled with air. That felt refreshing. He twisted and bent his body before sitting down again. Just as he was finished adjusting his chair, he heard steps coming from the closest room. He peeked his head to the corridor.

A tall figure approached a long table that Henry could only see a small fraction of from this position. The other person wore a black, long jacket, which shoulders were covered in snow, that also was slowly melting on the dark hair making it a bit wet. Joey put some bags in the middle of the table and came back where Henry's sight could reach him. He took off his gloves and threw them next to - how Henry suspected knowing his friend - some warm food he bought for both of them. Cold, currently slightly red hands, rubbed each other energetically and the man grinned.

"Want some coffee?”

"I want you to get your ass over here and help me," his smile was rather sour but shifted to a tired and calm one, "But sure. Just right after that – you stay there.”

"Right, right," Joey did a reassuring gesture and headed for the kettle. He wanted to get a proper break room someday, but Henry couldn't really see it right now. Irrelevant. For this room to have any use they would have to have proper breaks first. At that time everyone was working really hard.

Well they had to. But they wanted to.

Happily tired.

The animator sighed.

After a while his friend was in Henry's little corner with something to fill his stomach and give a little boost to his head. Henry muttered some thanks and tried not to consume everything at once.

It wasn’t the first time he forgot to eat during drawing. Always, even when he did this as a hobby, he since had that problem. This didn't strike anything alarming in regards to his job, though.

He hasn't become aware of his workaholism yet.

Even Linda wasn't concerned yet, they haven't seen each other since that whole thing started but they both tried their best to stay positive. Of course there will be challenges on the way, especially at the beginning. But they won't give up, no, sir.

Joey took a sit on the other chair present in the room, which he once brought in and never got out. It was its only use as no one really needed to come here except for them. Wally or Norman were coming every now and then, but those visits never really required sitting.

Joey let Henry eat in peace and before asking anything, he took a look on what the shorter man was working on. He crossed his legs and studied the frames.

"Aw, that's no fun. I can't even criticize you for anything. Those look perfect,” his tone was mostly playful but with bits of pure admiration. Henry fought the want to hide behind an exaggerated modesty by declining every compliment which dared to tickle his ego. He couldn't just take it though, so he responded with a teasing joke.

"I would introduce my foot to your crotch if you did after last Friday,” he found himself only half joking. He knew Joey well and he was aware of their problems with perfectionism, especially in his pal's case, but the first time it occurred to him as a bigger issue was the aforementioned Friday. Joey didn't accept that character model but he didn't have to reject all those frames Henry did with it...

Joey's lips slightly twitched.

"Sorry. I'll make up for it. No business trips for the whole week.” Joey put one hand on his chest and raised the other, at which his friend chuckled a bit. He meant it and that was enough for Henry. That's great when you have a friend as your boss. You know you can trust him.

"Well then, let's begin!” Henry beamed at him. They assigned what needed to be done by which one of them and set goals for today, each day and the whole week. Deadline was closing in but they still had loads of time. They could do this. Joey moved to the other room with such a strong aura, he wasn’t even taking normal steps, but made small leaps, which made Henry choke on his coffee.

At moments like this you could say they were getting high on believing.

✪

No.

The smiling devil was mocking him.

No.

He turned another paper sheet into a ball and threw to trash.

He let out a silent sigh when he put the pen back in action and his wrist sent a complaining sensation.

No, Henry, we can't go on like this.

She said.

Wrong again.

He tore the sheet apart.

No.

He couldn't work like this.

He had to.

He felt something hot and wet in his eyes.

No.

He needed to be better. He couldn't lose her.

He took the pen back in his fingers and it was at the moment his hand twitched and emitted hurtful spasms through his arm when the water broke through the barrier of his bottom eyelashes.

He grabbed his right hand with the left one. The pen fell on the wooden boards.

Defeated.

"No...”

"Henry...?”

He almost jumped in his seat. Glasses bent askew when he turned his head to the source of the voice.

Joey.

He started wiping of the tears. It wasn’t really effective since he didn't even bother to take the glasses off. He just didn't want his boss... his friend to see him like this.

Well. Too late for that now.

Joey leaned back on his desk. A few months have passed since they started it all and the second chair was moved out of here.

Surprisingly for both of them it didn't take much for Henry to start venting. He never realised how much he has been keeping to himself. How much has bothered him. How bad he felt.

How afraid he was of talking about it with anyone. And his best friend he used to talk with about everything... was a part of the problem.

Heavy thing clenching onto his heart disappeared as he felt relief after Joey's reaction.

Understanding.

He was almost afraid they wouldn't get along as they used to.

Many things weren't as they used to be.

"Linda will be so happy,” Henry sniffed for the last time and used the tissues to stop his face from looking like a mess, "And right now we need every bit of happiness we can get. We planned some big things but... I don't know, maybe they are too big for us...”

"Nonsense!”, Joey exclaimed before he bit his own tongue, "There is nothing on the way to your dreams, Henry. Nothing.”

"I start to feel as if this idea sounds nice only on paper," that's what the animator said, but Joey as an experienced leader and manager knew what his employer meant: convince me. Motivate me.

"Okay, listen to me, dear pal," he put his arm on Henry's shoulder and leaned in a bit so their heads were on the same level, "Of course the idea sounds easier on paper! All ya gotta do is write it! Now – action – is what requires more commitment. But what would you get from just that paper? Welp, nothing, nada, zero.”

"Alright, I get you, please-"

"Do you kind of want it or WANT IT WANT IT?!”

Henry let out a frustrated groan but muscles on his face betrayed him and he smiled and he hated it.

"I want it. I want her.”

"Then get the hell out and make your future wife happy.” he said it as an order but it was one Henry will one hundred percent willingly listen to.

This was a good moment. There has been a lot of stressful situations recently around the studio. Everyone knew what they wanted, everyone knew what to do to achieve what they wanted. It was just... hard. And they had to do their best to be happy.

Joey tried really hard to make it a happy workplace. He might have gotten a bit harsh sometimes but never let his guard of positivity down. Workers were fast to lose trust but slow to regain it. He was trying his damn best and hasn't realised he was pushing his best friend too hard.

He felt awful.

He had to do this, stuff needed to be done, but today? No, he couldn't.

Henry was crying. He had to let him go home, even if that meant he will spent time with his fiance instead of him. Or more like working for him.

But that would make him unhappy. Henry was unhappy for a longer time.

He sat back and lifted his chin up to look at the ceiling.

Most important person in his life was unhappy because of most important thing in his life.

Oh, dear.

Henry's spirit was definitely lifted up when Joey watched him exit the building. He felt an unpleasant feeling in his stomach when he noticed that – almost as if the workshop was some sort of prison. That just felt wrong. But he was glad for his friend. The animator needed rest anyway.

Anyway... what the hell was he doing? Drawing with a hurting hand? Did he really think Joey is some kind of monster that would make him-

No.

He realizes he clenched his fists. His fingers got released right away.

Well. Is he?

No. Calm down. Henry finds it hard to stand up for himself. He never complains! No wonder he just literally exploded from everything he kept inside! Joey never had any problems with giving him feedback or going on and on about what was going inside that idea-pumping head of his, but to be fair he didn't really have any serious issues himself.

(bullshit)

(liar)

The dark haired man shook his head.

They both felt the unpleasant breath of incoming deadline on their backs. Henry was probably too occupied with his mind today to, well, mind going home. But Joey was fully aware.

Oh, well! Who is supposed to make the impossible happen if not him?

He picked up the pen and then he picked up where Henry left off. He felt tired, but only physically (right?) which was something he surely could stand. Unfortunately he had to focus more on the business stuff but some time in the future he planned to hire an entire management department and join Henry in the art one. He could look for more animators first but...

His eyebrows frowned and he bit his bottom lip.

...he didn't want to. Later.

Why?

Oh, obviously because-

Because...

Bendy looked so off model, Joey just stared at the sketch in pure surprise.

Oh, right, he cheered himself up, after that time period some warm ups are necessary.

The amount of time he spent warming up to get the frame right was a bit disappointing, but he kept going.

He was so absorbed by the work, he didn't (want to think) hear the steps approaching him.

"Gee golly. Is that really you, sir?” the janitor's eyebrows instantly rose up as he reached the end of the hall.

Drew gave him an unfocused look and blinked a few times.

"What," he didn't even articulate the question.

"Um, uh, ya know, I'm just doin' the usual, haha,” Wally wasn't sure what to make out of his boss' tone, so his reply was kind of nervous, "Gotta clean up the place!”

