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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

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If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban.

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door.

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it.

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes.

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said.

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said.

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said.

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head.

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said.

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances.

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned.

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled.

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile.

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen.

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake.

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked.

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

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A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#tell me a story bingo #SPN #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen acklees #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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ptergwen · 3 years

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only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 3 years

Text

Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater.

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it.

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick,

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.”

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand.

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right.

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero.

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end.

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy.

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.”

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

#yandere todoroki clan #yandere todoroki family #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere #mha #bnha #platonic yandere #yandere enji todoroki #yandere rei todoroki #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #canon? what canon?#who was going to tell me that my line breaks dont transfer over to tumblr like they do to ao3

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iamdeku · 4 years

Text

Needy: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Me? Making a fic title that isn’t based off a song somehow? Seems unlikely.

Warnings: school stress. makin’ out. not proofread.

For @sems-diarie

You hated your classmate Bakugou Katsuki with a passion. He was arrogant, brash, and extremely loud. He was rude to you and he was rude to everybody else and he was completely convinced he was the greatest thing to ever exist. There was really only one thing you hated more than Bakugou.

Being teamed up with him for your class’s newest group project.

You had pleaded and begged with Aizawa to let you pair up with literally anyone else, but he was unyielding. All of his pairings were final, and you and Bakugou were no exception. You were just going to have to learn how to work with him, your grades be damned, apparently.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, taking your seat next to Bakugou the day after your group pairings had been announced. “You are not going to mess up my grades. If anyone is going to mess up my grades it’s going to be me. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I know you’re an idiot. So just sit down, shut up, and follow my lead.”

You were perhaps slightly harsher than necessary, even for a guy like Bakugou. In your defense though, you’d had a truly garbage day. Your coffee machine had broken, leaving you with no caffeine this morning. It was an expensive coffee machine too, and you weren’t sure when you would be able to buy a new one. You had spent half of your morning looking for the manual to the coffee machine in the hopes that Momo could just create another one for you, and by the time you realized what time it was you had no opportunity to do anything but toss your clothes on before heading to class. On your way to class, it had rained, soaking you through because you had forgotten your umbrella and provoking Mineta to make a comment on the clinginess of your wet uniform. You had gotten a worse grade than you were expecting on your last test, you had tripped and spilled all of your lunch across the floor, and now here you were, having to sit next to your assigned group partner, hair still damp and mood still very, very bad.

“Hey, I don’t know who you think you are extra, but I’m no idiot. If you think we’re not beating everybody else in this class, then you’re wrong. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Bakugou Katsuki never loses.”

You had known the great Bakugou Katsuki for the last 3 years of yours and his UA career, and now, in your final year, you were pretty confident that you still knew him. You knew him as a guy who had definitely lost before in the past. There was no particular shame in that, but you couldn’t afford to lose this time, especially not on Katsuki’s account.

“You better be right about that, pretty boy, because this grade is important to me. If we get a bad grade on this assignment it’s going to throw off my entire average, which I really can’t afford right now. Speaking of which, we really don’t have the time for all this dilly-dallying. Let’s get to work, king explosion murder,” you mocked.

To your surprise, the ever confident Bakugou turned bright red at the old nickname.

“Whatever. Let’s just get to work. We’re going to have to trade contact information so we can figure out a time to meet up. Plus I don’t trust you not to screw this up without my advice.”

You rolled your eyes. The nerve of this boy. The sheer gall.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” You reached into your soggy backpack and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling down your phone number.

“We should just be able to meet up in one of the dorm’s common areas. The trick will be finding a time when everyone else isn’t working there.”

You sighed, knowing your classmates wouldn’t make the scheduling of this easy. Even ignoring the fact that you might have to deal with their noise and obnoxious planning, Bakugou’s sleep schedule was another barrier to your project design. He went to bed early enough to severely limit your time for working on the group project. You honestly didn’t know when he found the time for homework. If you didn’t do yours immediately it probably wouldn’t get done until the very last minute.

“We can just study in our rooms. It will be quieter there.” Bakugou shrugged.

You froze at his casual words. Study in your rooms? As in study in his room? Nobody had ever been invited into Bakugou’s room. Not his best friend Kirishima. Not his childhood rival Midoriya. Not even that girl from the gen-ed course he’d dated when you were second years. Nobody.

“Uh…are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re making a weird face, idiot.”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just thinking. Yeah, we can just study in our rooms. Just text me before randomly showing up, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Aizawa was starting up class, causing you both to shut up. You felt a part of you get very excited that you might be about to see Bakugou’s room. There was something sort of forbidden to the feeling, fluttering around in your chest like a stupid flock of butterflies or something. You were sure it was just the appeal of his room, the secrecy of it all. You loved knowing other people’s secrets. That must have been what it was.

As it turned out though, your hopes and dreams were all in vain. Bakugou texted you to ask about studying, not in his room, but your room. You complied of course. As much as you wanted to see the inside of his mysterious room, you respected his privacy. After all, rooms were sacred. Your room was a deeply personal expression of yourself, and you weren’t about to pry into his space. It wouldn’t get you a better grade anyway, seeing as your project wasn’t on the inside of Bakugou’s room.

You had cleaned up your room earlier in preparation for this moment, anticipating that sooner or later Bakugou would want to study in your room even if you had briefly entertained hopes that he would want to study in his. Your normally messy desk was cleared off, your bed was made and your dirty laundry was all in the basket where it belonged. If you hadn’t cleaned the room yourself you would probably think that you didn’t live here.

Bakugou walked into the room with all the posturing of royalty, shoulders thrown back confidently as he eyed your room. He sniffed, passing whatever final judgement he would, and proceeded to sit down at your desk.

“Nice room, nerd. Cleaner than I thought it would be.”

You grew uncomfortably warm at the truth of his accusation, feeling specifically called out. Could he possibly have heard you vacuuming earlier? It didn’t matter. You didn’t care about his opinion.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get to work, shall we?”

You pulled out your notebook, taking a seat on the floor and gesturing for him to join you.

“Why are you sitting on the floor, idiot?”

“I don’t have two chairs for both of us to work at the desk, so therefore the floor is our next best option.”

“No it isn’t.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You have a bed, don’t you? We can just sit on your bed and that way you don’t have to break you tailbone on the floor. Unless you like sitting on the hard floor.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring up at the challenge.

You pushed off from your hand, standing so you could loom over where he sat at your desk. “Fine. Bed it is then.”

You took a seat on your bed as he stood up from your desk chair he had invited himself to sit in. You waited for him to take his spot next to you on the bed, but he hesitated. For a guy who had suggested this idea, he didn’t seem to like it very much. Your surprise wore off though when you realized that he was being…awkward. Bakugou Katsuki was being awkward.

Was it you? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? Or had he just been shy this whole time?

You could have laughed at him, but instead you took pity. You remembered your first year, when you had been painfully awkward. Maybe Bakugou had always been like that and you had just never had occasion to notice until now.

“Go ahead,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “Take a seat. I don’t bite, and even if I did you would like it.”

You laughed a little bit at your own joke, even if Bakugou didn’t seem to think it was very funny. You did succeed in getting him to sit on the bed though, so some small victories were won. He was stiff and sat much farther away from you than necessary, but he sat nonetheless.

After hours of working together, you managed to have a rough outline for the project. It was sort of a tricky project, based around gathering knowledge and making a presentation on the hero you thought to be the best. Bakugou had insisted with surprising vehemence on making it on All Might, and you agreed with him. After all, he was the symbol of peace and had been the #1 hero for decades. Even though this was a move you would have predicted more from Midoriya, you figured if you were going to do this project you might as well do it right.

Bakugou got up to head to bed, but you stopped him before he could leave. “Hey…I didn’t know you were so into All Might.”

Bakugou blushed, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“I mean, we all love All Might, don’t we?”

“I mean, I know I do.” You laughed a little to set him at ease before revealing a little bit of yourself. “When I was a kid All Might was always my favorite hero because of his smile. I always thought that if someone were ever to come save me, I would want them to smile at me like that.”

Bakugou was silent for a moment, thinking about your words.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was always so impressed by his strength, and the way people loved him. I always wanted to be loved like that. I wanted to make people believe that I could help them. That they could trust me.”

There was a deep sense of vulnerability to his words that made you want to know more and made you want to understand this boy you had clearly underestimated.

“Is that why you became a hero?”

He huffed, retreating back into himself. “I became a hero to prove I was better than everybody.”

In a way, it was a yes.

“Have a goodnight, Bakugou.”

He stopped in your doorway, looking back at you with a hint of that vulnerability from earlier.

“Goodnight.”

You had been working nonstop for the past 4 days. You had your schedule set up to an unreasonable level of strictness. You would work for an hour, watch a 10 minute motivational video, then work for an hour again. The only real breaks you took were to eat and sleep, and it was starting to wear on you. You just had so much work to do, and you needed to be free this weekend for the sleepover Mina was having, but you were exhausted.

You had finally reached a breaking point tonight, and you found yourself sitting in your bed crying. You weren’t pretty crying either. It was an ugly, exhausted cry, yanked out of you by the hours of work and stress. You had fallen onto your side, curled up in bed as the sounds choked out of you, ugly things breaking you open and cracking your chest and your voice.

Because of all the stress you had been under, you had completely forgotten about your group project. You had met up with Bakugou the first couple of days, but yesterday you had begged off and reschedule for…today. Right now.

You didn’t even hear Bakugou’s polite knock on your door, the same three knock rap he had given the last few days before coming in to work on your project with you for an hour. If he thought you were ignoring him or just not there, it didn’t stop him from coming in. You didn’t notice, completely oblivious to his presence until he spoke.

“Are you hurt?”

He rushed over to your side, rolling over your body to inspect you. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they skimmed over your body, checking for injuries, gently pressing into the divots of old scars. He found no hurt on you though, and pulled back, frowning.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

You sniffled loudly, shamefully wiping your arm across your face.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, repeating it for your own benefit. “I’m fine, I’m totally fine. Everything is fine.”

“You sound like stupid Deku. Every time he’s ever told me he was fine he was lying.”

You choked out a giggle against your will. “Yeah, he does that doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does. But unlike Deku you’re not stupid. You want to explain this little episode to me?”

“I’m just…stressed.” You sighed, explaining your situation to him.

He sat back, stunned. “Well no wonder you finally broke. Nobody can work like that. You have to have fun, you idiot!”

For such a nice sentiment, he said it awfully aggressively. He almost made you burst into tears again, but he seemed to realize his mistake, quickly softening his voice again as he floundered for something to say.

“I…you…I’ve never seen you cry before,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I do it. This may come as a surprise but I’m human too, y’know.”

His hands still rested on your thighs, and you looked up at him hesitantly, breath catching in your throat. You had, of course, noticed that he was pretty before. Sharp cheek bones, harsh blond hair, bright red eyes that dug into your soul. Somehow though, he had gotten prettier over the past couple of days as you had gotten to know him, gotten to understand him better.

Before, you had thought he was arrogant. From your conversations though, you knew better. He just cared about people too much. Cared about their opinions too much, feared rejection. You offered up a little piece of yourself in exchange for everything he had admitted to you.

“Remember what I told you about All Might being my favorite hero? I thought to be a good hero you had to always be smiling. You could never show weakness. Not anger or sadness or anything else. That’s why you’ve never seen me cry before. Why I’m always so happy go lucky. Because I have to be.”

There was a pause while Bakugou processed that information.

“That’s…stupid,” he decided. “You shouldn’t hold back on your emotions like that. You deserve to feel things. You can’t dedicate your life to other people like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m starting to figure that out.” You stared down at your bedspread.

You were shocked when you felt a warm, calloused hand brush your cheek. Bakugou hesitantly, tenderly wiped the last of your tears away, and you felt something in your heart flutter. You had known Bakugou Katsuki a long time, but you had never known him like this. Looking up into his eyes did nothing to dispel your butterflies when you saw how soft his gaze was. Something in you ached to be looked at like that, to be held in someone’s hands as carefully as he was holding you now.

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t sure where the question had come from, and yet you were, because some time along the way of getting to know him you had realized something. Everything you had thought there was to hate about Bakugou was really something to love. Over the course of this project, you had done something extraordinarily stupid. You had developed feelings for a boy who would never like you back. Which was why his next words stole your breath entirely.

“Please,” Bakugou said, his words a sticky sweet, fervent plea.

You blinked, daring to look at him again only to find him wide open to you. He was leaning forward, a look in his eyes you could scarcely describe, a feverish desire overcoming him. His hand on your face twitched ever so slightly in anticipation as you leaned forward.

When your lips met his, you were surprised by the easiness of it. You fell forward into him, arms draped around his broad shoulders as he pulled you in, large hand wrapping around your waist, firm and capable. He tasted like burnt sugar, impossibly so, and it made your head spin, made you dizzy with the sensation. It made you hungry for him.

