#sorry for the angst at the end i just can't help being a dramatic ass bitch lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ynscrazylife · 2 years ago

Note

If requests are open, sorry its another long ass anon prompt, i should call my self sushi at this point.

How about Yn, Stark try to help out on a mission but her dad says its to dangerous. The thing they are working on could kill someone, and yn wants to make sure everyone is safe. She can help, she knows she can. But Stark asks Peter Parker to get her out of there and then he is placed on "baby sitting duty" even though they are both in High school.

Cue yn trying to get back to help using any means necessary and peter trying his best to keep her away from something dangerous. He's trying to calm her down from the incoming panic attack, but she cant seem to breathe. Can't Peter see that her dad is probably going to die? She loves peter but she cannot lose her dad. Everything fades to black.

Yn wakes up in her room after passing out from The panic attack. The whole team is fine, they saved the day. Yn is crying from all of the stress of suddenly being awake after that event when peter cuddles her.

Basically all the angst, with all the fluff right after.

Thanks again 🍣🍣🍣

To be a Hero

Summary: Peter comforts you when your dad and the Avengers are in danger.

Authors Note: I’ve never had a panic attack before so I’ve tried to write it as accurate as I can. Please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“You know, this feels like our first Avengers mission all over again,” Tony said in a dramatic voice as he fires his repulsers.

“If only it was because we were getting shawarma and not fighting another one of Thor’s murderous siblings,” Natasha deadpanned.

You bit back a small laugh as you entered the fight. Thor’s sister Hela had made her presence on Earth with an army of horrid creatures at her beckoning and the Avengers were there to do what they do best, defend and avenge. While the whole team, including your boyfriend Peter, had suited up at the tower, Tony had specifically told you not to get involved. You were only a few months in to being an Avenger and he thought it was too dangerous for you.

But, it took was one override code of FRIDAY’s system to get out of the tower.

“Hey! Technically, Loki was mind-controlled by Thanos,” Thor grumbled.

You smiled, sneaking around a city block before hitting one of the creatures square in the chest. You had a suit that you had designed with your dad along with some pretty cool energy powers.

Unfortunately, the creature didn’t go down with just one blast. You frowned as it growled and turned towards you, starting to advance. The team continued to chatter on comms, trying to keep on joking in order not to think about all the damage Hela was doing. It was nearly getting to be worse than the damage Loki once caused.

It wasn’t letting up, despite your continued blasts. It’d get hit in the face and shake it off (quite literally with a shake of its head). Your heartbeat went off the charts as you stumbled back, panic rising in your chest and your mouth going dry. Shit. This wasn’t going to be the end, was it? That stupid thing wasn’t letting up! It was getting far too close now and you were a second away from going on comms to admit defeat and call for help when suddenly, a blur of red flashed in front of you and then, strong arms wrapped around you.

You let out a shriek as your feet left the ground. “Shh, shh, it’s me,” the familiar voice of Peter soothed you and you calmed down instantly, your arms wrapping around him as he swung onto the rooftop on the nearest building. When you landed, Peter rubbed your back and held you close as he waited you to calm down and get your bearings.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his chest, a little embarrassed that he had to come and save the day.

“You know there’s no need to thank me,” Peter assured you in a warm voice, lightly chuckling. After a second, he pulled back and lifted up his mask for a second. “Babe, what are you doing here? Your dad told you stay in the tower.”

You pouted at him. “I want to help, Pete! The whole team’s here, I don’t want to be stuck in the tower,” you said, wanting him to understand.

And oh, he did. He had been unable to attend a lot of the missions when he first started out as an Avenger. He had been annoyed much like how you were now, but he had grown to see that it was for the best. “Y/N, you know we have to tell your dad,” he told you.

Your jaw dropped. “What? No!” You exclaimed, trying to stop Peter from telling KAREN to alert Tony. “What are you doing?!”

Peter finished speaking to KAREN and gave you a knowing look. “Tony would find out sooner and later and I’m not taking the fall,” he said.

You opened your mouth to protest even more, but was cut off by the sound of your dad’s voice. “Y/N Stark!” Tony said, his voice vibrating through both yours and Peter’s comms. “What were you thinking? You know you’re not trained enough to come on this type of a mission.”

“Dad—” you began, not even sure how you were going to defend this.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Tony snapped, catching you off guard. Damnit, he really was not happy. Peter squeezed your hand comfortingly. “I’m taking away your ability to override FRIDAY’s codes for now. Peter, please take Y/N back to the Tower. You can return to the fight after.”

You looked away, hot tears of frustration pooling in your eyes. Deep down, you knew that he was justified in this decision, but that didn’t take away your anger or your want to help. “You’re going to take me back to the tower, aren’t you?” You muttered. You didn’t mean to take this out on Peter, but this was one of the times where his loyalty to your dad was working against you.

“Hey,” Peter said gently, grasping your chin in the palm of his hand turning your head so your guys’ eyes met. He titled his head to the side, giving you a knowing but loving look that never failed to make your heart melt. “You know I have to take you back. But you can go to the lab, work on upgrades for your suit, and I promise the fight will be over in no time.” You nodded slowly, not quite believing him even though you wanted to.

Smiling at you, Peter wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into his arms. Usually, his words always did the trick to calm you down, and while he did help to prevent your tears from falling, you couldn’t shake the storm of anger and helplessness that was brewing inside your body.

You were almost like a rag doll in his arms, for once not terrified of Peter swinging you through the streets. Instead, you zoned out, unable to stop the scenarios of your dad and the Avengers getting gravely injured or killed from flashing through your head. You imagined your dad dying and the last thing you said being an argument. It wouldn’t stop and the more the images came, the more tense and frightened you became.

It was blatantly obvious for Peter that something was off, something was different. The only time he heard Tony speak like that was when the man had taken his suit away. Plus, when he carried you through the city with his webbing, you were usually clinging to him and letting out squeaks of exhilaration and nervousness. Now, you are still holding onto him tightly, but had gone silent.

He landed on the balcony outside your room, opening your door and leading you inside with his hand bracing your back. He could see clearly that you were deep inside your thoughts and it sent a ripple of pain through him. When the two of you got to the lab, Peter maneuvered himself to stand in front of you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Do you want me to get you water or something? I don’t want to leave you yet,” he said, biting his bottom lip in obvious worry for your state.

The switch from silence to hysteria stunned Peter for a second, but he snapped out of it when your panic didn’t cease. You struggled to control your breathing, body beginning to shake. A sob escaped you and you covered your mouth with your hands. “Y/N, take a deep breath for me,” he said firmly but kindly, mimicking one.

You shook your head so quickly and strongly that it made you dizzy. “I can’t—I can��t—” you wheezed, nearly choking on your sobs.

"Yes, you can. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you can," Peter said, but when he started to see that this wasn't working, he switched tactics. "Come on, let's sit you down."

He tried to maneuver you to the couch, but that backfired almost immediately. Your nails dug into his suit so forcefully that it was enough to make him pause and look back on you. The color had drained from your face and you looked absolutely terrified, a dazed over look in your eyes. "Y/N? Y/N!" He exclaimed, panicking.

You opened your mouth, and that gave Peter hope, but only a small noise, almost a whimper, left your lips before you were falling. What Peter didn't know was that when he tried to move you, he had unintentionally made the dizziness so much worse. That, combined with all five of your senses feeling like they were on fire, was too much for your body to handle at the moment.

Peter's eyes went wide as you dropped quite literally into his open arms. With one hand cradling your head, pressing it against his shoulder, he half-pulled, half-dragged you over to the couch. "Sorry," he couldn't help but apologize, seeing your feet drag.

He got you over to the couch and laid you down, brushing your hair out of your face. At the very least, you looked calmer now, but Peter would much rather you be conscious than unconscious. "FRIDAY, what do I-?" He started to ask, but the A.I was already ahead of him.

"While I cannot diagnose anyone, it appears that Y/N was displaying symptoms of a panic attack and lost consciousness as a result. The best course of action would be to monitor Y/N closely," FRIDAY said.

Peter was no fan of hearing the words panic and attack together, but it did soothe him to know that he didn't have to call 911 or bring you to the hospital. "Thanks," he murmured, watching you for a second. He let out a shaky breath, running his hand through your hair and his thumb over your forehead and cheeks like he knew you liked. A smile came to his face when he remembered how you'd blush normally.

He considered having FRIDAY tell Tony and the team that he wouldn't be going back to the fight, but that would just mean that he'd have to explain and he knew that everyone would be distracted and too worried about you (especially Tony). He sat back, trying to wait as patiently as he could, but couldn't shake the feeling of the need to do something to help or comfort you.

Eventually deciding that you'd be more comfortable on your bed than the touch, Peter scooped you up in his arms again. He tried to pretend that you were just sleeping in his arms, not unconscious, and that brought another soft smile to his lips. He tucked you into bed, not caring that he very much resembled a mother hen right now.

Once he deemed you all cozy, propped up by an absurd amount of pillows and wrapped in fuzzy blankets, Peter decided to change out of his suit. He made FRIDAY swear to alert him if anything about your condition changed, though. After switching to an Avengers sweater and grey sweatpants, Peter made a quick detour to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and your favorite snack.

As he was walking back into your room, though, Peter saw you start to stir. He quickly put down the water and snack, hurrying to your side and taking a seat on your bed. He placed his hand over yours, smiling as he watched you wake. You looked around, a bit confused at first, before your gaze settled on your boyfriend.

"Peter?" You mumbled, starting to feel a bit nervous as your head was all foggy from fainting.

"Hi," he said sweetly. "You're okay, babe. We're in your room. You fainted. Take a deep breath with me, okay?"

You managed to do that. Peter drew back the covers and slid into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as he held you.

"You-you shouldn't be here. My dad-" you began to say.

"-Will be fine. So will the team. I'm right where I need to be, darling," Peter said, keeping his voice calm, gentle, and smooth.

You let out a small puff of air, pausing before speaking again. "He's so mad at me. I-I wanted to help. I'm supposed to be a hero, but I'm not even good enough to stop some creature on my own," you whimpered. As your tears started to come, Peter didn't try to stop them. He knew you needed to let it all out.

Rubbing your arm soothingly. Peter waited to speak. "It was a misunderstanding, Y/N, and you are a good hero-" he began.

"You have to say that, you're my boyfriend," you pouted.

Peter chuckled lightly. "It's true. You are the kindest hero I've ever seen. Some missions just require a little more training and that's okay, it doesn't make you any less of a hero," he said.

You nodded, leaning your head back against his chest. Peter happily continued to rub your arm and hold you.

"I'm still worried about my dad and the team," you whispered.

"I know," Peter whispered back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "But if something happened, we'd have heard right now, so try to rest your head, m'kay?"

You nodded again, even if you weren't quite certain that you'd be able to do that. Peter grabbed the water and the snack, passing it to you. That instantly made you smile and you thanked him before practically devouring it. Peter put the glass back on the table when you were done.

The two of you sat there for a while, both happy and content to enjoy each other's presence. After a bit, Peter glanced down and grinned when he saw you asleep. This was like heaven to him, with how cute you were and how he was able to hold and cuddle you.

He ended up losing track of time but soon enough. FRIDAY was quietly alerting him that the team had returned, unharmed.

"Can you tell Tony to come up to Y/N's room?" Peter asked.

A couple minutes later, the man was walking in, still in his suit but without his helmet. "I know you're probably still mad-" he began, running a hand through his hair, only to be cut off by Peter's "shh". He glanced up, not expecting to see the sight he saw. He walked over. "What's going on?"

"Y/N's asleep. Had a panic attack and fainted earlier. Y/N was really scared that something would happen to you and the team," Peter explained.

Tony softened and with a small sigh, sat down. He looked at his sleeping teen, smiling warmly. "Alright. We can talk later. Take good care of my kid, alright Parker?" He whispered, slowly rising from the bed.

"You got it," Peter promised. He'd always take good care of you.

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thefriendlyferretwriter · 1 year ago

Text

A new side of you: Waltz of emotions

Pairing: Eugene 'Flash' Thompson x reader

Summary: Surprised, again and again.

Warning: 13k words, Tension, tension, tension, angst, a bit of fluff, OCs, don't know what else to warn you about.

A/N: I feel like this is standard by now but sorry again for being such a slow writer, I hope the fic is enough to be forgiven for my usual tardiness. Might have edited but I'm not a native speaker so get ready for plenty of mistakes, enjoy!

Tags: (Don't hesitate to tell me if you want to be added or removed, and thank you again for your feebacks ❤️) @loxerclu8 @wheelerzluv @ray-of-sunrise @m00nkn1ghts

People's view of the costume is accurate. The fabric is thin and flexible but unfortunately, it is quite a cold way to fight crimes during the chilly nights of New York.

"That was awesome! I wonder if it'll end up on the internet?"

"I doubt it. If it does end up there it'll be out of frame and shaky. The police were quite insistent when they were shoving people to safety," I say feeling the breeze as I swing around at full speed.

Landing with a huff I realize I'm out of breath, "Ned." I pant, "Remind me to get a custom binder, this one is killing me."

"I told you! You can't just buy any binder from the internet. It's like corsets, of course they are uncomfortable if they are not tailored for you!"

Your vendetta against Hollywood has reached another level," I say taking another deep breath.

With a leap I swing from the American Museum of Natural History and land on a school's rooftop.

A buzz makes me pause and crouch to check my phone and see a second call coming in from May.

"I got to go May is on the other line."

"Okay, 'night."

"'Night."

Swiping on my phone I wait for the inevitable.

"Where are you?!"

I try to defuse the damage as I look around, "I am at the park close to the flat," I draw out slowly.

"…Which park?"

…

"Do not tell me you're close to Central Park which is on the other side of the city."

"Okay, I won't say it."

"Damnit! you know I don't want you farther than Long Island at night!"

"I know, I know!" I whine, "But there was this guy with a huge Scorpion armor and he was doing mass destruction! The police couldn't do it alone they needed help!" I protest.

"Before being Spiderman you're my niece and my niece will obey the very few rules I put in place for her safety."

"Don't you think the fact that I can knock out people 3 times my size should allow me a bit of indulgence on those rules?"

"No young lady I read a ton of books on this and I know how this ends."

"How?" I ask curiously.

"Mostly teen pregnancy."

"Wow! Okay let's not be dramatic now, shall we?"

"And juvie," May continues her list.

"May I fight crimes, I don't commit it."

"Listen we have a system and it works, I don't get sarcastic with my boss and you don't go farther than Long Island past 11 PM."

"In retrospect, I think we should've thought harder on those rules."

"Too late, the system works and it's flawless. Now swing your ass back home before Spiderman gets grounded."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you," she says smugly.

The line dies and I breathe out the annoyance I feel to then breathe in the fresh evening air.

Tearing off my mask I try to crack my neck and let it hang down to massage and release the night's tension when my eyes catch a familiar sigh.

Flash?

He sits on a bench with his phone in hand looking perplexed.

It's been a week since we last saw each other, or even talked. I didn't want to bother him and I have the feeling it's the same for him.

I look down at my wrist and fumble with the different settings before I find and activate the voice modificator.

Swinging down, I drop on the cemented ground and accidentally startle him as he jumps and stumbles to the floor.

"Oh shit, sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I say genuinely with my voice coming out deeper thanks to the device.

Stumbling around to step back up, Flash looks at Spiderman with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor.

A torrent of curses comes out of his mouth along with an excited laugh of disbelief.

"I can't believe it, it's you!" he says and motions to me up and down.

"Oh yeah, it's me!" I say rethinking my decision to offer guidance disguised as Spiderman in front of Flash Thompson.

"Oh my god I was having such a bad night and now I'm talking to Spiderman!"

"Yeah, that's awesome! Listen, I saw you from up there and you looked troubled and honestly a bit underdressed," I point to his light shirt.

"Oh yeah," he says more calmly looking down at his outfit, "I just needed to take a walk to think about-"

He hesitates.

"No that's not important."

"No way, tell me, that's why I came down here," I say sitting on the bench inviting him to join me.

It's not the first time that Spiderman has a sit-down with someone in distress; words being as useful as a handful of punches.

He sighs and sits down, "There's this um-Charity thing and my mom told me I had to bring a date and I told her I would but let's say it's easier said than done."

"Why's that? Having trouble finding a date?" I tease.

"No," he chuckles, "No actually I already know who I want to invite, but I don't know if she would say yes, and even then I don't really know where we stand. Inviting her could compromise everything," he says sliding his hands down his face with a pained sigh.

Is it me?

Who am I kidding? It's not because we kissed once that I'm his only date choice.

"Alright, so you have an idea. Why not ask her?"

"Because she could say no and I really do not want to have the conversation that would follow after that."

"What conversation?"

"You know the conversation!" he shouts full of frustration as he stands up from the bench, "The one a girl gives you when she's not interested in you. The one that goes 'It's not you, it's me' or the 'We're just friends' except in this case I'm not even sure we're friends to begin with!" he finishes his rant pacing left and right.

"That seems complicated," is the only thing I can say after a few moments of tense silence.

"Yeah and also what kind of date would be a charity event?"

"A date?" I choke out.

"I just-I've always been good at reading people, I know whether they hate me or they tolerate me. But recently it's been hard to read her."

I listen silently nodding my head from time to time.

"Before, she just rolled her eyes or would just snap back at me but now she listens to me and she worries about me and I just-I like being around her. I just worry it is all just a front and she's simply gonna drop me or tell me we're not actually friends and she just had pity on me and took me for some sort of charity case."

He finishes sitting back down his head in his hands.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed her." he groans.

I'm thankful for the mask covering my flushed face.

So it is about me.

It couldn't be anyone else. Flash Thompson is a lot of things. Sometimes an idiot, an asshole, even a jerk at times but what everyone always seems to agree on is that Flash Thompson is no player.

"You could always invite her as a friend," I loudly blur out after an awkward pause.

Flash frowns.

"You ask her to be your date and you precise it's as friends," I precise my thought.

"I guess I could try but what if she says no?"

"Well, best case scenario she says yes and you do have a friend. Or worst case scenario, she does pity you and says yes allowing you to hang out with her and convince her to see you as more than that."

He stays silent staring out into the void before snatching his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling her right now before I chicken out."

Oh shit!

"Wow! Hey there how about we think about it before we make any rash decision," I say standing up from the bench in a hurry.

"What do you mean? you just told me to ask her."

"Listen," I panic and rack my brain for any last-second plan, "Here's what I propose. You walk back home and think about what you're gonna say to her on the way there, and then you call her once you get there."

He pauses, "Yeah okay, that makes sense."

A buzz startles me and reminds me of my curfew.

Trying to stay calm I hurriedly try to bid my goodbyes.

"O-Okay well, I got to go. Hope it works out for you!" I say carefully stepping backward, "As for me I'm expected somewhere so I'm gonna head there!"

"Oh yeah for sure. That's crazy man, I've always wanted to meet you, and now that it's the case you've just helped me!"

He looks back down at his phone's contact and slowly takes a few steps back nodding to me as a goodbye.

"You know what they say. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, emotionally and physically!" I shout jogging back.

When I'm sure he's far enough, I leap into the air and swing away.

"Wait! Can we take a picture-?!" his demand fades as I shoot my next web.

Answering the phone I reassure May I'm on my way and get a few more calls from Flash that I cannot answer.

The last swing sends me to my bedroom window with a thud as I slide the glass panel up and throw my phone in first before climbing inside in a hurry as my cell buzzes again.

"Is that you?!"

"Yeah, I'm home!" I say sliding my mask off before trying to unzip my suit as I stomp around attempting to slip out of the gear.

Jumping on one foot I try to snatch the blue and red material off my feet and trip falling on the cool wooded floor.

"What was that?"

May's panicked tone and the incessant buzz coming from my phone is overwhelming.

Out of breath and my head still on the floor, I raise my hand and blindly pat around my covers before they brush against the device.

I sit myself up with a grunt and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hi!" I say enthusiast and breathless.

"Hi," he answers back abruptly.

"Everything okay?" I ask dipping my elbow amongst my blanket and burying my hand in my hair to ground it.

"Yeah!" he says back quickly with a lighter tone, "Sorry I just thought I would end up leaving a voicemail and now I just don't remember what it is that I wanted to say," he awkwardly confesses.

"Oh yeah sorry about that I was taking a shower," I skillfully lie.

"You often run out of breath after a shower?"

"No! it's just, I left my phone in my room and I heard it in the shower and started panicking the third time it rang I thought something horrible happened," I spew out.

I'm getting really good at this.

"Oh crap, my bad I didn't think it would-" he sighs, "Of course you would think that, I shouldn't have called at this hour I'm sorry I didn't think."

"No! Really it's nothing. What did you call about?"

Silence on the other line. I let it run until I start thinking he must've hung up and asks if he's still there.

"Yeah um, okay so here I go. There's this charity event that happens like every year and it's kind of badly seen to go alone."

My heart speeds up and hammers against my ribcage. It feels like my blood skyrockets through my body leaving an ice-cold feeling behind that gives me chills. This feeling gets stuck in my throat making me believe I'm struggling to breathe.

"And you'd like me to be your plus one?" I attempt to finish the sentence for him.

"Not like a date or anything like that! More like as…friends?" he ends his sentence with hesitation.

Leave the blood impression right now it feels like I was punched in the guts as the air escapes my lungs in a swift.

"Friends?" I repeat meekly to make sure he is comfortable with the term.

"Yeah if you're up to it?" he asks anxiously in return.

I feel frozen for a moment before my eyes are drawn to my wardrobe.

"Yeah of course. I'd love to go with you," I say putting my phone on speaker before laying it down on my bed.

Standing up with a grunt and newfound confidence, I skip to my closet and push stuff back and forth.

"So what type of event is it exactly?"

"Well, it's a charity but it's a charity on the Upper East Side so…there's going to be a lot of snobby people," he says with an awkward chuckle, avoiding talking about our apparent new friendship.

"So," I draw out, "Dressed up."

"Yup," he confirms.

I sigh pushing a few hangers back, "Well I don't think they'd be much impressed with me," I chuckle embarrassed, "When is the event exactly? Maybe I could go grab something that won't cause a public humiliation," I chuckle throwing yet another hanger back with a huge cling.

"That's where you hate me," he says with a pained voice.

Frowning I look at my phone still lying on my bed.

"The event is tomorrow."

My eyes bulge. I don't feel angry, I'm more surprised than anything else.

"Oh, so that really was a last-minute decision to invite me," I try to say light-heartedly.

'Actually, I already know who I want to invite.'

"It wasn't," he replies softly.

I'm getting better at making him open up. A fact that makes me smile, but I realize that I can't push my luck at the risk of going too far and having him close back up in a blink.

Trying to brush off his confession I decide to joke.

"You know Flash, when people invite you to events they tell you days beforehand," I laugh, "Now I don't even have anything worth wearing to your fancy charity!"

"I'm sorry."

"No I'm not mad it's just-I don't want to walk in with a summer dress on," I chuckle trying to reassure him, "And it takes more than a few hours of shopping to find a dress that looks expensive but is not."

"You don't own a black dress?" he asks confused.

"No."

"Not to generalize but I'm ready to bet every girl owns at least one plain black dress."

"I mean I do but it doesn't fit me anymore," I say putting the black dress at least three times too small against my much-grown self.

After a few moments of silence, I start thinking the invitation is gonna be retracted.

"I might have a solution."

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you."

"And why is that?" I frown trying to conceal my offense with a teasing tone.

"Can't tell you either."

"I'm not liking this."

The other line stays silent for a moment.

"Does that mean you don't want to come anymore?"

"No, that's not what I said," I clear up.

"Good, I'll take care of it, and thank you again. Would you like me to pick you up? Tomorrow I mean."

"Oh no, thank you but I'm sure I can find my way around."

"Okay," I wouldn't bet on it but I think I hear the hint of a smile in his words.

"Hum, when does it start? When do I have to arrive exactly?"

"Oh well you know, there is no designated time but people generally arrive later and leave earlier so no pressure."

"Okay so let's say around 9 PM? How does that sound?"

"Awesome."

"Cool," I smile.

I look around my room sheepishly waiting for a goodbye or any other signs he would like to continue the conversation.

Walking to my bed I spin around and let my ankle bump into my bed's rail letting myself fall back on my covers.

"Cool," he repeats.

"Cool," I reiterate chuckling.

"Thanks again, really."

"It's no big deal I'm sure I'm gonna have fun anyways," I say with a smile.