The look on Franks face woke Joey up from that strange state of hyperfocusing.

"Oh!” without any reason to he stood up. Just a second after he realized, but didn't sit back, he approached the worker, stretching his back, "Can't you do this later, my boy?”

"It's already after hours, sir," the smile on Wally's face told Joey two things. First: get some rest, old man. Second: I better get overtime for this.

Oh, he heard that second one so often. Not today.

"Forget it. Go home, Wally.”

"Oh, no problemo, I can wait.”

"Wally.”

"Alright, alright," Franks reassured him to back out of his extra work plan by replying with the strongest accent he could pull off, which Joey couldn't help but find amusing. Such personality! Would make a great character trait.

"You can leave the mop here," as Joey continued Wally twisted his head to one side in curiosity. Kinda like a dog, "I will use it later.”

"Wow, mister Drew, you do Henry's job, now mine. When are ya goin’ to write a song?”

"Very funny, Franks.” Joey sent him a tired smile. "I mean – Wally. Quit the mister Drew, please.”

"You got it!” Joey half expected him to salute. Wally Franks might not be the sharpest tool in this shed, but he sure tries his best to be one and works both hard and happy. He would never regret hiring such a character. Good for the janitor, Joey never cared much about papers and qualifications. There were many things to hate this place for but also many things to appreciate. Maybe even love. Like this little comedy he knew he could expect from the boy always walking with his head in the clouds, "Good thing, I don't hafta go back to the closet! Phew! If I met Sammy down here, I wouldn't hear the end of it!”

"Keys?”

"Keys.”

Joey wasn't even slightly mad. That was just hilarious. Even though he was the one paying for a pair of new ones. Well, the studio was, but someone is responsible for it and is in its very name.

After Wally left, he kept working for a few more hours. He almost got the shot done when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

He got up from the desk with a paper attached to his face. There were small spots of ink on his forehead and chin. He was really disoriented and looked at the person standing next to him with two cups of coffee with pure confusion.

Henry.

He was smiling but looked concerned.

"Damn me, I was afraid I will be too much behind so I got up earlier for work, but you..." he sounded genuinely touched, "Thanks.”

"You're welcome," Joey yawned and slowly got up, to which Henry responded by placing the cups on the desk and pushing him back to his place, "Wha-"

"You look like you're about to pass out,” despite his friend's tone, he could tell he wasn't really joking, "How long were you up?”

"Hell if I know," usually higher positioned shoulders now at a lower lever because of their owner's body being laid back in the chair shrugged, "What time is it?” he asked as he reached out for the cafeine.

"Eight.”

Joey took the cup to his hands and simply stared at the surface of what was inside of it. He smiled in an unsettling way.

"I have a meeting at half past nine.”

"Oh,” Henry gasped in that emotionless way of his but in the name of self-awareness added a more concerned: "Shit.”

"Yeah," a loud slorp could be heard.

"Is it important?”

"Yeah.”

"Are you gonna go there?”

"Yeah.”

"Do you want to?”

"Kinda.”

"Do you kind of want it, or-" Henry tried hard not to wheeze as Joey gave him an annoyed look, "want it, want it?”

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't.”

They both laughed hysterically.

Kinda.

✪

First year anniversary party managed to lift up everyone's moods a bit but not long after that event it faded away. They kept pushing but kept losing enthusiasm. It was even harder to stand that grin.

The one Bendy posters have.

The one Joey Drew has.

Said man entered the corridor to the left after coming through the entrance. He stood quietly and watched his only animator work.

He realized it's been some time since they had a normal conversation. He can't deny this feels wrong. He feels... awkward... out of place...

He hesitated to start speaking. It was Henry who sensed someone's presence and looked in his direction.

"Hi," he only slightly raised his eyebrows, "What do you want?”

"Oh? Is it forbidden to just come to see your pal now?” he tried hard to mask his stress and make the tone sound convincing. Henry's sad smile as a reply made him somewhat relieved.

"No. But I need to work on this if I want to get out of this place today," that used to be a joke.

Joey immediately run back to the previous room and returned with a chair.

"Move yo ass.”

"Come on, you don't have to-"

"It's been months since I used a pen for anything else than my signature or script writing. I. Want. To. Draw.” he really did, Henry was almost jealous of his friend's excitement towards drawing. It was only becoming less and less fun for the shorter man.

"Okay, then, here," he gave a folder to Joey and explained what needed to be done.

It was quite pleasant to have some company. Joey was working in the next room but they could shout things at each other. And they did.

Henry worked at a really fast paste. And very effectively on top of that. He didn't realise that himself but there has been quite some time since he heard an actual compliment about his work. He lacked motivation. Maybe that's why not long after Joey started, he went out of his hall and approached his friend's desk.

"Hey, I wanted to ask how you feel about those back-"

Joey has been scribbling circles.

Henry blinked.

This whole time.

"What the-"

"I can't get his stupid head. I'm so out of practice.”

"Are you serious?”

"I know I goof a lot, but not in the mood for it right now, Hen.”

"Ah," he was slightly taken aback by the nickname. It's been so long, "Maybe you want less Bendys and I'll give you some Borises instead? It's good to try different things.”

"Yeah, that does sound good”, Joey gave him a thankful smile.

Henry didn't dare to show him his backgrounds. He thought something but pushed it away.

No way it would demotivate Joey. Nothing was able to bring this man down. Right?

So they kept drawing.

Later, without anything to show this time, Henry came to him again to check how things were going.

Their little devil darling looked on model, just the way he should be.

When he glanced at the Boris Joey was sketching, he almost froze. He saw a mistake repeated on a few sketches already.

"You won't make me correct all the frames to give him a tail, will you?” he let out a nervous chuckle. Joey furrowed his brows as he studied what he made.

He gazed upon Henry who could see something shifting through his boss’/friend's face but couldn’t quite catch it.

"You're tired.”

"I'm tired.” Joey nodded slowly.

He muttered thanks for reminding him and went back to work. So did Henry. As the animator sat down on his own place, he wondered why did this little thing bother him so much.

Because? It's no big deal, right? Everyone makes mistakes.

After something around twenty minutes, Joey took careful steps while going to Henry's desk. He held some paper sheets and a pen. His face was covered by some undefined mask, so hard to guess what he felt at this moment.

Henry guesses he was... embarrassed? Afraid?

Why?

"Can you... show me how the details on Boris’ overalls look like?” his tone was so quiet, Henry got the impression it wasn’t even Joey speaking.

"Sure," he took out one of the concept arts he barely touched now since the designs of the characters were basically engraved on his memory. He smirked teasingly, "What kind of director doesn't know his own characters?”

That was supposed to be a joke.

Gritted teeth and pencil moustache pointed down told him someone didn't take it as one.

"You don't have to remind me about that," he hissed and pretty much threw all the stuff at the desk, "I'm done.”

"No, I didn't mean- Wait, what? What are you-"

"I'm done. I can't... do this anymore.”

"Um, hello? Are you listening to yourself?” Henry pulled out a nervous smile which was supposed to resemble his concern, "You just need-"

"Practice, yeah, no shit," Joey sighed heavily and crossed his arms, "But I don't have the goddamn time.”

Henry just blinked and stared at him. Joey finally realized what was coming out of his mouth.

"I... I'm sorry. I wanted to help you but-"

"No, it's fine. Don't worry ab-" Henry reached for his shoulder to lay a hand on it but Joey flinched back.

"I'm not worried. Of course it's fine. Now excuse me, I won't waste any more of our time-"

"Hey! No! It's... it's okay if it's not fine, we can talk about thi-"

"No need to. It's fine,” it was the first fake smile Henry remembered after finally quitting the studio.

"I don't believe that. Can you just... stop running away from talking about what's really bothering you?” he approached the tall man.

"I have no idea what you're talking about,” he turned away, planning to exit the room.

"It's okay to admit something is wrong!” Henry grabbed his arm.

Before he gets pushed with an unexpected force, he saw Joey in a completely new form. His friend's face was furious. Paper and pens fell from the desk on the ground. An ink well spilled out its content on a few pages by shattering on top of them. Henry hit the wooden structure with his back and the blue eyes watched the green ones in disbelief.

Joey's expression instantly changed. He looked at the other's face, not sure what to say. Seemed like he tried to state something but failed as his mouth opened and closed.

He exited the room in a hurry.

✪

Joey has been sitting in his office for quite a while now. Motionless. Staring at his desk. At an envelope laying on it to be precise.

He was away for a few days so he missed the biggest news going around the studio right now. On the way to this room he noticed some people gossiping and there was an unusual excited atmosphere.