When he licked your lower lip, you let him swallow you down, hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist to your back, making the trip over and over and burning into you with their warmth. You tugged on his hair lightly, eliciting a moan from him that shot straight through your chest. You gasped into his open mouth, your clumsy kiss flipping when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Everything became easier when you let him take over, let him pull you into his lap up against the hardness of his body and tilt your head to the side just so, pliable and soft in his arms. Kissing him became easy and natural, shivers running through your body as you surrendered yourself to the experience.

When he finally pulled away, you found yourself licking a mixture of your spit and his off your mouth, not even minding how profoundly gross that was. Normally you would have shuddered, but you were far too busy staring at him, mesmerized and breathless.

“You, uh…that was…that was really nice. And I think you’re pretty.” Bakugou coughed. “Do you want to go out sometime? Because obviously you need somebody to distract you from your homework, stupid. Look what you did. Made a mess of yourself.”

You ducked your head into his shoulder at his words, hiding your face and your embarrassment. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

He hummed, the sound resonating in his chest and traveling straight to your ear. “Can I…kiss you again then?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

#you guys have to tell me if there are any glaring mistakes in here it is the law #i was too tired to proofread it #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #agedup!bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Happiness (This Love pt 7)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set during TFATWS (mostly ep 3)

Note: Angsty confrontation ahead, and some references to Mr. Perfectly Fine because its a bop.

previous part

——–

Bucky and Sam were trying to hide it, but they were fascinated with the amount of collectable expensive cars surrounding them, which Zemo claimed to be his.

“I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can recreate an army of people… like the Avengers.” He stated, peeking out from the car where he was slouched down taking stuff, he needs for a trip.

“I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join a party. We’ve already started.”

“First stop is a woman named Selby.” Zemo stated, now walking out with his stuff, before pausing to face the two men’s way again.

“But before that, it would be way safer for us if you get one of your old teammates with us. Preferably the witch.” He explained.

“We haven’t been able to reach Wanda for some time now.” Sam admitted.

“That’s unfortunate to hear, but I meant the one James was so enamored with.” Zemo clarified nonchalantly.

Sam’s lips twitched, trying not to crack a smile as Bucky glared at Zemo.

“We haven’t been in contact with her too.” Bucky answered in a low voice. He was getting irritated at the fact that Zemo even suggested to bring you into this.

“Actually, I have.” Sam spoke up. “But new Asgard is not a drive away.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Zemo grinned as he led them out to his private jet.

The entire way over to New Asgard, Bucky was quiet. He hadn’t told anyone, even his therapist, but the look in your eyes when he outright rejected you back in Tony’s Lake house was the last thing he sees every night before he falls asleep. The same set of eyes that would’ve loved him for a lifetime.

Would you even be glad to see him? He couldn’t help but feel anxious.

——–

It was already dawn when they arrived at New Asgard. Val greeted them having received a message from Sam as well after Y/N was unresponsive.

“Well, you, I expected.” she nodded at Sam. “Can’t say I’m pleased to see you, Mr. Change of Heart.” She looked at Bucky as if assessing him fully and Sam snorted at what she just called him. “And you I’m unsure of because I’ve never seen you before.” She nodded at Zemo.

“Val, it’s really great to see you, and holy smokes, Asgard looks rich as hell.” Sam was temporarily sidetracked. From what he last heard, New Asgard was a fishing port.

“This isn’t even half of how the old Asgard really was, but this is all actually because of Y/N’s effort.” She answered proudly.

“Where is she, anyway?” Sam asked. Bucky and Zemo simply assumed you were still sleeping given the time. But the light-almost silent steps on the pavement approaching behind them made all three men look behind.

Bucky felt his throat drying up when he saw that it was your form walking towards them. Here you were, lips red, hair even longer, in a small black strap dress, holding your heels on one hand, as you walked home. Your attention was set on your feet, as if they were the most fascinating thing you’ve seen, as they walk bare along the pavement. And he couldn’t help but note that there was a strong energy around you.

“Dude, stop staring. You’re gonna embarrass yourself.” Sam whispered at his side.

His low voice caught your attention, making your head snap to finally look up and slowdown from walking.

Sam was already smiling at you, undoubtedly glad to finally see you again, and you returned the grin. Then beside him, stood the man you’ve been trying to get over all these months.

His hair was shorter, reminding you of the James you’ve met when testing the time portal. Only difference is that while James was eager to talk and see you, this one in front of you wasn’t even looking up.

Looking at the third man with them, you stopped in your tracks.

“Sam, what the hell is this man doing out of prison, and on Asgardian property?” That was the first thing to come out of your mouth. Sam lightly hit Bucky on the arm to explain.

“We need him to help us find this group of super soldiers.” Bucky answered, finally looking up to meet your eyes. Turning your attention to him, he was surprised you didn’t even offer a small smile.

“Wakanda will get word of this, Barnes.” you told him, not breaking eye contact. You were mad. Wakanda owed him nothing yet they took him in and helped him. Now he was saying they not only broke their king’s killer out of prison, but is also working with him.

Behind the three men facing you, Val was standing with her arms crossed on her chest, close to losing it. She mouthed Barnes at you.

You sighed and walked up to Sam, exchanging a hug, a silent conversation of how much you’ve missed each other. Breaking away from him, you started walking past them, ready to get it over with and head to your house.

“What do you want? As you can see, I just got back and I’m in need of rest.” you asked, still walking.

“Look, you can go back to your parties right after, but we really need you for this. Please.” Bucky spoke up once again. Of course, he’d think you were merely partying your way through nights. But you were just too tired, and frankly, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything to him.

Turning to face them again, you were ready to turn them down but Sam was looking at you with the same pleading expression. How could you turn down someone who’s been nothing but nice to you? And you do feel guilty for not checking up on him as frequently as before.

Sighing, you faced Val and gave her a small nod, indicating to her that you were going. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Fine. Just let me get ready.” heading into your home, you took a deep breath. You thought seeing him again would just make you feel like the pathetic, desperate woman you once were, but this time you couldn’t shake the feeling of hostility creeping up your chest every time you met his eyes.

So maybe you do kind of hate him now.

——–

You were across Zemo, catching up on the sleep you’ve missed on his private jet.

Bucky was seated just across from your left, and he couldn’t help but look at your sleeping form. You looked at peace, and it reminded him of the nights you both had in Wakanda where he’d ask you to stay with him after a nightmare, and the rare times when you’d fall back asleep first.

Then something he picked up from the conversation earlier started to cloud his thoughts. You had kept calling him Barnes. He had never heard you call him that until earlier. It sounded so… strange coming from you. It almost made him hate his own last name.

“You know, I’ve always found her of impeccable beauty.” Zemo spoke in a quiet voice to not disrupt your sleep. Bucky clenched his fist while Sam raised a brow at him. “Now, I never said I’m attracted to her. My heart is forever for my family, but I’m not blind.” he clarified, and noted the former winter soldier’s reaction.

“James, judging from your reactions every time I talk about her, I’m guessing you’re very fond of her.” He took a sip of his drink, waiting for a response – one Sam gladly provided.

“Oh yeah, if kissing her, then pushing her away and leaving her after a funeral is what you’d consider being very found, then by all means, Bucky’s crazy for her.” Sam glared at Bucky, making him uncomfortably shift in his seat.

“Now why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam shifted the conversation.

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this…” He opened a book on his lap. “I don’t know what to call it, but I see Y/N’s name in here, and oh this part seems important… who is Nakajima?” and before Sam knew it, Bucky was up on his seat, with his metal arm on Zemo’s throat.

The act made you stir on your sleep, and sure enough, your eyes fluttered open, only to see Bucky threatening Zemo.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” He said in a low voice.

“What the hell is happening?” you broke the silence, making everyone turn to you. Bucky finally let him go, and returned to his seat, not looking at you. He felt almost ashamed that you had to see him act that way. He could only hope you hadn’t heard Zemo say your name was on that notebook.

“I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo stated, but then unexpectedly turned his attention to you. “I just can’t seem to understand why her-”

“Don’t push it.” Bucky cut him off.

“Miss Y/N. If you don’t mind me asking. How did the avengers manage to bring everyone back? We hardly get enough news in prison.” Zemo asked you with genuine interest.

“The simplest answer is through a time machine.” you nodded at him.

“Well that I know, but how did you know it would work?”

“We had volunteers to test it out. As a matter of fact, I was one.” Sam and Bucky were now looking at you in interest. They didn’t know about this part. “The first one was Clint, and he only had a few minutes to a timeline of his choosing. When that was successful, it was my turn to go and stay a little longer to make sure we wouldn’t experience any complications if we do so.”

“Where did you go?” Bucky found himself asking, and you turned your attention to him.

“I…” you couldn’t tell them you actually went to his time as a soldier in the camp. “I don’t want to talk about it.” you shut the conversation down and excused yourself to the restroom, leaving them confused.

Opening the door slowly to get out, you paused when you overhear Bucky saying something. “I uh… I went on a date for the first time.” he told in a low voice. You decided to remain behind the slightly ajar door. You hated how it made you feel a little pang in your chest.

He was getting his life back out there while you’ve only managed to only push the hurt deep down instead of addressing and getting rid of them. Maybe once you get back home, you’d give in to Val’s pestering about online dating.

“And?” You heard Sam asked in deadpan tone. It was only followed by silence.

“How about Miss Y/N? You would’ve been perfect together.” Zemo commented.

“Shut Up.” You heard him retort.

“No, let him speak. I mean he has no idea about what happened between you, but I kinda want to hear this.” Sam interjected.

“It’s just that judging by the wandering looks you’re failing miserably to hide, and her being so… uncaring towards you, I could only assume you did something that cost whatever bond you had.” Zemo carried on.

You couldn’t listen to them any longer. You knew what he was going to say next – that he just didn’t feel the same. So you slowly shut the door close again and decided to splash a little bit of water on your face.

When you got back, they were now in entirely different conversation. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?” you heard Zemo ask, followed by a quick pause. “That is why we’re going to Madripoor.”

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s skull island.” Sam asked confused.

“It’s an island nation in the Indian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky answered him.

“It’s kept it’s lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves.” Zemo explained further before looking at Bucky. “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You could see he was dreading having to do so. And normally you would’ve already assured him that everything was going to be fine, but this time you opted to be silent and look out the window, missing how he and Sam also turned to your attention, surprised of your seemingly lack of concern.

His heart dropped.

——–

You came in Madripoor acting as the Smiling Tiger’s most trusted henchwoman. When he had to act as the Winter Soldier and follow Zemo’s orders to attack, you had to look away, and only hope that he was fine.

You were now in Sharon’s place after she unexpectedly saved your asses while on the run.

“Here. You can use my room to get ready. There’s hot water in the shower and feel free to use anything on my vanity dresser.” She handed you a black jumpsuit similar to what she had on, only that this one didn’t have sleeves like hers.

Taking it from her, you said thank you and turned to where she pointed her room is.

“I suggest going red on the lips.” She added just before you were about to close the door.

“You’ve read my mind, Sharon.” You smirked.

——–

Sam just promised Sharon he was going to try to get her name cleared, when you stepped out of her room and into where they were, now all ready for the auction party.

“You look beautiful, Miss Y/N.” Zemo raised his glass to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Why, thank you punk. Been loving the coat you got on.” Everybody looked great. Bucky was looking dignified in a well pressed suit, and it was taking everything in you to not ogle.

Bucky was gripping the couch hard. How could you converse with Zemo so freely, when you haven’t even uttered a word to him save for a few quick glances. But hew knew Zemo was far from wrong. You were breathtaking.

“Val’s told me you’ve been going out every night. You dance often?” Sam asked you.

Taking your position next to Zemo, you smiled and decided to tell them what you’ve been working on.

“Well since I’ve secured New Asgard’s future already, I’ve devoted my nights to going about the nightlife nearby. Yeah, I dance every now and then, but that’s only when I know the rest of the night will be free of any trouble.”

“What do you mean by trouble?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask.

“Any trouble, really; robberies, killings, but the most common ones are assault. So, I go out dressed just like the others to blend in, but I rarely take part in the partying.” you explained to him. Sam gave you a smile. He was proud of you.

“Well for the rest of tonight at least, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Go dance.” Sharon smiled at you before getting up to start welcoming guests. “Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party.”

——–

The party was in full swing. You had no idea where the others have gone among the swarm of intoxicated dancing bodies in the room.

“May I get you a drink?” a man asked, appearing in front of you. He was tall, had pretty green eyes, dirty blonde hair, and a charming smile.

“You may… if I get your name first.” You smirked, which he returned.

“I’m James.”

“You’ve got be shitting me.” you found yourself whispering.

“I’m sorry?”

“Any other name I can call you, handsome?” you reached over to act like you were fixing his collar.

“How about Jay?” he smiled at you.

“Jay works just fine.” smirking, you let him lead you to the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky saw the whole ordeal. He couldn’t make sense of the feelings that kept creeping up on him, but all he knows for now is that he didn’t like what he saw one bit. And with all the smirks that’s graced your lips, he begins to realize he hadn’t seen your usual winning smile.

“Don’t break your teeth with all that clenching, Buck.” Sam was now standing beside him. “Come on, even Zemo’s dancing. What’s gotten that robot brain of yours all mad?” he pat Bucky’s shoulder.