"Well you know it's a charity event so people are gonna do a LOT of talking."

"Why are you making it sound bad," I chuckle.

"I wouldn't say bad, I'd say boring," he says nonchalantly.

"I think I can handle boring for a night."

"I'll take you on that one," he says almost as a challenge.

My door creaks open and May's frown makes my smile drop.

"Hum I'm sorry but I have to go, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

When the line goes silent I awkwardly sit up waiting for a scolding or a rant or anything else.

"So?" she asks with her brows raised.

I know she's waiting for an explanation but the news is too important, "I might've been invited to an event tomorrow."

The warmth is too much and in the heat, I throw my cover to the side with the help of my feet to turn around and try to go back to sleep in my haze.

Having opened my blinds and window during the heated night to let in the fresh breeze, the sunlight shines through and highlights my cluttered mess of a bedroom.

The usual New York rumble is accompanied by a merry voice.

"Wakey wakey night owl!"

"May," I whine sleepily, "It's the last days of summer, can't you let me oversleep?"

"Nope because you have a package and I've been trying to guess what's in it for about twenty minutes now."

"Huh?" I say with a hoarse voice.

"Come on, stand up!"

"I don't remember buying anything," I try to reason.

"And I don't remember buying anything either so come on up, up!" she says jumping up and down.

Sliding off my bed a box is thrown onto it. A huge white rectangular box closed and flattered by a black bow wrapped around it like a Christmas present.

I groan.

"I know what it is."

"What?"

"I have nothing to wear for the charity and Flash proposed to help but I thought it would just be a quick drop off not…that," I say with a gesture to the box.

"How nice."

"I guess but I'm uncomfortable getting a dress from him. If it wasn't so last minute I would've bought one for myself but-"

"Didn't you say it was a fancy event?"

"Yeah?" I answer not getting her point.

"Rich people smell a fraud it's better if he's the one dressing you up for tonight."

"Dressing me," I bark a laugh, "Flash would not dress me, maybe his mom helped or-"

I'm cut off by the phone going off in the other room.

As May walks out to reach it I admire the simplicity yet classiness of the box. I smile as I fidget with the bow before tugging on it and letting it loose.

Half-listening to May's phone call I push off the ribbon and lift the lid.

"Holy fuck!"

I throw the lid back on top of the box the corner not fitting back properly and let it slide aside.

"I'll call you right back-what?! What happened?!" May says in a hurry with the phone still glued to her ear.

I face her with my back turned away from my bed where the dress is sitting, "I can't wear that."

"Can't wear what?" she asks walking to my bed and opening the box back.

"Oh wow."

"I know."

"This is gorgeous."

"I know, I can't wear that."

"Wait-why not?"

“It’s too much. It’s the kind of dress you wear to attract attention, not just to walk around at a charity event,” I spit out at full speed as May puts the phone back to her ear and asks the person who is on the other line and who has not bothered to hang up to come forward and open the front door which is not locked.

"I think you're overreacting a little bit. It's just a pretty dress."

Listening to her I gather up the courage to turn back around and have another look at the black glittery dress.

"It's too much! He told me it's an event full of snobby rich people and you know what's gonna happen if I wear this around snobby rich people?"

May straightens up and takes a posh accent, "What a promiscuous little lady you are," she scolds before laughing.

"I'm serious!" I whine taking the dress out of the box.

The dress's length reaches the ground and the long sleeves hang loose. As the front of the dress faces Aunt May, the back view horrifies me.

I choke on my gasp and swiftly turn the dress around.

At the view of the open back of the dress May's eyes match mine as they widen like sausages.

"Oh wow now that's promiscuous," she says with no accent or tease this time.

"What was he thinking?!"

"Nothing. I doubt Flash handpicked this dress himself," she speculates feeling the fabric of the dress.

Her observation is followed by the front door shutting and a voice calling out to May.

"We're in here Happy!"

With a frown, I watch as Happy Hogan appears at the threshold of my bedroom.

"What is he doing here?" I question as I point to him with the dress still in my hands.

"Your aunt said you're going out tonight and she didn't want to stay alone so I proposed to stay with her," he says all the while analyzing the dress up and down before pointing to it, "Where did you get that?"

"It's a gift," May explains.

"No! No no no no no, it's temporary, a temporary borrowed and very expensive looking dress."

"Not just looking," Happy informs me.

My body proves that it is in fact possible to get even more tense.

"What do you mean by that exactly?" I ask with a meek voice.

Seeing my distressed face Happy makes eye contact with May, gauging the situation.

"Well I mean," he draws out walking up to me and grabbing the dress raising it to examine the fabric, "It looks like the kind of dress Tony makes me pick up for Pepper so I figured-"

"Oh my god!" I shout throwing the dress back on my bed.

I walk to my nightstand and reach for my phone.

"What are you doing?" May ask.

"I'm canceling," I say hurriedly.

"What? No!" she protests.

Flash's number is already dialed and the phone is placed at my ear as I shoo both of them out of my room.

Hurrying May out I close the door as the fourth dial rings in my ear.

Somehow the sound of his voice allows me to breathe out.

"Hey, what is it?"

"What the fuck Flash!"

The warmth leaves his voice and worry takes its place, "What is it?"

"The dress!"

"What? what's wrong with it, you don't like it?"

"It's too much!" I exclaim.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry."

"What were you thinking?" I said feeling a little guilty knowing he couldn't have guessed that I wouldn't like the dress.

"Hey in my defense I didn't choose the dress."

"Then who did?!"

"Well I wasn't sure so I kinda asked Lea to choose," he hesitates to say.

My brain freezes and a headache is right around the corner, "Wait, isn't she supposed to be on her honeymoon?" I ask pinching my nose and scrunching my eyes closed.

"She was but she's a big part of the charity so she is flying back for tonight and is gonna finish her honeymoon here in New York."

"Oh and so you let her choose a dress for me not thinking that our way of dressing up might be way different?" I ask incredulously.

"You make it sound bad."

"It is Flash!" I shout hyperventilating, "She's a model and this type of dress is made for the runway, not charity, and not on me."

"Wait so the problem is that it doesn't fit?"

"No!" I groan falling back on my bed beside the same dress that is making me break down.

"I'm sorry but I'm having a hard time understanding the problem right now, do you hate the dress is that what it is?"

"No, I don't hate the dress," I say.

It's true I like the dress, it's a pretty dress.

"Have you tried it on?"

I pause and answer 'no' in a tone that says it should be obvious to him that I would never try on a brand-name dress.

"So what's the issue exactly? You don't dislike the dress and you haven't tried it on so you can't complain that it doesn't fit, so what's up?"

"It's not a normal dress," I explain as a matter of fact.

"A normal dress?" I can hear the tease in his tone.

"Yes, a normal dress." I reiterate.

"And what is a normal dress exactly?"

"A dress that doesn't look like it was made in a studio in a fancy part of Beverly Hills!"

"Okay, I understand, Lea has a particular style."

"And Lea knows how to walk around with people's eyes on her!" I shout convinced that he now understands my point of view, "I just-" I sigh, "I don't want to walk in there and have people looking at me and judging me, especially rich snobby people."

"Oh if that's what scares you I can reassure you right now and tell you that no one will pay you any attention."

"You haven't seen the dress," I say as a matter of fact.

"No, but I can tell you that standing beside me as my da-my plus one, everyone will obviously be too busy admiring me to be paying you any mind."

I snort and try to muffle the noise by cupping my mouth but the unflattering cackle reaches the other end of the phone.

I know he's reassured now that I laughed but it doesn't erase my worry.

I calm down and weigh my request before verbalizing it.

"Could you drive me to the event?" I decided to just come out with it hoping for the best.

"What happened to taking the bus?" He asks genuinely.

"Again, you haven't seen the dress and I'd rather not travel around Queens dressed to the nines. I just want to be safe, you know?"

I know that my safety isn't at risk but dressed like that, a judging stare would be as dreadful as a wandering hand.

I can't hear him but I'm certain he nods agreeing with me.

"Well, it would be an honor to be your knight in shining armor for the night knowing you're actually my savior," he jokes, "But sadly there isn't any carriage available so we will have to settle for my car, I hope that's alright."

"Oh what a shame, I expected nothing less than the fanciest vehicle," I chuckle.

"Sorry Cinderella but fairy godmother only managed to get the dress."

"And I still wonder how she managed to do that," I say turning on my side and feeling the fabric.

"That's a secret…Try the dress on and call me back to tell me how it fits. Or better yet text me, It's kind of crazy around here today."

It is only now that I realize there is noise around him, a lot of noise and that makes me gather that he must already be over there helping to set everything up and I'm here having a meltdown and calling him having a tantrum about a dress.

"I'm so sorry I didn't, I mean if I knew you were busy I would've-"

"No no, it's alright really-" He tries to chime in.

"No I mean you're probably busy, I can't believe I didn't think of that-" I ramble before he cuts me off.

"No really, you're a life-savor Parker. Those events are old-fashioned and you're like forced to have someone with you and I really didn't want to spend my entire night answering the same question over and over again-"

It's his turn to ramble and I find myself listening on liking the idea of him opening up to me.

It is not every day that I get to listen to Flash Thompson ramble, let alone to me.

"It's annoying when people crowd you and ask why you don't have a date with you and they end up dissecting what must be wrong with you to not have a girl on your arm."

"Sounds annoying."

"It is. Sometimes I manage to avoid that kind of event but for this one my family is in charge so," He finishes dragging his word.

"You are forced to participate."

He confirms and gets interrupted by another voice. I frown trying to listen and make up a bit of the conversation going on before he comes back to the line with a sigh.

"I'm sorry it's a bit crazy right now. My mom always goes nuts the day of these events," he says as I can hear Mme.Thompson shouting in the back.

"Okay, that's my cue. Try the dress on and text me okay?"

"Sure," I say with a smile.

"Bye," he says along with another sentence that I cannot decipher, presumably aimed at someone else before the line dies and I'm left lying on my bed retracing the conversation.

I look at the dress once more. The sparkles look more and more inviting instead of revolting and I stand back up fixing myself before I open the door to face both May and Happy.

Making awkward eye contact I see that they are half bent toward my door before they stand straight up and cough to ease the tension.

After a moment of silence where my gaze is enough judgment, I speak up and ask for help.

"Can you help me do my hair?"

Meddling with the final strand of my hair May stands back to admire her work as I add the final touch to my makeup applying the red lipstick with precision.

Closing the cap I stand up and have an overall look at myself as May squeals and hands me my jacket. She asks a few more questions when I head to the door and check if I have everything I need placed in the pouch she lent me for the night.

My brain barely has time to register the questions before I hum and give a half-assed answer as I put my jacket on and try to exit the apartment.

I turn around to hear her give me rule after rule for the night.

"Flash drives you to the event, you stay at this event," she points out referring to the birthday incident where the only reason I wasn't grounded was the fact that my exit saved me from a potential wound from the blowout of fireworks.

"You have your fun and you come home at 1 AM. Not 2, not 3, 1 AM, got it?"

I nod.

"And Flash drives you back, no one else, Flash."

"Yes," I say a bit exasperated.

"And you stay glued to him all night."

"Yes, Aunt May I promise! Can I go now he's waiting for me outside," I lie.

He's not waiting for me outside, as a matter of fact I haven't even sent him a message informing him I'm ready for him to pick me up.

"Okay be careful-And text me both when you arrive and when you're coming home."

I nod at her as I walk backward to the elevator and watch as she smiles before closing the apartment door. I huff loudly and turn around to look down to my phone texting Flash that I'm ready and will be waiting for him outside.

It's when I'm halfway down the elevator that my phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I just got your text and huh," he draws out.

I don't answer and just let him bask in the silence of the line.

"I'm sorry things were crazy. I'm just now getting ready."

"Wait you're getting ready?! Then when are you coming to pick me up?" I ask walking out of the elevator and pushing the door of the apartment building open letting the New York ambiance bask me in its hurriedness.

The breeze reaches me and I rub my arm getting used to the weather slipping up the back of my jacket and biting at my open back when I notice a…no way.

"Flash what did you do?"

"What-what do you mean what did I do?" he stutters.

"I mean why is there a guy looking at me waiting by a car that looks like it's worth more than the neighborhood," my question is more of a statement.

I hear him curse under his breath.

"I'm really sorry. She told me she would be subtle."

"Who?" I ask taking my eyes off the supposed driver.

"My mom. I told her I had to come to get you but she still needed me around so I insisted and even said I'd call you to push back our meeting but she said it would be disrespectful and that she would send someone."

I stay silent processing all of it.

"I'm sorry I wanted to call and tell you but I just got to my room."

I look back up to the driver and make eye contact before we exchange hasty smiles.

I sigh thinking of this all over walking down the stairs one by one slowly.

"Okay, I guess it wasn't really in your power. But you better be here when I arrive I will not show up and walk around alone." I say firmly.

"Of course," he says in all seriousness.

Telling him I'll see him soon, I hang up and focus my gaze on the driver as I approach him.

"Miss Parker?"

I nod before confirming my identity verbally.

He then motions to the car before opening the door and gesturing for me to step in.

When it clicks shut I am left with the silence of the empty vehicle.

As the buildings go by and I get closer to the venue my stress level rises and I start fidgeting and falling into a cycle of grabbing my phone, second-guessing texting Flash, and then abandoning the idea and letting my body fill up with more anxiety.

The arrival doesn't stop that nagging feeling that causes goosebumps to rush down my spine, that or the wind nipping at my back through my coat.

Walking up the stairs my nerves run wild through my body as my legs shake walking up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I make eye contact with a man standing in front of the doors. Approaching him carefully, I struggle to find my voice and I am cut off in my stutter as he guesses my last name.

Confused, I confirm his guess and my frown must ring a bell for him as he turns to the door, "I was informed that one of Mme.Thompson's guests would arrive alone and I'm guessing it's you," he says as he buzzes me in.

I nod to him as a thank you and continue to walk ahead this time on a soft and long red carpet instead of stone.

The voices, which were mere mumbles turn into booming voices coming from every corner of the room and my coat is starting to make me sweat reminding me that I'll have to discard it soon.

The thought makes me sweat even more.

Like fate, my eyes scan my surroundings and immediately fall on him standing in front of the counter right beside Lea.

He's fidgety and I see Lea receiving a glass of alcohol before making eye contact with me as she nods in my direction.

I feel hands on my shoulders and jolt stepping aside to see who touched me. I see a man who stumbles back apologizing and realize he is trying to gather my coat to let me join the crowd and a cold sweat replaces the regular sweat.

As the fabric leaves my shoulder my voice stays stuck in my throat and instead, a small squeak manages to slither out.

Still looking for my voice, I turn to him walking away with my coat.

I'm left standing there helpless.

When I see the man disappear I turn back to my previous position to look back at Flash when I see him getting hit behind the head and scolded by Lea. I also notice the glass now empty on the counter as I hear his voice more distinctly dismissing Lea with a 'Whatever' as he rushes to my side.

"He took my jacket," I husher panicked but still trying to be subtle.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely taking off his jacket.

"I feel naked," I whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he reiters putting his jacket on my shoulders before ushering me to walk ahead leading us towards Lea at the bar.

His hand is placed on my back flaring shiver with the new sensation of his hand on my back, or maybe it is just the fresh jacket on me?

My brain focuses back and sets on Lea greeting me.

With her asking how I've been I let my hand play with the jacket and nod along with the conversation. Flash himself messes with the blazer by first securing it over my shoulder and then playing with the sleeves that hang loosely.

When my mind stops fixating on him, I blink in surprise when my ears register an apology coming from Lea about the dress. I try to protest and instead thank her for the last-minute save when Flash's mother appears to join and inform us that we need to scatter around.

I stand clueless for a moment before I feel his hand on my back gently pushing me to walk alongside him.

Led around once more I decide to stop being dragged around like a clueless puppet and tug the hand placed on my back to entertwine our arms and walk together instead of letting him direct me around.

I don't talk much. I mostly nod and answer small questions here and there.

The evening runs along pretty smoothly as each interaction the two of us have only lasts few minutes before Flash skillfully finds a way to bid our goodbyes and walk us to yet another couple beckoning us over.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" I ask him trying to glance in the direction he was looking at to see an older lady standing there motioning us to join her.

"That's Garret's grandmother."

"And she's a mean old lady," I deduct.

"No worse, she's a passive-aggressive bitch."

I'm taken aback by his name-calling and look back at the woman waiting impatiently for us.

"I think she's waiting for us," I suggest.

"Okay, don't talk and stay close to me," he instructs.

"You mean like I've been doing for the past hour and a half?"

My teasing provokes a smile to appear on his face for a moment but it quickly disappears when his head turns back to the lady as he walks us toward her.

I hug his arm getting closer to him as he uses his opposite hand and brings it to our linked arms as a sort of comfort I'm guessing.

"Eugene," she beckons us over with a honeyed voice.

Her mask falls for a moment and I can see a glimpse of irritation before, like any other influential figure, she morphs her face into a more pleased expression.

"Madam Pennington," Flash says with an edge.

I first think that his tone might've been hesitation, but that changes when the woman gets that sour look back on her face and I realize his tone is subtly bitter.

Without trying, my brain does the math in a matter of seconds and I realize that if Flash refers to her with another last name than Garret's it must mean she is divorced.

She makes eye contact with me as my face must've shown that I figured Flash's comment out and her burning stare drives me to get closer to him for protection.

He clears his throat driving her murderous stare back to him as I abandon the idea of nodding along to their conversation and instead subtly look around the room.

The buffet, the people, anything other than the two of them.

"My grandson seems to be upset. When I tried talking to him about it he refused to speak but I did overhear that you two fought over a girl," she ends her sentence looking at me up and down.

"And by overhear you mean that you snooped around against your grandson's wish," his argument is aimed not only at defending himself but McCoy's privacy as well which surprises me.

"Excuse you?"

Her voice getting louder I notice McCoy himself standing just a few feet away from us looking at his grandmother about to blow a fuse and I decide to diffuse the tension.

"I believe your grandson is looking for you," I say nodding toward him standing there frozen, "And Flash your mother is looking for us over there."

Pushing him into motion I look back to see Garret approaching his grandmother but decide to not dwell on the talk they're about to have.

"Are you okay?" I ask as we hurry away from them.

He doesn't answer and just nods with a hum. He does however ask where his mother is and that's when I frown.

"You know I made it up so we could flee the conflict, right?"

He stops in his tracks before turning to me and I can see the gears turning in his head.

"Oh, yeah."

We keep eye contact and it must take a toll on him because he then avoids my stare and decides to look forward, all stiff.

I'm guessing the only reason he doesn't flee is the fact that our arms are still tangled together but I don't want to let go.

Maybe it's selfish but since the last time we talked, or more precisely the last we talked and I was not in gear, he ran away and ghosted me.

I want an explanation.

"This place is beautiful," I say looking around at the structure trying to pry a conversation out of him.

"I have something to tell you."

His tone is particular and I can't make out if he's hopeful or desperate.

My own tone embarrasses me as I egg him on full of anticipation.

"There's this type of dance and-" he cuts himself off and stares behind us.

Turning around, I spot McCoy staring right back at him.

"Not again," I hear him say under his breath.

I want to ask him if he's gonna be okay or if he'd like me to stay with him to talk to Garret but he shakes my hands off his arm and grabs it before taking off in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on follow me."

I can only let out a small squeal of surprise before catching up with his footing as the previous noisy venu dies down when we reach the second floor.

Once up there he doesn't stop and continues to sprint down the hall before taking a turn and tugging me to a corner away from McCoy.

My back is placed against the wall and I rearrange the jacket on my shoulders as I see Flash look around the corner to see if Garret is following us.

I suppose he gave up the idea as Flash visibly relaxes and turns back to me.

The proximity reminds me of that night at the laser game and the sudden look on his face tells me he must reminisce as well.

He knows that I know what we're both thinking about because we avoid eye contact and I let my eyes bounce between the multiple decors as a decoy.

"This place is beautiful. I wonder what it would feel to go to sleep in a place like that," I try to deflect from the tension.

"It's like any other place, you go to bed and you fall asleep," he brushes off trying to avoid the tension as well.

The simple statement makes me turn back to him and make eye contact as the realization slowly sets in.

"No."

"No, what?" he frowns.

"You slept here before?" my question sounds more like a statement.

"Yeah."

"But you live like 20 minutes away."

"Oh so now you know where I live Parker?"

My eyes widen at his insinuation.

I'm not a stalker!

"Well after you pointed out that I didn't know where you lived I was curious. If anything you're the one who told me I should know where you lived."

"Yeah and by that I meant coming over not googling my address."

"I did not Google your address!" I lie, "You're making me look bad!"

My restlessness makes him laugh.

Still chuckling he points ahead silently asking me to follow him.

"It's more of a tradition. My mom wants us to stay and sleep here every year," he says walking peacefully beside me.

It's a change compared to his erratic running just a few minutes ago.

"So you also slept at the fairytale mansion?"

"Fairytale mansion?"

"Yeah, the one where Lea got married."

Confused, it takes him a few seconds before his frown disappears and his mouth opens with an 'Oh'.

"Yeah," he simply says opening a door as I stand here frozen.

I know he probably wants me to enter but I'm confused and look at him waiting for an explanation.

He doesn't answer and instead walks inside reaching the other side of the bed to retrieve something.

With hesitation, I take a cautious step in looking around as if the room is full of boobie traps when I hear a dull thump and look back to see him throwing a gym bag on the queen-sized bed.

It must be the glamour of the night inhibiting my ability to be logical at times because it takes me a few seconds before my confusion turns into curiosity.

"Is that your bag?"

"No, I just love going through other people's stuff."

I don't answer or laugh and just raise my brows.

"Yes Parker, It's my bag."

I relax and close the door behind me before walking toward the bed warily and sitting down softly as the mattress sinks under me.

"I thought if I have to run away from Garret, why not pause before going back out there?" he explains throwing a book on the bed covers.

He dives back into his bag as I grab the book.

"Hey, I know that book!" I note joyfully.

I see him stop scrambling through his bag and look back up at me.

"Really?" he hesitates.

"Yeah I talked about it with Susan on your birthday. Usually, she's not into these kind of books but she's been watching a show similar to it so I mentioned it to her."

When he doesn't answer and doesn't make a move to dive back into his bag, another question comes troubling me.

"By the way, how did you hear about this book?"

"Oh um, someone told me about it," he says fumbling with the clothes inside the bag.

"Really? Who?" I ask knowing this isn't his type of book.

He doesn't answer and I assume it must be Garret who told him about the book and he simply doesn't wanna talk about him.

"You know as much as I don't like Garret, he's been your friend for years," I tip-toe around the issue and remember that he must not know about the video I saw where he's going off on McCoy and his clique.

"And?"

"And. With such a great taste in books, how could you not forgive him?" I try to turn the tension into something lighter with a chuckle gesturing to the book.

His frown turns into surprise, "Oh yeah, yeah! It's Garret who told me about it a few weeks ago."

"I never thought Garret would be the kind of guy who reads outside of school," I try to say without sounding mean.

A flash of red in my peripheral vision attracts my attention to turn away from the papercover and fills me with excitement when I recognize the sight.

"You brought him!" I say gripping the plushy and letting the book fall back on the covers.

He seems satisfied with my reaction and tugs his bag to fall back down before he too takes a seat beside me.

I lean down with my feet dangling as my back makes contact with the lavish bedding.

I take a look over at the Spiderman plushy wondering if in the small period of time any harm came his way. My detective work comes out dry as the plush doesn't seem to have been put under any distress when I hear him lay down as well.

I turn my gaze to him ready to make another joke and congratulate him on the plush's wellbeing when I see him already looking back at me and lose my smile as the memories flash back.

The muffled music, the way his curls were laying on his bed. He's been growing them out.

I like his hair long.

I like his lips too.

The calmness I feel is cut short when the bedroom door swings open and the sound of heels thud on the carpeted ground.

I raise up in my seat in a rush and grip the plushy hard against my chest in a panic as if I had just been caught having sex.

"Jee! Ever heard of knocking?!" he shouts sitting up after me.

"Coming from you?" Lea says looking up and down at him with an incredulous expression.

He sighs. I don't know if it comes from annoyance or relief from the previous scene.

"I've been looking for you two, your mother sent me to get you, come on now it's about to start," she says turning back on her heels and pulling the door behind her to leave it half closed waiting for us to join her.