Subconsciously, he knew what was inside of it. The thought just didn’t form inside of his head.

With a slightly shaking hand, he reached for the paper and cut it carefully with a letter opener.

He noticed the biggest word right away and lost his breath.

BEFORE THEY SAY

"I DO”

KINDLY JOIN US FOR THE

WEDDING

UNITING

LINDA & HENRY

After that there were written the date, the place and his own name but he paid no mind to those.

The invitation was put back down slowly, the fingers holding it twitching.

Tall, thin body was unusually still. Looked calm.

But wasn’t.

It’s over.

He stood up and a noise of something shattering could be heard. He felt a pain in his arm as he looked at it being stretched. He stared almost blindly at the wall and hardly noticed a big stain on it. Then his mind went back to focus. There was glass on the floor and on a chest of drawers which stood under the ink splatter. He remembered to breathe again, which he continued to do heavily, and then slowly approached the furniture to study what he’s done.

He appeared to just have thrown an inkwell.

Oh, what a mess.

Nothing like the one inside his head.

Joey pulled out the drawers. Various things ended up flying out of them. Documents, pens, stamps, keys, you name it. Falling wood made cracking sounds as it hit the ground.

He went around the room pulling his hair.

The man passed a wine rack which he pushed furiously. Alcohol spilled on the wood and the luxurious carpet covering it.

He stopped walking ending back again at the desk. With one swing of the long arm, he managed to push everything off it’s surface. There was something wet on his sleeve and he raised it up to his face with disgust, expecting to see ink.

But it was red.

And it hurt.

It must have been the letter opener.

He almost collapsed on his back, but the chair behind him broke the fall, so he ended up sliding down it. His legs were pointed at different directions, his body in general looked like an abandoned doll. The bleeding arm rose to the chest and was being hugged to it by the other one. It was now, when everything else went quiet, nothing was shattered or thrown, that he heard sounds which only a hurt animal could have made.

It slowly got through to him that he was sobbing uncontrollably.

His limbs slowly woke up from that weird apathetic state and along with head started coming together to one point – curled into a ball.

Hide.

Stop.

From what? Stop what?

What…?

He didn’t want to think.

He didn’t want anything.

Not anymore.

He…

He just can’t have it.

He can’t have him.

No matter what he does. Nothing really matters. He can’t succeed.

THIS ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!

His whole body trembled.

This isn’t right, this isn’t fair, this can’t be like this, he has to… he… he just needs to…

He has always believed you can achieve anything if you try hard enough. If you believe. If you keep going. At some point that dream will come true.

He fell on his side and put a fist inside his mouth to silence his own scream.

LIES. LIES. LIES.

What was right is wrong. Nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.

He felt that… toxic… desire… to get what he wants.

But the problem was… he didn’t want something. He wanted someone.

Henry isn’t and can’t be your damn property, you stupid piece of garbage. How pathetic can you be?

Dreams are supposed to be your power…

He choked on his tears, but that didn’t stop him from laughing.

…but they can also be your downfall.

✪

This was not what he dreamt of. He run his hand through his brown hair with ending that movement on the neck to give it a small massage. It ached a bit, his back did as well. And his hand.

Henry sighed. He was so tired.

Why won’t Joey hire more animators? They should afford to do so, and even if it was risky, they would rather benefit from it in the future as there would be less dangers of not meeting the deadlines. He managed to do everything alone but at what cost…

A wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

Joey won’t even help him anymore. And his name is in the goddamn-

He released the breath he was holding.

Time passed and things only seemed to get worse.

He put his hands on the Bendy sketch he was working on. He grasped one of the fingers and studied it.

He designed the main character. Heck, two main characters.

He gently touched and twisted the golden ring.

Does he want to live in his shadow?

Does he live in it?

Should he quit? What would happen to them? What job would he look for?

He didn’t want to think about this.

They wanted to start a family. He couldn’t be absent in their children’s life.

He needed to think about this.

Blue eyes closed.

Should he quit…?

✪

There was an unpleasant silence in the office. Heavy atmosphere hanging in the air.

Old friends sat on opposing sides of Joey’s desk.

They couldn’t look each other in the eyes. No one wanted to start speaking.

Henry asked for talking about something. Something important. Privately.

Joey exhaled deeply and looked up at the other one’s face.

"What-"

"I quit.”

Dark haired man blinked. Corners of his mouth rose but the smile didn’t reach the green irises.

"Let’s take it slow from here, okay? Tell me what’s the problem.”

"What isn’t a problem, Joey?” Henry didn’t expect himself to raise his voice. At least not so early, "Short answer is: I’m not happy here.”

Drew folded his hands and put them on the countertop.

"Could you elaborate on that?” his voice didn’t show anything except for impatience.

The animator swallowed his saliva.

"I’m working alone and it’s just too much work for one person, it’s entirely consuming my life-"

"Well, it’s like this in this bus-"

"I’ve become a fucking workaholic, Joey.”

"I… I’m sorry to hear that…”

"Haven’t you noticed?”

"Noticed what? How am I supposed to know what’s going on inside your head? You never tell me anything, you just wait till it all bursts out in one moment, and look what it lead to now.”

"Oh, well I… thought you knew me a bit better and were aware of some changes. I’ve been lying to myself because I have an addiction. And everyone around me seemed to notice. Everyone but you.”

"I thought you liked drawing.”

"I love drawing.”

"What’s the matter then?”

"That I’m a goddamn wreck, maybe that’s what. I’m… sort of… miserable… because of it… If it wasn’t for Linda, I surely would drown the sorrows in alcohol. Almost added drinking to the list of my problems, but she-"

"Oh, thank God, Linda is here.”

Henry didn’t miss the sarcasm in Joey’s tone.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

"She’s convinced you to quit for her, hasn’t she?”

"What? No! Well, we did talk about it, but it’s not like… This is MY decision, I’m doing this for my own sake… Well ours too but…” he shook his head and continued more angrily, "Are you suggesting that she’s… she’s… I don’t know, sabotaging?”

Joey didn’t stop his shoulders from shrugging and Henry could feel his teeth grit.

"I’ll tell you what,” he stood up, "The only person sabotaging anything here is you…”

"Henry, please, sit down-"

"You manipulative asshole.”

His boss gave him a dead stare.

Silence came back for a plenty of seconds, even worse to handle than before.

"You took my designs. You always used pretty words and ideas to get around it but the truth is you stole it from me.”

Joey listened to the accusations without showing any emotions. His mouth only once twitched.

"I won’t let you steal anything else.”

As a confirmation of his words, he turned around and headed for the door. When he pressed the handle, a cold, empty tone reached his ears and sent a shiver down his spine.

"Don’t you dare leave.”

Henry ignored it and walked out of the room. He was aiming his steps at the exit.

He felt as if his head was burning.

This is all wrong. How did they end up like this. Why is it hap-

"WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME?!”

Against his will, his body faced the man following him.

Green eyes emitted fury and Henry experienced an irrational fear.

Of course he was mad. This was a hard situation for both of them. But it had to be like this.

It shouldn’t have to.

"I’m leaving. You can’t change my mind.” he replied in apologetic tone, even though he knew he wasn’t the one owning the apologies.

"What the fuck did she put into your head?” Joey asked in a disappointed tone and raised his arms in confusion.

"Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with-"

"Oh, yeah?! Well, everything was okay before she started putting her fucking nose in places it didn’t belong,” taller man approached the shorter one, who was backing out carefully.

"I just told you to not involve her,” Henry growled, "You don’t even realise you’re the problem, don’t you?”

"Ah, of course!” he shouted and hit his forehead with right hand, completely forgetting they were in the hall where anyone passing could witness this scene. Luckily for them no one was there to see it.

Or maybe unfortunately.

"I forgot that three is a crowd.”

"What…?”

Joey immediately stopped and went silent. He was standing right in front of Henry, who also was done moving. Both of them were panting.

Both angry like they’ve never been.

A realization hit Henry like a train. He opened his eyes wide.

He was wrong. Many years from that moment he understood what was actually… the case…

But for now…

"You’re fucking sick,” now he took a step forward, "Just how controlling can you get?”

"What is that now, huh? What else have I done?”, Joey muttered but his tone seemed to have lost some fury, the loss being replaced with… fear?

That came to Henry as nothing else but a conclusion. Guilty.

He grabbed his best friend by the collar.

"You want to pull me away from her,” he hissed and his voice wasn’t ever as dangerous as in that moment.

Joey didn’t reply but his expression revealed his bewilderment and that somehow made Henry’s blood boil with rage. He rapidly pushed him away, long legs almost tripping over each other.