When he was unresponsive, Sam followed the direction where he was glaring at. And sure enough, it was where you and the guy that approached you were standing close to each other, enjoying a drink and conversing.

“Okay, let me ask you something.” Sam started. “Do you, or do you not have feelings for her?”

It took him a while to answer. “I don’t know.” He finally muttered, still glaring your way. “I’m robot brain, remember?”

“Okay, fair enough… But man, you know she would’ve understood if you told her that you want to figure your feelings out first. You didn’t have to be all so casually cruel to her like that. Rhodey said she spent the 5 years during the blip mourning and waiting for you.”

The last part of what Sam just said caught Bucky’s attention.

“What did you just say?” He was caught off guard.

But before Sam could repeat himself, Sharon came with the information they need.

——-

Arriving in Riga Latvia, you got a few cuts and bruises from the fight that ensued while you joined Sharon in keeping an eye out as the guys talked to Nagel. The four of you were now walking to Zemo’s place when you spotted the first bead. You knew whom it belongs to. Glancing Bucky’s way, he was already looking at you. He must have seen it too.

“We’re gonna go on a walk.” He spoke to Sam and Zemo and nodded at you.

“You guys good?” Sam asked in concern.

“Yeah, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” You assured him. Turning away to look for other vibranium beads, it didn’t take long for Bucky to be beside you.

“It was just a matter of time, Barnes.” you said as he picked up another one placed by the corner.

Turning into an empty alley, Bucky called out into the open while holding the bead in between in thumb and index finger. “You dropped something.”

And you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you smiled at an old friend.

“I’m here for Zemo.”

——–

“He’s a means to an end.” Bucky explained. And you remained by the corner as they conversed.

“Eight hours, White Wolf. Then we come for him.” Ayo stated. Turning to you, she offered a friendly smile. “The princess misses you. She said you’re in need of some…” She glanced Bucky’s way “…comforting.”

“You’ll be expecting a visit from me soon. I’m bringing you and Okoye some Starbucks.” you promised. You’ve been in touch with Shuri through chats, and she knows all about what happened between you and Bucky.

When Ayo left to go back with the other Dora Milaje, it was only you and Bucky left in the Alley.

“Y/N we need to talk.” he said before you could even turn to head back to where Sam and Zemo were.

“Barnes.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” you could see he was irritated.

“What?”

“Quit calling me Barnes. You never called me that. It was always Bucky.” He snapped at you. “Call me Bucky.”

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” you could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Like you’ve said that day. We can’t start fresh when we’re constantly reminded of something we’re trying to forget. Calling you that would just bring about memories and feelings I’m trying to get rid of.” you answered honestly, looking him in the eye.

Hurt flashed on his eyes from what you’ve just said, but he couldn’t blame you. “Fine. Then call me James.”

You gave him a pained smile. “That won’t do.”

“Why?”

“I actually met James.” you finally told him. Looking at his reaction, one could tell he wasn’t expecting that.

“When I said back in the plane that I volunteered to be the second test subject for the portal, Nat and Steve got me in an old war nurse’s uniform underneath the suit and sent me back to a time where you were just rescued by Steve… and you actually got me to talk to you.” This was the first time you were talking about it. You didn’t even tell Steve what happened on your time there. All he knew was that you met and spent time with Bucky.

“They suggested it because they knew how much I was hurting from losing you. And I came there with the intention to leave with closure. But I ended up promising James I was gonna wait for you.” you tried to blink the tears that was threatening to spill away.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t even thought about what you had to go through after losing so many people when the blip happened. It was merely a few seconds for him.

“I don’t need your fake niceties. I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night when you had nightmares. I gave you almost two years of my time just helping you get back on your feet. I loved you, and I didn’t expect anything in return. I just wanted to let you know.” You harshly wiped a tear that escaped.

“But then you just had to fucking kiss me and for once, make me think we could be something…” you chuckled bitterly. Bucky remained quiet, just listening to you. “… only to tell me right after it was a fucking mistake and that you want to start fresh alone. How do you think that made me feel?”

“Y/N I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.” He started to walk towards you, and stopped when he was only one to two steps away.

“I fucking hate you, Barnes.” You found yourself saying unexpectedly, wounding him further inside. But then you shook your head. “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I can’t think straight through all of my fury.”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you if you do.”

You took a deep breath, realization hitting you. “You know what, I don’t think I could make this all go away by making you a villain. I’m still hurting, yes. But I guess it’s the price I pay for being delusional for what, seven years? I could’ve stopped at one. And now I’m just trying to face reinvention.”

“I didn’t realize -” you cut him off for once.

“I heard you went out on a date for the first time. I’m proud of you.” You genuinely smiled at him. “And I realized that I want to seek happiness too.” There was a glint of relief in your eyes, maybe from finally letting it all out.

For the first time since seeing each other again, Bucky saw the old you come into the picture – soft, caring eyes, and an infectious smile with a hint of mischief behind them.

And for the very first time, the feelings that kept creeping inside him every time you were around had made themselves known.

So imagine his horror when he heard the next thing you said paired with a gentle smile.

“I’m letting you go, Bucky.”

He was in deep trouble.

——–

tags: @eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes

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fanficimagery · 3 years

Text

Hell Takes Riverdale pt. I

Imagine moving to Riverdale while your father has some business to attend to. While there, you meet some people you find yourself growing attached to.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Riverdale AU where FP didn’t go to prison for his crimes and Jughead joined the Serpents because he wanted to. This isn’t exactly Northsider friendly and I’ll be focusing more so on the Serpents, so I won’t go into detail about all the drama the Northside gang constantly puts themselves into the middle of, nor will Jughead be a part of it. I will mention a certain family who lives nearby from another show, but I will NOT be bringing those characters in here. The most you’ll get is what I explain about them in the imagine.

Jughead Jones was notorious for laying low and staying out of the spotlight. At least he was until a murder rocked his small town, Veronica Lodge- along with her criminal family- moved in, and his best friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews put together their very own crime solving Scooby Gang. He liked a good mystery every now and then, but the murder of Jason Blossom pointed towards his father's gang and he didn't know how to cope with that.

When FP Jones- Jughead's dad- eventually confessed to the murder, Jughead didn't know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his dad was innocent. So he and his friends did their best to prove Mr. Jones of his innocence, which they eventually did, but given FP's past the police decided to keep him a bit longer.

Jughead Jones was a powder keg waiting to explode, so in a move no one expected, he channeled his anger from the crookedness of their small town Sheriff to the local high school jocks when they decided to target the new girl for laughs. Y/N Y/L/N was a meek little thing, small smiles and small voice whenever called upon. She didn't dress like someone who had money, but then again she didn't dress like she didn't have any either. She presented herself as someone from the middle class which is probably why Jughead felt at ease coming to her defense one day out of the blue.

You're at your locker, putting away your books before you head over to the cafeteria for lunch, when someone shoves their shoulder into your back. You grunt as you collide with the metal in front of you, a few notebooks falling to the floor, and you turn to frown at the culprits. Reggie Mantle and his merry band of jocks laugh at you. "Seriously?" You mumble.

Reggie smirks, shrugging. "I gotta find my entertainment somewhere and what better entertainment is there than the new girl with no voice?" You roll your eyes and bend over to pick up your belongings, only for a sneaker clad foot to kick one of your notebooks away.

"Hey!"

The sound of someone being shoved into the lockers next to you has you looking up, a beanie-wearing, plaid shirt tied around the waist, boy coming to your aide. "What the hell is your problem, Mantle?" Hands fist into the material of Reggie's letterman jacket, slamming him twice against the lockers. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase pick on someone your own size?"

Reggie shoves him back. "Cool it, Jones, less you wanna end up in a cell next to your pops."

He scoffs. "You look real tough picking on a girl. Keep walking, jackass."

Your gaze darts between the two boys, chest to chest with one another, and you practically hold your breath. You can see the other jocks just itching for a fight, but the longer Reggie and your savior stare at one another, the less Reggie seems to be amped up for a fight. He eventually scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. The little mouse isn't much fun anyway."

Reggie goes to walk away, but not before kicking another one of your notebooks further down the hall. You sigh and start collecting your things closest to you once more.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about him. Reggie's a total dick."

You glance at the boy collecting one of your notebooks for you and flash him a small smile. "It's fine. Every school has a bully. I didn't expect this place to be any different."

"Yeah, well.." He trails off, placing the stuff he collected in your locker. "I'm Jughead."

"That's an unusual name," you say. "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, would you care to join me outside for lunch? I'm kind of alone today and I noticed you don't really sit with anyone either. I'll help keep Reggie off your back," he muses as if his protection would somewhat sweeten the deal.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug.

Once everything is situated in your locker, you grab the lunch bag that had been hanging from a hook on the inside. Side by side, you walk with Jughead outside and towards one of the concrete picnic tables. He sits down and only then do you realize he had a brown sack clutched in his hand. Immediately he pulls out two smashed sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap, and unwraps them to start eating.

"So as a token of my thanks," you say while taking a seat across from him and unzipping your lunch bag, "have a fruit cup." You toss him a cool cup of mixed fruit and he happily catches it.

"Thanks." From the corner of your eye, you watch as he stares at you until you start eating your own sandwich and chips. "So Riverdale," he says. "Why here of all places?"

You huff a quiet laugh. Of course you'd heard the whispers about you, curious about your move, but you never spoke to anyone and no one dared to ask you before now. "My half sister lives in Greendale, and she and her aunts were having some personal issues. My dad moved us here so he could help them out, but he wasn't fond of the housing situations Greendale had to offer so we ended up here."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He takes a bite of his food. "So are you and your sister close?"

"Not really." Your nose wrinkles. You eat a bit of your own food before explaining. "She kind of hates our dad because he slept with her mom when she was married, but instead of villainizing them both for their mutual decision, she puts all the blame on him."

Jughead shakes his head. "Well that sucks."

"Yep. But she obviously doesn't have a problem calling on him when she's in trouble." You roll your eyes, opening your water and taking a sip. "It's whatever. Riverdale is.. interesting."

"Yeah. It is," he huffs a brief laugh.

Over the next month or so, you and Jughead become actual friends. He attempts to introduce you to his group of friends, but the only one you can actually stomach being around is Archie. Veronica is too nosy, Betty too suspicious, and Kevin rarely hangs out with everyone less it involves a good gossip session. So more often than not, after realizing his group of friends wasn't just your cup of tea, you and Jughead hung out at Pop's Chock'lit-Shoppe.

The retro diner quickly became one of your favorite places in all of Riverdale, but upon entering one Sunday evening and seeing Jughead's expression you know you're not going to enjoy your dinner.

"Uh oh. What's going on with your face?" You ask as you slide in across from Jughead. "You look like you have some bad news."

He grins, shaking his head. "It's not bad. I'm just not sure how well you're going to take what I have to tell you."

"Mhm. Tell me after I've gotten my food." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, Pop Tate himself is dropping off your and Jughead's usual order. "Thanks, Pop."

The old man chuckles. "Don't mention it, Y/N. Enjoy your meal."

"Always do." Before any other words can be spoken, you and Jughead squirt ketchup on your respective plates. He steals the cherry from your milkshake and you plop a straw into his Coke to take a sip. The both of you take a bite out of your burgers, chuckling at each other and how at ease the two of you have become with one another. "So what's up?"

"I'm leaving Riverdale High." You pause in chewing and Jughead refuses to meet your gaze. "I'll be starting at Southside High tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It's just- my dad's getting out." When he looks up, the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of his dad coming home makes your exterior soften and you start to feel happy for your friend. "He, uh, he's been doing good. Jail forced him to get sober and he's talking about starting over. I'm going to move back in with him."

"That's good news, Jug. I'm really happy for you."

"Are you?" He grabs a fry and quickly dips it into your vanilla milkshake. You chuckle at him.

"Yeah. I mean we mostly hang out here anyway. That won't change, I hope." He's quick to shake his head, letting you know your weekly hang outs at Pop's would still be on. "I'll just have to toughen up and learn how to throw a punch. Reggie and his goons need a nice swift punch to the throat every now and then, I think."

Jughead exhales with relief. "Please let Kevin know beforehand so he can catch it on video for me."

"No promises."

The two of you go on to finish your food, making small talk and promises to keep in touch. Eventually you have to leave, so before you go your separate ways you decide to give Jughead a ride home. And since he's no longer embarrassed to have you over after the first time you'd been over, he accepts the ride with a shrug.

FP Jones has been out of jail for three days and in those three days Jughead has noticed his dad has been a little paranoid. So one day after school, he's had enough and decides to sit down and talk with him.

"What's going on?"

FP glances away from the paper in his hand. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird! Ever since you got out of jail it's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."

Jughead and FP stare at one another before FP sets the paper down, running a hand through his hair. "Someone's coming to town," he says. "Someone you don't ever want to cross."

"Okay. And?"

"It's worrisome," FP says. "Mr. Morningstar, he's the real deal, Jughead. Expensive suits, expensive cars, posh accent.. this man can be very dangerous."