"What's about to start?" I wonder looking at him after admiring her walk away.

The face I find makes mine fall. The paleness and distress plastered on his face makes me feel like I'm about to be the butt of the joke.

His blank stare angers me and figuring out I won't get any explanation from him I jump on my feet straightening the jacket on my shoulder to run after her.

Any other day it would've been to get an autograph but right now my only hope is to get reassured that all of it is just a huge misunderstanding.

Surely 'It's about to start' cannot be that bad? Maybe just a toast, or a speech?

"What's about to start?" I say trying to catch up to her but my question goes unanswered when we reach the top of the stairs and I see the Thompson matriarch taking the venue by storm as she speaks up in the middle of the stairs with her voice reasoning through the immense space.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

I hear her call out before my arm is engulfed and my gaze is redirected to him.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you really, but I kept being interrupted and then there was Garret and then we had a moment of calm and we started to talk and-"

"This evening has been fulfilling and I enjoy each and every one of your presence-"

My ears cannot keep up in between the two speeches. I'm even more overwhelmed when I realize that Lea has left us at the top of the split stairs, walked beside Aliyah, and joined her newlywed husband down the stairs.

"The time has come, and I know you enjoy it as much as I do," she says with a cheeky smile and a look of knowledge across the room sending the surroundings into a fit of chuckles.

"So now. I invite you to take your partner by the arm, and let's join each other in the other room so the waltz can take place."

The end of her speech sends a cold sweat down my back and I turn back to him unable to scream.

I'm speechless and incapable of voicing my anger and frustration.

The words want to come out but my brain is mushing together my two arguments, the one where I tear him a new one for not warning me or the one where I yell that I don't know how to dance.

Why didn't he think of inviting someone who knows how to dance?!

"A waltz?! I don't even know how to dance!" I say loudly enough to share my panic and frustration without attracting any looks.

His newest excuse gets cut off by his mother reaching us at the top of the stairs, " What are you two still doing here, come on chop chop," she finishes clapping her hands to drive us to hurry downstairs.

Another gasp fights its way into my lungs when I realize I'm about to disappoint her as well.

It's only logical for her son to dance in an event she organized.

I'm standing here looking like an idiot with my mouth wide open when my own voice surprises me, "I don't know how to dance!" I say point-blank.

"Of course you do! You went to the same elementary school and I distinctly remember your grade took ball lessons," she says proudly.

The new information confuses me and I doubt the woman's memory.

Maybe she's confusing me with another girl.

Not knowing how to question her or flatly deny her version of the event, I start to babble as I notice Lea walking back up the stairs with her arm under her husband's.

"No-I. I don't. I mean-I never," I ramble, any argument dying on my tongue leaving me a stuttering mess.

I don't know how to word my sentence when my eyes notice Flash's face getting sour the more his mother insists.

"Mom she said she doesn't want to," he says dryly.

I don't know if it's out of annoyance or out of shame but both possibilities are taking a toll on me and I feel the tears coming alongside the lack of oxygen.

"Well, what do you propose we do? Your father isn't here so I can't dance and one of us needs to!"

"We've been hosting this event every year for 5 years now I think we can sit this one out," he says somewhat confidently.

"I would've liked a bit of a heads up Eugene," Aliyah scolds him through her teeth.

Yeah, me too.

"They're waiting for us. Flash come on, come dance with me," Lea says extending her hand to him and taking a look at her proposal I see Mme.Thompson's bulb light up atop her head.

"You didn't even tell her there would be a dance?!" Her accusation seems rhetorical as the deep frown on her face doesn't seem ready to welcome any excuses.

He scrunches his eyes close and rubs them but doesn't answer and opens them back up to look at me.

I see regret and wonder if he regrets inviting me. A ball clogs my throat and I try to stay as stone-faced as possible instead of making a scene by dropping on the stairs and starting to ball like a baby.

He breathes in before following Lea's lead and I stop him. Placing my hand on his chest, I then shrug off the jacket he gave me and hand it back to him, my subconscious somehow realizing he would need it to look put together.

He walks down the stairs as his mother softly takes my arm under hers.

"I'm sorry, I would think my son would have the decency to tell you about this," she sighs as we walk down the stairs.

"But then again I should have known better with how different he's been acting lately."

I didn't intend to answer but that last bit of rant resonates with me and the wave of embarrassment and sadness I feel take a step back to leave place to my curiosity.

"Yeah I think Lea made a comment about it," I say looking at his back.

He suddenly turns his head around and looks at me following him before he turns back around and walks ahead taking his place with Lea in the middle of the room with the others.

Mme.Thompson stops us to stand around the crowd around the room and leave enough space for the others to dance in the middle of it.

Taking her attention away from me, she nods away seemingly to someone before music starts resounding in the area.

"I shouldn't burden you with that," she says with a warm smile while she rubs my arm in comfort.

"Oh no it doesn't burden me. I just hope he gets better."

My well wishes widen her smile.

"I'm glad he has you to hang out with," she says warmly.

"You're a good influence on him. and I can only hope you two stay close, it's not every day my son doesn't complain about this event."

"Yes, he told me about that. He was very thankful for saving him from those stares about him not having a date," I remember our conversation.

"Stares? Why would anyone stare at him fo not having a date?"

I frown, "You know. The rule about having a date for this charity in fear of being the talk of the night," I say trying to nudge her to remember.

"There was never such a rule. Who told you that? Eugene? Léa?"

I'm left speechless and with my mouth hanging open as the frown orning my face doesn't subside.

Her own frown is quickly replaced by a smile before she abruptly apologizes when a woman motions her over.

The loss of her arm is like a warm blanket has been ripped away making me notice the stares I was previously blind to.

A couple stares at me while another switches their stare back and forth between me and Flash, probably wondering why his date is not the one in his arms.

I look at him and see he's arguing with Léa while they waltz around and the sight would impress me if I wasn't confused as to why they look like they're ready to bite at each other's throat.

Another peep and I see that same man watching me with a nasty look before not-so-subtly whispering to his wife who makes eye contact with me before she answers him with a snarky smile.

I look around trying to convince myself I'm being tricked by my own paranoia when I start hearing my own intakes of breath and know it's a sign that it's all getting too much.

In my panic and without Ms.Thompson around to take my mind off things, I search for his face and find him already looking at me.

The panic sets in my chest and I know I need to step out for fresh air but I hesitate to do so in worry of the scene looking bad to the public.

Feeling the meltdown creeping up closer and closer, I look around and notice an arch under the stairs leading to a hallway and remember seeing multiple people passing through during the night and I conclude it must be the path towards a bathroom.

Sending a tense smile his way, I turn around to walk away.

Getting closer to my goal I step aside to let someone exit before walking in and locking the bathroom door behind me.

With the door shutting off most other noise from outside, I stand in front of the mirror and take a deep breath filling my lungs and trying to shake my head off those thoughts before hanging my head down and blowing out.

I raise my head and look at myself in the mirror to see the tears pricking my eyes and silently scold myself before reaching for a towel and trying my best to chase away the tears without messing up my mascara.

Another breath in and I take in my appearance one more time giving myself a pep talk before straightening my dress and deciding to go back out there before anyone starts to whisper about a possible date on the run.

I wouldn't want him to be surrounded.

Or maybe he'd like me to go.

I remember his face, the one he had on those damn stairs where I wondered why I accepted his invitation and why I let myself believe it could be that easy.

I violently shake my head off those thoughts and unlock the door ready to indulge the rest of this night before cutting all contact with Flash Thompson as I hear the distant music flooding back in my ears.

Lost in my thoughts I run straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry I-" My automatic response is cut short when I recognize him and the words get stuck in my throat.

"Hi," he blurs out.

I can only say hi back coldly as I believe any other response would send me back into the bathroom to place another tissue under my eyes.

"I swear I was gonna tell you."

His voice breaks the silence and when my ears register his words, I can't respond and instead walk around him to the other side of the hallway with my mind fixed on the idea that tonight was a mistake.

"No need to say sorry Flash-" I say nonchalantly, done with this poor decision of mine to accept his invitation.

"But I want to!"

I mess with a bust displayed on a table and let my finger slide on the statue trying to avoid his stare.

"Listen, it's completely my fault and I'm an idiot for not telling you. I was freaking out when I asked you to come here with me and I had my mind set so hard on you telling me you wouldn't come that when you said yes I was taken by surprise and the dance completely slipped off my mind."

I listen on with a frown. I stop messing with the bust and turn around leaning on the table as I look down avoiding his stare.

"My mom was the one who reminded me of it and then you called freaking out about the dress so I focused on that and I forgot again and then you walked in with your dress and then there was Garret's grandma and then Garrett and everything else followed so when there was just the two of us I just couldn't remember. And then Léa came in and you looked so sad and scared and angry I didn't know what to do."

I stand there listening to him spit out everything weighing on him before he suddenly breathes in for the first time and looks at me.

"I'm so sorry. I really am."

His gaze traps me and the remorse drowning his irises drains the anger out of me.

"You also lied about the date rule," I say, my voice barely able to convey any emotion.

I don't even find it in myself to yell at him, any scolding coming to mind being one he already gave himself.

"I'm an idiot and a coward and I completely get it if you never want to talk to me again."

At that I don't even know what to answer.

I did say I'd cut all contact with Flash Thompson after tonight but just a few weeks back I would've also said I'd never talk to him outside of schoolwork.

"Okay," I say after a while of silence trying to set us back in a way we can both be comfortable discussing with each other.

"If we're going on an apology spree I think I should be apologizing as well."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for? I'm the one who invited you last minute, so last minute that you didn't even have anything to wear."

I hear his step closing up on me before I put distance between us and walk back and forth down the hall.

"You invited me here to be your partner and I couldn't even participate in the important part of the night. Then there were the stairs and then people were talking and looking at you and Lea and then at me and it was all just so-"

My apology turns into a ramble and the simple retelling of the event produces that same panic inside of me.

Getting ready to excuse myself to go to the bathroom a second time, I turn around to see him standing right behind me. I can't look at him and instead focus my gaze on the floor trying to breathe properly when I feel his arms gently wrap around me and pull me in for a hug.

My finger messes with the fabric at the back of his jacket as my face is buried in the front of it trying to hide my face and not make eye contact.

I fool myself into thinking if I avoid eye contact with him we will stop talking in circles or better yet stop avoiding each other like the plague.

I also hope this way he won't see me on the verge of crying for the second time tonight.

"If anything," he says using my words as I feel his hand come up to stroke my hair, "I'm the one who should've thought better than to think you would still remember those dance classes," he says in a lighter tone.

I recognize his attempt to lighten up the situation and change the topic.

His comment makes me frown and against the warm feeling blossoming in my chest, I lift my face from the depth of his jacket to look at him.

"Yeah your mom talked about that but I don't think I ever took any dance classes, I think she mistook me for someone else."

His face, previously relaxed, falls and a sympathetic smile appears, "No you did," he says quietly, matching the hushed hallway.

My knitted brows are enough indication for him to continue his explanation.

He exhales through his nose and looks down messing with my hand to avoid making eye contact, "It was back when we were…around six? Seven?"

My confusion only deepens as I'm unable to rack my brain for a memory when I feel him tug on my hand gently drawing me closer to him and my frown turns into a muted gasp.

I don't have time to ask what he is doing when he laces our hands together and asks me in the quietest voice if he can.

It is then I realize he's asking to put his hand on my bare back to, I assume, teach me how to waltz.

I can't find my voice, the situation taking me aback so much so that instead of voicing my consent I decide to instead nod and place his hand myself to reassure him of my agreement.

I did not realize that my back was cold, most likely due to getting used to the lack of coverage but I feel it now as his hand feels hot against it.

My full attention is on him before my eyes are drawn down as I see him taking a step forward driving me to respond and step backward.

The motion has me uncontrollably giggling as my left foot follows his right to step to the side.

"Why exactly are we doing this right now?" I ask with another titter.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing Flash," I laugh, "Waltzing in the hallway."

"Dusting up memories. Proving to you that you do know how to dance or if you're right, to teach you how to waltz to apologize for not telling you there would be a dance."

My previous smile falls and I tilt my head back with a loud sigh.

"I apologized again," he awkwardly notices.

"Yes Flash, stop apologizing," I say looking at him straight in the eyes and raising my brows to emphasize my demand.

"I can't, I feel bad."

I reposition my hand on his shoulder with a light stroke as I squeeze our hands letting us continue swaying gently.

I find myself frustrated at his confession when my brain clears up and suddenly remember our last time together.

He feels bad about not telling me about the dance but he doesn't feel bad about running off the last time we saw each other?!

I remember waiting an entire week for a call or even a text. Jumping to my phone at every notification hoping it was him giving me an explanation for running off on me.

I force myself to brush it off when the feeling of his thumb stroking my back envelops me in a daze I want to hold onto until the night inevitably ends.

"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about the dance and I couldn't fulfill my side of the bargain."

"It wasn't a bargain, you just did me a favor."

I can't argue back and decide to look away.

"See, you're doing it."

I look back at him with panic thinking he's going to call me out on my avoidant stare and start a new argument when I see him smile before I notice that he's talking about us dancing and it is then that I look down and realize I'm naturally mirroring his movements.

I laugh impressed at myself before looking back at him as we acknowledge my accomplishment.

Our shared smile diminishes as he stops our dance.

"I didn't invite you because I was desperate," he confesses, "I just really wanted to hang out with you."

I stand there frozen before he gently nudges me sending us back into a soft waltz.

His honesty stuns me and I follow his lead again.

"I think it might be the first time you've been honest with me," It's my turn to confess.

"I don't always lie," he defends himself.

"No, but you never opened up like that before."

I see him trying to avoid eye contact and I silently scold myself as my words seem to drive him away once again.

"I like that," I quickly follow up.

That does it. his eyes raise back to meet mine.

"Why don't you do it more often?"

At that, he seems to hesitate as we gently sway side to side.

"You know friends share their feelings," I remind him of our conversation yesterday where he invited me to come here as a friend.

I can see that the memory rings a bell as he stops our movement once more.

I see his eyes desperate to say something but he's struggling with himself to find the right words as I witness his mouth open and close over and over again.

"See, like riding a bike. It comes back naturally," he manages to say stepping back trying to avoid the subject.

"You're doing it again," I say trying my best to not sound frustrated.

He huffs and slides his hand down his face.

He huff?!

How is he the one pissed off right now?!

I cross my hands taking a harsher stance.

"Okay, you said open so I'm gonna be open," he says fidgeting around.

"If you want us to be friends, you can't expect me to just tell you everything that goes through my head at every moment."

I sigh, "I guess it's fair."

My response appears to relax him.

"But," he interjects, "I guess I could make an effort."

I smile despite myself and look away to try and hide the fact that he turned the situation around once again.

My attempt fails when he looks for my face to catch me smile.

I turn away but he walks around me trying to catch me.

In a last attempt, I hid my face on the verge of laughter.

"Hey wait, you're cheating!" he protests with a chuckle.

I feel his hand on my wrists and yet he doesn't use force to uncover my face.

We stay like this for a moment before I muster the courage to slide my hands away from my eyes and meet his.

He smiles back and that feeling comes again, the one where I feel electricity run through my body.

Like the night he kissed me.

I feel frozen in space like I'm only able to breathe and blink.

He gets closer, so close that our forehead touches and I instinctively close my eyes waiting to feel his lips on mine like that night.

He's so close and yet doesn't make a move to close the distance between us. It makes me groan internally when I remember he's probably waiting for me to make a move.

He's literally two inches away from me and I'm still here what more does he need? for me to swing a flare in the air? Scream at him at the top of my lungs to kiss me?

The tension is suffocating and it's cut short when I feel a breeze of air where I should feel him.

"Thank you, I really wanted to dance with Lea. And don't be mad, I promise, you'll get a dance too," he says cheekily as I stand there completely confused.

He's quick to hold my shoulders and push us to the side. It's when I get my senses back and see a man walk past us to access the bathroom.

I get the answer I'm looking for when I look back at him and see him smile at me.

That's when I have to hold back my laugh with him as the bathroom door closes.

Placing my hand on my mouth, I snort before I see an arm presented to me and look up to see Flash waiting for me.

With the tension now gone I happily hold his arm as he directs us away from the lonely hallway to the booming evening when we cross paths with Mme.Thompson.

"There you are!" she says joyfully.

"I was talking to a few colleagues and they were adamant that I at least ask you to join us."

I open my mouth trying to find the words to politely decline when her son beats me to it.

"No Mom I think it's time for her to go home. Her aunt will kill me if I don't drive her back before 1."

Sharing her chagrin, Mme.Thompson bids me her goodbyes before she shares a look with Flash and tells him to come back as soon as possible telling him he'll be spending time with Garret.

The end of her sentence isn't met with agreement or joy but silence as I'm ushered outside with the cold temperature that doesn't get to reach me before I feel his jacket engulf my shoulders once again.

Another gesture he makes is to offer his hand to help me walk down the stairs of the building. I pause and look down at my heels and conclude like him that it's going to be harder to step down the stairs than it was to climb them.

The thought makes me laugh to myself before I accept his hand and carefully make my way down with another set of giggles.

"I'm never borrowing heels from May ever again," I manage to let out in between giggles.

"Miss Parker forgot to calculate the probability that those heels were gonna be a problem?"

The remark takes me by surprise and makes me stumble.

I crouch to make sure I don't end up face-first on the concrete and my position makes me snort as I hide my face behind my hands and kneel in the middle of the stairs to ground myself.

From any other perspective, I look drunk and I'm being chaperoned by Harrison Thompson's son.

My laugh turns into a fit and I'm left laughing out loud, gripping my aching stomach and praying the feeling doesn't kill me.

"Okay I think I got it, sit down," he says laughing about my situation.

Lost in my euphoria I barely manage to sit up on one of the stairs waiting to see his plan to help me down.

I try to calm myself down when he stands in front of the stairs and places my hands on his shoulders. I finally understand his idea when I'm lifted in the air by my hips and grip his shoulder in a reflex as I'm left gasping when I land on the ground.

I gaze at him and his previous smile falls a bit as he stands there with a blank expression.

I'm almost sure I see his eyes switch to my lips.

"Sorry," he apologizes for his sudden plan to get me down those stairs with a small smile trying his luck at diffusing the tension.

I reassure him before he gently directs me to his car.

The silence is calming and comfortable and I notice I had never been in his car before.

I bask in the comfort, all giddy as I look outside the window admiring the city I love to swing in so much.

He chimes in with small talks here and there and in my new feeling of serenity, I mindlessly make one-word answers.

After a while of admiring the scenery, I look back inside the car when I notice him fidgeting around looking tense.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you mad?" he asks as his hand tightens up on the steering wheel.

"No, why do you ask?" I return the question fidgeting in my seat to get more comfortable.

"I don't know, you don't talk much. Usually I can't get you to stop talking," he says scratching his face before returning his focus to the road, his side eye gauging my reaction.

I guess the comfortable silence wasn't shared and so I rattle my brain to find a topic we could discuss to fill the apparent discomfort he feels.

Trying to take the attention away from the topic of 'us', I remember the look he and McCoy shared and decide to ask hastily.

"Are you gonna reconcile with Garret?"

"Is that what you're mad about?"

"No Flash, I'm not mad. I'm just trying to make conversation since you seem to think my silence means that I'm angry."

"So you're not mad," he affirms one more time.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Cool," he finishes before he falls himself into silence.

"So? Garret?" I ask after a few beats of silence.

"Let's not talk about Garret."

"Too late, now I'm curious," I say turning on my side to give him my full attention.

"I reminded you how to dance cut me some slack," he whines.

"No," I laugh, "You taught me how to dance. I told you I didn't take dance courses."

His own laugh is short-lived, "Yes, you did."

"When?" I challenge him.

He pauses and takes a deep breath as we reach a red light, "It was during that time you moved to your Aunt May's."

The confession throws a cold in the vehicle.

"Oh," is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

"I remember," he says messing with his steering wheel waiting for the light to turn green, "You looked out of it during that time. It was what? 1st grade? 2nd grade?"

I wish he wouldn't pause in between bombs because the multiple aspects of the current situation make everything point to us being forced to look at each other.

I audibly exhale and wait for anything to come and fill the heavy silence of the car.

I even think about reaching over and turning on the radio.

"Why would we talk about my friendship with Garret?" he tries to distract from the conversation with a new topic.

"Oh, so there IS a friendship," I point out jumping on the occasion to step away from the previous topic, proud we have succeeded in shifting the subject.

In a streak of luck, the light turns green, and new chatter fills the car with a newfound lightness.

He sighs, "I don't know. Would that be a problem?"

"Why do you ask me? I don't manage your friendships."

"I don't know. I thought about just leaving that friendship behind but who knows," he says glancing at me with a teasing glint in his eyes, "If you root for him I could find it in myself to grace McCoy."

I chuckle as I change my position deciding to hug the headrest with my arm to rest my head on it.

"Sounds to me like you're afraid to choose for yourself."

He scoffs and laughs it off, "No, I'm just asking for someone else's opinion. Second opinions are important too."

It's silent as he shifts gears and I realize we're getting closer to my neighborhood.

"I thought about just ghosting him for a while. And with what happened last time, it feels like he's never gonna change," he confesses, "And maybe that's how it's supposed to end between us two."

"Ghosting?"

"Yeah, I don't think a discussion could get us anywhere useful. Garret is not the type of person to apologize anyways."

His demeanor is nonchalant but his expression shows a rare vulnerability.

"Some people just don't grow up," I barely manage to hear him mutter.

I hesitate but the observation kills me.

"That's very wise of you," I notice out loud.

He realizes I must've heard him and chuckles mostly at himself.

"I am wise," he proudly states as he turns the car again.

"That's just something Léa said," he adds.

He notices when I frown, "Believe it or not but my problems with Garret started before his attempt on your life," he jokes as he parks.

With the car now off I place my hand on his shoulder as a silent encouragement, squeezing and smiling at him before letting go of the headrest and looking out the window to see my apartment building.

I don't think much of it and open the car door to slip out of the vehicle.

"You know I'm supposed to be the one that opens the door for you, right?"

I turn my focus away from the building to see him getting out of his car, his head poking up from his car's roof.

He gets closer and stands right beside me at the bottom of the paved stairs.

He faces me and with newfound courage, I try my luck.

"Didn't you say we were going to this event as friends?"

"Opening a car door doesn't mean anything. It just says I have manners."

I hum impressed by his quick answer and see his hand already out for me to take.

Frowning, his smile turns my grimace into a bright smile when I recall the stairs incident.

I chuckle and grip his hand as he leads me up the stairs.

"See," he says as we reach the top of the stairs, "Just a gentleman."

My laugh dies down as we face each other with an awkward silence that I break when I slip his jacket off of my shoulder and hand it back to him.

He grasps it and looks down at it. He seems to hesitate before he looks back up at me clutching the fabric in his hands.

"School starts back tomorrow. See you there?" he asks.

"Yeah," I let out, my voice softer than it should be, "See you there."

I end the night with a kiss on his cheek, taking the risk of letting it last longer than it should.

The silence isn't tense or awkward and I know this time it goes for the both of us as we share a smile and I grip his shoulder squeezing it one last time.

"Good luck with McCoy."

His serene expression turns sour as he scrunchs his eyes shut and rolls his head back.

"You didn't have to bring up McCoy," he whines as I let a quick laugh escape me one last time tonight.

"Good night," I say with a smile, satisfied with how fulfilling this evening has been.

"Good night."

I let go of him and step back towards the door before I have to inevitably turn around and leave him there.

My last view of him is his figure standing right there looking back at me with a charming smile.

I'm not sure but I could swear he grazes his cheek where I kissed him goodbye in-between the smallest gap of the building's door as it shuts close.