"You’re fucked in the head.”

"Henry-"

"I can’t believe I let you waste so much of my time, my energy… my… my life…”

"Listen to me-"

"No,” he cut him off and pushed again along with letting out a furious cry: "What the hell were you thinking?!”

"It’s not like this!” Joey noticed Henry getting ready to push him once more and tried to somehow stop his hands.

"Then how, huh?!” he went straight past Joey’s weak arms and grabbed him again, "How is it?!”

"I was just… I-I…” now he was the one pushing, anger suddenly kicking in and increasing his strength, "I was doing what had to be done to achieve our dreams!”

"Our dreams?” then Joey was the one backing out, "Or just yours?”

"I… I thought those were the same,” voice coming out from under the pencil moustache cracked.

"Well… maybe they were…” the animator’s tone calms down a bit as they reached an intersection of corridors. Behind Joey’s back was a place under construction which was going to be a break room. It was kinda upsetting Henry won’t even get to experience it. Would be nice… but at his position he probably wouldn’t even have a chance, "But not anymore.”

He held Joey’s vest with only one hand. He was ready to let go but-

"THEY ARE! IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF THIS FUCKING SLUT!”

Something red covered Henry’s vision. He didn’t know what was happening until he heard a loud thud. He blinked.

There was a smell of blood. His hand hurt and was wet. Blood on his hand. But what was that-

Again. Thud.

His eyes followed the noise.

There was a small trace of red dots leading to the beginning of the stairs.

Thud.

His chest suddenly felt heavy.

If he had air in his lungs, he would scream his friend’s name.

But he didn’t.

There was only one sound.

Thud.

And then silence.

A few seconds have passed before Henry finally moved. To him it could have been as well years. His legs felt like they were made out of iron.

Joey never realized he fell down the stairs. He was unconscious before he even fully registered being punched in the face by the person he only ever cared about.

For some reason there was one thing he remembered from that accident. Very clearly.

A sign he saw while the world was upside down.

"WATCH YOUR STEP”

Henry’s eyes stung. Hot tears rolled down his cheek as he watched the body at the bottom of the stairs. He would have sworn to God, he didn’t see it breathing.

Someone was coming.

People.

They will know.

Everyone will know.

Henry whispered a voiceless "sorry”.

He left in a heartbeat.

✪

There’s not enough air. There’s not enough air. There’s not enough air. There’s not-

Henry.

There were flashes.

Joey woke up in cold sweat and wanted to sit but wasn’t able to and it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt like hell.

There was light. Right above him.

And a face.

Henry?

It was a doctor.

The doctor told him many funny things.

Why was it funny?

Well, because it was a joke, of course! It just couldn’t be true! So it must have been a joke!

It! Was! So! Funny!

He was in a hospital. There were more people in the room, trying to calm him down.

They said he was having a hysteria attack.

How was that possible? It was not.

They’re joking!

They’re lying!

Isn’t joking just funny lying?

He didn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t use his arms properly.

They told him he had a spine injury. That he probably won’t be able to walk. Or at least not much, unless he’s really lucky. But they should focus on saving his arms.

They were so silly.

They said he won’t make it for too long. His body was so fragile right now, it was a matter of months until it shuts down completely.

So, so silly.

He asked for Henry.

Nobody told him anything except for that he had a concussion and shouldn’t have any visitors for a while.

Time passed. He barely noticed from all the drugs they gave him.

Then his head started to feel clearer.

He realized they weren’t lying.

He told them he didn’t remember what happened.

He was the one lying.

He was having visitors. Henry was not among them.

But there was the janitor.

The janitor…

Oh!

Franky!

Like a cute version of Frankenstein!

No, wait, it’s Wally!

Wally Franks. The janitor. A really important visitor.

Joey asked him for a favour.

✪

Wally looked around with confusion and scratched his head. He rang the bell again and held it for a longer while. Then he knocked and shouted out Henry’s name a few times.

Well, time to give up. He obviously wasn’t home. His car wasn’t even on the driveway.

Mister Drew just seemed… it just seemed really important to him. And he didn’t want to bring bad news to him, considering the situation his boss was in.

Speaking of the news, there was a stack of newspapers just laying on the pavement.

No one was there since a longer time.

The janitor didn’t need to count them to know the amount of days it took to deliver these was equal to the amount of days which passed since… the incident.

He even asked some people.

No one knew where Henry was. Same about Linda.

Something was telling Wally they were out of town.

Probably for good.

✪

He let out an unhealthy chuckle after he was done writing the letter.

Why does he keep doing it? No one even reads those. And never will.

Without knowing Henry’s current address, he just kept sending mail to his old one. No one lived in it anymore because it wasn’t for sale and it couldn’t be even considered a property belonging to the town, because they’ve got nothing on him.

That’s because Joey never made any statements about what happened. He faked a memory loss. Some people speculated about him remembering what happened, some tried talking to him about it, pointing out how his disappearance happened at the same time his accident did.

But he didn’t tell anyone.

Police would have to start looking for him. He could ruin his life.

And ruin what was left of his own life. But that would also take away his only achievement.

The studio. The characters they argued about amongst other things.

If he took out Henry’s trash, his old friend would probably return the favour.

He couldn’t move his legs at first but after some rehabilitation he managed to use crutches from time to time. On rare occasions he stood with a cane but didn’t really move with it.

His arms were really weak, but got stronger after he started using the wheelchair. Only the dominant left one was really usable though.

✪

The demon touches his glove with the uncovered right hand. His whole body is cold but this part seems almost comfortable.

✪

He sometimes was coming to the art department to watch the animators work. He has hired many after-

He never really paid attention to them though. The only desk he really looked at was the empty one outside the area they were working in.

Despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

✪

Old man pants heavily as he escapes inky black stains whirling all around him. He reaches a corridor without a proper floor, only wooden boards put together in hurry to make a provisional bridge.

He can hear the Ink Demon closing in.

Henry takes his steps carefully. Falling would probably cause him to break his spine in half.

He thinks of the vertebrae sticking out of the deformed Bendy’s back.

He notices a sign at the end of the hallway. It’s upside down.

"WATCH YOUR STEP”

#bendy and the ink machine #batim fanfiction #joey drew #henry batim #henry x joey (one sided)#wally franks #halfart #halfpost #violence #injury #drinking #ask to tag

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mrnibblesleviathan · 6 years ago

Text

Entry 5.1: Silhouette

We’re not posting links at the start of these anymore because tumblr staff is a bunch of assholes. Fic hyperlinks can be found at the main blog page. Sorry.

Ryley was surprised to find Bart standing in front of the window from the workstation as they came back from their daily gathering of building materials. He seemed almost fine today. Didn't look like he'd fall at any second.

He greeted Ryley at the moonpool with an excited voice. "Hey, pal! What did you get for me today?"

"Copper, Titanium, Silver. How you feeling?" Ryley asked, signing. They were progressing, little by little. That was a sentence that was useful enough for them to remember most times.

"I'm feeling as great as someone who's got space plague can be." He answered with a smile, watching Ryley climb out of the pool. "I only blacked out once today.” He waved at them when Ryley crossed their arms in disapproval. “Hey, don't worry, I'm better now. I just wanted to see how the cuddlefish was doing. I climbed the ladder to the aquarium. Maybe I shouldn't have done that." Bart apologized, turning his head away.

Ryley noticed a certain frustration in that gesture. They looked at him, trying to remember the sign for the wrong in “what’s wrong”. Unable to remember, they resolved for "what's up" instead. Bart seemed to get it.

"Sometimes... I feel like I'll never get better." He confessed. "I should have accepted this already. I've been living with this disability for years now, but..." He shook his head, sighing. "Trying to do anything usually means pushing myself." He told them, more for his own sake than theirs. "Trying to study means giving myself a headache, trying to climb a ladder means passing out. Even just doing nothing is uncomfortable. I can't remember a time where being awake didn't hurt."

Ryley sighed, letting that sink in. It was still hard for them, to listen to Bart talk about his pain. Of course, being in pain was even worse for Bart, and they understood that, but it made them feel so useless. They could fabricate him some medication, do their best to give him comfort, but in the end, specially after seeing him talk about it as a disability, rather than a disease, they knew that illness wasn’t going away. At least not any time soon.

"But you are... going... better", they answered. Even though they mistook the sign for "getting" to "going", it still made sense. They pulled out the PDA from the Compressed Inventory and started typing. "I’ve been watching you get better. It's only been a few days, and look! You're back to walking again. You're already decorating the base with new plants! You’ve made so much progress!"