"Well then round up the Serpents. I'm sure they'll enjoy running this guy out of town."

"Nah." Jughead scoffs, confused as to what his dad's deal is. "Mr. Morningstar is the one who sent one of his lawyers to get me released."

"..oh."

"But Mr. Morningstar doesn't hand out favors without wanting something in return. I don't like being in debt, Jug. Especially to someone like him."

"We'll figure it out, dad. He reached out to you, not the other way around. He can't want something too bad if he came to you first. Right?"

"I don't know, son." FP falls silent, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. "And there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Mr. Morningstar isn't exactly.. human." Jughead scoffs, but FP shoots him a warning look. "I'm serious. This man is capable of things you wouldn't believe unless you see it in person, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If he comes around, you do as I say. I'll settle my debt with him as quickly as possible and hopefully Riverdale will be in his rearview mirror sooner rather than later."

Jughead doesn't know how to feel at seeing his dad- the Serpent King himself- looking so on edge. He's never seen him so rattled, so it leaves Jughead himself feeling the dread start to seep in.

Every single Serpent inside the Whyte Wyrm was well aware of who Mr. Morningstar was and to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description. For a week there was no sight or word about him, the same week which Jughead finally decided to throw in with the Serpents and officially become one of the gang. He had texted his friends, some more supportive than others, but he only found comfort in his decision after hearing back from Y/N who held no ill will towards him for wanting to be a Southside Serpent officially.

Jughead is still healing, everyone at the Whyte Wyrm celebrating him completing his initiation.

"Toni," FP calls out, "serve us up some shots!" The petite, pink haired girl behind the bar laughs, she readily grabbing up shot glasses and lining them up along the bar. She fills every shot glass, smiling as her fellow Serpents grab one to await the impending toast. As FP grabs one, he raises it up while staring at his son across the room who's hanging out with a few younger Serpents. "Jughead, while this wasn't the life I wanted for you, it is your decision and you don't know how proud it makes me to have you ride by side. To Jughead!"

"To Jughead!"

The Serpents all whoop and holler, downing their shots in one go.

"Hear, hear," an out of place accent muses. Those closest to the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere all tense and FP's smile slowly vanishes as he stares at the man who hasn't aged a single year since he last saw him over fifteen years ago. "Well, well. Freedom seems to suit you well, FP."

FP schools his expression. "Mr. Morningstar."

"Call me Lucifer. No need to be so formal."

The Serpents seem to fall silent as FP and Lucifer Morningstar stare at one another. Jughead, seeing the way everyone is holding themselves as the tension amps up, pushes his way through the crowd until he's just behind his dad. "Lucifer," FP says, "why don't you follow me. We'll go somewhere a bit more private."

Lucifer gestures for FP to lead the way. "After you."

FP glances at Jughead over his shoulder, but he doesn't give him any sort of cue to follow. Instead, Jughead follows after them to a table that's not surrounded by any others over by the stage. Once seated, FP stares Mr. Morningstar in the face. "So what brings you to Riverdale? It's been a while since you were last here."

"Ah, yes," he says. Lucifer leans back in seat, smiling. "I originally came to watch a client of mine wreak havoc on your precious little town," at this, FP and Jughead tense, "but someone very important to me made attachments here and I've had to rethink my plans of letting your town burn to the ground."

"A client of yours?" FP's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"I think you know who," Lucifer says. "Annoying little bugger. But as I said before, attachments were made and I had to keep watch over said attachment to see whether or not I approved. And let me tell you, Mr. Jones, I quite liked what I saw."

"Okay?" He drawls. "So what does that have to do with why you're here? Or are you calling in a favor for getting me out?"

Lucifer laughs. "Oh no, FP. You getting out was not my doing." FP freezes. "You see, this someone important to me is my daughter. She's the one who requested you be freed."

"You have a daughter?" FP shifts in his seat. "Why would she want me out?"

"I do. And because one of your little snakelings made quite the impression on her after showing her kindness when he didn't have to." Lucifer raises an eyebrow at FP's completely flabbergasted expression. "This person was and continues to be genuine with my daughter, so I figured I'd step in and help clean up your beloved little town instead of letting it be turned inside out by Hiram Lodge. After all, it seems we're going to be in Riverdale for quite some time now."

FP glances around, but he can't see any of the Serpents being this person in question. Eventually, he asks, "Who?"

Lucifer's gaze darts up over FP's shoulder and lands on Jughead. Jughead's eyes widen. "Me? Who have I-"

"Me, of course." You choose that exact moment to walk out from the back room, ignoring everyone's stare save for Jughead's. You're a bit self-conscious of the black crystallized crown on your head and the skin tight, all black outfit your dad's minions had chosen for you, but you don't show it. The way you're dressed now, Jughead's never seen you this way. "What's wrong, Juggie? Cat got your tongue?"

Your friend gulps as he eyes you up and down. "Y/N?"

"Surprise!" You muse. At his slack expression, your smile diminishes. "It's still me, JJ. No need to be weird now."

FP glances between you and his son as Jughead asks, "Was our friendship even real?"

Your eyes widen. "Of course it was! I was never meant to make friends here," you quickly explain, "but you just couldn't leave me be when Reggie set his sights on me and you- you befriended me for me." Jughead loses some of the tension in his frame. "You didn't talk to me because of who my dad was and what he could do for you. You talked to me because you felt bad for me and then you continued to talk to me because we actually got along."

A beat passes and Jughead eventually sighs. "Don't kid yourself. I only talk to you because you let me steal the cherry from your milkshake." It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you snort. Lucifer chuckles and poor FP has no idea what's going on.

"This is quite fitting, is it not?" Lucifer grins.

FP frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Serpent Prince and the Queen of Hell. Royalty always seeks out royalty."

You freeze, Jughead's brow furrows, and FP seems to blanch as he comes to a sudden realization. Quick as a snake's strike, you slap the back of your dad's shoulder. "Not here." Then you glance at FP. "Can we continue this talk in a back room?"

He slowly blinks before he snaps out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Let's go."

FP stands and leads the way, and you grin over at Jughead. "Come on. We have some more stuff to talk about."

In a back office, FP and Lucifer have already taken their seats as you and Jughead join them. Instead of sitting, the two of you stand side by side after the door is shut behind you.

"So what exactly is going on here?" FP wonders.

Lucifer glances at you, smirking, and you sigh. You had a feeling he was going to make you explain yourself. "So I noticed instead of scoffing at the queen of hell comment, you blanched." FP hesitantly nods. "So that means you understand my dad is quite.. different."

Lucifer huffs. "I'm the devil, darling. No need to tiptoe around it."

You cringe as he so bluntly puts it out there and nervously gauge the Jones' reactions. Both seem more than a little intimidated and your heart starts to sink. "I'm still me, Jughead. Just a little.. more."

Jughead glances at you. "You're really the daughter of Satan?" You nod. "And this isn't some joke?"

"No. My sister, the one who lives in Greendale, was meant to take the throne," you admit. "But she really does hate my dad and refused it, so it passed on to the next heir. Hell got a little bit stuffy and some of my dad's more important minions were trying to marry me off, so I left with my dad as he dealt with business here. I was supposed to keep my head down until we moved on, but well.." you trail off, smiling softly. "I found that having a friend was quite nice." When Jughead has nothing else to say, you look towards FP. "You've raised a kind son, Mr. Jones. And for that, I'm going to offer you a favor." He seems to straighten up then, glancing worriedly at your dad. "And don't worry, this is a favor from me. I don't do contracts or cut deals like dad does. My favor is a no strings attached type of situation. This is a favor for a friend."

FP and Jughead glance at each other, and you notice FP subtly shake his head. Jughead sighs and looks at you. "Do you promise that me or my dad won't owe you?"

"Jughead," FP warns.

But you only have eyes for your friend as you step towards him and take up his hands within your own. "I swear. You're my friend, JJ. You got Reggie off my back and offered genuine companionship, so let me do something for you."

"You mean like getting my dad out of jail?"

You grin, releasing his hands and shoving at his shoulder. "Oh whatever. I was bored and you seemed like you missed him. Bite me, Jones." Lucifer chuckles and FP looks like he has no idea what's going on. "So come on. Whose life needs ruining?"

Jughead stares at you before shaking his head in amusement. "You're a little too excited to be ruining someone."

"I am my father's daughter."

Jughead stares at you, as if trying to conclude whether you're being genuine or not, and then has a silent conversation with his dad. Eventually FP sighs, cradling his head in his hands as Jughead looks back to you. "I messed up bad, Y/N. When my dad first got put into jail, someone suggested I visit this lawyer- who is also a Serpent- so that she'll guide me on how to get my dad released."

"And the snake double crossed you. Shocking," your dad chuckles.

"Shut up." Lucifer continues to chuckle, mime zipping his lips shut. You look back to your friend. "Go on."

"She gave me advice as a favor and said I'd owe her one someday in the future. I didn't think it through."

"The snake charmer is notorious for collecting favors and blackmailing you into continuing owing her favors," FP says. "She's turning the Serpents into drug runners and using video of my son delivering a crate of drugs as leverage so we don't tell her no."

Lucifer tuts. "That just won't do. Last I recalled, the Serpents were against drug dealing."

"We are," FP says, "but we can't deny her since she has that damn video. It'll be his word against hers."

Expression tightening, you glance between the two Serpents. "Give me a name."

"Penny Peabody."

Immediately you and your dad glance at one another, and you're the first to shout, "Dibs!" At his pout, you grin victoriously. "It's been awhile since I've seen any action. I'll call auntie Maze to collect the guest of honor."

You and Jughead are sitting at Pop's, waiting for your order to be brought out. It's your usual weekend hangout session, as well as a mini celebration for getting the Snake Charmer out of Serpent territory. FP had been a little hesitant around you and your father, but the more he watched you and his son, and you and your dad, he came to the realization that neither he or Jughead would be in harm's way. No one would be less they actually crossed the devil himself, so you were a bit surprised when FP had actually hugged you when you told him Penny would no longer be an issue. Afterwards, he was eager to talk to your dad and figure out a way to get the Southside cleaned up and fix the Serpents' reputation.

Seeing Jug's beanie laying on the table, you grin as you swipe it and quickly put it atop your head. "What do you say, Jones, wanna switch crowns for a day?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "I don't think I can pull off your crown." Your nose wrinkles at him as you laugh. "And speaking of crowns, are you going to tell anyone else anytime soon?"

You shrug. "I only talk to you and your dad, and at that your dad already knew about my dad."

"I didn't know anything about you or your dad and you told me."

"You were my friend before you found out about me being Hell royalty. I don't want to just tell anyone and then have them kissing up because of things I could possibly do for them."

Jughead nods in understanding. "I take it, it's happened before."

You touch the tip of your nose. "Bingo, JJ. Demons of Hell are shady assholes. But don't worry, if I befriend more Serpents they'll find out when the time is right."

"Well I think you're going to get your chance now because here come some friends of mine."

"What?"

"Whoa, Jughead, is that you? You've certainly changed from the last time I saw you earlier."

You smile sheepishly as three Serpents come up to your table, the one who spoke sitting next to Jughead while the tall one climbs in between you and the window, and the female sits on your free side. You pull off Jug's beanie and hand it back to him just in time for your food to be delivered. Immediately, Jughead steals the cherry from your milkshake and you take a sip of his soda. Once that's done, you squirt ketchup on your plates before you take a bite of your burgers.

"Well that was freakishly adorable." You glance at the pink haired cutie next to you and she grins. "Toni Topaz."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Well Y/N Morningstar now. I don't have to hide who I am anymore."

"Nice." She then points to the guy beside Jughead. "That's Fangs and the one on your other side is Sweet Pea." You nod at each boy in greeting, bite down on a few fries and steal from Jughead's plate every time he dips a fry into your milkshake. "So how did you and our snake prince become so close?"

Toni steals a fry from your plate and you grin at her. "First of all, I really hope you're not insinuating anything there. Don't get me wrong, Jughead's a cutie but I'd totally seduce Papa Jones before I went after baby Jones."

Jughead groans in disgust, Fangs and Sweet Pea snort, and Toni laughs out loud. "I like you."

"Maybe the sentiment will be returned soon," you say. "And to honestly answer your question, Jug came to my rescue when a few jerks decided I was an easy target at Riverdale High."

Sweet Pea scoffs. "Ugh. How do you put up with those mangy mutts?" It's his turn to steal from your plate, but you merely raise an eyebrow at his audacity before you glance at Jughead as he smothers a laugh.

"By avoiding them at all cost," you say. "Is food stealing a thing with you guys or..?"

"If you're really hungry, I'd hold onto that burger of yours. Fangs is notorious for stealing any and all food left unattended." Toni chuckles as you pull your plate towards you, but that only makes it easier for her and Sweet Pea to continue eating off your plate.

"You're all heathens," you deadpan. "At least Jughead waited a few days before he started eating off my plate."