#flash thompson imagine #flash thompson x reader #flash thompson x oc #flash thompson fanfic #flash thompson #spiderman homecoming #spiderman: no way home #spiderman far from home #spiderman: far from home #fanfic

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

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The angst wheel has spared us today.. Daily Hobie HC! Get on your gear peoples we're going zombie apocalypse mode >:) I feel like Hobie's 'role' is pretty adaptable in the zombie apocalypse. If you're more of a fighter, he'll scavenge. If you're more of a scavenger, he'll fight. Hobie's definitely crafty with weapons too, for both defense and offense. No doubt he's definitely saved your ass more than both of you guys can count (and vice versa) He's even made some firm earmuffs for the two of you, since guns are definitely needed to defend both of you guys in a zombie apocalypse. Even when you guys aren't scavenging for materials or on patrol, both of you spend some quality time with each other with a few playfights, where Hobie usually ends it by (unfairly) throwing you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, marching around the place as you laugh and try squirm out of his grip. He'll put you down on the bed and simply just lay on your chest as you lightheartedly groan and roll your eyes, knowing his lips are stretched out in the biggest, most shit-eating grin. Hobie will dramatically announce that you've 'died, bein' eaten by the zombies outside', before burying his face into the crook of your neck and blowing raspberries against your skin, always successfully making you (try to) pry him off with a loud laugh. And even while the world tears itself apart outside, you both are in the bunker, cuddling up to each other under the warmth of a blanket, one earbud in your ear, and the other one in his, simply listening to music together. Tied by the chord, and arms wrapped around one another. In any situation or dimension, Hobie's your other half. Your love. Your partner in general and in crime. Especially if he still has his spidey powers. Imagine him swinging the both of you up to an abandoned building, overlooking a zombie horde below. The apartment building would have good loot, but in order to take the contents, the zombies must be terminated. A sufficient plan is never far from Hobie's mind, especially in situations like these. He'll go for the outside mob, while you'll terminate the inside of the building. Before both of you part ways to execute the plan, he presses his lips to yours lovingly. After all, you never know which kiss with your lover would be your last. Returning in one piece after a successful hunt is the best feeling of relief felt in the zombie apocalypse. After you both get rid of your gears and weapons, it's immediately collapsing into each other for cuddles, forever grateful that you get to see each other live another day. What if the bunker is actually Hobie's boathouse What if someone got bit... angst >:) -🐦‍⬛

Whew! No angst today 😄

DAILY HOBIE HC!! (Zombie apocalypse au edition!)

Oh yeah he's def an all around guy, like you're injured? And you've got a bad leg? He's got you, hell he'll carry you if he has too. Hungry, but can't fish for shit? Babes, watch him become an expert fisherman just for u

He would so excel at fighting too! Imagine him teaching you how to fight and defend yourself from both zombies and humans (which may or may not always end up with cuddles right after. He says it's to help with your aching muscles and you highly doubt that. But who are you to refuse a cuddle?)

A zombie apocalypse while Hobie has his spidey powers? Your chances of survival has increased dramatically

He would so pretend to bite you while play fighting!!! He'd be like "'m sorry, love, but we have to cut it off" after he has 'bitten' your neck 😂😂😂

The houseboat being their safehouse is genius!! Zombies can't float or swim so that's perf!

NO NO ONE'S GETTING BIT NUH UH

#ask answered #chatting with lovelies #hobie thoughts #🫶🫶🫶#hobie headcanons #🐦‍⬛ anon #ly

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impishtubist · 1 year ago

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Now I feel really bad about Dave. Please let us have all your thoughts on this 💖

OH NO I was being dramatic and now it's come back to bite me in the ass. I will learn nothing from this experience and will do it again. 😂

I admittedly have not done my annual Charioteer re-read (though I did scroll through the "tc fandom reread" tag each day like it was the morning paper). So here are my half-formed and probably inaccurate thoughts about Dave:

-He's a fatherly figure! We love that!

-He was in love with Andrew's dad and never told him, and then Andrew's dad died! We love tragedy and angst!

-His wife gets killed and he's grieving! We love that as well! Seriously, kindly, mild-mannered, fatherly figures who have tragic backstories are my catnip, can't get enough of it.

-I also just think it's really funny that Laurie is all jealous of him. Honey, calm down, he's not trying to get into Andrew's pants.

-He stopped Laurie from speaking with Andrew at the end! Look, I can see why people would have issues with this, but I am a Ralph girlie (gender neutral) through and through, and really don't care that much about Andrew. So I have no issue with this. He's just looking out for his boy! And I'm sorry, Laurie, but Ralph needs you more.

@carrotcakecrumble help me out here, you've at least read the book more recently than I have!

#imp speaks #dave defense squad #i'm sorry to all the tc fandom reread folks #i'm just over here causing trouble while you are having thoughtful literary analysis #the charioteer

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years ago

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Pink Scarf - PART 14 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Blood. Assault in various forms. Miscarriage. Death/Mourning. Pregnancy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry in advance, y'all, cuz this one might knock you on your ass with its dramatic angst and give you whiplash after the last few chapters. Honestly, I hurt myself a bit with this one! *sob* Needless to say, the tone is a bit different here. Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics!

While I hesitated to make a part all in flashback, I couldn't seem to avoid it without creating a ridiculously giant chapter, and I also didn't want to make you wait that long, so here it is, complete with a cliffhanger!

Speaking of that, thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Life is kicking my butt a bit, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me!

Also, look out for some fun 1960 Elvis posts/reblogs later so you can get the full visual of his March 1960 glory, in case I haven't described it well enough LOL. I included a Rollerdome pic at the end as well.

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

March 1960

You shouldn’t feel nervous. It’s just Elvis. But having not seen him in person in over 18 months, or even really being able to talk on the phone, you wonder if too much time has passed, if too much has changed, if the man who went into the Army two years ago is still the friend you cherished.

You wait in front of Graceland in the icy March air with Jack and a multitude of other close friends and relations for Elvis to arrive, shivering in your heavy coat. It’s a strange limbo you all are in, this energy of the end of one thing and the start of something new and unknown. You can’t help feeling that everything is different somehow, that a new era has begun.

This feeling is compounded by the secret you are keeping. You had been wary to accept that your greatest hope is finally coming true, but after your appointment yesterday afternoon, you are finally starting to settle into the fact that new life is growing inside you. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jack, since Elvis’ imminent arrival has taken over everyone’s minds. While you have no need to be the center of attention, you also know that the news would get lost in Elvis’ return. No one could compete with Elvis for any sort of attention. It would be a losing battle.

Honestly, you are glad to sit with the knowledge on your own for a moment, to give yourself a minute to adjust to your new reality. And part of you is still quite scared that this could all be over in a flash. It’s still early, the doctor said, even though you were further along than you’d originally thought. But after two years of nothing, there is a piece of you that doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

Perhaps that is truly why you’re feeling nervous and it’s nothing to do with Elvis at all.

Everyone around you starts to buzz, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see the police cruiser, lights and sirens and all, coming up the long drive. When it finally pulls up in front of the house and Elvis gets out, everyone explodes with liveliness.

It takes a moment for the small crowd to clear enough for you to see him fully. When his tall frame comes completely into view, you feel like all the air has been knocked out of your body. You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud.

He looks beyond incredible. So incredible, in fact, that your heart is suddenly fluttering in your chest like a schoolgirl’s. You have seen him in his uniform before, of course, but the last time, he was so miserable after the death of his mother that the uniform seemed like a prison, an unforgiving punishment almost. Of course, you’d also seen pictures for publicity and ones he sent home which would occasionally show him in his uniform. He always was handsome, to be sure, but now…now, something was different.

You try to put your finger on it because it really has thrown you for a loop. You aren’t some fawning, adoring fan, for god’s sake. But you cannot help but openly stare at the man in front of you. He positively glows. His blue eyes sparkle with the happiness of being home, but it’s not only that. Taking off his cap and tucking it under his arm, he surveys the small crowd and his home with joy. The blue of his dress uniform brings out the reddish-blonde of his natural hair color and the blush on his cheeks. His hair is long again on top, grown out and curled up and mussed from his hat. Compared to the Army buzz cut, it is more reminiscent of his signature coiffed 50’s style, but somehow more mature yet rebellious at the same time. It suits him very well, you think, highlighting high cheekbones, long face, and his now quite chiseled jaw.

Elvis’ whole face is lit up with happiness, that signature grin white and wide, as friends and family gather around him. You can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy to see that smile again in person. When you finally catch his eye, you feel like the whole world stops. It’s ridiculous really, the way your heart throbs in your ears, but you swear his face changes almost imperceptibly when he sees you. You’re not exactly sure how, but it softens somehow, imbued with just a little more warmth than he’s already exuding. His eyes travel over you only briefly before Jack reaches out to embrace him, but in that short moment, you suddenly feel self-conscious.

Once his eyes leave you, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. You look down, clasping your hands in front of you, but when you look up again, Elvis is looking at you from over Jack’s shoulder. You are absolutely caught in his blue-eyed gaze.

Stop being stupid, it’s just Elvis.

Perhaps your sudden intimidation by your dear friend is that he left Graceland a boy but has returned a man. Even though he’s thin, it’s in a leaner, more carved, more refined way than before. He still retains a bit of his baby face, but his countenance is different, settled, more worldly.

After exchanging words with Jack that you are too overcome to hear, Elvis steps around him and comes towards you, his attentions focused completely on you.

“Hey there, y/n darlin’,” he says gently, his voice still heavily accented, high and bright.

“Welcome home, Elvis,” you say. It barely sounds like you, you think, too quiet and soft and breathless. You ring your hands nervously.

He begins to open his arms and you know he means to embrace you, and all of a sudden, you are certain you are going to faint. It’s as if you know that if he touches you, right here and now, looking as he does and with the way his essence is radiating around you, something will be irrevocably changed. Your heart flutters and your breath rate increases, and you almost panic as he closes the gap, those eyes of his looking at you in such a way that you feel completely, utterly exposed. You want to run away, but you are frozen to the spot.

Just as he steps up to you, he’s attacked from the side by his young cousin. The moment between you is thankfully interrupted, and you instantly step back and behind Jack as the boy wrestles Elvis.

“Jesus, kid, a little warning next time!” he shouts playfully, putting the kid in a headlock and rubbing his knuckle into his head. He catches your eye for a fraction of a second, his face somewhere between regret and chagrin at not being able to hug you. You manage a small smile, but practically hide behind Jack, grabbing his hand as you warily look on.

The horde gratefully moves inside, out of the cold late winter chill. The look that flashes over Elvis’ face as he crosses the threshold is one of trepidation, grief. You realize being home must come with mixed emotions; after all, the last time he was here was when his dear mama passed, and this was the home he’d gotten for her.

You’re not sure that anyone else catches how his breath hitches and how those pretty eyes become anxious. In that moment, you forget all about the strange reaction you had to him not a minute ago and you ache to go to him, to pull him into your arms and tell him it’ll all be okay.

It seems like both forever and just yesterday that he wept in your arms on the stairs, bereft and inconsolable, as his mother lay in the other room in her casket. He had refused to leave her, petting her, and talking their baby talk to her for so long that they had finally placed glass over her to dissuade him. Even then, he had sat vigil by her side and as you all looked on in collective grief, as the concern for him and his deteriorating state was palpable. Almost no one was able to get him away for longer than a few minutes—first it was the Colonel near shoving him and Vernon out the door and into the arms of the vultures with the cameras outside. Then, Sam Phillips was able to console him for a bit. Jack and the boys and Anita all tried to pull him away, but they were only swept up by him to go see Gladys, and his tearful ramblings continued about how beautiful she looked and her tiny little “sooties,” and then his wailing and sobbing would commence once again.

His mama had always been more than kind to you, and you cried for her loss, but it was truly Elvis’ grief that had the tears rolling down your cheeks. But you hadn’t wanted to overstep your bounds. However, he’d stopped eating and drinking, and looked positively exhausted, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Eventually, you could stand it no more.

“Elvis, honey, I need you…” you’d said, putting your hand on his shoulder gently. He’d looked up at you sharply, eyes so bloodshot and filled with tears that the blue of his irises seemed unnaturally bright, his innocence and grief leeching out of them. You faltered then at the state of him, stumbling over your words, wanting to be as kind as possible. You cleared your throat, continuing, “I need you to come with me, sweetie.”

And somehow, against all odds, he listened to you, of all people. Wordlessly, he’d stood, drawing you tightly to him, his arm gripping your waist and his tall frame leaning on you for support, nearly knocking you over. You’d stumbled with him to the stairs, and he’d just collapsed into you, his head buried into your neck, clinging to you as if drowning in his grief and you were his life preserver. His heart wrenching sobs had silent tears flowing down your own cheeks, and you’d held him, petting him, cooing at him, your protective gaze shooing the onlookers away.

Eventually, after some time, he quieted. You could feel the heat of his head through the now-soaked top of your dress. “Oh, E, you’re burning up,” you’d said, feeling his face with your hands. He’d worked himself into such a state that his body was rebelling against him, and you’d whispered to someone nearby to call the doctor.

At that point, he’d had little fight left in him, and Jack and Sam had helped get him up to bed once the doctor had come. But he’d still clung to you, not letting you leave him once in his ornate, darkened cave of a bedroom. Elvis wouldn’t settle or let the doctor administer the much-needed sedative until you were in the huge bed with him and he was curled in your lap. You had looked to Jack wide-eyed for some sort of support, part of you feeling a little scandalized by being invited into Elvis’ bed, but none of the men knew what to do, and you were the only one so far that had been able to get him away from Gladys. You just got harried looks of bewilderment from everyone, and the doctor had just nodded to you, as if giving you permission to climb up in with him, doctor’s orders. Anything to calm Elvis down.

So you had, your heart breaking for him, confused as to why it was you who he needed, not Anita or Vernon or Jack. Regardless of how strange it was, you were his friend, and you’d do anything to help, no matter your own comfort. You’d stayed with him through the night, back leaning up against the headboard awkwardly, staying even after the sedative took hold because when you’d tried to leave, he’d still clung to you, heavy and feverish.

For hours you’d held vigil over him, hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, eventually drifting in and out of sleep, though any movement from him had you startling awake. And when you woke in the morning, stiff as hell, and Elvis blinked up at you with those huge, grieving puppy dog eyes, the pang in your heart was evident and confusing.

After those few horrid days, you never spoke of it again. You never asked him why it was you who’d been able to reach him through his grief, and beyond a whispered “thank you” in your ear before he left for Germany, he never mentioned it again. Not that you’d seen him for him to do so. Maybe that is why you are nervous, you think, because the last time you saw him, he was so utterly lost, and for whatever reason, you had been a lifeline in one of his worst moments. And that feels significant somehow, though you aren’t sure exactly how.

That look you see in his eyes now reminds you too much of that look from 18 months ago. But there are a bunch of family and friends between the two of you, crowded in the entryway, bustling with excitement, all seemingly oblivious to Elvis’ distress.

It angers you a bit, the way they all clamor over him without truly seeing him. You stand as rooted as he is, as if your being able to move is tied to him somehow. He looks at you then, sensing your gaze or your thoughts in that almost preternatural way of his, and you see the overwhelm in his eyes. The way the endless blue of them seems clouded over with pain and grief. The way they almost beg you to save him.

This, out of everything, gets you in motion, stepping towards him in the crowded space, but there are so many damn people that you can’t get to him. By the time you sidestep cousins and friends, you’ve watched as his face changes, a mask slipping over those handsome features so seamlessly that it takes you aback. You stop short, amazed at the way he now smiles and laughs at the antics around him, as if nothing happened.

You realize he must’ve had to do this to survive over there. There was no way he could show that kind of vulnerability during tank maneuvers or whatever they had him doing. He’s protecting himself, you think.

But it still rubs you the wrong way. The ease with which he switched emotions was disconcerting to you. Somewhat bitterly, you think that he certainly didn’t need your help through his pain this time.

Oh, stop, you chide yourself. He’s been home all of five minutes and first you wanted to run away from him and now you’re mad his grief isn’t crippling him? What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, okay, y’all, I need to go get changed! The press is gonna be here any minute,” Elvis chuckles and waves you all off, climbing the stairs. His eyes catch yours in the briefest of moments and you swear there is something unsaid in them. And then he’s gone, up into his room.

A shiver passes over you, your stomach flipping, and then a wave of nausea comes.

Jack sees you and comes over with concern in his eyes, cupping your cheek. “You alright, treasure? You look a little green in the gills,” he says.

“I…uh…my stomach is upset, sweetie. Excuse me,” you say quickly, the bile rising, and you make quickly for the bathroom down the hall. Once safely locked away, you rush to the toilet, sick. Luckily, once out, the queasiness passes quickly.

The doctor said this could happen, you think, looking at the reflection of your red face in the mirror. You rinse your mouth out and splash your face with cold water. It certainly has nothing to do with Elvis. That would be absurd.

It’s just the look in his eyes is haunting you and you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s just your hormones being in overdrive. Yes, that makes sense. You are on edge and not seeing things clearly. Or maybe too clearly.

After a multitude of deep breaths, you straighten your dress and hair, then head back out into the fray. You find yourself in an empty house. You wander about to find that most everyone has gone back outside to witness Elvis’ triumphant return to Graceland as procured by the press.

They have arrived, littering the snow-dusted lawn and taking photographs and recordings of Elvis as he sits in front of a huge guitar shaped cake. You peek over someone’s shoulder and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Clad now in all black, his wool coat is appropriate for the chill, but his black shirt is open halfway down his torso, a large gold medallion resting on his bare chest. If he’d looked like the All-American boy getting out of that car not 30 minutes ago, now he looks like the perfect combination of sweet and sinful.

Oh, dear lord.

His chestnut hair is perfectly imperfect, a rogue lock falling over his forehead. You think perhaps he’s added a little shadow and mascara to his eyes, or maybe he’s just exhausted from the long journey home, but whichever it is, the slight darkness on his lids gives him a stunningly beautiful look, his blue eyes popping and dancing with a combination of mischievousness, aloofness, and candor. Somehow, he has retained the youthful swell of his cheeks while also now having a jawline that could cut glass.

As you watch Elvis pick at the cake, deftly putting pieces of it in his mouth with his fingers, the innocent gesture seems almost obscene and that lightheaded feeling comes over you again, this time with a swell of warmth.

You want to look away, you really do, but you’ve forgotten your friend’s natural charm, how his essence pulls even the most unwilling into his orbit. His beauty is one thing, but the feeling that surrounds him is another thing all together. It’s not just you caught in the pull, however. Friends and family gather around, too, though they are likely not experiencing the same type of reaction as you.

Oh, this is utterly ridiculous, you think. Elvis has always been pretty and alluring. Get ahold of yourself.

You think it must be the pregnancy hormones, the way your body flushes from head to toe just watching him eat his cake and play to the camera. You force yourself not to follow as they direct Elvis towards Vernon’s office for the press conference, his tall frame gliding across the lawn in the most confident and nonchalant of ways. He commands his audience as though he’d never left, born to be at the forefront of everything. Focused on the cameras, he does not see you, or so you think, until he catches you staring and quirks his brow.

This finally prompts you to move, turning away quickly and heading back into the warmth of the house. You are glad for the cold, as it gives a reason for your cheeks to be as red as they are, and it douses your heated body with a much-needed chill.

You are embarrassed by your behavior. Elvis is not some idol to be gawked at, not by you. Perhaps it is because you feel so removed from him in his absence, or it is the unasked questions that linger in your mind from before he’d left, but your nerves buzz annoyingly.

You manage to avoid him after the press conference, as he’s utterly exhausted from his trip back home and all it had entailed and sends everyone on their way with the promise of a party the next evening.

Later, lying in bed, you wonder what in the hell came over you. It’s got to be the nerves and excitement about the life growing inside you colliding with the trepidation of your friend’s return all at once. You also know that pregnant women have a multitude of strange physical symptoms, especially in the early days, which would explain nearly everything.

That must be it. It’s not about Elvis at all. It’s your body telling you that you are pregnant.

Finally.

The thought sends a flutter of a different kind through your chest. It’s one of excitement and hope and a little fear. You place your hands on your belly, imbued with a sense of motherly responsibility. You drift to sleep thinking of holding your child in your arms.

The party the next night has Graceland lit up in a way it hasn’t been in years. An air of celebration surrounds the place, chasing away any of the leftover morbidity from Gladys’ passing. You hold Jack’s hand tightly as you enter the mansion, that strange anxiousness from yesterday threatening to ruin your night.

Maybe you should have told Jack about the baby before you came, but no moment seemed quite right. Telling him before work would have distracted him and telling him before the party still seemed to be stepping on the toes of Elvis’ return. Tomorrow, I’ll tell him for sure tomorrow, you think pointedly.

The warm air of the house nearly overwhelms you, and the two of you strip your heavy coats and head towards the sound of Elvis’ boisterous laughter. Your dress is fitted only at the waist and not over the belly, which you are glad for, even though you are hardly showing yet.

You manage to find a seat in the corner with Jack far enough from Elvis that you can breathe, as the fact that he still looks incredible has not changed in the last 24 hours. Why you are so completely stuck on his shocking handsomeness and consumed by whatever prowess he is exuding, you still do not quite know, but it continues to affect you and keep you wary. Shaking off your unhelpful thoughts, you busy yourself talking with Anita, Pat, and the other girls as the men joke and play. After a while, this finally settles your nerves, but you are very conscious of not letting yourself get too close to Elvis as the night goes on, as if being too near will disrupt the tenuous equilibrium you are trying to maintain.

Later in the evening, you excuse yourself and head to the restroom. You can’t help but look in the mirror, rubbing your belly even though it’s impossible to tell yet. This puts a smile on your face, your sweet little secret. And this is how you exit, smiling, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“Shit!” you gasp, jumping out of your skin at Elvis leaning casually against the wall across from you. Your heart gallops against your ribcage, one hand flying to your heart and the other to your belly in a protective gesture. “Elvis, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, y/n,” he says, pushing off the wall, eyes remorseful but watching you carefully.

You find yourself barely able to look at him with him being this close. You will your heart to slow, will yourself to act normal, but it’s like you can’t. You can’t quite meet his eyes, you can’t quite breathe and escape is all you can think of. You awkwardly gesture to the bathroom, thinking that it’s why he’s lurking in the hallway, and then you step away from him without another word.

“Hey, now,” he says from behind you, perturbed, “You wait just a damn minute.”

Elvis’ long fingers circle around your wrist, grabbing you, and it feels like fire. Startled, you turn back and look down at how he holds you firm. You hardly have a moment to process that he’s touching you before he’s pulling you into a room across the hallway. Yelping, you have no choice but to follow—he’s much stronger than you—and he holds fast as flips on the lamp and then shuts the door behind the two of you. He releases you, then folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Elvis…” you start, confused and shocked and trying to process whatever is going on.

“Did I make you mad or do something to offend you?” he interrupts, his voice laced with hurt. Those intense blue eyes of his lock you in place, betraying his churning emotions.

“What? No, what are you—?” you sputter out, faltering under his gaze and needing to look away.

“That! That right there. You can’t even hardly look at me!” he points, voice raising angrily. “You barely said three words to me since I been home!” He steps towards you and instinctually you step back, a hand flying to your belly, as the intensity of being this close to him has you completely overwhelmed.

His eyes widen. “Look at you, you can’t even be in the same room as me without skittering away like a little bird. I thought I was imaginin’ it for a minute.” Elvis pauses, looking you over. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly, the hurt palpable in both his body and voice.

Your heart aches at the sight of him like, forcing you to relax and be more mindful of your actions. “No, of course I’m not afraid of you, Elvis,” you breathe. You aren’t, truly.

“Then what did I do?” he asks with such childlike innocence, such hurt, that your heart breaks for causing it.

“Nothing, E, you didn’t do anything, I swear,” you insist, going to him, unable to bear the look on his cherubic face. You force yourself to get close, pushing through your silly fears.

“Why ya bein’ so strange then, baby?” Elvis asks, eyes scanning your face. This close, you realize you could fall and drown in their oceanic blue intensity.

How can you answer that? You certainly cannot say, “Yes, Elvis, I’m being strange because you came back too handsome and your charming presence overwhelms me, and I don’t know where I stand with you, and oh, by the way, I’m pregnant.”

Your brain scrambles for an answer as the tension between the two of you increases to a level that has you sweating, and you blink up at him, flustered. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that…I guess I am afraid that you’re different, or that things have changed too much while you were gone, or that it’s been too long and that you might not, I don’t know, you might not see me as your friend anymore?” you prattle on, the honesty in your words surprising you. The idea and the truth of it brings tears to your eyes.

His beautiful face softens, his mouth popping open as emotions flash over his features so quickly that you cannot grasp them completely. You feel utterly caught up in him, the loss of control and your feelings frightening you.

“Never,” Elvis whispers finally, “Never in a million years could that happen, baby.” The way he looks down at you is charged, confusing, intense.

Your heart flips. A rogue tear slips down your cheek. Stupid hormones.