"C'mon, Ryley, I told you to sign." Bart smirked. "You already learned a lot of these words."

Ryley stopped typing, making a pouty face. They did their best to remember the next words, so they could sign them off. "I… think… I know what you need." They said. And then, fast and surprisingly, they grabbed Bart and threw him on their back. To be fair, Bart weighed about as much as a sack of fiber mesh, it wasn’t hard.

"WH..." Bart gasped. "What are we doing? Ryley what the-"

His words were cut short when Ryley threw him out into the moonpool, making water splash in all directions. They quickly grabbed his helmet, resting inside his personal locker, and cannonballed into the sea with him.

Bart was still gasping and coughing when they arrived at the second base, the separate half from Ryley's habitat. They helped Bart through the hatch, laughing as he stared at them in confusion.

"A warning next time would be nice, you know?" He complained. "But I'm glad you finally brought me here. I've been wanting to see what you kept..."

He forgot to finish the sentence, as he saw the enormous two-story aquarium in front of him. On the floor, a multitude of assorted vines and mushrooms were growing, and between them, at least five different alien eggs were shimmering and pulsating. A few creatures were already hatched. Four different sharks - two stalkers, one boneshark and one sandshark. A crashfish. And even two unbelievably tiny crabsnakes. Compared to the size - and behavior - of the adults, it was obvious they were all juveniles. Most of those species would never tolerate or even fit within the same space as each other.

Ryley smiled at their friend. “Research Facility. I have… unknown eggs here.” They signed, a little unsure, despite having prepared for this. “You can go in. Friendly.” They opened the hatch and held out a hand, leading their friend in.

“Wait, stop for just a second, magic can resume in 2 minutes.” Bart held up his hands, a burning question came to mind now that he’s seen Ryley’s aquarium. “Is this how you scanned a boneshark?”

Ryley laughed and shook their head. They paused for a minute with a small smirk before they popped in the hatch and went up to the boneshark, miming punches at the young creature before patting it’s head and swimming back to the hatch.

Bart was speechless for a moment, but not long. “You. You’re trying to tell me you boxed a boneshark.”

Ryley nodded and grinned. “Yes. I punched…” Ryley frowned, making a few frustrated noises before starting to sign “bone”, then shook their head. They took their two hands, wrists together, so that the two hooked fingers on each hand made teeth for a mouth. Ryley grinned, they seemed very pleased with themselves.

“Look at you! Communicating! Making a sign for a species that doesn’t exist on Earth! Boneshark, right?” Bart returned Ryley’s grin with a beam of his own as they excitedly nodded. “Still doesn’t excuse boxing a boneshark. By the stars, how are you even alive?”

“Coming?” Ryley put out their hand again, totally ignoring their friend, and pulled Bart into the tank. Immediately, the fish swarmed the two of them. Bart was fascinated, he’d never been able to see these creatures so close before, at least not without the imminent threat of bodily harm.

“They’re beautiful. So friendly too, did you train them at all?” Bart smiled as he pet the crabsnake that was swimming its way around his arms. It’s crust was soft, wigglier than the adult ones. Would probably harden into their crab armour in an older age.

“No. They… Don’t mind?” Ryley signed, shrugging to try and show they’re confused. Bart smiled, shrugging back and turning his attention to the predators swimming in circles around him. Ryley smiled at their friend, playing with the docile would-be predators. The stalkers seemed to enjoy bopping their noses into him, sending him off balance with a comical oof. Bart laughed, and it wasn’t quite as full as it had been years ago, but it still sounded like music to Ryley. How did they miss seeing that boy’s happy face again.

But it seemed the moment wasn’t to last.

Ryley folded over behind Bart, stifling a groan. Their vision filled with blue, and an echoing voice filled their ears. “Remember that you were never alone.” The blue image of a majestic creature filled their head to the point of bursting. They could vaguely hear a voice calling to them, reminding them of the friend they had to watch for. The blue shimmered again as they opened their eyes, looking for Bart past the lights in their vision. Just as the world was dimming, they felt themselves fall downwards. Then the blue faded, leaving an afterglow that burned their eyes, and a nasty headache throbbing across the top of their head. Rubbing their forehead, they looked up to where their legs were still half in the hatch, along with a frustrated and concerned Bart.

“I hope you know just how hard it was to get your giant ass out of that tiny hole.” Bart grumbled as he tried to remove their feet from the hatch, which Ryley politely decided to help with. Then he ungracefully tumbled out of the hatch himself and sat down on the floor next to his friend. “What the fuck just happened?”

Oh, swears. Bart must have been really shaken up. Ryley themself could barely understand their situation as well, but still pulled out their PDA with shaking hands and tried to type. After a few trial and errors, they finally let it start speaking.

“I had some kind of vision. It was glowing in my eyes and left a headache all over my head. It was like the shadow of a creature, and all I could see were four bright eyes. It was trying to talk to me.” They tapped at the screen, backing up more than not. They rubbed at their face before the voice sounded again, “Could make out it saying I wasn’t alone. And it sounded comforting, rather than threatening.” They kept their eyes in their hands. Mostly from the residual headache, though partly trying to find a focal point to get their brain back together. What was that?

“So you’ve seen her too.” Bart whispered. “The visions… Dad thought I’d gone mad. Island sickness, he told Maida that one day. Didn’t talk about it much with me. He tried to keep scarce when the fits happened.” Bart looked down at his hands. “After they died, the visions weren’t as frequent. But they said a lot of comforting things too. I never knew whether to hate ‘em or love ‘em. After all, until now I thought I was just crazy.”

Ryley looked up, once again wishing so hard they could speak. There was no way to interpret that event, except that…

“It seems we’re not alone in this planet. There’s a sentient being out there, trying to reach us. A friendly one, if we’re reading this correctly.” They typed.

“A friendly one. A friend. Gods we might have a friend out there” Bart sighed, in relief, and waved his head. “For once a welcome change. Let me have this moment, Ryler, I might just be able to sleep better at night.” They both laughed.

#atwr #atwr fic #subnautica #ryley robinson #bart torgal #fanfic #and they were roommates

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wordsablaze · 7 years ago

Text

A Moment Is Worth A Thousand Notes

A totally average day in which Peter is a polite catastrophe, Bucky snorts in amusement twice, Loki cares and doesn't want people to know, Thor says what we're all thinking, Tony can't control his emotions, Natasha tolerates no nonsense, Bruce has to demonstrate his medical skills, and more totally average things happen. Enjoy!

A/N: *shrugs* my procrastination comes in the form of playing around with the Avengers' dynamic... Peter & Bucky & Loki centric, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

An alarm in the Avengers' Tower is generally met with a wide range of reactions.

Tony is usually somewhat omniscient and is already moving before it chimes; Clint tends to groan and share a look with Natasha before grabbing a quiver; Natasha is on her feet and muttering to herself before anyone else has time to verbalise their emotions; Steve looks over to Bucky, glances at where Tony would be, and arms himself with a shield; Bucky rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles and rattles at least one glass ornaments as he stands; Thor laughs heartily and sticks his hand out for a hammer before remembering he doesn't have one anymore and grinnng; Wanda takes a breath and clenches her hands with a small, determined smile; Vision looks around before nodding to himself and floating towards the nearest exit; Bruce sighs and takes off his glasses, getting ready to change into stretchy pants; Loki debates whether or not to help before deciding he has nothing better to do and smirking; and Peter... Well, Peter jumps. Every single time. He also mumbles an apology every time, without fail, but it's rarely given a reply.

This time, the threat isn't large enough to warrant all of them going. Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Thor are unanimously chosen to go, the five of them nodding to each other in affirmation. Bruce won't let Wanda leave the complex anyway, not since she broke her leg three days ago, and Vision seems to have taken to satiating Wanda's boredom as well as having the occasional conversation about infinity stones with Peter. Tony's already muttering to FRIDAY about choosing the right suit by the time Natasha and Clint have shared a conversation that might be a pep talk but could double as an inside joke.

Bucky and Loki are left with Peter, who looks mildly heartbroken at being left behind.

Despite their obvious differences, Bucky and Loki share a sympathetic look as Peter sighs and carries on re-writing the physics notes that'd been half-burned last time he'd stopped a fire on a school night, which happens more than you'd expect, as Happy is more than well aware of and can complain about for longer than Peter can make up excuses that range from reasonable to utterly nonsensical, and that's saying something.