The Serpents chuckle all around you and you find yourself relaxing in your seat. You knew the Southside Serpents had a bad reputation, but the more time you spent with them the more you realize just how wrong everyone is. The Serpents are some of the most loyal, drama free individuals you'd met and they're only riled up when someone attacks one of their own. And that- that you can respect.

During your lunch break, you're sitting alone and texting back and forth with Toni. Apparently word has gotten out that the Mayor is looking to shut down Southside High because it's unsafe for children, and the plan is to divide every Southside High student between several other high schools. Needless to say, every Southsider is pissed.

You send a text to your dad, asking if he knew what was going on, and he assures you he and Mr. Jones are looking into it.

Your can of Cola gets snatched up and you snap to attention, ready to argue back for your drink. But the sight of a grinning Jughead sitting across from you makes you relax and Sweet Pea straddling the bench right next to you makes you shake your head at them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Southside High is in chaos," Jughead says. He takes a sip of your soda before setting it back next to your books. "We were at the Wyrm when your dad asked us to collect you."

"Toni's been filling me in," you admit. "Does anyone know if the Mayor is for sure going through with this plan of hers?"

"It's such bullshit," Sweet Pea grumbles. "Yeah the school is shit ever since the Ghoulies started pushing Jingle Jangle on everyone, but it's ours."

"Don't worry, Sweets. Dad's on it. He'll figure something out."

He huffs. "Against Mayor McCoy? Doubt it."

You and Jughead share a knowing glance, and you bite back a grin. "My dad can be very.. persuasive."

"And scary," Jughead mumbles.

"Yes, let's not forget scary," you muse.

"What the hell is this?" The stern question is barked from somewhere behind you and you turn towards the voice. "Cooper dropped your sorry ass and now you're trying to lure in Y/N, Jones? I don't think so, you goddamn snake."

You roll your eyes at Reggie and his friends, and at the fact that the others sitting outside are now staring.

"Watch your mouth, you mangy mutt." Sweet Pea moves to stand, but you place a hand on his knee in order to silently tell him to stay put. He doesn't glance at you, but he does remain sitting.

Instead, you stand and step away from the bench in Reggie's direction. "What's your problem, Mantle? I know for a fact you don't care about me, so what is it about the Southsiders that has you so insecure?"

Reggie seems surprised that you've spoken back and it takes him a moment to school his expression back into one of anger. "Who the hell says I'm insecure?"

"Come on, Reggie," you grin. "You obviously have a hate boner going on for them." Jughead and Sweet Pea snort, and Reggie glares at them over your head. "So what is it? Is it because they're cooler than you? That they're so much more hotter than you and you know for a fact us Northside girls would willingly get on the back of their bikes than in the car mommy and daddy bought for you?"

Reggie sneers down at you. "Of course you'd be a Southside slut."

Jughead and Sweet Pea shout in your defense, rushing to their feet as you blink in surprise at the venom in his tone. But then anger quickly takes over and no one sees as your hand forms a fist at your side. When Reggie smirks at your silence, quick as lightning you change your stance so you can send your fist flying into his throat.

As Reggie stumbles back and gasps for air, Sweet Pea grabs you by the arm and then you're running. Sweet Pea and Jughead are laughing as they run for their bikes and you readily climb on behind Sweet Pea since he still had a hold of you. Two engines rumble to life simultaneously and you wrap your arms around Sweet Pea's waist, ducking your face behind his back so the wind doesn't sting your eyes.

When the three of you finally come to a stop, you're not in the Southside yet but you are well away from Riverdale High. The engines cut off and you finally pick up your head, and it's quiet for a few moments before Jughead starts to laugh once more.

"You actually punched Reggie in the throat." He shakes his head in amusement at you. "I did not think you were capable of ever hitting someone."

Sweet Pea chuckles. "You do know you left behind all your belongings. It's gonna be trashed by the time you go back for it."

You shrug. "The only thing worth saving was my phone and it's in my back pocket. A backpack can be replaced, and besides I think it's time Riverdale High and I take a break from one another."

Jughead and Sweet Pea's amusement slowly fades. "Wait. What?" Jughead asks. "You're dropping out?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "Transferring."

"Transferring to where?"

"Southside, you dimwits." You squeeze Sweet Pea when he scoffs at you calling him a name, letting him know you didn't actually think he was a dimwit. "I'm so over the drama of Riverdale High. I need a change. And if I want to go to Southside to be with my favorite people, do you really think my dad will let the school be closed down?"

"You really have that much faith in your old man, huh?" Sweet Pea asks.

"I do. And you should too." Jughead glances at you when you say that and you subtly shake your head at him. Soon, you mouth at him. "Now come on. Let's go see what my dad wants. I feel like going out tonight so I need to finish whatever task he has for me and make sure Toni is free."

The small gang of friends find themselves at Pop's diner once again, you being squished between Sweet Pea and Toni while Jughead and Fangs sit across from you. You and Toni share a plate of cheese fries, half of your burger having been stolen by Fangs and you steal sips of Cola from both Jughead and Sweet Pea since Sweets had finished your milkshake. When eating with them, you quickly learned extra food had to be ordered because once a plate was set down it was basically a free for all.

You're laughing at Fangs' affronted expression, from when he tried stealing cheese fries from you and Toni and you both had slapped his hand, when the bell above the door jingles. Your gaze is drawn to the group that enters, your mood souring just a tad when Archie, Betty, and Veronica enter. They glance around the diner for a booth and upon setting sights on your group, Archie chooses a booth not far from yours.

Toni nudges you to show you a message on her phone, lightening up the mood right away. But every now and then your attention is brought back to the Riverdale High group, and you can't help but notice the longing looks Betty keeps throwing at Jughead. And the fact that Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder until he finally gets up, Betty following him seconds later to join him at a different booth.

"Did I miss something?" You ask when your friend is out of earshot.

Toni huffs. "They're doing that whole on again, off again thing. It's tiring," she says.

You frown as Jughead and Betty start talking, heads ducked close to one another, but then quickly avert your attention back to those sitting with you. You don't really have anything against Betty, but that girl attracts drama like crazy and you would rather not see her drag Jughead into it again.

The four of you left in the booth amuse yourselves while finishing off the remainder of your food, and you make sure that all your plates are stacked with the trash compiled on top so the busboy has little to no cleanup after you leave. But while you're still sitting there and waiting to see what Jughead is going to do, you can't help but overhear Veronica's obnoxious voice filling in her boyfriend Archie about all the great changes supposedly coming to Riverdale soon.

"I mean it's no longer a secret mommy and daddy are buying up property, Archiekins, but can you blame them?" Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs all tense, Fangs trying his hardest not to look in their direction. "The Northside is flourishing under their management and soon the Southside will too. We just have a few more hoops to jump through before we can start tearing down and rebuilding."

Having heard enough, you tap Sweet Pea's arm. "Move." Fangs widens his eyes at you and Toni giggles, she loving your more aggressive behavior. Sweet Pea stares at you for a moment before he grins, sliding out of his seat so you can follow right after him. Then taking a few steps towards Veronica and Archie's both, you stop and address the entitled teen. "Consider those hoops everlasting," you say. "Lodge Industries will no longer be buying up any property in Riverdale."

Veronica scoffs, smirking a second later. "And who the hell do you think you are to have any say so in my family's dealings?"

This time you smirk and you mentally cheer when you see her own falter. "Tell daddy dearest the Morningstars say hello. Lucifer will be in touch soon." You reach forward as Veronica's expression completely falls, stealing the cherry from her milkshake and catching the red, plump flesh behind your teeth and plucking the stem free. Letting the stem drop onto the table, you glance over your shoulder and gesture for your friends to follow. They do, chuckling all the while you walk towards the door. But before you walk out, you look over at Jughead and catch his attention. "Hey, JJ, we're heading out. Call me if you need a ride."

"Oh, uh, I'll come with." Betty quickly glances at him and for a split second you feel bad for her. "We're done here anyway." He slides out of the booth, ignoring Betty's frown as he makes his way towards you and his fellow Serpents.

Sweet Pea jostles Jughead, the two boys shoving each other lightly and laughing as the five of your exit. Everyone piles into your small SUV and it's not until Toni is comfortably seated in the passenger seat does she ask, "How serious were you with that threat back there? Can your dad really stop Lodge Industries?"

You slowly start to grin as you back out of your parking space. "Hiram Lodge is one of my dad's clients," you admit. "They have a.. contract of sorts, and Mr. Lodge is rich because of that. But my dad is starting to cut ties with some old clients of his and I'm pretty sure the Lodge's time up on that little pedestal of theirs is coming to an end."

"Sweet," Sweet Pea says from the back seat. "Hey, if your dad buys the school do you think you can ask him to put doors back on the bathroom stalls?"

You and Toni both snort, and you nod your head. "Sure, Sweets. I'll see what I can do."

- - - - - - - - - -

At the Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and Fangs make a beeline for the pool table. Toni heads for the bar, her shift about twenty minutes from starting, and Jughead gets pulled into a conversation by some elder Serpents. Glancing around the bar, you don't see either man you want to speak with so you head for the hallway near the back wall where you know it leads to an office. A couple Serpents guarding the hall nod at you and let you pass without a word.

When you come upon the shut door to FP's office, you knock a couple of times and wait for confirmation to enter. A moment passes before his gruff voice is calling out that exact confirmation.

Opening the door, you walk right in and aren't surprised to see your dad in there as well. You smirk, happy to know he found a mortal he felt comfortable enough to share his identity with and that said mortal didn't go running for the hills. "FP. Dad," you greet. "Just the men I was looking for."

FP leans back in his chair as you take a seat across from him. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Well first, I need to know your opinion about Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs." You then turn to look at your dad. "And depending on FP's answer, I need to know-"

"Your first orgy," your dad coos. "I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

"I'm sorry, what?" FP glances between you and your dad, disbelief in his features.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Dad, no. Just no," you say. When your eyes flutter back open, you say, "What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

"Well fine. Have it your way." Lucifer leans back in his seat, resting his right ankle atop his left knee and taking a sip of his drink. "Probably for the best anyway. Naamah will be upset if you deny her the chance to plan your first orgy."

"Oh my god."

FP finally laughs, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Your dad pouts and you give your attention to FP once more. "The baby snakes are a loyal bunch," he says. "I've had some older Serpents question you and your father's presence here within the Wyrm, but Jug and the others were quick to defend you. Why do you ask?"

Here you look back to your dad. "I want to come clean to them. Jughead knows about me and it's getting tough to censor what I say in front of the others when we all hang out."

Lucifer salutes you with his glass tumbler. "You're the Queen of Hell, darling. You can tell whoever you want."

"Good to know." You push up from your chair, smiling at both men. "Oh and I want Southside High. Veronica Lodge and her family are trying to tear the Southside down and rebuild, but I feel like throwing a wrench into their plans."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at you. "And how do you suggest going about that?"

"By befriending Mayor McCoy, of course." FP snorts, but you continue on as if you didn't hear him. "She seems like a decent lady when the Lodge's aren't blackmailing her into doing their bidding. Give her a little taste of power, no strings attached and without letting her know your true identity, and show her you're an ally. I have a feeling she'll drop the Lodge's in a heartbeat."

FP grins, shaking his head. "You really are your father's daughter."

You glance at him and smirk. "Duh. Now carry on. I'm going to be with Toni behind the bar."

- - - - - - - - - -

The Whyte Wyrm is as busy as always and you happily find your place behind the bar with Toni. She serves up the drinks as you walk around, cleaning glasses and/or wiping down the bar top. Every now and then you catch your dad or FP's eye, and they signal for a round of drinks that Toni readily makes before walking a tray over to them. You then watch your boys from afar, laughing when Jughead catches your eye and purposefully makes Sweet Pea miss his shot while playing pool. Sweet Pea is apparently a very sore loser, but you can't help to think that he makes a really cute sore loser.

When Toni returns and sees where you're looking, she sidles up to your side while cleaning a glass in her hand. "So, uh, I think I should apologize."

You look at her. "For what?"

"Earlier at Pop's, when I told you Jughead and the Cooper girl were on again/off again, you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a moment there."

"Did I?" You chuckle, shrugging her words off. "It's fine. Jughead has become a really good friend to me and I'm not exactly Betty's biggest fan. They say southsiders are nothing but trouble, but those northsiders have caused a lot more trouble than any of you have. I don't want to see him be dragged into their messes again."

"Oh," she drawls. "Okay. I just thought that you were upset because she and Jughead were together again and you had missed your shot or something."

"No." You laugh. "And besides, I kind of have my eye on another Serpent, but I don't think he likes me that way."

Toni rolls her eyes. "I don't think FP is into jailbait. Sorry."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "A girl can dream."

Over the next couple of weeks, you get well acquainted with the power struggle between the Ghoulies and the Southside Serpents within the high school. The school is practically run down, there's no privacy within the graffitied walls of the bathrooms, and a little less than half the student population have no issue taking drugs out in the open while standing in the hallways. Not a single one of your favorite Serpents lets you out of their sight, and though you don't need their protection you welcome it. And their loyalty towards you is what leads you to take that final step in finally telling your other three friends the truth.