You are close enough now that you can feel the energy of him pulsate around you. It makes your breath catch when he brushes the tear off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. You’re not sure if you can bear him touching you more than that because it sends a shockwave through your body.

“So, you missed me?” he asks, a sideways grin beginning to widen on his face.

“’Course I missed you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

“Some way of showin’ it,” he jokes now, breaking some of the tension.

“Well, I’ve had some things on my mind,” you say pointedly. “Life didn’t stop just cuz you were in Germany, ya know.”

You don’t realize that your arm has been wrapped over your belly all this time. Elvis narrows his eyes at you, steps back, and then looks you over very deliberately. Self-conscious and confused under the scrutiny, you blush.

“What?” you ask nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A huge smile spreads over his features and his eyes light up. “Congratulations, doll,” he grins at you.

He knows. Elvis, of all people, knows your secret after spending less than five minutes with you.

You are shocked enough that you don’t try to deny it. “I…How…?” you stutter out.

“You bein’ so skittish and protective, and the way you been holdin’ yourself this whole time is different. Explains that real pretty glow about ya, too,” he says, booping your nose playfully.

You blush harder. “Elvis, I just found out. No one knows yet, not even Jack, so don’t you dare go saying anything yet. It’s still real early,” you say in a warning tone.

Elvis nods, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Seriously, E, not a freakin’ word, promise me!” you say. He is a terrible secret keeper.

“Okay, okay, I promise!” he grins.

“Lord, with the way you’re buzzing, you’d think I was having your baby!” you laugh.

Something changes in his eyes, but it’s gone so quick that you can’t put your finger on it. He does still a bit, though, and you look at him quizzically. He doesn’t say anything and just looks at you openly. The air has shifted once again.

“Well, we should probably get back out there. Everybody must be missing the man of the hour,” you say, clearing your throat and turning to leave.

Before you can go far, Elvis’ fingers dance over yours, reaching, as if wanting to hold your hand and pull you back but hesitating as if he shouldn’t. Your breath catches, an odd feeling blooming in your chest, like you are falling. You look back and down, seeing and feeling his fingers graze yours in such a strangely much-too-intimate way. He doesn’t stop, fingers brushing and winding through yours. You can’t help the way yours start to move around his in the now heavy silence. Your eyes raise to meet his, heart racing.

“Y/n, I—” he starts to say, voice low and gaze intense.

“EP!! Where the hell you at, man?” Red shouts from the hallway, startling you both, causing you to drop your hands as though they were suddenly on fire. As if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Elvis visibly shakes himself off and crosses in front of you to open the door. It opens a crack and then he stops, turning back to you quickly, mouth open as if he wants to finish what he was trying to say. He must think better of it, though, because he just shakes his head again and sucks in his cheeks before heading out the door without another word.

You pause, frozen to the spot, as your heart thunders in your ears. Befuddled, you try and process the last few minutes, try to piece out what the hell just happened. Your hand splays on your belly, your face hot and your body warm.

You were right, you think, a lot has changed. Everything and nothing, all at once.

After that, things move quickly. With Elvis’ new knowledge, you tell Jack immediately about the baby, pulling him aside at the party. He is thrilled.

A few blissful weeks pass. You’ve been feeling okay physically, just some nausea and lightheadedness, but your nerves are still a bit on edge. The strange moment between you and Elvis the night of the party lingers in your mind, just under the surface, and every time you see him, that odd falling feeling comes over you for a moment. It doesn’t help that when he sees you, something in him changes. It’s so subtle that you doubt anyone notices; in fact, you think you could be imagining it if not for the charged, unreadable look in his eyes. But to you he seems overly attentive to your every move, protective even.

You try and chalk this weird intuition and the way your body feels up to the pregnancy. Your body is changing a little each day, and maybe this is just a part of it.

Elvis has been enjoying his few weeks at home before everything starts up for him again, and consequently, so have all of you, finding yourselves pulled back into his orbit easily. He’s travelling down to Miami soon to be on Frank Sinatra’s show and then he starts filming his next movie in April. You have mixed feelings about this, dreading him leaving so soon again, but you also think perhaps it is a good thing to be away from him considering the tricks your mind seems to be playing on you.

Tonight, he rents out the Rainbow Rollerdome for an evening of what he dubs the “Roller Skating Wars.” You, of course, will not be skating in your condition, but that certainly doesn’t stop you from putting on a cute polka dotted dress and going to observe the chaos you know will ensue.

Jack, unfortunately, stays home, struck suddenly in the afternoon with a sore throat and fever. You tell him you will stay home and take care of him, but he brushes you off and tells you he’s just going to be sleeping anyway, that you should go and have fun. He practically pushes you out the door.

When you arrive at the Rollerdome, you quickly find the girls and plant yourself in one of the big booths with a coke, some popcorn, and some candy. Your cravings for sweets have been intense this last week, and you pick delightfully at the confections as you watch everyone skate around.

Elvis has a silly grin plastered on his face as he wheels up to your table, his hair so long and fluffy on top that it bounces with him, product keeping it standing nearly straight up. On anyone else, it would look absolutely ridiculous, but with Elvis being Elvis, it just seems to highlight how incredibly handsome he’s become. Honestly, he nearly takes your breath away in his dark polo with the popped collar, his eyes electric and dancing, his face long and jaw chiseled.

At least you know that you aren’t the only one noticing the change in his looks, because the other girls seem to blush and smile more as he looms over you all, the skates putting him nearly six and a half feet tall.

“Ladies, everybody got their skates?” he drawls charmingly.

Everyone giggles and there’s a chorus of “Yes, Elvis!” as they show off their skates. For a moment, you are a bit upset that you can’t skate, but that is quickly banished by the excitement of the life growing inside you.

“Well, go on then!” he motions, and the ladies scurry, happy to be summoned.

After they clamor out of the booth, Elvis looks at you more seriously.

“No skating for you tonight, right?” he asks protectively, cobalt eyes narrowing.

Your heart does that falling thing for a moment before you respond. “Nope, feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much!” you smile.

He nods, pleased by this. “Where’s Jack? I haven’t seen him,” he asks, looking around.

“Oh, he’s at home, sick. Booted me out of there. I think he was annoyed at me hovering, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“You gonna be okay over here? I don’t want you to be by yourself,” Elvis says, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll come and watch you all here in a minute. My back’s bothering me a bit, so I’m fine to sit for a spell.”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, brow furrowing, as if sensing something about you that you couldn’t sense yourself.

“Yes, E, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, shoo, and go have some fun, but for god’s sake don’t go killin’ yourself or anyone else out there!” you laugh.

Elvis looks at you in that unreadable way of his for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “No promises!” he shouts as he skates away.

You let out a breath after he leaves. His presence is still overwhelming to you, no matter how much you try to logic it away, so for now you are just accepting it. Such is living a life with Elvis in it.

Your back really is starting to bother you, which you attribute to the obvious, and after a few minutes alone, you realize you would rather be around people than not. You get up from the booth, then a wave of dizziness overtakes you and you grab the edge of the table for support as you blink away the spots in your eyes.

You wonder for a moment if you might be coming down with whatever Jack has, but your throat is fine. After a moment, the wave mostly passes, so you make your way to the skating rink to watch the group from the sidelines. There are a few people on the sidelines, and you have fun making small talk and watching the antics in the rink. After a bit, most of the girls come back out as Elvis and the boys are getting pretty rough, and part of you is a little glad Jack isn’t here to get injured.

You ignore the ache in your back (it’s just something you’ll have to get used to, after all) and another wave of lightheadedness hits you as you all head back to the table. You are starting to feel distracted, your stomach churning now a bit, too, and you remind yourself that being pregnant isn’t necessarily a picnic. You feel a bit claustrophobic now, shoved in the booth with the other ladies, and excuse yourself to the restroom, thinking it might be time to go home.

Something’s wrong, you think, a feeling of dread coming over you. Forcing yourself to breathe, you remind yourself again and again that you are just pregnant and these are symptoms of that. You pause at the water fountain to drink, hoping the water might settle your stomach.

As you are bent over, someone zips behind you on skates, then suddenly you feel a hand groping your backside.

Yelping, you choke on the water and jump, turning around.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a man you don’t recognize leers at you, way too close for comfort.

“Excuse me,” you say haughtily, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, making your lightheadedness even worse. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Naw, you’re the prettiest girl in here. Why ya all by your lonesome?” he purrs at you, the sound setting off every warning bell in your body, adrenaline clashing with your dizziness and churning stomach. He leans down, as if to try and kiss you and you push him back.

“Leave me alone!” you say, your voice raising in both volume and pitch. You try to sidestep him, but he grabs you hard and presses you into the wall. You think you might vomit all over him.

“Don’t be like that! All I want is a little kiss,” he says, one wandering hand groping your chest as his lips come at you.

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!” you shriek, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his disgusting mouth roams over your face and neck. Your body betrays you, though, your back throbbing, weakness overcoming your limbs, and you can’t fight him off. You curse the fact that the bathrooms are so far back from the rest of the group, and you pray that someone hears you.

“Get off of me!” you try to scream, but he’s trying to silence you with his hand. Panic overtakes you now as you realize this man is going to hurt you, but in your current state, you are unable to fight.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” You hear the low growl before the horrible man boxing you in is yanked backwards and sideways, his eyes bulging in surprise. You gasp as you watch Elvis collide with the man, his momentum from how fast he must have been skating sending the man flying.

The man stumbles and rolls, flailing and falling, and Elvis looks like you’ve never seen him before as he spins around. His eyes are dark and lethal, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his chest heaves with his breath. He looks terrifying, his focus singular, and you are almost afraid for the man. Almost.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Elvis growls again, pulling the dazed man upright by his shirt. “What the fuck were you doin’ to her?!” he yells, pulling back his arm and then socking the man in the jaw so hard you can hear the crack. The man is stunned for a moment, blood beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers, taking a swing at Elvis.

It barely grazes him and doesn’t even phase Elvis, who seems possessed. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch her!” Elvis shouts, then punches the man in the face again, hard, sending him flying.

Things are happening so fast, you can barely process it. You can hardly breathe, the waves of dizziness pouring over you, making it hard to focus.

Elvis goes for the man again, and suddenly you are fearful he might kill him because he seems so blacked out with rage. Elvis hits him again and the man falls to the floor in a heap, bloody and bruised.

“Elvis, Elvis, stop!” you try to call out, but your voice is too quiet, wavering, and he is too far gone. You need to stop him before he does something he cannot take back, and you know something is wrong with you because you can’t get your body to move the way you need it to.

It’s then that a sharp, searing pain burns in your abdomen, and a primal scream bursts from your lungs. A shockwave of agony rolls through you, knocking the breath from your body. It’s so sudden and all-encompassing that you see red, and you clutch at your belly, your head spinning, fearing the worst.

The baby.

Your cry finally snaps Elvis back to reality because he’s with you in a flash, fear and concern flashing over his features, replacing the fury that was there mere seconds ago.

“Y/n! Y/n, what is it? Did he hurt you?” he gasps, looking you over as tears stream down your cheeks.

You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is beating too fast. Then, you feel hot liquid spread from your belly downwards, life spilling out of you, running down your legs. You feel sick as you look down, Elvis’ gaze following your own. That’s when you see the dark red begin to stain your dress and your stockings.

It’s over, it’s over, the baby, oh god, runs through your head, a dismal chant in your mind. You look at Elvis with resigned horror, but you are feeling so lightheaded, you can barely focus on anything. Even the pain starts to wane and feel distant. You know this isn’t normal, even for a miscarriage. Something is terribly wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you hear him beg, his hands on your face, your shoulders, his eyes wild with terror now. “We need help over here!” he bellows, never taking his eyes off you.

They are so beautiful, those crystalline eyes, those dark lashes, you think absently as you begin to slump over.

You are somewhat aware of his strong arms catching you as he slides down with you to the floor. They feel so warm and comforting, you think. You blink up at him, your vision starting to dim.

“Y/n, no, don’t you dare, you stay w-w-with me, b-baby,” Elvis says in a panic, shaking you, pulling you into his lap. A sharp metallic smell permeates the air. “Somebody c-call a damn ambulance!” you hear him shout. You can hear the terror in his voice, in his stutter, and you wonder why he’s so scared. You’ve never heard him this scared.

“Elvis?” you whisper. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard.

“Yeah, b-b-baby?” his voice shudders. You can feel his chest heaving as he presses you into him, rocking you, tucking your head under his. He always has to be moving, his energy always vibrating around him.

“I feel so strange…” you say, and you do. You’re aware of the pain but it feels so far away. Everything feels far away except for the heat of Elvis, which feels like a blanket around you. With the warmth pouring out of you, you start to feel cold.

“I-I-I know, baby. Come on, you stay awake, now,” he says in your ear as your eyes start to close. He shakes you again. You force them to flutter open. You think whatever is happening must be really bad if he’s so scared.

“Tell Jack I…I love him,” you breathe quietly, just in case.

“You tell him yourself, damnit,” Elvis chokes out, pulling you in closer.

“Thanks for…being…my friend…so good to me,” you say, but it’s not enough. You can’t seem to get the right words out, your mouth filling with cotton. You bring your shaking fingers up to his cheek, your face is buried in his neck, his smell surrounding you. He smells so nice. He feels so good wrapped around you. You’re not nervous to be near him anymore, all of that seems so silly now. Your hand drifts and you feel his full lips under your fingertips. They really are as soft as they look.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore and blackness starts to swallow you, your hand falling onto his chest, but you feel unusually calm.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I love you, y/n, please, I love y…” Elvis whispers pleadingly in your ear.

His quiet, startling confession fades away and is the last thing you hear before the world goes completely dark and silent.

Elvis at the Rainbow Rollerdome, March 19th, 1960

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

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@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

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teklarn · 3 years ago

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hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you.

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst.

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk

word count: 3,859

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !)

- - -

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally.

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’?

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day.

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders.

his leg was bouncing eagerly.

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else.

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn...

“y/n! come look at this!”

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over.

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone.

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku?

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!”

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you.

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?”

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look.

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?”

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.”

“holy—”

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking.

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article.

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!”

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?”

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped.

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them.

his eyes bore into yours.

“did you...need something?”

your voice broke his trance.

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.”

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?”

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?”

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me.

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting.

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was.

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.)

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up.

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.”

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother.

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you.

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped.

“shitty hair, let go of me.”

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?”

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato.

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped.

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries.

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together.

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms.

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh.

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.”

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.”

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.”

denki sighed, slumping back.

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds.

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head.

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.”

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned.

the brunette grinned. “great!”

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name.

“bakugou.”

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find...

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground.

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent.

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called.

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure.

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him.

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks.

you laughed. “what?”

“shut up.”

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.”

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?”

so you had heard him!

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

gosh he loved that about you.

bakugou caught his thought in the air.

ahem...gosh he hated that about you.

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first.

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it.

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache.

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body.

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back.

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t.

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either.

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky.

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out.

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent.

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so...

you stood over him, hands on your hips.

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile.

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain.

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels.

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.”

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back.

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on.

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room?

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard.

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.”

you barely grunted in response.

“don’t ignore me.”

“i heard you, mom.”

“the hell did you call me?”

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive.

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back.

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened.

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you.

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.”

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?”

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—”

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving.

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly.

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it.

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body.

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds.

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you.

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason.

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion.

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions.

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes.

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen.

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back.

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face.

“fight me again,” he demanded.

“excuse me?”

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.”

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.”

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.”

“you’re being stubborn.”

“i’m being reasonable. back off.”

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou.

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.”

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?”

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away.

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself.

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?”

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.”

“dude...that sounds really weird.”

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.”

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again.

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong.

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great?

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear.

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right?

what was so...amazing about deku?

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these.

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent.

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you.

you were the only person to be able to do this to him.

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head.

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.”

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga.

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.)

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?”

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not.

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here.

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.”

“okay? is that it?”

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him?

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”

“...what?”

gosh dammit, as friends?

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side.

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor.

this earned a snicker from you.

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.”

your eyes flew wide. “...what?”

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.”

he swallowed.

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.”

he leaned closer. “yes?”

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.”

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal.

“oh, alright.”

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode.

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything.

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right?

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you.

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jeonfiles · 4 years ago

Text

once more to see you | kth 01

pairing: taehyung x reader ft. seokjin

genre: angst, fluff, unrequited love

synopsis: taehyung is the complete opposite of you, and you're so in love with him. he's not interested in you at all, but he's willing to pretend so he won't be known for breaking the sweetest girl in school's heart. he knows you'll end up hurt either way.

warnings: taehyung is an idiot, a lot of pining, y/n is annoyingly dependent on validation, y/n does a lot of silent prayers, y/n is a track star, childhood bsf seokjin (cute), mentions of deceased family member

music for this chap: she had the world , carry me out

a/n: taehyung will disappoint u in the beginning but hes cute i promise

"I get why you like him Y/N," Sohee swallowed the rest of her sandwich before finishing her sentence, "He's so hot. People say he's interested in you too, y'know?"

Sohee visibly tried to get food out from the back of her mouth using her tongue, and it made you chuckle at the sight. "I don't think he does." You sighed, resting your chin in your palm.

You were both situated at the table in the inner corner of the cafeteria, with a full view of who walks in the door, and sometimes you swore you could see Sohee drool when attractive guys walked in that exact door.

"Hello, of course, he does! Even his friend Jimin told Kang Seulgi from Class 1, who told Go Euntaek in class 3, who eventually told his girlfriend Baek Ho-rang who ran to me to tell me the great news." Sohee gasped for air after rambling, and you rolled your eyes,

"Stories change when that many links contribute." You scoffed, sitting back in your chair and reaching for your juice box on the table, taking a huge slurp, which you knew would annoy Sohee.

"You don't believe me? Guess we gotta ask a link closer to the source then." Sohee stood up from her chair, and you looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Park Jimin, get your ass over here will ya?" She nearly shouted across the cafeteria, and now all looks were pointed at you two, and you felt the urge to just slip down the cracks of the floor tiles and hide there forever grow stronger for each nanosecond.

You sunk further down on your tacky, orange chair, but you could still see Jimin's black locks sway a little over the crowd as he walked over to the table you were sitting at.

"What's up sugar?" Jimin smirked at Sohee, and Sohee didn't even budge, and you had no idea how she did it. He was stupidly attractive and could make any girl drop her pants with a comment like that.

"Jimin my dearest, a little birdie told me that Taehyung likes my sweet Y/N, could you confirm?" She batted her long lashes and smiled prettily at Jimin.

He looked to the left, sucked his teeth, and said, "I can't, I'm sorry." You realized you had grown a little too hopeful, and your heart sunk quite a bit when he spoke.

"Does he think I'm pretty at least?" You spoke up, eyes shining when you looked up towards the standing Jimin, the harsh lights in the cafeteria reflecting in them.

"He hasn't mentioned you much, to be quite honest." He shrugged, walking back to his table, where Taehyung and the rest of his friends sat.

Your heart thumped when he met your eyes, and you looked away in panic. The rest of lunch was just Sohee apologizing and you avoiding eye contact with any of the students at the nearby tables.

Jimin mentioned you and Sohee's name several times, he was a loud speaker, and you were so scared of what he was saying you could probably die right then and there.

Saved by the bell, you picked up your stuff and got ready to start running to your classroom, praying you wouldn't meet any of Taehyung's friends, and especially not Taehyung as you ran Usain Bolt style.

You looked down while running, not thinking twice about leaving your best friend behind, you suddenly fell to the ground with a thud. This was surely not one of your glory days.

When you looked up, you wanted to cry. It was none other than Kim Taehyung, and he didn't look pleased. You gathered your things and muttered "Sorry." under your breath probably about 10 times, and he just watched, disappointingly.

"You're a klutz. Why were you running?" He spoke, and your knees turned into jelly when you tried to stand up, you nearly fell and dropped all your stuff again, but he caught you by the arm, straightening you up like it was nothing.

"Uh... Uhm... Err..." you mumbled, and he rolled his eyes, and not in a joking manner. "Fuck that, why are you going around telling people I like you?"

Your breath hitched, and he stared at you coldly. "I didn't! Gosh, my friend Sohee told me someone had told her that you liked me, and- uh... We asked Jimin, and-" He put his hand over your mouth, making you shut up.

"I don't want you two to go around making up baseless rumors about me, it's incredibly annoying for me to go around correcting people who assume shit just because your little friend speaks louder than a bunch of hyenas at a tea party." Taehyung nearly spat, and you took a step back.

You noticed that people were listening in, their stares burning holes in your back. He was livid, and you didn't understand why, you just smiled, praying to god that this would end soon.

"I just thought you liked me-" You began, and he interrupted you, "You thought I was gonna like someone like you? Get over yourself and enter the real world."

The hallway went silent, your lips trembled as hot tears raced down your face, and like the track star you were, you fled the scene and passed the finish line into the bathrooms.

You stayed till the school day ended, not knowing what was unraveling outside the four walls of the stall.

Sohee 💜: 01:12 pm

Y/N, where are you? i heard what happened :( i hate taehyung im gonna chop his sausage off

Sohee 💜: 01:38 pm

taehyung is fighting w doyoung because doyoung decided to defend you this is hilarious

but fr where are you

Sohee 💜: 01:57 pm

doyoung gave taehyung a black eye damn

doyo is on the verge of tears when taehyung said you liked him and not doyo

taehyung cant not have feelings for you like there must be smth deeper going on

Sohee 💜: 03:39 pm

class just ended i'll wait out back

Sohee always knew when to leave you alone, so she did, partially. You usually shut off your phone when you're upset, but she still sends you texts to update you whenever you turn it back on.

This time, it was quite dramatic, and you rushed out of the icky stall and ran (again) to reach Sohee to get the full story, and as you expected, it was interesting.

"Basically, Doyoung punched Taehyung and Taehyung was a little too OP, so he failed to initiate a fight, so it just turned into Taehyung being an ass to Doyoung for defending you." She shrugged, adjusting the straps of her leather backpack as you walked home.

"Taehyung's rep is so tainted right now, I don't know how he's gonna fix this my dear Y/N, so I guess he got his karma. He's an idiot and I'm glad other people are starting to see."

You nodded yes, pushing out a fake chuckle, while silently you prayed that everything would soon be back to normal and that Taehyung would forgive you for the mess you caused.

Being in love with Taehyung for a year had taken a toll on you, and your best friend since freshman year had noticed too. You were different.

You used to be so independent and optimistic, but now you would strive for validation, and you had turned into one of the most insecure people Sohee had ever met.

Sohee tried to pull you away from him, but to her demise, it only got worse when you tried to meet other guys. She figured that the only way for you to disconnect from him was if you had your go with him, or if he treated you like a complete idiot.

You waved goodbye to Sohee as you entered your house, kicking off your shoes and throwing yourself down on the couch. You wanted to scream, but you saw your brother's and another guy's shoes in your hallway, so you kept it inside.

After having watched an episode of Seinfeld, you could hear the floorboards creak, and your gaze found its way to the hallway, where your brother, Yoongi stood, peeking out from his door.

"Ah, Y/N, you're the one who's home?" He smiled brightly, eyes turning into small crescents, which made you awe at the sight.

"Yuppers." You said and sat back again, pressing play to start the next episode. "Who's your guest?" And as you uttered your last word, another head peeked out from the door, and you couldn't help but feel the happiness brew inside you.

It was Kim Seokjin in all his glory, and this time, he looked even hotter. It had been about two years since you last saw him because he moved to Germany to study medicine.

Seokjin had been your neighbor since you were born, and you pretty much grew up with two older brothers who always took care of you.

No one dared to mess with you, because Seokjin and Yoongi always got to them first. That way, you grew up without a care in the world, protected from all evil.

You had no idea when you fell in love with him. It was somewhere during puberty, where your interest in Brad Pitt and Kim Soohyun from Dream High had grown stronger.

You remember Seokjin was scouted for modeling, acting, and even idol groups all through your childhood. He did a few ads, photoshoots, a popular teenage drama called Double Trouble, and even managed to get his own Wikipedia page.

There was no doubt that Seokjin was an attractive man, and in the two years he had been gone, his face fat was completely gone, and he had defined cheekbones, a slimmer and tighter figure, and you thought he couldn't be any more perfect.

"None other than God himself," Seokjin said smugly, opening his arms to greet you with a hug, and you threw your blanket you were covered into the side as you bolted into Seokjin's arms, legs wrapped around his waist.