It takes approximately nine minutes and a quiet phone call for Peter to burst out with: "Mister Barnes? And, Loki... Uh, Your Majesty... Please, can I go and help? I promise not to get in the way and I'll just help the civilians and I won't get hurt but I can't just sit here and do next to nothing, not that physics as a whole is nothing, but- so please-"

"Kid," Bucky interjects, barely processing the rambles. "Don't call me Mister Barnes."

"I'm really sorry, Mister Ba- uh, Mister James? I'm sorry, Mister James, I didn't mean to-"

Bucky snorts. Loki stares at him and even Tony, in the middle of shooting someone about to shoot Steve but alerted by FRIDAY, who he'd programmed to inform them if Bucky ever expressed amusement because he's just that kind of person, pauses for a second.

"How do you even know my name?"

Peter blushes. "I might have read some books in a few different libraries after Mister Rogers told me who you were..." he mumbles.

"Mister Rogers...? Wait, Steve? Steve told you to look me up?"

"Uh, not exactly... He might have sort of said not to...?" Peter bites his lip, more or less regretting both his sleepovers at the libraries and his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.

For the second time in five minutes, a bemused Bucky snorts and Tony almost forgets his left from his right in his shock, resulting in a very annoyed Clint who ends up firing half a centimetre off target and even though that wouldn't be a big deal for anyone else, it's a mild tragedy for him.

"That's a yes, spiderling." Loki nods. He'd taken after his step-brother in the choice of nickname, one of the few things they actually agree on.

Peter beams at them and the two adults barely have time to blink before a worn school textbook is being thrown frisbee-style at the table and red and blue is zooming to the door. Loki blinks at Peter's passion, wondering if he'd even be here were it not for his similar and yet completely different childhood passion for creating mischief at every opportunity, but quickly dismisses the infinite possibilities in favour of donning a smile and getting ready to follow the spiderling to see what happens this time because he's truly unpredictable but it's always entertaining.

It takes Bucky all of four seconds to make a decision. It takes one look for Loki to agree and, within a heartbeat, the two of them are getting ready to slowly follow in case Peter gets hurt, purely because Tony would kill them if anything bad happened and not because they care for the teenager in any way, of course not.

By the time they get there, Peter's already pulling a mother and child out of the way of falling debris and gently handing a man his guide dog back. The two of them settle on watching, ready to move in if necessary. If anyone could see them, it might look comical: a frowning former soldier with a metal arm trying his best not to let a smile through and the God of Mischief leaning on a bricked wall with a soft, nostalgic and almost proud look in his eyes.

Peter, however, doesn't notice them.

When his spidey sense goes off, he assumes it's because someone is in danger and turns to try and locate the people who need his help. Coincidentally - or perhaps not - there just so happens to be three teens who clearly can't see the section of building about to crush them in front of Bucky and Loki. Literally jumping into action, Peter pulls them backwards and slides under the debris to stop it shattering on impact with the ground.

It continues like that, with Peter making sure people's cars aren't crushed or families aren't separated, as well as the odd pep talk here and there to stunned observers and getting occasional, surreptitious help by two very concerned and protective, well-hidden figures until some of the men on the same side as the ones the Avengers are fighting - but not the Avengers themselves - take notice of the red and blue figure flying all over the place.

"Oh, shoot," Peter whispers as a bullet flies towards him. He ducks and sends a wad of webbing back, catching the man and causing him to stumble backwards as he struggles to breathe through the makeshift gag.

Peter's not exactly had time to be trained in hand to hand combat so he has to rely on webbing the next man's hands together to avoid getting shot. The third mad ends up upside down, hanging from a balcony, and the fourth underestimates Peter and gives him an opportunity to shoot his webs at the gun, yank it towards him, and send the man flying into a car that's promptly locked so he can't get out.

Unfortunately, he doesn't sense the fifth man until his back has hit the floor with a silent but painful thud.

He's dimly aware of the knife aimed at him but he's too focused on making sure the man's legs are attached to the nearest streetlight to really comprehend it. The smug-looking man is saying something in what sounds like gibberish but is probably some extremely obscure - i.e alien - language when Peter rolls to his side and kicks the man, sending him flying in the air towards the streetlight, but not before there's a sharp pain in his side.

Ignoring it and somehow fooling Loki and Bucky into thinking he's unhurt, he pushes himself up and concentrates on getting people away from the action so they don't get hurt.

Once the fighting dies down, the thunder fades into silence and buildings are no longer falling apart, Peter stops to breathe. He then realises he can't breathe very well and staggers, trying to grab onto something, but finding nothing solid enough to support him as he wobbles around so, in no time at all, he ends up making a beeline to the floor.

Said beeline is thankfully interrupted by a metal arm.

A metal arm and the Avenger attached to it, of course. The Avengers may be a peculiar bunch but a sentient, protective metal arm existing without the rest of a body has not yet become a part of their team. And since metal arms don't have minds of their own, it's the mouth of the person the arm is attached to that says, "You're bleeding."

"I am?" Peter blinks, dazed.

Bucky shakes his head before he places an arm under Peter's neck and another under his knees, lifting him up despite the faint protests he receives.

"Uh... Mister Bar- Jame- Uh... Mister Bucky, you don't have to-"

"Shut up, Peter."

Peter, now letting himself register the pain of a bullet having scraped his side instead of worrying about how to address the other Avengers, gasps and shuts his eyes, letting himself be carried back to the tower.

"Curiosity hurts the cat," Loki teases, trying to distract Peter from the pain after seeing his scrunched up face and terrible attempts at appearing perfectly pain-free.

"Good thing I'm not Catman then..." Peter mumbles, feeling the vibration of Bucky chuckling rather than hearing it.

The three of them make their way back to their tower, Loki constantly casting a glamour around them so nobody has a chance to gape or take a picture that'll expose them to the press or wherever else rumours are born.

"How do you do an MRI scan?" Peter mumbles, his eyes only half open and his skin pale as he lets his head rest on Bucky's shoulder.

"What?"

"Doesn't your arm get in the path- in the way? Not that it's a bad thing! I love your arm, it's so cool! But surely it must get in the way, right?"

Loki's glamour falters for a split second as he sees the confusion on Bucky's face, the former soldier choosing not to reply to slurred, unfiltered questions in favour of speeding up.

"He takes the arm off," Loki answers just because he can.

Peter's eyes widen. "Really?"

"No." Bucky glares at Loki but he doesn't get time to do anything else because they're back at the tower. FRIDAY must have informed Bruce because he's waiting for them as they enter, making a face at the blood.

"Severity?"

"A bullet grazed him," Bucky answers, knowing Loki will be more or less exhausted after keeping up with his pace, worrying for Peter, and maintaining their glamour at the same time. Bruce nods and waves a hand to let Bucky know he should follow. Peter's more or less fully unconscious by the time they get to the infirmary but he wakes up when the top half of his suit is hoisted upwards.

"What-?"

"We can't bandage you up over the suit, kid," Bucky explains. Nodding, Peter sinks backwards and lets Bucky pull his mask off so he can breathe better, not having had a chance to do so before.

"You still good?" Bruce asks as he starts to apply an antiseptic that has to sting badly for someone with heightened senses.

Peter nods in reply, once again trying to hide his wince and, naturally, failing at it. Nevertheless, he doesn't complain until there's a gauze on his graze and a bandage wrapped around it for good measure. It's only after Bruce leaves that he lets his face scrunch up in pain.

"Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow-ow ow ow ow. Owwww..."

"Composing?" Bucky raises an eyebrow.

Peter freezes, sheepishly smiling. "Uh... Yeah, totally. Practice for my, uhm, school music... festival? Annual festival! That I totally take part in! Every year! Because that's what annual means... I'm fine!"

"I see that."

"Should I allow Loki into the infirmary?" FRIDAY asks them.

Peter jumps, nods, remembers he's addressing an AI and mumbles a 'yes' that Bucky can barely hear but FRIDAY manages to catch.

"Who would name a voice after the most existential weekday?" is the greeting Loki goes for.

Peter laughs and Bucky rolls his eyes, Loki smirking in satisfaction and then raising an eyebrow, "Don't you need to get changed into something else... Perhaps something more casual?"

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me, Mister Loki- Your Majesty- uhm, I'll be right back!" and with that, Peter's all but sprinting out of the room, heading to where he thinks he'd left his clothes earlier and hoping he hasn't forgotten again.

He's gingerly pulling his hoodie down over the already-healing injury when FRIDAY buzzes to let the rest of the Avengers back in so he flops onto the sofa and shoots a web to get the physics textbook back into his lap, earning an odd look from Loki, who then drapes himself over a chaise because he might be the God of Mischief but he's basically trying to earn a place as honourary God of Dramatic Flair.