Walking up to the Jones' trailer, you stomp up the steps and pound on the door. A few seconds later the door opens and FP raises his eyebrows at you as he's pulling on a leather jacket.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, FP. Is JJ home?"

"Yeah. Come in." He opens the door wider and you step in, heading for the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." You grin. You plop down in the corner of a couch, crossing one knee over the other. "I just finally decided to tell the others the truth and I wanted to see if Jughead would be there for me in case things go south."

A look of understanding passes over FP's features and he smiles kindly at you when he notices your bit of nerves. "It'll go fine. If Jug and I didn't run, neither will these three little shits." You grin at him. "Now I should get going. Will your dad and I be seeing you later?"

"Depends on how well my little bombshell is taken."

"Alright." FP heads towards the kitchen, calling down the only hallway in his trailer. "Hey Jug, Y/N is here so put some clothes on before you come out."

FP smiles at you one last time before he exits his trailer and it's not until his bike's engine outside roars to life does Jughead exit his bedroom from the back. "What's going on?"

"It's time to tell the other baby snakes about my heritage."

He blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod, momentarily second guessing yourself. "Yeah," you then say more confidently. "I think the longer I wait now, the higher the chance of them being pissed at the fact that I kept something like this from them."

"Okay. Where are we doing this?"

"Quarry?" You wonder. "We need privacy, but not too private that they feel trapped should they not take the news well."

Jughead exhales quietly. "Quarry it is. My bike or your car?"

"Your bike. Text Toni and the guys. I just need to grab my bag from my car."

Jughead is pulling on his jacket as he gestures for you to join him by the door, then pulling on his infamous crown beanie before pulling out his phone to text the others. He heads to his bike while you head for your car, opening the passenger door and pulling out your messenger bag. Draping the bag strap over your head and across your chest, you close the door and lock up before pocketing the keys.

When you sidle up to Jughead, he hands you his only helmet and you readily pull it on before climbing on behind him. He's not normally a crazy driver, so you loosely wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy the short ride to the quarry.

You and Jughead are the first to arrive, walking towards a spot that seems to have frequent visitors. Seats torn out from vehicles and a few crates form a half circle around an unlit barrel just off to the side of the water, and Jughead wastes no time in lighting up the barrel since it's a little chilly out.

Placing your bag on one of the seats, you walk towards the fire and hold your hands over it to warm up. Then about five minutes later, the rest of your friends show up.

"What's going on?" Sweet Pea asks as his gaze darts between you and Jug. As he sees you warming up, he stops by your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders to offer some of his warmth. Toni and Fangs stand on the other side of the barrel, warming themselves up briefly before taking a seat.

"I, uh, I have something I need to tell you guys. It's going to sound incredibly insane, but I need you to trust me when I say I am no threat to you." Sweet Pea frowns down at you and he only takes a seat when you nudge him towards the others. Jughead grabs your bag and hands it to you, and you smile faintly in thanks. Then opening the flap, you remove your crown and let your bag fall before hesitantly putting the crown on. Clearing your throat, you say, "When you guys first saw me, I was wearing this."

Fangs grins. "We thought you were just another spoiled little daddy's girl."

You grin back. "I mean I am," you shrug, "but the crown actually means something."

"Are you trying to tell us you're royalty or something?" Toni chuckles. At your neutral expression, her smile falters. "Y/N?"

You inhale shakily, glancing at Jughead who gives you an encouraging nod. "Whenever people meet my dad, I'm well aware that they think his given name is rather unfortunate." Sweet Pea snorts, grinning. A couple older Serpents at the Wyrm made it no secret when making fun of your dad's name. "But what if I told you that my dad really is the Lucifer Morningstar?" Your serious, yet nervous, expression makes the other three go still. "That I'm literally the daughter of the devil?"

The only sounds you can hear are the chirping crickets and crackling fire until, "You really buying this, man?" Sweet Pea scoffs. You briefly glance at him to see he's staring at Jughead who's still by your side.

Jughead nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am. My dad knew something was up with Lucifer before they outright told us the truth. He's known for years, but Lucifer wasn't a threat to him then or now so he didn't make a fuss about it."

Sweet Pea frowns. He doesn't look scared or pissed, but he doesn't look impressed either. "Why are you telling us this now?"

"That first night, my dad let FP and Jughead in on our secret because he saw how I trusted Jug and wasn't planning to leave Riverdale anytime soon. We trusted the Jones' and they now trust us. The circle of people in the know was meant to stay as small as possible, but then you three," you pause, huffing and smiling sadly as you meet each of their gazes, "wormed your way under my skin and I knew I couldn't keep a secret this big from you anymore."

"So your dad really is the devil?" Fangs asks. His gaze is set on the flames just barely dancing over the rim of the barrel, an expression on his face you can't quite decipher.

Sighing, you let your left hand wave back and forth over the flames. "My dad really is Lucifer Morningstar." You hold your hand still then, the flames engulfing your hand. Someone gasps, but you don't look up until you say, "And I'm the Queen of Hell."

"Oh fuck."

Fangs immediately shoots up, stumbling behind his seat. Sweet Pea's expression has completely shut down and Toni stares with wide eyes. Without having to look in a mirror, you already know your eyes have gone pure white and the picture you paint with the crown atop your head can look quite daunting.

"I'm still me- the same girl you've been hanging out with for a while now." You swallow down the hurt you feel at their speechlessness. "But.. I will understand if this is too much. All I ask is that this little revelation doesn't leave the circle." Still your friends say nothing and fight against the burn behind your eyes. "I'm sorry."

As quickly as you can, you bend over to pick up your bag. Shouldering the strap, you turn to walk away when Jughead calls out. "Y/N.."

"It's fine," you say and cast him a small smile. "I'll pick up my car later. I'm going home."

"Let me give you a ride home at least."

You shake your head. "I'll manage." And with that, you turn and walk away, letting a swirl of flames whisk you away.

Maybe you should have waited, dropping hints here and there to ease them in. But as you appear in your room, you drop onto your bed and let the sadness swallow you whole. What's done is done. All you can do is hope for the best now.

#riverdale imagine #riverdale gen fic x reader #riverdale #jughead jones #fp jones #lucifer morningstar #sweet pea #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #riverdale x reader

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spices-and-cherries · 3 years

Text

IKEA Headcanons:

Benoit Blanc, Joe Bang, James Bond, Jake Lonergan, Prof. Fluke Kelso

Here’s a little something fun!

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Masterlist:

Benoit Blanc:

- He treats the whole thing like a date. You hold hands, eat at the cafeteria, and joke around.

- He makes sure to measure any and all spaces you plan on filling up with furniture and puts it in a little notebook. He carries that and his measuring tape with him on your trip.

- Secretly loves IKEA’s food. You think he’s joking when he says that he could eat there every day. He’s not.

- His least favorite part is the assembling, but he’s so stubborn that he refuses to not at least help. Thinking about it like a puzzle helps him, but then he gets into a southern tizzy about five minutes in.

- You will have to force him to take regular breaks or else he’ll completely forget.

The idea alone of sharing a living space - much less shopping for furniture together - makes him go all mushy inside. There’s nothing he’s more excited about than being able to live with you. Benoit really does consider himself to be the luckiest man alive.

Joe Bang:

- He also treats it like a date. But it’s not because he’s enjoying himself. It’s because it’s literally the only way he can handle the whole ordeal.

- To him, IKEA is so frustrating. The trip itself would be wonderful, if it weren’t for the fact he keeps getting lost. One second the two of you are holding hands looking at some lawn chairs and the next he’s halfway across the building with no idea how he got there.

- He also just doesn’t have the attention span to last him all day there. An hour and a half in and he’s complaining already.

- Joe dislikes IKEA food so you have to pack him a lunch (a pb+j sandwich, salted hardboiled eggs and a juice box). He lives for the candy section though.

Having two siblings, Joe is more than used to needing to share with others and after living alone for a while, he was a little apprehensive when you moved in. He realized pretty quickly, however, that this new shared space between the two of you is something completely different that he doesn’t mind at all.

James Bond:

- He stands back and lets you do the work - he’s just tagging along to do the heavy lifting.

- When it comes to home aesthetics and the like, he’s not really the one to go to. If it were up to him, he’d just grab the simplest (and somehow most expensive) option and go.

- I honestly can’t imagine him in an IKEA.

- Jokes about how shooting several rounds into the assortment of wood pieces on the floor would get the job done sooner than actually sitting down and doing it.

- Doesn’t even bother trying his hand at it. Instead, he hires someone else to do it for him while the two of you go on an actual date.

Despite how blasé James is about the whole thing, he can’t help but feel super soft inside. His apartment has always felt too big, but now that you’re with him, it feels just right. The place the two of you share is the closest thing he's been able to call a home in a very long time.

Jake Lonergan:

- He enjoys IKEA, but not the reason why the two of you are there. He’d much rather just wander about looking at things than actually trying to find what you’re looking for.

- It is for that reason that the two of you end up splitting up. He’ll stay in your general area so he can check up on you regularly. Once you’re done, he’s there by your side to do the carrying.

- Probably had no idea that IKEA had a food court until you told him about it. His reaction to trying it for the first time was rather lukewarm.

- He actually kind of enjoys putting it together. Put some nice music on in the back and he’s set. You do have to keep him fed though, or else things will go down fast.

Jake secretly really enjoys how domestic it feels shopping for furniture with you, whether it’s for curtains or a bedframe. It’s something that he’s always wanted to do and he can’t help but think that he must’ve done something good in order for him to be building a home with you.

Prof. Fluke Kelso:

- He has absolutely set the record for the fastest IKEA trip ever. Literally no patience. Would really rather go to an antique shop - or even make something himself - but he recognizes the practicality that IKEA serves.

- Before you go, you look online to see what it is that you want. When the two of you decide on a couple different options, you go to the store and choose the best one. By the time you’re at the cash register, barely 45 minutes have gone by.

- Again, someone who has no eye for aesthetics. Please just get the cheap one and go.

- Fluke is completely useless when it comes to assembling. For someone so smart, there is no hope for his assembly skills. So, he sits back and lets you do it - though he does his best to help by getting you food or handing you the tools you need.

Being a workaholic at best and stubborn at worst, Fluke is more than aware of the challenges he causes as a boyfriend. It’s because of these challenges that he still sometimes pinches himself when you’re together to double check that he’s not dreaming. But living together? That is truly the subject of dreams.

-----

I know it’s been a while! I’ve had a lot on my plate and every time I think I’ll have the opportunity to write, I don’t. I do have a couple long awaited things on their way though, so that’s nice! I hope you all enjoyed!

- Simpy

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

How about a musician reader x character fic? Maybe a singer who performs in a cafe, or a classical musician who plays in an orchestra, or who plays in a rock band? I dunno I have a lot of ideas in my mind but I'm just too lazy to write them :D What do you think?

So here's the baseline you gave me - a musician reader fic x character. Here's what I decided to fill in for this lovely fic- a fluffy bsd collage Au where the reader is majoring in music and has the side job of a stage performer. Then, because they would match well, so I decided to go with a Fyodor x reader. Hope this is alright!

Words- 1728 ~

Hearts Composition | fyodor x musician reader | (collage Au)

Music thudded against the walls, muffled only by the thick layers that hid backstage from the audience. The aroma of heavily worn perfume surrounded people in pleasant bliss. Waitresses and waiters swayed with heavy plates rested along arms and in hands. Carrying much-wanted foods and booze to awaiting customers. The collection of accents muted under the heavy beats of taps and clicks from the metal of the dancer's shoes. Picking up a smaller wooden, finely carved, and rather expensive model of a violin, stood yourself. With a smile, your hands trailed the curves and strings of the delicate instrument. With all the work you had to do for university you had truly didn’t have time to be doing some minimum wage job. Though you didn’t care much, if you could play something, it would be fine. You performed here every once in a blue moon. You weren't one of the performers, but they would grace you with the intermission on busy nights. Much like these nights, when the crowd was full and the people rowdy and in need of constant entertainment. You could soothe those shouts and demands of perverted drunk men; Soothe the cries of broken women and rich spoiled children.

Stepping onto the wooden stage as the lights dim, allowing you the bare minimum of the peeping moonlight to find the microphone located at the center. Inhaling as your anxiety turned into bliss, you waited. As the colored light flew on, you rested your chin on the soft velvet. Holding up the bow, you set it to the strings. With a final inhale, your eyes fluttered shut as you played a classical piece; one constructed for an upcoming project that was due for your music composition class. You had nearly all the string instruments you could play finished; all but the cello. With every strum of your instrument, the crowd fell silent, enjoying the break from all the heavy excitement. Even the children's chatter soothed down, so your instrument could echo off the thin walls of the pub.

Sipping nothing but a cup of tea with a small side of biscuits, a male leaned in his seat. Sitting with a pristine, perfect posture, he listened to the soft sound. The way his violet eyes slowly lidded, and his hair fell back against his face, lit his features in a urethral, almost divine light. His mind working to recognize the piece. As an up-and-coming musician, he had several classics memorized. He could join in by ear, or even write out the full pieces without needing to see the original sheet music. This piece wasn’t something he recognized, could it be an original piece?