He slowly put you down so your feet touched the parquet, and you felt a kind of euphoria as he smiled at you again, the same smile he had flashed you as long as you could remember.

Everything about Seokjin had matured and changed, but his smile remained the same. "What are you doing back?" You sniffled, holding back the happy tears that were forming in your eyes.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, I love Germany, but it's a little bland. I miss ahjumnas complimenting me on the subway and the bomb ass food here in SK." Seokjin grinned as he wiped a tear that fell down your face.

Yoongi was leaning against the door frame, smiling at the grand reunion. You knew he liked seeing you two together, and you had a small suspicion about him shipping you guys.

"Please don't ever leave again." You gripped onto his shirt, digging your face down in his chest, and he said, "I swear to god if you're wearing makeup right now-"

You laughed as you pushed him away, placing your hands below your chin and batting your eyelashes dramatically, "I'm all-natural."

"Naturally pretty." Seokjin leaned forward and whispered in your ear, and your heart did a little somersault.

Seokjin's always been a charmer.

You woke up in your room, pink sheets draped over your half-naked body as tons of messages poured in on your phone, vibrating so much it nearly fell off the edge of your nightstand.

You grab it while rubbing your eyes, and you're shocked to see the messages that had exploded on your lock screen.

Unknown: 08:39 am

Hey, it's Kim Taehyung.

Look, I'm sorry for the shit I said to you and I would love to make it up to you in some kind of way.

Maybe I could take you out?

I get it if you don't want to, but I heard you were interested in me so...

What kinda food do you like? Activities, hobbies?

I really wanna make this right :)

You: 08:43 am

oh hey! I'd love to, you kinda owe me one. if it's your treat, I suppose we could get some sushi and boba...

btw I don't like u like that

Contact made, saved as "taehyung <3" at 08:44 am

taehyung <3: 08:47 am

Okay. Meet me at Nori Table at 6 pm. Don't make me wait.

Your heart was palpitating, and when you pressed your phone up to your chest, you could feel your body heat up from your scalp to your toes.

Maybe Kim Taehyung had no interest in you right now, but he sure would after tonight. You were gonna make him love you, soon enough,

Running to the shower a few hours of Seinfeld later, you scrubbed with all your might with your newest strawberry scrub, did your makeup, curled your hair, and sat down on the couch, outfit draped over the armrest of the chair.

It was an hour till you were leaving, so for the time being you sat with hair rollers in your hair, dressed in pink sweats. Seokjin and Yoongi had been awake all night, you had heard them laugh and play Mario Cart all night, it reminded you of old times.

Old times where you went to bed crying because Yoongi and Seokjin's bedtime was later than yours at sleepovers. Thinking back, your parents made a pretty rational decision, but you resented them for it.

When Seokjin left for school in Germany, during your Sophomore year you cried again. You thought it was so unfair that you had to be two years younger, why couldn't you come with him?

You were painfully in love with him, and you had been probably since you were. A few months after he moved, your feelings faded. You were love-free, only to fall stupidly in love again with Taehyung just a year later.

You were forced to snap out of your train of thought because you heard the floorboards creak again. When you looked over at the dark hallway, you saw a tired, yet familiar face smile at you.

Seokjin looked quite disoriented, hair ruffled and eyes puffy, yet he looked like a Greek god. Sculpted to perfection, he smiled at you like he did yesterday and all the times before.

"Morning." He grunted out, his morning voice prominent. You chuckled when you looked at the time, feeling kind of bad for Seokjin who had slept away the majority of his day, which you knew he didn't like.

"It's 5 pm, cutie. Mom said you guys could order takeout, cause she's working late." You stood up, and Seokjin gave you a good look up and down, and then diverted his gaze to the lavender ruffle skirt and white long-sleeve blouse you had neatly hung over the armchair.

"What's the occasion?" He nodded over at the clothes and then your hair rollers and full-face makeup-covered face. He threw a few walnuts from the little bowl on the coffee table into his mouth.

"It's none of your business, but I have a date tonight," you said smugly, and a walnut flew out of Seokjin's mouth in shock.

"A date? Like a real one?" He frantically asked, and you nodded as you walked away with your outfit in hand.

You came back out minutes later, and Seokjin had to hold his mouth shut so it wouldn't drop to the floor. You had matured so well, a white blouse adorning your waist, and the lavender skirt hugged your curves nicely.

You had decorated your neck and ears with golden jewelry, and you had a pair of Air forces dangling from your left hand. You were beautiful, hair let free from the hair rollers, curls swaying as you did a twirl.

"It's alright, I guess." He pretended not to care, and your proud grin morphed into a frown pretty quickly, and he noticed.

He stood up and walked towards you, standing very close. His tall figure was hovering over you. Seokjin leaned forward towards your ear, not whispering this time,

"You're gorgeous." He pushed your curls behind your shoulder, adjusting your golden necklace as he returned to Yoongi's bedroom.

You were screwed.

The time on your phone showed 6:06 pm. You recall him saying ‘don’t be late’. What a hypocrite. It had started to pour down, so you were squeezed up against the brick wall of the restaurant so the ledge above you would shield you from the rain.

You were shaking from the cold, legs exposed because of your skirt. Sighing deeply, you reached down into your purse to text Taehyung, but when you looked up, you saw him running over to you.

He was holding a bouquet of pink delphinium and peonies. You’d always been interested in flowers, and this small gesture made you all fuzzy inside.

“I apologize for my late arrival m’lady. The flower shop was about to close down for the day, and I had to beg the cashier to let me in, promising to buy a huge bouquet if she did.” He smiled as he stood in front of you.

“No worries sir, I haven’t been waiting for long.” You chuckled, as you accepted the bouquet. His eyes scanned every inch of your body, and he said, “You’re shivering. Let’s go inside.”

This was a side of Taehyung you had barely seen before, caring and warm. This was also the side of him that initially made you fall for him.

The memories of him reading stories for children at the hospital was heartwarming. Whenever you went to visit your brother, who has now passed, you would see him read stories for all the unlucky kids.

Your brother, who was only 7 years old talked about Taehyung like a superhero, and it seemed as if Taehyung’s stories were the highlight of his days at the hospital.

Daejung wasn’t a kid you would pity. In his last months in the hospital he never once cried. You believed that Taehyung was a big part of the reason.

That’s why you fell in love with him. He hadn’t been a superhero in the form of saving lives, but he definitely made a whole lot of sick kids happier.

How could you ever repay him?

Taehyung rested a hand on your shoulder and lead you inside the door, and there stood a beautiful tall woman, black hair to her waist, almond-shaped eyes, and full lips.

She was beautiful. You looked up to see Taehyung’s reaction, and he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at you. His eyes met yours, and you could’ve sword the whole world stopped.

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice spoke up, and it kicked you right back into reality. It was the pretty woman speaking, an even prettier voice to match her.

“Do you have a reservation?” She questioned, smiling so genuinely from ear to ear. “Yes. It’s on Kim.” Taehyung spoke so confidently.

“Ah, for two. I’ll be your server tonight.” She waved for you to follow her, and before she turned around, you saw her name tag.

Bae Eunmi. A pretty name for a pretty person. Of course, she had to be pretty. Your confidence sunk even lower, and your insecurities grew.

“I’m not interested in her, by the way. I’ve talked to her before. She’s all beauty and no brains. Not for me.” Taehyung whispered into your ear, possibly to reassure you.

You sat down at the table and ordered a huge plate of different types of sushi, maki, nigiri, uramaki, and even sashimi.

This restaurant was fancy, nearly too fancy for your liking. It was huge and flashy, and it made you doubt your outfit choice completely.

The restaurant fell silent since there weren’t many guests here this early. The silence wasn’t awkward between you guys. It was just, too silent, and you decided to break it.

“Do you still write stories?” Taehyung’s face froze. How did you know about the stories he wrote? Had you been stalking him? Was this when everyone would find out how weak he truly is?

“How did you find out... About them?” He asked hesitantly, fidgeting with a small woven basket with bread placed on your table.

“When sun and moon met, moon felt bad. When the moon was alone at night, he cried, because he wanted to shine just like the sun.” You quote his story word by word, it was your favorite paragraph.

He looked at you with a confused look and his eyes told you that he wondered why you knew the story so well.

Before he could speak up, you said, “My brother's name was Daejung. He looked up to you and constantly told me about how he wanted to be like you when he grew up.” You placed your hands on top of his over the table.

Taehyung was speechless. He sat there, body completely frozen as he processed what you just said. The little boy he had mourned for many months was the same flesh and blood as you.

“Daejung told me how he wanted me to marry you because he thought no one else deserved me.” Letting go of his hands, he continued sitting completely still.

First, he felt disappointed in himself. Disappointed of the way he had treated you, how sad Daejung would be if he knew.

Second, he could see him in your traits. Your button nose matched his completely, and your eyes sparkled just the way his eyes did.

Third, he realized he had to take care of you. Fall in love with you, for Daejung. Taehyung had promised the little boy to take care of his friends and family when he has at his worst.

His expression completely changed. It softened, and his eyes looked at you like you were godsent. He believed you were too. It was fate.

join the “once more to see you” taglist

a/n: u guys know the angst isn't over lol u guys r never gonna see the light at the end of the tunnel ! this chapter was originally a bit longer but i have to test the waters and seeing how u guys like it !! pls reblog <3

#taehyung ff #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts imagines #bts ff #bts taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts v #seokjin angst #seokjin ff #seokjin smut #taehyung smut #fuckboy!taehyung #popular!taehyung #bts x reader #bts x oc #bts

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vannybarber · 4 years ago

Text

The Prenup: Part Three

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two

After Chris' little sob moment, he got his shit together and went back to where his family was. There was no way he was going to get you back crying like a baby when he was at fault. He needed to fix this, but you had to be on board in order first

He sits back on the couch, his mother and siblings not even realizing he entered the room, for they were having their own squabble. Scott's voice being the loudest out of everyone of course.

He sees his phone and goes to grab it. Carly notices him and speaks up.

"Chris is there anywhere you think she could be? Any place you guys have gone that's sentimental or something?" She's trying her best, but it wasn't enough. For all Chris knew, you could've been in numerous places. Everywhere you went was special.

When you both aren't working, you're on an adventure after another. You both loved to explore and were the perfect partners for each other to do it. You guys had traveled everywhere.

"I have no idea. I really fucked up and I don't even know where to begin to fix this" he breathes out, voice wavering gradually at every word. "Why do I always do this?"

It's Lisa's turn to speak up. "Do what?"

"Why do I always sabotage everything good in my life? Specifically love. It's like whenever it gets too good to be true, I back away. This time, I decided to wait four years to mess this up."

"Chris," Shanna calls. "You have a good woman." She pauses. "A great woman. She has put up with your shit and gave up so much to be with you. That's exactly what you wanted. Someone to really prove their love for you and she did that. You cannot go back on that now."

"Look how that's going." Scott doesn't fail to add a snarky remark.

"Scott I'm not going to tell you again. Quit it." Lisa barks and pops the back of his head. Scott goes silent.

"Okay but what if I messed up for good this time?" He looks up and straight at Shanna. "I have never seen her like this. I don't think anyone has ever hurt her this bad before." And he was right. You'd never experienced this much emotional pain before and the love of your life is to blame.

"Well you don't know that unless you find out. You can't just sit around here and feel sorry for yourself because believe it or not, you have no reason to." Shanna is completely right. Now it was up to Chris. But first he needed to figure out where you were.

He grabs his phone and goes to your contact. He finds you and clicks. All your info pops up and he debates on whether he should call or message. As he's deciding, his eyes wander lower to the location box. He sees your icon on the map.

His mouth opens, but nothing leaves it. Your location was on. It had been on the entire freaking time.

"Chris what's wrong?" Lisa walks over and the kids perk up.

"Y/N's location has been on all this time. I can see where she is now!" He clicks your icon and waits for it to load. A little hope has risen inside of him. One step closer.

"Well this is good. Now you can go to her. I just hope she doesn't want to kill you when she sees you." Shanna scratches the back of her neck because she knows what you're capable of.

Last year, your sister's boyfriend was messing around with your cousin's girlfriend and it got exposed at the dinner table infront of everyone.

Chris and his family had been invited and everything was going great. But then one of your other cousins decided to start some mess and pointed out how it was so strange that they were so close and always hung out together. They weren't wrong either.

Turns out they've been hooking up behind their backs for a while and all hell broke loose. Your sister and cousin are both very sensitive people. Their feelings get hurt fast and this absolutely tore them to pieces. That pissed you off and you went straight for the girlfriend. Then you went for the boyfriend but only got a kick to the spleen before Chris snatched you up.

She went to the hospital with a broken nose and dislocated jaw. The boyfriend had pain in his spleen for weeks on end. You apologized to the Evans' for your riveting hospitality, but Scott backed you up and stated that 'you did what you had to do'.

From that day forward, they did not get on your bad side. But you'd never hurt them. You had a great relationship with all of them. Something rare with in-laws. But not the Evans'.

Your location finally loaded and you were pinned at the Liberty, almost an hour from where you guys lived. Chris didn't even need to ask himself why you were so far away. He knew why.

"Okay I found her. She's at a hotel about about an hour away. Who knows what she'll do next, so I need to go right now." He moves to get his jacket and shoes. Slipping them on he grabs his keys and heads out the door, yelling an 'I'll be back soon' just before closing it.

Pregnant, tired, once again and alone. This should not be the case. You should be at home with your fianceé discussing how you'd break the news to your families about your new addition. But instead, there you are eating Domino's and binge watching the first and only season of a new show you found to get your mind off of things.

Its about a district attorney who's son had been found as a suspect for the murder of his schoolmate. What didn't help was the fact that the father, Andy Barber, looked almost identical to Chris. And the way Andy would interact with his son had you thinking about how he would react to your little surprise.

Would he be happy? Would it be too much for him? Seeing that you guys had just now got engaged after 4 years, you didn't see him too excited to add a baby in just yet. You hadn't even gotten married. Not to mention you just pushed that off the table.

You got your mind racing again, so you turned off the show and just sat quietly, succumbing to your thoughts. First, you guys needed to solve your problem before you tell him anything of the current events. Should you call him and tell him to come over? How were you gonna approach him?

Staying mad was off the table as soon as you saw the pregnancy results. You had to be mature for your new family. That meant pushing aside your anger and solving this prenup issue. Then you'd tell him about the baby. You just needed the chance.

And your chance had arrived when Chris pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel. Your icon was still at the location. He rushed to get out and inside, heading to the front desk.

"Hi! Is a Y/N Y/LN checked in here?" His fingers tap the counter in anticipation. The clerk is taken aback but checks the computer infront of him anyway.

"Uh, no sir there isn't anyone here by that name." The clerk shook his head and looked back up at him. Chris sighs and thinks. An idea comes to his head. It doesn't sound reasonable, but he had to at least try it.

"Okay um..how about a Y/N Evans?" The clerk looks back at the computer and types.

"Yes! There's a Y/N Evans in room 263 on the 3rd floor." Chris' heart leaped. You used his last name. After all that went down, you still went by his last name. He was gaining hope by the minute.

"She's my fianceé. Is there a way I could have a key to her room? It's super important" he begged.

"Well we're not allowed to give room keys out randomly. It's policy. But I could call up to confirm with Ms. Evans, if you'd like?" Chris accepted the offer, but not before correctly the clerk to calling you Mrs. Evans.

You jump slightly when you hear the phone ring. You stretch your arm and pick it up from the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs Evans! I have a-"

There was a pause before he continued,

"Mr. Evans down here at the lobby that wants to see you. Should I send him up?"

You swear in that exact moment all the saliva in your mouth dried up and your mouth was sealed shut. He had found you and and wanted to see you. But how? Anyways, you had to face him sooner or later. You freaking live together and you can't stay at that hotel forever.

"Mrs. Evans? Are you alright?" You snap out of your immobile state and clear your throat.

"Um..yes. You can send him up." You scold yourself for not putting up a bigger fight. But what for? It would only make shit worse than it already was.

"Alright ma'am. He'll be up shortly."

"Okay thank you." You quickly slam the phone on the receiver and let your body hit the mattress. Well, there's no turning back now.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but it couldn't have been long because you heard a knock at the door. You shoot up and stare at it.

Another knock.

"Y/N?"

You move your body towards the door taking a deep breath. You can do this Y/N. Get it together. This is Chris for goodness sake.

You turn the knob and pull the door back, Chris coming into view staring right back at you.

"Hi baby."

pls- this dramatic ass ending 😭 this was gonna be the last part, but dialogue/ just kept coming at me as I was writing 🥴.

tags:

@flattykawa1 @mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @fantasticinternetpizza @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @nicochantez @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @ppal3 @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @greatbatprofessordragon @dauntless2022 @f12sfm @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @rubyztimetobeme @marianas-studyblr @icycheerleader @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @jennmurawaski13 @kissme-hs @lvgllre @secretmysteriousperson @arabescapr

#cevans #chris evans #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #captain america #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

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sirenascales · 4 years ago

Text

-> double black [part two] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

A failed friend date turns into a day of fun and laughs with a rather odd coworker. [Dazai x 1stPOV!F!Reader]

3,274 words

Warning: suicide ideation (like, it's Dazai, c'mon now.)

note: I'm glad some of ya'll seemed to enjoy chuuya's chapter! I decided to just upload Dazai's and then we can move on to the story. Please enjoy! Tags in the replies.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"Keiko-- Keiko, it's two PM!" I said into the phone, sending an apologetic look to my coworkers. "And I'm at work. You can't be calling me, especially when you're drunk so early in the day."

"Uggghhhh, you're so mean!" I sighed softly at Keiko's response, the office phone on my desk beginning to ring.

"Keiko, I have to go now, I'm sorry! Call Taichi and tell him to bring you home."

"Wait-"

I ended the call, rubbing my eyebrows as I picked up the other phone. "Armed Detective Agency, how may I help you?"

It's been around three months since I've started working at the Agency, and I have to say, it was a pretty great job. It paid well, kept me on my toes with the many different cases we took on, and my coworkers were great... despite how weird they were.

"That's like the seventh time your friend called you this week," Ranpo spoke up from his desk, the man literally surrounded by snack wrappers.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyebrows. "I know, I'm sorry everyone. She's not usually like this... I know she likes to drink, but... never to this extent."

"Maybe there is something going on?" the cute Atsushi suggested and I frowned. "Maybe you can try to find out?"

"It wouldn’t be wise to just push yourself into someone's private life like that," Kunikida added and I nodded in agreement.

Of course I couldn't. Not with who her boyfriend was. I was her best friend, but even I knew not to step in. "Besides, she always says she's okay when I ask..." I said thoughtfully, too distracted to continue my work. I could believe her, right? Besides, she had Taichi. He loved her, and always made sure that she was protected and taken care of. He always made sure to be around her when he wasn't away, keeping her to his side at all times. I thought maybe he was being a bit too protective, but I also understood because of his... profession.

"Alright, alright, we have a schedule, people. Let's not get too distracted here," Kunikida exclaimed and I laughed softly. The only one with a schedule was the super punctual man himself, but I still went on to do my work.

"Speaking of work..." I started, unimpressed as I Iooked to the empty desk across the office. "Where the hell is Dazai?"

Atsushi just hung his head and sighed, Kunikida gritting his teeth at his desk. "I tried calling him but he wouldn't pick up," Atsushi sighed again and I huffed, standing up from my desk. "I'll take my 30 now. I'll be in the cafe and I'll try to get Dazai to bring his scrawny ass to work."

The Agency was on the fourth floor of the building while the cafe was down on the first, very convenient for me. I was lazy and the coffee and food was good. I dialed up Dazai's number as I descended the four flights of stairs, pressing my phone to my ear.

At the top of one flight, I stopped when I heard a familiar ring tone blare out, and when I looked down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw the man of the hour. His brown hair was wavy as ever, his signature tanned jacket looking immaculate. I watched as he just looked at his phone, watching it ring before he put his phone in his pocket.

I hated him. "So you were just gonna ignore me?!" I shouted down the stairs. Dazai whipped his head up, eyes going comically wide.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, practically running up the stairs right towards me. I gasped and back away quickly, back hitting the wall as Dazai caged me between his bandaged arms. His forehead pressed against mine and I will my face not to burn as he looked at me with those pretty brown eyes of his. "I missed you."

My heart skipped a beat, my mouth going dry. Still, I glared up at the man. "We just saw each other yesterday," I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the feeling of his soft breath against my face. I was thankful my voice didn't crack. "And you have plenty of paperwork to do still on your desk."

"Ehhh, I'm tired and I'm busy," Dazai nonchalantly waved that off, now standing away from me and waving his hand dismissively. "Got better things to do."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah? Like what?"

With that, Dazai took my hands in his, a hopeful look on his face. Here we go again. "Double suicide."

"No." I immediately declined him. "My answer is still the same as it was last week."

Dazai visibly deflated, covering his eyes dramatically. "Sweet death... she evades me yet again..."

"Yeah," I deadpanned, brushing past Dazai and heading down the stairs. "Anyway. I'm heading to the cafe to get something to eat."

"Oh!" Dazai exclaimed, hooking my arm with his as he quickly came up to my side. "I'll go with you!"

"You have work to do!" I yelled at him, trying to push him back up the stairs. "Go before Kunikida has an aneurysm."

"But I don't wanna!" Dazai whined, quickly turning the tables on me. Now he was behind me, his arms wrapped around me and pinning my arms to my chest. I felt his breath against my left ear and I shivered deeply. "I wanna spend time with you..." he whispered softly, his voice dropping. I bit my bottom lip, looking over at him over my shoulder. I shivered again, the usual brightness in his eyes gone. I've only seen that look on his face a handful of times, and it never failed to make me feel completely on edge. Like I was in danger.

I liked it.

"Ugh," I sneered, rolling my eyes and shaking myself out of his arms. "Fine, fine. I'll treat today, okay?"

"Yay!" Dazai's jovial nature returned as he followed me to the cafe. I shake my head at the strange duality of the man. We sat across from each other, the redheaded waitress named Lucy that obviously had a crush on Atsushi giving us some menus.

As I looked over the menu, I looked over at Dazai, the man humming as he mulled over his choices. I bit the inside of my cheek, just feeling that maybe there was more to Dazai than he let on.

The weekend soon arrived and I was in a bit of a sour mood. I was at the boardwalk, sitting on an empty bench after getting off the phone with Keiko. We were supposed to spend the day together, but she had called me thirty-minutes late, all of a sudden saying that she couldn't make it.

Her tone of voice worried me, she sounded rushed and breathless, totally unlike her. "I'm okay. I'm sorry for flaking out so suddenly," she said before she ended the call. I blinked at the screen, a bit put off by the entire thing. Just what was up with her?

Though I couldn't dwell on it, for there was a presence behind me. "Well, well, look what we have here," a teasing voice whispered into my ear before blowing into it. I shrieked, jumping off the bench before spinning around.

"Dazai!" I hissed at the laughing man standing on the other side of the bench. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Bet it got your heart pumping, huh," Dazai hummed happily, skipping around the bench and right over to me. "Bella, I missed you~" he hugged me tightly in his arms. I sighed deeply, half-heartedly wrapping my arms around him in return and giving him a pat on the back.

"We saw each other yesterday."

"Eighteen hours is too long, bella."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from the huge and giving Dazai a look. "You're so dramatic, dude," I say with a laugh, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, well I thought this would be a great place to think about how to commit suicide," Dazai began and I gave him another look. "But, I saw my bella looking so sad and lonely! I just had to rush to comfort her!"

Dazai hugged me again, squeezing me tight. I let out a struggling breath, writhing a bit in his hold. "You're killing me!"

"Oh! Let's commit do-"

"No, oh my God!"

I turned and stormed away from the suicidal man, shaking my head when I heard him call out for me. "Bella, wait!" He latched onto my arm, pressing his cheek against mine. "Tell me what's wrong. I am your trusted friend and coworker~"

"More like trusted pain in my ass," I mumbled before sighing, walking over to the boardwalk railing and staring out into the ocean. "It's Keiko. She was supposed to be with me today, but she just called and canceled..." I frowned deeply, eyebrows pinched in worry.

"What else did she say?" Dazai asked quietly, having gone serious once he saw the look in my face. "How did she seem?"