"It's 'curiosity kills the cat' by the way," Peter says, having internally argued with himself about whether or not to correct a God on his use of idioms.

"Anyone else injured?" Bruce asks before Loki can do anything but tilt his head in paltry confusion, their designated doctor having appeared from nowhere as pieces of Tony's suit fly over their heads and assemble in a workshop they can't see.

"Anyone else?" Clint echoes, "who else was injured?"

Peter's eyes widen in a panic and he coughs before Bruce can say anything in reply to the raised eyebrows. "I got a papercut!"

"Is that what made Bucky laugh?" Steve asks, having been informed by Tony of the amusement expressed on the way to the tower.

And, because he can't resist supporting lies of any kind, it's Loki's turn to chuckle. "He can't be blamed; it was fairly amusing to see the spiderling defeated by processed trees."

Tony looks sceptical but doesn't question it, simply making a face and heading to the kitchen to acquire a caffeinated beverage. Steve follows, pinching the bridge of his nose as he goes, and Natasha smirks.

"Someone's lying."

"Someone's always lying, we live a world of deceit..." Loki dramatically states, leaning back even more.

"Quit the melodrama, trickster," Natasha mutters - except her muttering is akin to an order - before turning back to Peter. "So, why are you lying?"

Resisting the urge to grin at the unintentional vine reference, he shrugs. "I lied about my physics notes... It's not easy to explain that you accidentally dropped them in a burning building six blocks away from your house. I mean, it's hard to explain anything to him anyway because he's always... Well, he's always sort of cynical, kind of like Mister Rogers - not that I compare Mister Rogers to my physics teacher because, if anything, he'd definitely be a history teacher. Or maybe a sports teacher? I mean, I know he's in those videos we always get shown but I think he'd be a better history teacher because he's already a part of the subject and he could, like, give first-hand accounts and, um, stuff..."

Natasha makes a face at the idea, settling onto a beanbag. "You talk a lot, kid."

"Uh. Thank you?"

"I'd stop talking as much until you fully heal if I were you; you keep half-reaching for your side and it's a dead giveaway." Her casual but knowing look makes Peter once again blush and he smiles as if the gesture can erase his guilt.

"Sorry Miss Romano-"

"Don't even think about calling me that, kid. Call me Natasha, like everyone else."

"Right. Sorry, Miss Natasha."

"Who missed Natasha?" Clint asks, having grabbed another hearing aid because his last one fell into the path of Thor's thunder and didn't make it out alive.

Natasha shoots him a blank, pointed look that says something along the lines of 'I'll deal with you later' and turns back to Peter with a much gentler expression as she says, "Just 'Natasha', kid. I don't call you Mister Kid."

"Halle to the lujah for that," Tony mutters as he walks in.

"There seems to be another food delivery at the door," FRIDAY informs them, "The last one arrived when nobody was here to receive it."

"Who ordered food?" Steve asks.

In all honesty, Peter can only quietly sigh in relief because he'd rather they question the presence of food itself as opposed to wondering why nobody was here to receive it when there should have been three of them capable of doing so. He also wonders who'd told the delivery guy to come back but leaves that to FRIDAY, knowing such a sophisticated AI system must have seen weirder things in its admittedly short time.

Everyone who hasn't noticed Peter's relief - which is all of them sans Loki and Bucky as the two of them still feel guilty for letting him get injured and haven't really taken their eyes off him since - is on their feet in an instant, the tension of unwanted visitors immediately buzzing in the air, but Peter stands with his hands out in front of him, fingers splayed in surrender, before anyone can come to any conclusions or shoot something, and admits, "So, it might have been me?"

"When did you have time to order food?" Loki asks, knowing full well that even someone with advanced healing can't place an order for food immediately after being scraped by a bullet.

Well, aside from Deadpool, but that's a whole other story...

If Peter was any redder, he might be able to camouflage with Tony's suit. "I ordered it just after you left... I, uh, figured you'd be hungry after fighting again... But I might have overestimated how long it, um, it would take for us- for you to get back?"

There are an entire two seconds of silence before anyone moves. In the end, it's Tony who breaks the silence by saying, "Well, we might have been here earlier if someone, not naming names, hadn't decided to blindly throw their ridiculously patriotic shield at an obviously unstable building extension."

"You know I had no choice!" Steve argues, clearly exasperated, and his tone suggests this isn't the first time they've had this argument even though the situation had only just occurred. Typical...

"What did you order?" Clint asks to take the attention of their argument.

Peter has to think about it, almost having forgotten. "Shawarma."

Despite being halfway through building a straw man for his conversation and having a reputation of never letting anything go until it's literally impossible to keep it going, Tony pauses and stares at Peter incredulously. "Did you just say shawarma?"

"Yeah?"

"Pete, if you weren't an avenger already, I'd have given you an invitation just for that."

"Ordering shawarma?" Peter frowns.

Thor beams at them. "Like father, like son, eh?"

Even Tony could camouflage with the outside of his suit after that comment. Ironically, the fact that both he and Peter have experienced the same extreme blood rush only further proves Thor's point and neither of them can argue against such compelling evidence without obliterating their respective reputations and end up walking into a myriad of jokes.

Before Loki can make a joke about families - and probably one about their dysfunctionality - Peter gasps. "Wait, did you just say you think of me as an Avenger?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Weren't you telling your chair friend that you're an Avenger just a few days ago?"

"Well, yeah, that's N- should I say his name? I mean, you're the Avengers and you probably know all about him anyway- so yeah, that's Ned for you, I have to tell him that so he takes it all seriously and doesn't tell anyone else! And just because I think of me- Of myself- as an Avenger doesn't mean I think you think of me as an Avenger and- wait, you listened in on my phone call?"

"Gods, kid, you're a verbal catastrophe," Bucky mutters.

"Gods?" Steve echoes, puzzled.

"I'd say 'God' but we have two of them in the room."

"I wasn't aware you cared so much for me, metal-limbed mortal," Loki drawls and earns himself a stifled giggle from Peter.

"The shawarma!" Tony exclaims, now having recovered and decided to sound-proof a room for phone calls in the near future, "FRIDAY, accept the delivery and charge it to my tab if you will."

"I already have. Vision is bringing it up now."

Clint claps his hands and smiles softly as Wanda walks in. "You're just in time for shawarma!"

"Like that time in Budapest, huh?" Natasha smirks, knowing it'll both amuse and irritate Clint.

"Even I know the two of you remember Budapest very differently by now, can't you use a new joke?" Tony rolls his eyes.

Natasha simply glowers at him and he's suddenly interested in making sure the elevator is working properly, even though vision is in no need of it. Consequently, Peter giggles again and Steve winks him, an action that would have surprised Bucky had he not previously been all but forced to throw out every magnet in the building at once and ask FRIDAY to make sure no more were brought in because Peter kept sticking them to his arm 'for science' or something else equally endearing.

"Before Mister Stark comes back, can someone please explain what shawarma is so I don't look too shocked and give away the fact that I've never had it before?" Peter asks and his voice is so quiet they all have to strain to hear it.

"I've not had any either, Peter, I'll ask and you can figure it out with that." Wanda smiles warmly.

"Thank you, Mi-"

"Nope. I'm not that much older than you and I don't want to feel any older either," Wanda interrupts before he can stumble over a title for her. Which is lucky, because he'd probably have kept trying different combinations until she'd wanted to change all her names.

"Why don't we get to use that excuse?" Clint throws his hands up, but he manages to do it in a kind way, a feat that's probably a dad thing but is now more or less common in any Avenger who has a conversation with Peter, no matter how fleeting.

Peter offers him a bashful smile in place of condolences, which is the best he can do before Tony and Vision walk in, knee-deep in a conversation about AI and feelings.

They stop when Bruce walks in behind them and threatens to defenestrate the shawarma, resulting in an instantly protective Tony and an amused room of Avengers.

Soon enough, the lights are dimmed and insignificant arguments over positionings are started, as usual. Once they're all settled, pretty much tangled in both each other's presences and personal spaces, shawarma is passed around like fragile popcorn and a random Disney film is switched on because they'd decided to try and get through as many as possible as quickly as possible after discovering not every member could understand the multitude of song references passed around. And, at the end of the day, when classical films after exhausting fights are often played, Peter can tolerate abundances of destroyed school notes if it means he gets to experience moments like the ones he's been experiencing all day, even narrowly avoiding getting shot...