If you were to open your eyes as you neared the end of the first piece, you would notice his gaze rested on you. Eyes open halfway with hidden interest, and yet, the stare was attractive. The blank look that hid everything beneath a mask laid strewn across his features. As you finished and stood up, surrounded by applause, he watched your every stride. It was funny, he thought he could almost recognize you.

With shaking hands, your fingers typed within a group chat of other college students you had met and become close to. “I’m so nervous. I have to hand in that piece today. I pulled an all-nighter trying to decide on the cello part, but nothing sounded right, so now I might not get a full mark.” You could hear the whine through the text. When replies of good luck came to you, except for two replies, you chuckled. One read “could always just die before handing it in.” Another wrote, “I've got the wine ready.” laughing to yourself as you walked into the classroom and set down the folder in the bin. Glancing through the room, you took a seat with your head down. It was unusual for you to arrive early to class, but your anxiety with this project was slowly picking at you to just get there and hand it in. With twenty minutes till class started, you decided to pull out your laptop and listen to the recording from last week.

Taking out your notebook, you started jotting notes about small things to improve, and things you hated about your performances. You didn’t notice somebody else enter the classroom rather early. Carrying his bag, he set it down at one of the desks before the sound of a violin entered his ears. Sitting down he listened to the melody you had played several nights before. As the piece finished, his eyes traveled to the bin. Now understanding where you had gotten the piece from, he sighed. “You’re not half bad, you played a little flat, but it sounds okay. Becoming a flustered disaster, you froze glancing over to him. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed him in class, he was hard to miss. His completely perfect grades, perfect posture, and looks made him stand out. Not only that, but he had strong ideals and his debate skills could sway anybody. Though, you knew it wasn’t really skill, more manipulation. To add to everything his Russian accent stuck out with every word he spoke. “Could you play that again?” hesitating at first you restarted the piece.

He took out a blank piece of sheet music and started scribbling down notes. As if memorizing the piece, he tapped his fingers before bringing his thumb to his mouth and chewing on it. Tapping his foot as the piece came to an end, he glanced at the time before walking over to one of the room's cellos. His face resembled discontent as he looked at it. Looking to where he sat, you realized he didn’t have his with him. You presumed it had to do with the instrument being heavy and somewhat large. Though for somebody of his height, it may not be that big of a deal. Perhaps he didn’t want to lug it around with him, considering he had all of those other books for classes. “So uh, why did you want to hear it again?” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched him strum a few strings. He was checking the accuracy and pitch of the notes. With a contempt sigh, he shrugged.

“Your writing is considerably well done. I wished to try something that is all.” He did not shed a glance as he sat down and ran the bow across the strings. The sound was heaven within your ears, but to him, it was nothing but ordinary. The sound of a well-made expensive Russian model, the model he owned, was much better than this school-provided variant. As the melody played, you recognized it as your piece. Smiling slightly as your eyes sparkled. You bolted from your seat to grab your folder; the music that was due in 10 minutes.

Looking over the cello part you had constructed, you changed the key signature to hold a few new sharps and took away some of the flats. Boldly, you handed the male the sheet music and pointed as if asking "Is this the piece you were playing?" Setting the cello aside, he ran a finger over the bars with a nod. “So that’s what I was missing! You're a god at memorizing and creating. Now I'm excited to see what you concocted for the presentation.” You smiled lightly before placing the folder in the bin. “Oh, I never got your name. I’m-” he cut you off before you could formally introduce yourself.

“You’re y/n. I do pay attention to people who aren't a complete waste of time.” The layers of his ego began to shine through his solid expression. The way you'd called him god just then, was another layer added to the ever-growing ego this man had. He thought he was above everybody else; he indeed was. In every way possible, he was above the normal human. With an exceptionally sharp mind, emotionless facade, and a spin of extraordinary talents, he was a god among men. “I’m taken aback, you don’t know me.” frowning you sat back at your desk. Leaning your head against the palm of your hand with a frown, you clicked your tongue.

Coming up with a sharp reply, you rolled your eyes. “Please, who doesn't know the great Dostoevsky. You’re only at the top of our class. Correcting myself before you can, the top in everything.” He snickered his brows raising in interest. His lips curled into a smirk moments before breaking to speak to you again.

“Consider your words before speaking. That wasn’t exactly the best wording to say "I'm better than everybody at everything.” It took you several seconds to realize what had gone through his head. Of course, he understood what you were saying, but he also managed to nitpick everything.

Blushing you placed your hands in front of your face. “I didn't think about it because that’s not what I was saying!” he snickered again. Listening to him stand you peeked from your hands to watch him set away the cello and bow.

“How often do you perform at that pub?” He switched the discussion relatively quickly. But with the sudden pause of your reaction and the setting away of the instrument, it flowed nicely with the conversation.

“Once or twice a month?” You answer honestly. A bit upset by the lack of real performances you had.

“Next time, I'll reserve something, and we’ll set something up. I want to see if you can play something… difficult.” It wasn't much of a question, more a demand. Nodding you wrote down your number, sliding it to the student with a smile as the bell rang.

For the next week, the two of you met in the unused rooms Fyodor managed to snag for practicing. He often shook his head at your way of playing. He did compliment the several different instruments you would take with you. From the cello to the violin, there wasn’t much you couldn’t play. Each was expertly designed and crafted to fit your arm length and height. Custom made and shipped from all over the world. Eventually, it became a routine, going to his concerts as he attended yours. While you praised how good he was, he would find the smallest mistakes to condemn you about.

#bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x reader scenerio #bsd scenerio #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor #bsd college au #bsd college au x reader #bsd college x reader #fyodor college au #fyodor college #fyodor x reader #musican fyodor #musician fyodor x reader #fyodor x musician reader #fyodor x you

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

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all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity.

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern.

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships.

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long.

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely.

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack.

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow.

“Aw, you love it.”

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go.

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who.

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears.

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.”

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

#prompts #karliahs #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #precanon #hurt/comfort #angst

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Text

lost time (chapter two)

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warnings: drinking, cursing, mentions of sex

wordcount: 1.6k

MASTERLIST

_______

By some strange coincidence, Rafe and Sophie were in the same section of their debate class. (Some might call it fate. Sophie would call it a curse.)

It was one of the less popular general education options in the communications section that all Ohio State students had to pick from, but they were both drawn to the idea of the challenge while enrolling. The class was fairly small for a gen ed, only about 40 students. When Rafe walked in on the first day, two minutes to start, he spotted Sophie immediately. She was poised with her notebook laid out, colored pens and all, and Rafe couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He deliberately sat opposite the room from Sophie, hoping and praying they would never be paired together. It was fun to argue about useless things at parties, but less fun in an educational setting. About a month into the semester, the thing he wanted least, happened.

“Rafe Cameron...and…” Their professor trailed off, scanning around the room to find him a partner for the timed debate. Sophie kept her eyes trained on the doodles in the margin of her notebook, only halfway paying attention as she added another. She had been chosen once at the beginning of the semester and briefly entertained the short debate, something trivial about reality TV, but was left disappointed by her partner’s lackluster effort. “Sophie Flint!”

At the mention of her name, her head snapped up, caught off guard. “Hm?”

“You’ll be debating Mr. Cameron, here. Come up to the podiums please.” Their professor instructed.

She sighed under her breath and rose from her seat as Rafe did the same, both of them standing at the podiums at the front of the classroom. Sophie laced her fingers behind her back, lifting her chin slightly to acknowledge Rafe. He just smirked. Asshole.

“Alright, you two know the rules, keep it civil. Five minutes.” Their professor glanced down at her list of topics. “You’ll be debating...ah. Should golf be a sport or not? I’ll let you pick your sides -”

They spoke at the same time.

“Of course it should.”

“God, no.”

She held back an amused smile. “Alright. Carry on.”

Sophie nodded curtly, then turned slightly toward Rafe, stating her position. “Golf courses are an absolute waste of real estate.”

“Hold up - Professor Welch, are we talking about the sport or the course?” Rafe interrupted the debate, annoyed as he tugged at his cap.

Their professor just shrugged.

“Well you can’t have the sport without a course. Unless you want to play completely in the rough, which, with your skill level, you probably -”

“Ms. Flint.” Professor Welch warned.

Sophie barely held back a smirk. “Right. Anyways, courses are about 100, 200 acres on average? And say there’s at least 32,000 courses in the world. So by that standard…” she paused for a moment, doing the mental math. “You have roughly four and a half million acres of land occupied by golf courses.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows, curling his fingers around the edge of the podium as he leaned slightly toward her. “I don’t see an issue with that. Golf is a valuable, fairly low-impact sport that provides an outlet for many. It’s accessible even past retirement, so it’s a sport that grows with you.”

“Except the sport is classist. It’s expensive and typically located near neighborhoods that at least have a middle-class income. It’s only accessible past retirement if you have the option to retire, or if you retire with enough spare change to keep up the hobby.” She explained, almost seeming bored. “Not to mention, golf courses are destroying the environment.”

“No they’re not.” He shot back.

She raised her eyebrows at the meager comeback. “They are. What’s the one thing you need the most to keep the fairways groomed?”

Rafe thought for a moment. “Water. But you can just use rainwater -”

“Great, except most courses don’t.” She interrupted, rolling on. “It’s a huge waste of resources just to water the grass, instead of using that land for farming or preserving the biodiversity of the area.”

“Thirty seconds.” Their professor chimed in, keeping an eye on her watch.

Rafe hurried to make his point, knowing he was losing the debate by miles, but Sophie cut him off before he could even speak. “Not to mention, circling back to the sport being elitist, most courses require a country club membership to even play a round -”

“You belong to a country club, Flint, that’s hardly a leg you can stand on.” Rafe interjected just as their professor called time, a broad smirk tugging at his lips as he sensed Sophie’s frustration at not getting the last word.

“Enlightening.” Professor Welch turned back to the class. “Show of hands, who won?” The majority of the class voted for Sophie, only a few frat boys raising their hands in support for Rafe. The bell rang and their professor nodded as the class started to pack up and shuffle out. “Right then, don’t forget to read chapters three and four this weekend!”

Sophie just rolled her eyes at Rafe’s smirk and grabbed her backpack, starting off down the hallway with a satisfied smirk of her own. Sure, he might have gotten the last dig, but she clearly had a stronger argument.

“Sophie!” She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know it was Rafe calling out after her. “Flint!” She ignored him again as he jogged to catch up until she felt his large hand grip her arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

She yanked her arm out of his grip but turned around anyways. “Get your hands off - oh.” She mumbled the last word as she saw her phone clutched in his hand.

“Chill out, you just left this behind.” Rafe offered it to her and she took it, giving him a short smile.

“Right. Thanks.”

“Hey, um. You did good, I didn’t know all that stuff.” He tried, offering her a rare compliment.

“It’s well.” She corrected before she could stop herself.

“Huh?”

“Well. I did well, not good.” The second it left her mouth, she regretted it.

Rafe scowled slightly at the correction. “Whatever. See you next class.” He headed off, shaking his head. She stood there for a moment, watching him go and silently cursed herself in her head. Would it be that difficult to accept the compliment?

_________

“You need to get over yourself and just go say hi.” Sophie’s friend and roommate, Julia, interrupted her train of thought as Sophie was completely zoned out later that night, staring across the bar at Rafe. He wasn’t even doing anything remotely interesting, just talking with his friends and drinking the Wednesday special dollar beers, but there was something about the backwards cap - that damn backwards cap - that did it for her.

Sophie shook her head absently, taking a moment until she redirected her gaze. “Huh?”

Her other roommate, Allie, shook her head with a smile at Sophie’s delayed reaction.

“Oh my god.” Julia snapped in front of her face to get her attention. “Look, if you’re not going to make a move, can I?”

“Can you - what? With Rafe? Rafe Cameron? Like, my Rafe?” Sophie stuttered, slightly in shock. “Why?”

“Have you seen him? He’s cute. And he’s always been nice at parties. I need a date for the Theta party this weekend, please?” Julia asked, shooting a glance over at Rafe. He caught her eye but his gaze shifted over to Sophie for a moment as he sent her a nod of acknowledgment and a raise of his glass.

“I - um, fine, yeah, whatever.” Sophie knocked back the rest of her drink as a final statement, not wanting the conversation to last any longer as she flushed just slightly under Rafe’s stare. “I’m getting more, do you guys want something?”

After a chorus of no’s from her friends, she pushed her way up to the bar alone. A few moments later, Rafe sidled up next to her, ordering a drink and leaning against the bar to face her. Sophie tried her best to ignore him, keeping her gaze trained on the glowing neon signs behind the bar.

“Not gonna say hi?” Rafe asked.

It took everything in her for Sophie not to roll her eyes as she turned slightly toward him. “Hi, Cameron. Are you free this Friday?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you asking me out?”

That was enough to warrant an eyeroll. “No.” (She bit back the ‘no, stupid’ that threatened to roll off her tongue.) “My friend Julia doesn’t have a date for the Theta party. Are you down?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He turned as their drinks arrived, sliding enough cash across to cover both of them. “The taller one, right?”