"Off..." I answered immediately before I looked over at my companion. "Or am I just imagining things? Yeah, I'm disappointed she flaked out but...." I hung my head. "I don't know..."

"Well, it could be nothing," Dazai suggested. "Or it could be something. There's no way for you to know."

I made a face at his vague ass answer before sighing again. "I can only trust her. She was the first friend I made when I moved to Japan, and I was excited to see her today. I've been having a rough time lately."

"Is something bothering you?" Dazai asked, and I shivered feeling his gaze on me.

"Eh... just depressed," I answered offhandedly. "Lonely. Normal sad girl shit, ya know."

That made Dazai snicker under his breath. "Yeah, I know. But luckily for you," Dazai started, arm draping around my shoulders and pulling me to him. "I'm here to save the day!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed before I wrapped my arm around his middle, letting him hold me against him. "You'll hang out with me today?"

Dazai grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

Time flew by so quickly, that I was surprised to look at my phone and see that it was damn near seven in the evening. Gaping, I looked up, seeing that the sky was slowly turning dark. "Holy crap, Dazai. Did we really spend the whole day out here?" I asked in shock, looking over at him. "What the hell did we do?!"

"What didn't we do," Dazai whined, slumping against me. "I'm tired... and you still wanna ride the stupid ferris wheel!"

"It's not stupid," I said with a pout. "Besides... we're already in line."

"Meh," Dazai grumbled, still keeping his body pressed against me as we waited in line. He was behind me, his chin pressed on my shoulder. I tried not to shiver as I felt his breath along my neck.

Soon enough, we were in our carriage and slowly riding up to the top. I took a few pictures as we did so, Dazai looking over in amazement.

"You think the drop from up here would kill me?"

"Yeah, and would scar everyone here."

"Oh yeah... can't have that."

I rolled my eyes, glancing over at him and pausing for a bit. Dazai was still looking out over Yokohama, an expression I've never seen before on his face. He almost looked... sad. Very handsome, his side profile absolutely perfect. But he still looked sad. I took a quick picture, smiling as I looked over it on my phone.

The carriage stopped and I couldn't help but grin as we just swayed softly up in the air. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Dazai. It would have sucked if I had spent it alone."

"Ahh, don't sweat it, bella. I couldn't possibly leave you out here alone," Dazai answered dramatically and I laughed and rolled my eyes.

I felt a vibration in my pocket and I grabbed my phone, smiling at the cute selfie that Keiko sent to me.

'I'm so sorry for bailing! I'll make it up to you, I promise! ❤ mwuah'

"Is that Keiko?" Dazai asked and I nodded, sending her a quick reply.

"Yeah. She seems to be doing okay," I said, feeling a bit relieved.

"That's great!" Dazai exclaimed, getting up from his spot and carefully making his way to sit beside me, much to my horror.

"Dazai! We're not supposed to move around!"

"We're fine!" he waved me off dismissively. "Now you can stop worrying about Keiko and focus on what's important. Me."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You?"

Dazai hummed. "Yes, me. And how I'm taking you home tonight."

My jaw drops, face heating up at his words. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Dazai answered, his voice dropping a bit as his gaze and entire mood changed. His gaze was darker now, his lips curled up in an almost dangerous smirk. "I think it's time we stop tiptoeing around each other and just take what we really want."

My mouth went dry and I quickly became flustered, turning my head away. Immediately, a hand is grabbing my face, Dazai digging his fingers into my cheeks as he forces me to look back at him.

"Nuh uh, you look at me when I'm speaking."

His authoritative tone makes me freeze, heart pounding in my chest as I stared at Dazai, completely bewildered. I knew there was something more about him than he had let on, and whatever it was, had me in fight or flight mode.

"Now, when we're done here, we're gonna leave and head back to my place, okay?" he asked me, but his tone made it seem like it wasn't a request, and it sure as hell didn't match the seemingly innocent smile on his face; not when it didn't reach his eyes.

I nodded, Dazai removing his hand from my face. His smile sent shivers down my spine.

"Good."

"Mmn... fuck, Dazai..." I moaned and gasped softly, the man on top of me littering my neck with angry red and purple marks, two of his fingers working inside my pussy. I was completely naked on his bed, Dazai only in his underwear-- and his bandages still wrapped around his arms and chest.

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Dazai whispered against my neck, curling his fingers and smirking when I cried out. "Call me Osamu. Don't make me tell you again."

I frantically nodded my head, crying out again as he sped up the pace of his fingers, his mouth moving down to my chest. "F-fuck, Osamu!"

"That's it," he whispered, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth. My fingers curled into his soft brown hair, head tilting back and eyes screwing shut as Dazai continued to pleasure my body.

It wasn't long until he pushed his hard cock into my wet pussy, the both of us groaning at the feeling of us finally connecting. I was on my knees and elbows, pillow placed under my hips. Dazai started out slowly, biting his lip as he watched his dick disappear inside of me.

"Fuck... I'm gonna burn this sight into my memory," Dazai groaned, making me whine as I shook my head.

"D-don't stare like that..."

Dazai chuckled softly, his hands grabbing my hips as he started to move faster, thrusting harder. I moaned and whined, it seemed to be the only thing I could do while Dazai fucked the shit outta me. "Osamu... please..."

My whining made the man above me grin widely, his thrusts becoming rougher, almost wild as he suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful off my hair. I yelped when he yanked me up, my back now pressed against his chest and his other hand wrapped around my throat.

"What is it, bella?" he hissed into my ear, pounding away at my pussy and making me cry out again. God, it was too much all at once. "What does my pretty little subordinate want?"

I whined. "I want to cum... please Osamu..."

He cackled, pushing me back on the bed, grabbing my hips so hard, I knew I was gonna bruise. "Cum then," he hissed down at me, pushing my face into the mattress. He fucked me relentlessly, fingers finding my clit and rubbing harsh circles. That made my vision go white, my scream muffled as I came hard, body going rigid as pleasure overtook my body.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Dazai grunted. He pulled out, ignoring my whines as he stepped off the bed. "Get on your back."

I barely rolled over halfway until there was a strong grip on my ankle, my body being pulled down the length of the bed. Dazai stood at the end, wasting no time in pushing my legs back by the back of my knees, and plunging his cock back into me.

I looked up at him through teary eyes, and I knew I should have been afraid of the mad look that was in his eyes, the way his lips were curled up in a snarl. But it just made my pussy clench around him in arousal, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I came a second time as he did his first, and much to my ultimate pleasure, we weren't finished there. We pleasured each other through the night, until we wore each other out and fell asleep entangled in the sheets.

I woke up the next morning, groaning in pain as I felt my body ache. I forced myself to sit up, looking around blearily and humming softly when I found Dazai sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back to me.

"Good morning," he sang to me and I giggled softly, carefully moving to kneel behind him. The blankets fell from around me and I pressed my bare chest against his back. "Hm, that's nice."

"Morning," I said softly, peeking over his shoulder. "What are you do-"

I stop, staring as Dazai wrapped seemingly clean bandages on his heavily scarred left arm. I swallowed thickly, my mind running at what could have possibly been the cause of those scars.

But deep down, I knew that the cause was Dazai himself.

"Do... Do you have enough?" I asked softly, not knowing what else to even say. I didn't want to pry or seem insensitive, just having to get over this metaphorical punch in the gut myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Dazai answered, turning to face me with a cheery smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, I was flat on my back, Dazai on top of me with his lips pressed against mine. It was easy for him to make me forget about what I saw, his kisses stealing my breath away.

"I have to go," he said softly, pushing himself off me after a moment.

I nodded solemnly, watching him continue to get dressed. "Alright. See you at work tomorrow?"

He smirked at me. "You know the answer to that."

I rolled my eyes again, just as my phone started to ring. I grabbed it, sending Dazai a quick smile before answering the call.

"Hey Keiko, guess who got fucking laid." That made Dazai snort while I grinned, though my grin fell as I didn't hear Keiko go off like I thought she would. "Keiko?" I shared a look with Dazai.

"Hey... I need you. Can I come over?"

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yeehaw #chuuya smut #yeah lmao goodnight

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

101 notes · View notes

cosmicbash · 4 years ago

Note

Would you maybe write something about a scenario where Em and Colson are hate fucking and Em never spends the night, but on a particular occasion, Colson is super sad/stressed and (while trying desperately to hide it) starts crying from the idea of Em leaving, so he stays and is really sweet? (Also, sorry if I went this twice–my computer's being really weird and I can't tell if it did it already!)

This isn't perfect but!! Everybody is on an angst kick and I wanted to join in so I'm using this ask 😤😤

They aren't dating.

Marshall's cock is drilling in and out of Colson's ass but that doesn't mean they're together.

It wasn't supposed to escalate to this. He's not supposed to be manhandling a stupidly long leg up in the air or swatting away the other man's helpful hands while he switches their position for the 3rd time. Hips never stopping their rapid punching forward to draw out more and more curses.

Paul wanted them to mend their beef. Come to a mutual ground of disdain at the minimum. Not bash heads together so many times over their short meeting they end up in bed together instead. Teeth and fists completely changing their plan of attack.

"F-fuck! Right there-" Marshall's definitely not supposed to be watching this annoying twink throw his long neck back and whine. Colorful arms stretching up above him to uselessly grapple onto the pillow behind his own head. "Please!"

This wasn't supposed to be the 10th or 12th time they did this.

"Shut up-" his voice is scratchy when it should be calm. "The whole floor is gonna hear you-" Paul thinks they're here mending bridges and discussing a feature.

"Then fuck me right-" Colson's voice is just as rough sounding. Marshall hates that he knows the difference between the twink's usual tone and this ruined one. How it will only get this way after he's forced his cock down the brat's throat one too many times in their foreplay. "L-learn- ah- where to stick it without directions dude!"

"Shut up." He's bruising Colson's thighs now. The dark red indents from his fingers are going to turn purple by the morning. Not that he's ever seen them do it in person at least, but the blonde never fails to send a picture over text every morning after. "Maybe if you tightened your pussy up we'd both have more fun."

Colson's chest is arching from his harder thrusts now. Voice climbing a little higher almost mockingly with each moan as he slams to the hilt.

Marshall wants to kiss him. Smother that annoyingly pretty mouth with his lips but it's not possible. Not in this position where the other man's unnecessarily large stature puts him so out of reach.

That's a good thing though, because they really don't need to be kissing. A few heated pecks here and there to get the blood pumping is one thing, making out while he fucks the blonde speechless almost feels too intimate to consider.

Theres no space for that in these brief hook ups from hotel room to hotel room, not when they still hate eachother too much for any of the burning heat they have between them to simmer down into a comfortable warmth.

"Stupid whore." His lips are pulling back in almost a snarl this time when he forces Colson over onto his stomach instead. Cock slipping free and almost losing the condom he's got slipped over it from just how quickly he pulls out. Like Colson's hole is challenging his accusation of looseness. "Fuck-" he just wants to smother the brats face down into the pillows. He tells himself his anger isn't from not being able to reach.

An impatient yank and the condoms tearing. Leaving Marshall all but ready to go put his clothes back on and storm out. There's a nasty swirl of emotions going on inside his stomach that he really doesn't want to risk bursting while they find and put on a replacement.

"W-what're you waiting for?" Colson's back is arching, and that pale mop he calls hair is lifting up to look back. So needy he can't even pause for one minute.

"Fucking condom broke- just, shit, just give me a minute-" Marshall doesn't even know where to look, not with all the blood pooling in his cock and his focus begging to be set on his rivals waiting body.

Colson put the thing on him, he can remember that much, one of those prissy little manicured nails probably scratching the elastic as he did it. He's sure he must have one in his wallet but that's across the room in his sweats, by the bathroom door. Where Colson's impatience about even waiting to let him finish his piss and get undressed had left him falling back into the door.

If he has to walk all the way over there to get it he might as well just go home.

"Forget it. I'm done." They shouldn't be fucking like this anyway. It's a major mistake.

"What?" Colson's fingers curling around his wrist is a new sensation. The wide look to his half hidden eyes punching something deep within Marshall's stomach. "We haven't even come yet-" there's a hint of hysteria in the blonde's tone and smile. "If it's because of what I said then- t-then I'll bite the fucking pillow or something alright? Don't be so dramatic dude-"

"I don't have another condom-" It's a weak excuse, they both know Colson evidently has some somewhere in the room of his own. But Marshall needs to take this brief chance to get out now before he loses it. The longer Colson stares at him the more nauseous that feeling bubbling up has him.

"...Forget it then-" the blonde's finally looking away, almost convincing Marshall that he's also second guessing this sex. But those long delicate fingers are still clutching onto his wrist and there's a palpable silence cutting through the air so thick he feels like he might choke before Colson's baby blues are meeting his head on once again. The shimmer of anxiety impossible to hide between long bangs. "Just do it raw. I-I'm clean and I- you- fuck," there's shame mixing in the look now, the grip the blonde has doubling down when Marshall reflexively tries to pull back. "Don't…."

Go. Don't go. Colson isn't saying it but Marshall can hear the word clear as day between them.

It's about the sex. He isn't satisifed yet. If Colson had cum already the bastard wouldn't be hesitating to kick him out. That's what Marshall's mind screams to reassure himself but there's still a hollow place in his stomach where he feels gutted by the look.

"...f-Fine." He tries to justify staying by remembering how annoying and painful blueballs can be. "But don't fucking text me tomorrow whining how my jizz is still leaking out of your ass."

His free hand settling back down on Colson's hip finally snaps whatever weird fog has blanketed the room. A forced sounding snicker muffling itself against the pillows while Colson's legs readjust to raise his ass. "If you can even get back inside without nutting old man-"

This kind of banter is more comfortable.

"Keep talking, I'm gonna fuck you until you're crying for me to finally finish."

"You wish." Colson's voice is still muffled but the slight challenging swing of his hips says more than enough.

Marshall's fingers instantly find their previous spot, each digit mirroring the small red dots on the opposite side of the younger rapper's skin.

The lubes still nearby on the bed luckily, allowing him to be quick as he reslicks his achingly hard cock and squirts an extra dollop directly on his partner's hole for good measure. As much as he loves hurting the punk doing so in this way would only cause them both more trouble.

"F-fuck-" Of course Colson's as tight as a vice when he finally tries to push inside. The tight ring of muscle rejecting his entry just as vehemently as he's sure the boy's heart would. They can't do anything pain free, like the world is punishing them for continuing their facade. "Relax-"

"Thought you said I was too loose?" Marshall can practically hear that smug little smirk Colson's sporting.

Defiantly his hips jerk forward a bit harder, until the blonde actually does cry out and his legs spread the tiniest bit wider. The tight clench Colson has evidently been giving his hole relaxing instantly to let him breach. A string of curses and clawing hands keeping Marshall from fully basking in the incomparable tight heat slowly engulfing his cock.

Even with a pillow clutched close against his face Colson is loud. Each noise climbing alongside his pace as he starts properly fucking his rival yet again. Until they're almost back up at full throttle and Colson's mesmerizing back is arching, a large hand jerking up to plant itself flat against the headboard. "Fuck, fuck, please, just like that Marsh, god- baby d-don't stop-"

The slip of a nickname doesn't escape Marshall's notice, he's just too focused on chasing down his own pleasure to properly care. Once they're done he'll mention it. Or maybe even just wait until tomorrow to text the brat a reminder, but for right now he keeps pumping his hips. Heart warming uncontrollably at the mere joke of being someone Colson can call baby.

Reflexively his palm claps down hard on the other man's ass, too sharply and sudden to do anything but sting. "Ah, f-fuck!" He's taking his anger at his own feelings out on Colson and it's not fair but he can't help himself.

The red imprint of his hand glares back in his vision long after a kinky smack should have faded and just the sight of it sticking around gets Marshall's pace growing a little erratic. He wants to tear the blonde apart, shred every bit of his being to pieces and then sew it all back together to see the taint his touch has created visualized as hundreds of scars. He wants to sully the blinding beauty he sees everytime they meet and everytime he glimpses back at the bed before he leaves. Just ruin Colson completely so that there's no other choice but him in the whole world for the blonde to turn to.

But he's not falling in love.

That would mean he's stupid enough to fall for someone who could never settle for him. That he's actively continuing to come back and push the bar with every hookup just to see when enough is enough and he'll finally be left on the otherside of the hotel room door. Or the one waking up alone in bed the morning after.

Marshall wouldn't.

"S-shit wait- I-" Colson's hips are stuttering back to meet his, the hand he's still got hugging the pillow abandoning it in favor of stuffing down between his legs. It's obvious the blonde's close. Marshall can feel it in the tight grip around his cock and hear it in that shaky voice. It's not until he doubles down to fuck the younger rapper hard enough to knock his slender body inch by inch further up the bed that Marshall realizes he's trying to hold out. "N-not yet, ah, fuck, s-slow down-"

"No-" he's close himself, chest heaving and balls tightening as it is. There's no way he's letting Colson try to change the pace now. "Save, fuck, save that edging shit for after I leave-" he's lashing out for control again but can't stop himself.

This time instead of pinching pale skin Marshall slides his fingers up into sweaty blonde hair. Yanking back until he's got the man's back arched perfectly and his mouth can seal in a bite to one pointy shoulderblade. Fingers snaking around to hold Colson up there by his throat. "Fucking take it like a good whore and come Kelly."

In this position he feels unbelievably deeper and there's nothing to block out the blonde's gasps and cries.

Nails scratch quickly along his thigh but Marshall ignores them to keep rolling his hips. The need to make Colson finish first fueling his free hand to climb up to knock away the punks own. Quickly jerking up and down over the soaked cock the other man was trying so hard to squeeze and restrict.

"N-no, no, fuck, Marshall-" a hand's curling around the back of his head to pull him close despite Colson's protests. Every atom in the other males body seeming to reach out and beg and plead for him to come closer, to fuck him harder until they split through the magnetic field and combine into one. Marshall wants to kiss him again. Hates how he can't even see the brats mouth over his shoulder from his current position. His fingers fly faster and hips roll up firmer in retaliation. "F-fuck-"

There's a wet sob breaking the moans in the air, piercing straight through his chest like a bullet while Colson's hips stutter back and hot release paints across his fingers. Sending him right over the edge himself. Body forcing them both forward so he can hump and grind his pelvis against Colson's ass down to the bone while he pumps and fills the twink up with his own release. The hands around his neck and cock turning into strong arms around the blonde's chest and waist like a hug.

It's the closest thing to a cuddle Marshall will allow himself. That he can't actually prevent his orgasming body from resisting.

There's so much comfort and begging from his body to stay like that, for Colson to never leave him in those moments that the rapper can't help but tear up a little himself.

But just as quickly as its come sensibility returns and with it the guilt and shame. Scaring his arms free and his body away from Colson's usually still trembling form.

"Wait-" fingers are grabbing his wrist again, weaker this time.

Marshall's still buried to the hilt, even though his chest has unstuck itself from Colson's museum print of a back tatt. Sorry is dancing on the tip of his tongue. Like it always does. Always too graceful to ever trip up and spit out though before he finally leaves.

"A-again." Colson's face is still buried in the pillow, eyes and nose planted firmly down while his chins pulled up.

"What?" A second round isn't completely crazy for them, sometimes when the anger is hot enough its even necessary but not tonight. Marshall shouldn't even be humoring the request, not with how fragile his emotions feel, but Colson's hand refuses to let go.

"Fuck me. Please. Just-" Now with his head clearing the rapper can finally notice how Colson's shoulders are turning inwards, how the tone of his voice carries a shake. "Do whatever. I-I dont care. Just don't- fuck, d-don't-"

Go.

Leave. He has to leave.

"Colson?" The name feels strange in Marshall's mouth from all the "kelly"'s "brats" and other derogatory words he usually uses in it's place.

Wet baby blues peering back all but pin him in place whether he wants to leave or not. Their message clear.

"Please." A single word and it's as effective as a sledgehammer around his heart.

"I-" Can't. Shouldn't. "I'm not hard anymore."

On a normal night that kind of obvious embarrassed blurt of an answer would get the kid smiling, one of those rare soft warm looks where his crows feet and gums showed, that scorched Marshall's skin from how brightly it radiated affection. Each chuckle or snort following just another stone slamming hard against his heart.

Tonight Colson doesn't smile. Instead of crinkling at the corner to flash the only hint at Colson's slow aging those lashes drop just low enough to bubble up the small collection of tears already present. His pretty but thin lips quivering up and down to fight back a frown.

A year ago this exact look was the center of so many fantasies. He had wanted nothing more than to see the blonde crumble and break apart in front of him like a pathetic mess.

Right now instead of satisfaction all Marshall's body feels is hollow. Like his heart has finally abandoned his chest and surrendered itself to the hopefully quick acting acids of his stomach. The rapper doesn't think he can possibly feel worse but then Colson's arching his body away from him. Slipping his soft cock free of that lingering tight heat and stealing away any trace of faux comfort he feels with every centimeter of separating skin.

"I'll take care of it-" Colson's voice is hoarse, like hes fighting down the threat of a sob while his body twists onto its side. The sluggish lift of a hand back towards his cock piercing through him like a killing blow.

"No." Now his throat feels tight too. Shame and guilt pouring down his spine at the thought of Colson pushing through his obvious pain and turmoil to jerk his cock back to life just so he stays a few moments longer.

"Please-" Baby blue eyes are shining at Marshall again. The fast slip of a tear down one flushed cheek only making his fingers dig harder into younger male's wrist. "Marshall-"

He can't do this.

"No-"

"Yes!" Colson's scream pierces the silence so suddenly he thinks his wars might be ringing. But the pure desperation painted in angry eyes keeps Marshall's own from flinching all the way closed. "I'll fucking find you viagra or- or suck your dick until my jaws sore-" now Colson's own fingers are cutting back, prying at the preventative grip he's got on the blonde's hand like a caged animal might. "I don't care what- just- you- you aren't- you can't-"

It hurts, and with the way Colson's legs are twitching beneath him Marshall knows a kick or knee to his gut might come next. None of it compares to how badly his throat tears when he speaks though. "I'm not fucking you!" Somehow he manages to put every ounce of finality in his voice that he intends. Freezing Colson's grappling and rambling in an instant.

The ensuing silence feels deafening.

Colson's still staring at him. Pain and anger warring across his face in small twitches and ticks. Marshall's mouth just repeats itself. Quieter this time. The heave if his lungs breaking up his words in tight exhales. "I'm not….I….I'm not going to fuck you."

There's a million more words tangling on his tongue. The order jumbling and backing them up like a traffic jam until he feels like he can't even breathe anymore.

I want to stay. I'm sorry. Dont do this to yourself. Please. Don't cry. Colson-

"I'm sorry." Colson cracks first. Expression screwing up and the floodgates behind his eyes opening as he sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry Marshall-"

This time he doesn't resist that ache to kiss the blonde.

It's messy and Colson's mouth tastes like snot and tears already but Marshall presses closer anywhere. Cradling the younger rapper's skull with his free hand so tightly he knows he has to be pulling out hair. The wrist he'd snatched pinned between their bodies in a way that makes his own ache. But he ignores all of that and kisses Colson harder. Smacking their lips and teeth against one another in hopes the words trapped in his throat might pour their way out and into Colson's. Down the blonde's own throat to reach his heart.

He kisses Colson until he can't physically do it any longer. The sharp sting of oxygen deprivation jolting through his brain and colored spots dancing behind his closed eyes before their lips finally part.

Marshall wants to press so close he sinks down into Colson's bones. Join in with his marrow and spend the rest of his life repairing every broken piece of the beautiful man's soul from the inside out.

That's not possible though so he settles for pulling Colson close. Enveloping him in his arms the same way he wishes he had a dozen times over. Stabilizing him through every shuddering sob and heartbreaking tremble.

He's not falling in love.

"I got you."

He'd already crash landed there long ago.

#emgk #asks #i love asks #im so fucking stuck with writers block #hopefully posting this helps

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Love

One-Shot

Description: Asexual!Bucky thinks he is broken beyond repair, until you show him that he has been complete all this while.

Warnings: Angst, bad language, mention of sex toys, romance and fluff

@jtargaryen18 organised a writing challenge for reaching 4k followers and of course I have to participate multiple times! 😍 I am sorry this entry is a little late 🙈

My Main Masterlist

A/N: This is the first time I am writing an asexual character. Whatever I have written is based upon my knowledge that I have gathered by reading various articles and posts on asexuality. The reason I am writing this is because I want to have an equal amount of straight and LGBTQ+ stories in my masterlist, so that there's something for everyone to enjoy. Hence, if you are an asexual person or know someone who is, and you realise that anything in my story is incorrectly represented, then please let me know. I will immediately correct it, issue an apology and accept my mistake publicly.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

"I cannot fucking believe this!" Karen shouted, "What are you like gay or something?"