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

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dontshootmespence · 7 years ago

Text

The Perfect Gift

A/N: Day 4 of the 25 Days of BAU Christmas. This is an AU piece where Spencer and the reader are in high school. They are best friends who’ve always wanted more but never confessed (obviously), so they decide to use the paychecks from their first jobs to buy each other something they’ve always wanted and use that as a doorway to open up to the other one. Just Christmas fluff.

Spencer had saved over $1000 from his first job. His mother had wanted him to get a job in addition to school. All the money would be his to do with as he pleased, no bills to pay, but she wanted him to have the experience. “You need to be able to walk in someone else’s shoes,” she’d said. At first, he hated it. Being overloaded by school, homework and work wasn’t a lot of fun, but now it wasn’t so bad. He had over $1000 to buy Christmas presents this year, and he only had three people to buy for - his mother, his twin sister Ally, and his best friend, Y/N.

After deliberating for nearly a month, he figured out the perfect presents for his sister and his mother; they were expensive, but he wanted to spend his money freely just once before prioritizing with it. Plus, he and Ally were going to split their mother’s gift, considering she’d also just gotten her first job.

Now he just had to find something perfect for Y/N. What did you get for the person you loved? He thought he’d never be able to live without Ally, but that was a given. She knew him inside and out. Spencer had never expected to feel like he did for Y/N, and he wanted to show her how much she meant to him.

“I already know what I’m getting you,” Y/N said to Ally as she paced the latter’s room. “What do I get for Spence? What the fuck do I get for my best friend?”

Ally smirked, her legs crossed on the bed as her and Spencer’s best friend danced around the subject. “I don’t know. It depends on what you’re trying to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it depends if you want to keep your status as best friends or if you want to confess your undying love for him.”

Ally chuckled as Y/N stopped in her tracks. “What makes you think I’m in love with your brother?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Simple biology. The fact that your eyes dilate when you’re around him. You stutter, which you never do. You can barely look him in the eye lately and when you do you blush. It’s fairly obvious. I may not be a genius like Spencer, but I can tell.” If anyone was good enough for her “little” brother, it was Y/N. “Ironically, Spencer is the only one who doesn’t know. Even Mom knows.”

Diana knew? “What?”

“Yea, she always talks about what an amazing daughter-in-law you’re going to be.” Y/N blushed all over as she sat down on the bed.

Why fight it? Ally was her best friend too. She knew, and it felt nice to have that secret lifted, at least a little bit. “I don’t know what to get him. I want it to be something he’s always wanted. Or take him to do something he’s always wanted to do. Any ideas?”

“Lemme think,” she said, stroking her chin, deep in thought over what would send the right and overt message to Spencer, because he needed overt in the face of love. “I already got him the complete works of Carl Sagan.”

“Of course you did.” He was one of Spencer’s heroes.

Ally got up and started pacing the floors of her room, leaving Y/N to rack her brain. All of a sudden, she stopped in the middle of the room. “I’ve got it!”

“Please. Grace me with your wisdom,” Y/N implored. “This needs to be good.”

“When Spencer and I were little, he wanted to know everything-”

“And that differs from now how?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, he said that once he learned everything there was to know on Earth, he wanted to explore space.”

Spencer as an astronaut. She could see it, and she could see little Spencer playing astronaut even more so. “The planetarium down the street from school!” Suddenly, it dawned on her. The night guard could be bribed to let someone into the planetarium at night for a little extra cash. If she could ask him how to work the equipment for the presentations, they could be alone. “Ally, you brilliant, beautiful being you!” Y/N ran from the bed and wrapped her arms around Ally. “Perfect!”

“I try. That’s what happens when you’re the older one. More experience.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re twins!”

“I’m older by six minutes!”

Spencer beamed with pride as he purchased the figure from the local comic shop. After thinking on it for so long, he didn’t what else could more perfect for her. Luke Skywalker was always one of her two favorite Star Wars characters, in addition to Princess Leia of course. The comic shop had sixth-scale figures of the Star Wars characters that looked perfectly detailed. He was a little afraid because it was a figure; it didn’t have any actual purpose, but he thought it was perfect.

On top of that, he and Ally had already purchased a vintage copy of The Wizard of Oz, which she used to read to them while they were kids. Ally insisted it be read to them every night because she wanted to go to the Emerald City. On free days after school, he’d take her into the park amongst the trees and tell her that it was the way to Emerald City, the foliage reminiscent of the castle of glimmering emeralds.

Now for Y/N. He’d been thinking about this for months. After her father left, she’d been raised by her mother up until a few years ago, when she passed away. Thankfully, her mom had a sister, so she didn't get pulled from the life she’d always known, but she and her mother were close, like he and Ally were with each other. Shortly after she died, Y/N had told him about a necklace her mother used to wear; it was the shape of a bird wreathed in diamonds that her mother had gotten from her own mother. And then it was stolen. When Spencer passed the similar looking necklace in a window, he knew that was it.

“This must be for someone really special,” the man said with a smile.

Spencer nodded. “She is.”

“Have you heard of knocking?” Spencer blurted out when Ally entered the room. “I’m wrapping gifts in here.” He tried to move Ally’s gift off the bed before she turned around to face him, but he was too late. Her eyes fixated on it. “Look, I know we’re not kids anymore, and you may not be into that stuff, but it’s all I could think of.”

“Is that Luke Skywalker?” She asked softly.

“Yes.” He was suddenly very self-conscious of his choice.

Ally started to tear up. When she was a little kid, all she wanted to do was travel to the Emerald City, and subsequently, to a galaxy far, far away. Luke and Leia were her heroes. “Spencer, I love it! Luke’s my favorite! Even more than Leia.”

“Really?” He asked incredulously. “Even more than Leia?”

“Just a little bit, but yea.” “Why?”

“Because he reminds me of you,” she replied. She wrapped him in an enormous hug and glanced down at the necklace he’d bought for Y/N, immediately realizing what it was. “She’s going to love that by the way.”

“Y/N, where are you taking me?” Spencer laughed. Blindfolds did not hold a great memory for him, so she’d insisted he keep his eyes closed as the taxi driver started them on their journey. “You said this is my Christmas present?”

“Yes, now shut up and keep your eyes closed.”

Within 10 minutes, the driver dropped them off, smiling as she handed him a $20 tip. She was too excited. The day before she’d dropped off $100 to the night guard at the planetarium and just asked that he not allow anyone else in. Inside was the pizza she’d ordered and a small wrapped gift. “Okay, now you can open your eyes.”

As he opened his eyes, the stars lit up before him. But it was too warm to be outside. Glancing around, he saw the seats. “We’re at the planetarium.”

“Yea,” she replied, feeling the heat rise in her face. “Ally told me that you wanted to be an astronaut as a kid. I figured this was the closest you’d get to space.”

“Y/N, I...this is perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Spence.”

She hugged him awkwardly and then sat down to eat, listening to the presentation as they did. They were both on their second slice when she remembered the small item she’d purchased. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got this too.”

“These are perfect.” He snorted when he opened the box. It was two pairs of socks, already mismatched, with space patterns on them. Now was the time; he had to tell her. It was now or never. “I-I-I got this for you.”

Y/N couldn’t even imagine what it was. There wasn’t a whole lot that she wanted. She had what she needed, besides her mother, but that wasn’t something she was ever going to get back. Her breath caught in her throat when she opened the box. “Spence,” she whispered. “This is...this is...”

“Like the one your mom used to wear. I think. The way you described it made it seem like that’s what it looked like. I’m sorry if it’s not exactly-” He was cut off when she sat up and pressed a kiss to his lips. It felt exactly like he imagined it would, but better.

She sat back on her heels, and brought her hand up to her mouth, as if only now realizing what she’d done. “Sorry, I just...Spencer, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“Y/N, I can’t imagine what it’s like not having your mother around anymore, but I hope this helps. And I...I just needed you to know how s-special you are to me.”

A tear fell from her eye and onto her sleeve. “Spence, I know we’ve been best friends forever, and I don’t ever want to lose that, but I like you as...more than just a friend.”

His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “I do too.” He reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

@unstoppableangel8 @coveofmemories @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @jamiemelyn @sexualemobitch @rmmalta @lukeassmanalvez @reddie-for-mileven @hogwarts-konoha @original-criminal-fanfics @sassygeek77 @rt8815 @amarislestrange @sarahkay-19 @bagelsofdoom @xxfeelmylovexx @psychoticantisepticeye @emllyprentiss @dsgirl4987 @captainreid @teatimewithtiya @queenanneslace4 @the-awesome-one-with-pigtails @tippy06 @ultrarebelheart @static-001 @remember-me-forever-silent-angel

#25 days of bau christmas #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #the perfect gift

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