Bucky winced at her venomous words. "You need to leave," he said in a quiet, respectful tone.

"Like hell I am going to leave. I want answers!" she placed her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. "What is it? Am I not sexy enough for you? Are you not attracted by this?!" she gestured towards the skimpy lingerie currently hugging her body.

Bucky met her eyes as he responded, "I do not want to have sex with you."

She huffed, clearly not convinced, "Why not? We have been going out for what, 3 months now? And you still don't want to have sex with me? What is the issue here? Is it-" she paused suddenly, her eyes traveling down his torso to his crotch, "You can't get it up can you?" she sneered.

Bucky shook his head, too exhausted to deal with her, "Karen, it's nothing like that. I just do not want to get physical with you. That's all."

"Oh! Ooooohh!" she bent backwards a bit, "So it was fine to hug me, cuddle with me and hold my hands. But when it comes to sex, you suddenly become a pious celibate saint! What the fuck Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, and handed Karen back her coat, "We are done. Please leave."

She laughed dryly, "Oh abso-fucking-lutely we are done. You know what I think?" she asked while wearing the coat, "I think that you are too old grandpa and that your tiny ass tortured gay dick cannot salute on its own. Because no man in his right mind would deny this," she again pointed to herself. "Super-soldier my ass," she muttered as she left.

The door to his apartment closed with a loud bang, leaving an echo in its wake. Bucky stood still, rooted to his spot. If it were not for the silent tears rolling down his cheeks, anybody could have mistaken him for a statue.

Slowly, he sat on the floor, his gentle sobs rocking his body as he hugged his knees.

Decades of torture by the hands of Hydra had left him crippled, physically, mentally and emotionally. When he had been saved by Steve, he had started to piece his life back together, bit by bit. Things such as books, movies, music became tiny jigsaw pieces that slowly filled the void in his life.

After the final galactic battle with Thanos, Bucky had been officially initiated to the Avengers team, or rather what was left of it. The team soon became an extended family, a family that Bucky was still getting used to. It was especially irksome when Sam and Scott decided to set him up on a date with Karen from Research & Development (R&D), despite his protests.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't desire a relationship. He wanted to be close to someone, experience romance, feel their heartbeat in a close embrace and place light kisses on their forehead.

But he didn't want to have sex.

At first, he thought he might not have met the right woman. So he searched for porn online, which did little to sway his feelings. He put the issue on a backburner, the safety of the people and the urgency of his missions steering the wheel of his life for a while.

But when Sam and Scott proudly announced their grand plans for Bucky's date, he remembered his "issue" again. He looked at Karen closely whenever they went on dates together. She looked perfect. Beautiful hair, soft glowing skin, curves in all the right places, all packed in a graceful, slender body.

Bucky liked being close to her, but he was still not getting aroused. Hence, he stopped her advancements everytime she tried to get physical. Karen tolerated it for a while, before her patience wore out tonight.

As the sun rose in the sky, Bucky was still seated on the floor, his cheeks now stained with tears that had stopped sometime in the night, though a sniff escaped from him every few minutes. He looked at the sunlight pouring in from the window, broken by the window-panes, landing at his feet in two rays with a comforting warmth. It was in that moment that Bucky realised, Hydra had truly broken him.

🏳️‍🌈

"We have various types of dildos available. There's The Classic, Textured, Long and Thin, Short and Thick, Vibrators, Transparent Plexiglass Dildos, Strap-Ons, G-Spot Dildos, Double-Ended, Squirting Dildos and ones that also come with a suction grip. Are you looking for yourself or are you looking for something to enjoy with your partner?" the helpful saleswoman asked you.

You stroked your chin in thought, "It's only for me. I already have a vibrator that I bought about a year back. The G-Spot ones have never really worked for me. I am looking to try something new. What is the suction grip one?"

The attendant handed you the dildo and showed you the suction grip at the end of it, "You can use this to place and stick it on any flat surface you want, whether it's the floor or the wall or the side of your desk. It guarantees a completely hands-free pleasurable experience."

You stuck it on the wall besides the showcase to test the theory. It worked. "Neat! I will take this one," you smiled as the attendant went to fetch a fresh piece.

You paid for your new sex toy and walked back to the Avengers compound with your small white shopping bag in tow.

When you reached your desk, you heard Karen bitching as usual about something to Jessica. At first, you blocked them out like you did almost everyday, but then a name in their conversation caught your attention.

"He's the Winter Soldier alright. He's completely frozen down there," Karen whispered loudly with disgust.

"Even that red sexy lingerie didn't do anything for him?" Jessica gasped dramatically.

"No!"

"That's crazy! That hot-red piece will convert even the most gayest of the guys! And it didn't do anything for him? Wow," Jessica responded.

Karen added, "You know something? I have always thought he was extremely weird. Like, dude, I know you were tortured by Hydra or whatever, but get over it man! It's been years since he was free. He should enjoy life and stop being such a wimp. I am 100% sure he is impotent."

"You know I was digging into him the other night," Jessica said in a hushed whisper, "and I saw a message board online which suggested that his penis has been completely cut by Hydra. This person knows all such secrets about these alleged superheros. You should follow him."

"What is his username?"

"Proud-Flat-Earther-MotherFuckers. Wait, I will send you the link," Jessica offered.

Having heard enough of their nonsense, you made your way towards the HR department. Maybe both Karen and Jessica had forgotten, but talking about the personal lives of Avengers was strictly against the rules and was considered as reason enough to fire employees.

You filed a complaint with the HR and within a few hours, both the women were fired on the spot. You savored the moment with relish, as their faces turned aghast at the realisation that their actions had consequences. You went up to them, watching the pair clean their desks, with unabashed glee.

"You know something Karen?" you asked her, "Just because a man refuses to have sex, it didn't mean that he's a wimp, or gay or an impotent. But if you do choose to think of him that way, then it surely makes you a sexiest and a homophobic person."

Karen looked at you furiously, "You bitch! I lost my job because you went and blabbed in front of the HR!"

You chuckled at her outburst, "Oh my dearest Karen. Yes I did go and rat you out to the HR. But that's not what got the two of you fired."

"Then what did?" Jessica asked as she joined the conversation.

You folded your hands for effect, "Your hateful comments and toxic views cost you your jobs. People like you think that just by using the latest iPhone or following the latest trends, you are a modern, 21st century person. But in reality, it is your open mindset which makes you a member of the modern society. If you would open your mind just as much as you open your legs, trust me, the two of you will be much better off."

You turned to leave, but stopped yourself, "Just a suggestion. Stop using words like gay and impotent as insults. It will help you retain your next job for a longer time." You winked at their speechless faces, and happily returned to your desk.

Your job in R&D was taxing and so, you always found yourself working late. Today was no exception either. As you left your office at around 8pm, you saw Bucky heading towards the elevator which led to his apartment. You always had a soft spot for the brunette super-soldier. For starters, you couldn't even begin to comprehend the tortures he must have endured in his past. And the fact that he was trying to piece his life back together again? It was truly commendable.

He always kept to himself, his eyes downcast and his body language unsure. And after what you had heard today, you felt even more sorry for the guy. Turning towards the cafeteria, you picked up a box of vanilla-strawberry French macarons for him, thanking the heavens above for the free food available at the Avengers compound. You held the white bag with macarons in your left hand, being mindful of not confusing it with the similar white bag in your right which contained your new sex toy.

A few moments later, you found yourself in front of his apartment. You had visited him twice before to adjust his vibranium arm or to sort out a few tweaks, but never before had you visited him so late in the evening.

You knocked, feeling a little hesitant as you did so. He was surprised to find you standing on the opposite of the door, however, he still greeted you courteously nonetheless.

Before you could state your reason for the visit, he said sincerely, "I heard what you did today. Thank you. I really appreciated it."

Now it was your turn to be surprised, "Oh. Ummm. It's okay really Mr Barnes. It was nothing. You don't need to-"

"No. It wasn't just nothing. You could have turned a deaf ear and ignored them. Yet you chose to stand-up for me. Thank you," a small smile laced his face and you melted on the spot.

You had a crush on Bucky. A BIG one. Could anyone blame you? This guy was a hot, sexy mess of an ice-cream sundae that left you hungry for more even on the coldest nights of the year.

You realised you were staring into his steel-blue eyes like a creep, and immediately cleared your throat. "What-what they did was wrong. Karen had no right to demean you for your desires or lack of them. I-," you sighed, "I am sorry for what she said. It was disrespectful and hurtful. So I brought you something that I hope will cheer you up."

You awkwardly raised your right hand, "I got you some vanilla-strawberry macarons from the cafeteria."

Bucky did cheer up a bit at the mention of his favourite food. He eagerly took the bag with a huge smile, "Thank you," he said once again as you shook your head. "Thank you for everything you do to keep us safe Mr Barnes. I must be on my way now. Goodnight," and with that you left, grinning like an idiot.

🏳️‍🌈

You took a bath, ate your dinner and slipped into comfortable pyjamas. Excited to try your new sex toy tonight, you unpacked the bag expecting to see the nondescript box of the dildo. Instead, 5 delicious macarons stared back at you with innocence.

You stumbled backwards in shock, the impact of your action settling like a dull, heavy weight in your stomach. "Oh no no no no," you whispered, horrified.

You immediately rushed to your window and pulled aside the curtain to look at Bucky's building, as if expecting to see him staring daggers at you. One of the privileges of working with the Avengers? You got to stay in a nice apartment within the compound itself. Your residential complex was a little further away from the main building, covered easily by 15 minutes of walking.

Feeling hyper, you frantically searched for a coat and almost ran out of your house. You rushed back in to keep the box in the bag and again, dashed towards the elevator.

Hoping that Bucky would have yet to open the box, you sent a silent prayer to all the gods and goddesses in the skies above, even Thor. Meh, you never know when an ex-Avenger could be of help.

You sprinted towards the other building, a multitude of thoughts clouding your mind- What if he was offended by it? Would he file a complaint against me? It would be sorta ironic if I was fired for this! Shit he would think my apology was false and I am probably mocking him.

You reached his apartment, a panting, huffing mess of a person. You knocked frantically, his door shaking with force at your desperation. However, you jumped as Bucky whispered your name from behind you, "Are you okay? What's going on?" he asked with concern as you turned around to face him.

"Did-did you op-open the bo-ox?" you questioned him while panting like a dog.

He furrowed his brows in response, "No I was planning to open it in a few minutes. Please tell me what's going on. Why do you look so scared?"

You bent over double, your stomach cramping thanks to your impromptu running, "Thi-this is your bag," you held up the package, "That ba-bag is mine."

"Okay," Bucky said slowly, still unsure of your behaviour, "Should I open the door to retrieve your bag?"

You nodded as he stepped aside, "Why are you not wearing any shoes?"

You looked down at your feet at his query, small blades of grass had stuck to your naked feet along with dirt. "I was in a hur-hurry to get to you," you managed to say between your breaths.

Bucky just nodded in response. It was then that you noticed the pack of paper tissues in his hand. He opened the door and stepped inside, beckoning you to follow him. He pointed to the white bag kept on the table while he looked at it with worry. "Will it explode?" he solicited.

"Uhh no," you replied awkwardly.

"Is it dangerous?" curiosity etched on Bucky's face as you swapped the bags.

"No, it's nothing like that," you looked down at your feet, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks with embarrassment.

He narrowed his eyes, "Then what is it?"

"I can't tell you," you quietly admitted, "but here are your macarons. I am really sorry for this. Didn't mean to disturb you from whatever you had planned," you pointed to the box of tissues still in his hand.

Bucky noticed the underlying question in your statement, "I was about to watch a movie. So needed these to clear the mess."

Your eyes went wide at his sincerity. While you had a crush on him, you definitely did not want to know about Bucky's late night masturbation adventures. Shaking your head, you raised your hands and started walking backwards, "I am sorry I disturbed your nightly… activities. I get out of your hair."

"Actually, would you like to join me for the movie?" Bucky asked hopefully, "We have the macarons and you seem like you need to calm your nerves."

You were surprised for the third time that day. Did Bucky just ask you to masturbate with him? Or have sex while eating the macarons? Or did he want to eat them after you guys have had sex? A flurry of questions swirled in your mind as you stared at him with a slightly open mouth.

Bucky interpreted your gaze and stumbled to clarify himself, "As friends! Would you like to watch a movie with me as a friend?"

You slowly nodded your affirmation, "Yeah okay. Which movie are we watching?"

"The Notebook," he revealed with a smile, "It's an extremely emotional movie. Ummm what's the term? Tear-jerker? Uhh yeah, it's a real tear-jerker of a movie."

"Oh so that's why…" you pointed at the tissues. "Yeah," he confirmed, "I tend to cry a lot while watching that movie. And… ummm… I am the kind of person who cries ugly. You know, all tears and snot. So yeah… I need the whole box."

"That's… that's actually sweet," you smiled, "Trust me you are not alone. I start crying as soon as the titles appear on the screen."

He got excited at your confession, "Yes! Exactly! It's because you know what's going to come and you are just mentally preparing yourself."

You chuckled with him in affirmation as he led you further into his apartment.

You freshened up a bit in his washroom, making sure to clean your feet and the residue on your face from the sweat.

Bucky was standing besides your bag when you entered the living room, "Now that we are friends," he intoned, "will you please tell me what's inside of this?"

You sighed, "Mr Barnes-."

"Bucky," he corrected you and you smiled.

"Will you promise me you will not take any offense or be insulted by it? I really did not mean to swap the bags."

"I trust you," Bucky said with assurance.

"It's…it is a sex toy," you mumbled quietly. Any normal human wouldn't have heard you, but Bucky's enhanced hearing caught your words flawlessly.

He took a moment to process your words, and finally, to your amazement, burst out laughing.

You sheepishly smiled at his reaction as your heart felt a little lighter. "That is embarrassing," he agreed with a wide grin.

The two of you settled on the couch as Bucky's chuckles lessened. He kept the box of macarons between you two, but hesitated to begin the movie.

You sensed his curiosity, and clarified, "I haven't been in a relationship in a very long time. It's been… 2 years I guess… since my last breakup." You took a deep breath, "And my job doesn't exactly leave a lot of time on my hands for dating or one-night-stands."

Bucky seemed to consider your words for what felt like a long time. Finally, he asked quietly, "What does it feel like? To… to want another person… sexually?"

You blinked your eyes, thinking you must have misheard him. But then, his gaze met yours, and you knew his question was sincere.

"It feels like…," you raked your mind in search for the appropriate words, "...like your entire body is on fire, and you need the touch of the other person to quench your thirst. Like, just for a few moments, you want to shut your mind, and let your body think for you."

Bucky nodded slowly as you finished, "But what if you feel that in your heart? And not for your body?"

You squint your eyes at his question, "What do you mean Bucky?"

He placed his head in his hands, "I just… I don't feel like that with anyone. I mean, I don't want to have sex. Trust me I have tried everything. Literally everything. Still I don't feel aroused… I am broken, aren't I? Because this is abnormal, right? No matter how hard I try I will never be normal."

Your heart shattered at his words. You had heard about his horrid nightmares, but to think that he was struggling to accept himself, thinking that he was broken, even when he had so much love to give, was depressing. You could not just stand by and watch.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder, "Bucky, look at me." When he didn't comply, you urged him, "Bucky, you are not broken. It is completely normal to not have any sexual desires."

"No it's not," he scoffed.

"Yes it is," you coerced him, "Do you know what is asexuality? It is the complete absence of sexual desires. Many people-"

He interrupted you, "There is no such thing. You are making this up."

"I am not," you replied indignantly, "Research indicates that more than 1% of the American population is asexual. Also, experts believe that more people might be asexuals because they think that they "haven't found the right person yet"," you ended with air quotes.

With no reaction from him, you sighed and got up, "Do yourself a favour. Use the internet and learn about asexuality. It will help put your mind at ease." You left after giving that piece of advice.

Bucky stayed in the same position for a few moments after your departure. He nibbled on a macaron as he considered the movie playing in front of him. Unable to focus, he promptly shut it all and carried the box to his bed. The macarons disappeared into his mouth as he tossed and turned, feeling restless.

There was no way asexuality was a thing. If it was, then how come there were no movies, tv shows or even advertisements on asexuality? That's because it wasn't normal, right? Maybe you had just lied to him to make him feel better? Maybe you took pity on him?

He looked at his phone on the table near the tv set, your final words repeating in his head in a loop. The combination of tiredness and laziness encouraged him to take your advice in the morning.

🏳️‍🌈

You didn't see Bucky for 3 days after your fateful encounter with him. The fact that you still had your job at the Avengers Tower meant that he hadn't filed a complaint yet with the HR. And for that you were grateful. Friday came and you found yourself working late, again. It was around 10pm and you were still in your lab, almost done with the work. That's when you heard the small swoosh of the lab doors opening and closing.

You looked up from your table, and found Bucky staring intently at you with his blue eyes. He cleared his throat and tentatively took a step towards you. "You were right," he said slowly, "I researched online, read a few articles and spoke with the in-house therapist. I am an," he took a deep breath, "an asexual."

You closed your laptop and smiled at his confession, "How are you feeling now?"

"Honestly? A little bit better. I feel somewhat free," he admitted while gripping the white bag in his hand a little bit tighter.

"That's great! I am so proud of the progress you have made," you beamed at him, but sensed his hesitance as you neared him.

"What's wrong?" you gently inquired.

"You are… not… I mean… by any chance… asexual?" he winced at his own question.

You chuckled lightly, "No I am not."

"Ahh, then it's okay," he murmured and turned as if to leave.

You stopped him by placing a hand on his firm bicep, "What's going on?"

He shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable and anxious, "I was just… no nevermind it's stupid."

"Bucky," you said his name in a stern voice.

He sighed again, "I thought… I mean I owe you a movie because… of that night… and so… you know… would you like to watch it? The movie? But why would you? You deserve better… you are not an asexual. You are normal. Why would you want to go on a date with me?" he finally ended his mumbling.

You looked at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what he had muttered. "Did you just say you would like to go on a date with me? But it was stupid because you are an asexual and I am normal?" you blinked as he nodded.

"Who told you that you are not normal?" you asked him, a little irritated, "Bucky look at me." This time he complied, "You. Are. Normal. As normal as me, as the other Avengers or as anybody else in the world. Do not, for even one goddamn second, think that there's something wrong with you because there isn't. Are you listening to me? Am I clear?" you wagged your forefinger at him.

Amused at your outburst, he nodded with a sheepish grin. Clearing his throat, he asked you again, "Would you like to watch a movie with me tomorrow? As a date?"

You placed your hands on your waist, "Yes."

His grin widened as he asked you the next question, "Still mad at me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe these cupcakes will help," he shyly held up the white bag in front of you, "I made sure they were cupcakes," he added with a smirk.

You graciously accepted the bag, "Cupcakes will always help."

"Great! It's a date then. Tomorrow… at 4pm? My apartment?" Bucky suggested.

You agreed, and he left with a goodbye. As soon as he was out of sight, you opened the box, expecting to see the usual cupcakes inside. Instead, you found that the sweet treats were decorated with cute messages such as "U R Cute" , "Be Mine?" , "So Sweet" and so on. Feeling mushy at his adorable gesture, you bit into the sweet treat as you headed back to your apartment.

The next day, you made sure to wear a purple dress, complete with black, grey and white accessories - the colours of the asexual flag. Bucky beamed at you as he welcomed you into his apartment. He had made a snack mix from popcorn, crispy pretzels, chips and nachos, the perfect accompaniment to any movie according to him, and you couldn't agree more.

The pair of you watched The Notebook in silence, except for a few sobs and sniffs here and there and the straight up bawling during the emotional parts of the movie.

After a while, the film ended but your date continued. The two of you talked about everything, right from the meaningful discussions about the government policies to random questions like "which mythical creature would you be and why?"

Soon, it was time for you to head back to your apartment. Bucky offered to walk you and you happily agreed. But before you left, he asked you nervously, "Would you like to have a second date?"

"I would love to," you beamed, "Which movie should we watch the next time?"

He ran his hand in his somewhat disheveled hair, "Uhh… I actually made a date jar. Wait, I will get it."

He brought over a glass jar, filled with tiny bits of folded paper, "I thought we could have dates that start from each English alphabet. We can pick and choose at random from the jar."

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes again at his thoughtful and romantic gesture. You gingerly picked one note from the jar, excited for the adventure that awaited the two of you.

🏳️‍🌈

It took more than 2 years for the pair of you to finish every date in the date jar, except for one. Whether it was jet-skiing in the ocean, taking classes for flamenco dance, him teaching you self-defense or going on a wildlife safari together, you and Bucky finally got through it all. Only the letter "P" was now left.

In these 2 years, any distance between the two of you had practically vanished. Bucky was comfortable in removing his bionic arm in front of you. Moreover, he had started sharing everything with you. Right from his darkest and disturbing nightmares to a pretty butterfly that he may have seen during his missions, Bucky made it a point to ensure that you were a part of his life, and you had absolutely no complaints.

The two of you had also discussed about your sexual desires, and Bucky had been comfortable with you using your sex toys as and when you wished.

Bucky was the perfect boyfriend anybody could ask for. He was considerate, thoughtful, a hardcore feminist and gave the best foot-rubs in the world. And so you were nervous. Nervous because the two of you had never actually sat down to talk about the nature of your relationship. And as the day of the last date loomed nearer, your anxiety increased. At first, you thought of making a second date jar, but he had quickly dismissed the idea, stating that he would be caught up with multiple things after the last date ended.

As you sat in the car that Bucky had sent for you, your apprehension grew. Bucky always picked you up, however this time, he had asked you to come alone in the car. Maybe he wanted to break up with you?

By the time you reached the park it was pitch black. You were sure Bucky had paid the guards to keep the gates of the park open just for you.

As soon as you entered, you saw the pathway lined with 25 lamp posts, leading you towards a breathtaking archway decorated with fairy lights and your favourite flowers.

On every lamp post, a photograph of the two of you - which were taken on your dates - was stuck along with a note. The notes described how he fell in love with you over and over again on every single date. Your progress was slow, as read each of his meticulously written words with tears in your eyes. You collected all of his notes and the photographs, and finally headed towards the lit archway.

When you entered it, the instrumental notes of the song "All of Me" by John Legend reached your ears.

You walked ahead and reached a bend. Upon crossing it, you were showered with rose petals as the live music grew louder. And at the end of the archway, your boyfriend, James Buchanan Barnes, was standing in a tuxedo, looking as sinfully good as the forbidden fruit. The entire area around him was lit with soft fairy lights that cascaded gracefully between tall lamp posts. Even on the ground, small wooden lamps illuminated the grass across the area. A live band was playing the music and your Bucky was standing with the most gorgeous bouquet of red roses that you had ever seen.

Your vision turned blurry as you started crying, and looking at your tears, he started sobbing as well. "No no no I can't cry now," he managed to say between his sobs while giving you his handkerchief, "I have to do this."

He got down on one knee and took your hand in his. You both laughed as you started crying harder. He took a deep breath and said your name, "These 2 years have been the most magical years of my life. You have accepted me as who I am, what I am, and never once tried to change me or make fun of me for it. I never thought I would be treated with the amount of respect that-" he started crying, unable to finish his sentence.

You sat beside him and handed him your kerchief. "Yes," you said with a tear-stained smile.

"Let me ask you first!" he exclaimed between his sobs.

You laughed and wiped your snot as he cleared his throat, "I love you so much. You are the only one I want to-" he started crying again.

"Yes!" you answered his unsaid question.

"I haven't asked you yet!" he exclaimed again as the two of you giggled between your sobs.

"Okay c'mon Bucky you can do this," he muttered to himself as you beamed at him. "Okay," he looked into your eyes and whispered your name, "Will you do me the honour of marrying me and becoming my wife?"

You choked up at finally hearing the words. Rendered speechless, you could only nod as fresh tears escaped your eyes.

"You have to say yes!" he almost shouted with excitement.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!!" you matched his enthusiasm as he slipped a ring onto your finger. His large arms then engulfed you in a bear hug, wrapping you in a safe and secure space for eternity to come.

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