Sophie tried to grab his cash back and cover her half before the bartender could take it, but she noticed too late. “Yes, the tall one. Here.” She shoved the $5 bill into Rafe’s hand. He just pushed it back into hers, taking her hand and closing it into a fist around the bill. “Rafe, I don’t want your money,” she tried again.

He grinned. “So you can cover me next time we go out, then. What’s Julia’s number?”

“Right.” She sighed and gestured for his phone. He handed it over easily. “Um, I don’t know it off the top of my head and they have my purse, but. Here’s mine and I’ll pass it on.” She typed her number into his phone quickly, saving her contact then handing it back.

Rafe nodded with an easy grin, hand lingering for a moment as he took back the phone. “Even better. See ya Friday, Soph.” He gently bumped his elbow against hers, hands full, before heading back to his crew. It wasn’t lost on Sophie that she was left standing there, again, without the last word.

taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @butgilinsky @taiter-tots

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the-demelza-robins · 4 years

Text

american high school!jily (i)

hi! here’s the first chapter of my american high school au! it’s also on ao3 and ffnet!

LILY EVANS DOES NOT THINK OF JAMES POTTER. She does not think of him — loud, funny, arrogant — as she walks to the bus stop each morning (she does, however, regret the fact that she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet). She does not think of him as she gets her textbooks from her locker (she does think of Roger Davies, though). She does not think of him as she moves from classroom to classroom, notebook to notebook, assignment to assignment. She does not think of him as she takes yearbook photos and attends Feminists of Northwood High meetings. She does not think of his eyes (hazel) or his hair (dark brown, almost black, always ruffled does he even try) or his face (a mishmash of features that, admittedly, only he can pull off).

There are, however, plenty of other people — girls, especially — who do think of James. Girls who think of his eyes (captivating, intense) and his hair (perfectly messy) and his face (jawline, glasses). Girls who watch him sit at the best table in the cafeteria with Sirius and Remus and Peter, trading jokes back and forth and smiling easily, and wish, fervently, that they could be pulled into his vortex, into his charisma, into his confidence.

Lily doesn’t look down on these girls — no, that would be borderline misogynistic of her. She just doesn’t understand the appeal, because, to her, James Potter has always seemed a little too sharp around the edges, a disco ball made of jagged glass, to provoke any feelings of fondness or… more. Her impression of him is no doubt colored by Sev, who, despite now being the poster boy for fucking Brietbart, used to tell her things. Used to tell her what James would do, how his friends — “they call themselves the Marauders, Lil, how presumptuous is that” — would take a laugh at his expense. James Potter is smart, the thing is, and observant, and he knew just what to say — just what buttons to push — in order to get Sev where it really hurt.

Whatever. The point is, James Potter is sharp, and Lily doesn’t want to prick her finger.

So, when James walks over to Lily on the first day of October and asks her to go out with him, ignoring the fact that she’s fulfilling her very important duties as yearbook editor-in-chief by taking photos of the soccer team — Roger Davies is the “keeper,” which Lily has learned means goalie, and James is a striker, whatever the hell that means, and Lily thinks it’s unfair that James gets all the glory when Roger is the backbone of the team, but whenever she tries this argument on her friends, they dismiss it on the grounds that she has a not-so-tiny crush on Roger and therefore is biased — Lily says no.

“No?” James repeats, and for a second Lily feels almost bad for him, ruffled hair and eyes blinking at her from behind those glasses of his.

“No,” she affirms. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.”

He nods, and twists around to look at Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who are all laughing — at him or at her, Lily can’t be sure, but either way it makes her skin prickle — from the sidelines. “Hey, she said no!”

“Fuck,” Sirius says, his voice carrying in a way he must be aware of. “Sorry, Evans!”

Lily is a little surprised that Sirius knows her name. Surprised, perhaps, because she thinks of him only as Marlene’s fiercest crush, the reason why so much Taylor Swift leaks out of her friend’s aging Toyota. No, Sirius is not a person, not in Lily’s head. The collision of these two worlds — Marlene’s and reality’s — makes her very uncomfortable.

“For what?” Lily yells back, rolling her strained neck (that camera weighs heavier than she remembered — technically taking photos is below her paygrade, but fucking Lucius skimped out again because of a “family emergency” and she has to get them in in time, and besides… a plausible excuse to look at Roger is certainly not something she would ever pass up on.

“Sorry for unleashing James on you, it was a dare,” Sirius shouts, and one of the practicing soccer players tells them to either shut up or go somewhere else. Lily rolls her eyes and makes a decision. She could walk towards them, cross the social line, discover what “unleashing James” means.

She doesn’t. She shrugs and walks away.

“See you around, Evans?” James calls, voice strangely strangled-sounding. She thinks she imagined it.

***

The next time she sees him, he’s probably drunk, holding a red solo cup in his left hand and high fiving Sirius with his right. She watches him from across the room — it’s not intentional, she tells herself, but she does— as he chats with his friends.

“Lily. Lilylilylily,” a drunk Dorcas whines, tugging on Lily’s sleeve like a four year-old.

“What?” Lily asks, recalibrating and facing her friend.

“Mary. It’s Mary. Mary from P.E.”

Following her friend’s gaze, Lily confirms that Mary from P.E. is indeed also in Sirius’s house for this random party, chatting with Romilda Vane, a sophomore a year younger than her. “I see her.”

“Why is she talking to Romilda?” Dorcas asks, way too loud, and Lily drags her friend up the stairs and through the nearest door. The abundance of death metal memorabilia tells her that they’re in Sirius’s bedroom.

“I thought you were done with Mary.”

“I never started with Mary,” Dorcas says petulantly, plopping unceremoniously onto the unmade twin in the corner. “Mary is pretty. Mary is sweet. Why is Mary speaking to Romilda Vane?”

“Maybe Mary likes Romilda Vane,” Lily suggests gently, sitting down on the bed next to Dorcas.

“I thought Mary liked me.”

“I don’t —”

“I think that Romilda should go home. GO HOME, ROMILDA.”

“Don’t shout, someone might hear,” Lily replies, thinking of the cracked-open door.

“Then they can join me in telling Romilda to go home.”

Lily is about to formulate some response to this when the door swings open, and who but James Potter steps in, arm slung around Gretchen Prewett’s waist, hair messier than usual. He’s whispering to the girl, smile tugging at his face, and just as he’s about to lean in, he sees Lily.

Is it just the lighting, or does his face go slightly red? Lily knows hers did. James opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

Gretchen’s eyes shift from Lily to James and back. Lily grabs Dorcas’s hand and pulls her friend past them and down the stairs.

Around a half hour later, James and Gretchen follow.

***

“Evans!”

Lily slams her locker door shut and turns towards the voice. “What do you want, James?”

“Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he responds, that annoying, way-too-full-of-himself grin on his face.

“I’m betting you did, considering that your hair looks like that,” Lily shoots back, shouldering her backpack. She has plans to meet Sev, plans involving ice cream, and doesn’t want to be late because James Potter decided he wanted a verbal sparring partner.

James whistles. “Nice one. Listen, Lily…” he pauses, and for a second she sees something like vulnerability on his face. The halls are basically empty now — it is a Friday, after all, and no one lingers if they can help it — and for a second it feels like the air has compressed around her, around them, until the only sounds in the world are James’s intake of breath as he prepares to speak again.

“There’s — my mom has a garden that she’s working on, and I remember you saying that you like flowers, and — well — do you want to garden with me? Sometime?”

“Lil?” The air expands again.

Lily turns, and there’s Sev, standing with his too-long hair and his messenger bag, looking confused and angry and betrayed, most of all.

“Of course it’s Snivellus,” James mutters, and all of the vulnerability is gone, the mask of self-assurance pulled firmly back into place.

A lot has happened in the past five minutes, but those words are the only ones that Lily latches onto. “What do you mean, ‘of course it’s Snivellus’?” she snaps, turning back to face James in full, with all of the fiery self-righteousness only a seventh grader can possess.

James opens his mouth and closes it again, eyes shifting between Lily and Sev. “Of course,” he says, voice cool and measured, “it’s Snivellus. Your guard dog, huh, Evans? See the big bad James Potter and he’ll come running, because God forbid you talk to anyone — hang out with anyone — but him.”

“You’re out of line, James,” Lily says, feeling her cheeks coloring and hoping that Sev won’t notice. “I would never pick flowers with you.”

With that, she turns on her heel, towards Sev, towards ice cream, towards the planned banality of the afternoon.

When freshman year began, things shifted. Sev joined the Alternative Media Club and started spouting shit. People noticed James, and he stopped noticing Lily. Roger moved to their town from Seattle. Life seemed more pressing, more tangible, more present. And that was that.

***

Besides, Lily has other things — other boys — to worry about. She’s had a massive crush on Roger Davies since freshman year, and for good reason: he’s kind. Considerate. Talks to the frosh even though he’s a senior like her and has every reason to ignore them. Has a killer smile, the right height, and broad shoulders. Perfect.

If only — well. She and Roger are perfectly friendly, but she doubts he knows anything about her; she doubts he thinks anything about her. Logically, Lily has known this since freshman year, but, still, she stays within his sightline. She wore makeup tonight, more than usual. She hopes he’ll look up and see her, like the male love interest does in all of Marlene’s favorite movies; hopes he’ll realize that the one he’s been looking for has been right in front of him the entire time.

Lily knows how stupid she’s being. She also knows that, when he does (finally) make eye contact with her (once, but she swears he held it for a second longer than normal), her heart starts to race. So there’s that.

***

James joins yearbook, with means that Sirius, Remus, and Peter join yearbook. Lily was tempted, when they first showed up outside room 304, to tell them to leave — she knows their respect for authority is basically natch, and she needs order if the yearbook is going to be any good this year — but she bites her tongue. James ignores her, anyway, or at least he does until discussion of the theme comes up. Roger and Lily had already settled on Outer Space, and the rest of the staff were on track to agree — that is, until James stands up and makes an impassioned speech in favor of Animals, egged on by Sirius shouting “hear, hear!” every few minutes. Lily shuts it down and sends the so-called Marauders to take photos of the Bible Study club as punishment. James bounds out of the room, camera bouncing against his chest in a way that makes Lily want to tear her hair out because he’s gonna break it.

When the meeting’s over, Roger walks out of the building with her.

“You were good with them,” he says. “James and — the rest.”

“Oh,” Lily says, and she’s definitely blushing now. “Thanks.”

He smiles — an easy grin — and walks towards his car. Marlene honks from hers, and Lily hops in. Later, when Mar drops her off at her house, she has a text from an unknown number.

Potter broke the camera — Roger

Lily knows she should be mad about the camera, but she can’t quite summon the emotion. Instead, something glittering flutters through her.��

Roger Davies’ number is now in her phone.

***

James doesn’t have an excuse at the next meeting. He just stares at the floor when Roger asks how the camera broke, and Lily can’t help but notice that it’s unlike James to be quiet. Ever.

She shrugs the thought off; she has work to do. Important work, like getting official pictures of every club, affinity group, and forensics team in her sprawling, one-thousand student high school. Later, walking down a back stairwell and marveling at her luck at being able to get the photos for both the presidents of Cheese Club and the cohort leaders of Girls Who Code in the same fifteen-minute time frame, Lily hears voices. Familiar ones.

“Why didn’t you just tell them?” the first one says. Lily immediately identifies the lazy drawl as Sirius’s.  

“What kind of friend do you think I am, idiot?” James’s voice — sharper, yet friendlier, even as he insults his friend — replies. Lily looks over the banister and sees that the pair is standing on the steps a flight down, (new) cameras around their necks.

“It’s just Peter,” Sirius snorts. “Not a big deal. His dad would’ve paid for it anyway.”

“You know how Roger is with Peter,” James says in a hushed tone that makes Lily lean even further over the bannister. “He’d tear him to pieces. Besides, it’s just a camera. Mom’ll be happy to reimburse the school when she hears why I said I did it.”

“Will she, though? You know how she gave us that whole speech about responsibility and digging our own graves and stuff like that.”

James stiffens slightly, the lines of his jaw and the straight of his back becoming slightly more pronounced as he fiddles with his hands. “I’ll talk to her.”

“But she said —”

“I know what she said, Sirius.”

“But soccer —”

“I’ll figure it out!” James says sharply. After a second, he buries his head in his hands. “Sorry. ‘M really tense. It’ll all work out.”

Sirius stands. “It better.”

Lily’s phone starts to vibrate, and she hurries back up the stairs before she’s discovered, mind reeling.

You know how Roger is with Peter. He’d tear him to pieces.

The Roger she knows — thinks she knows — would never hurt someone, and definitely not over a stupid camera. Right?

***

“I can’t believe — he’s insufferable — the camera —”

“We have insurance,” Lily says, watching Roger pacing the room.

“That we had to fight to get the school to sponsor! Ms. Rodriguez is going to freak the fuck out and… Jesus, Lily, why aren’t you more upset by this?”

“Because it’s not a big deal! We’ll get the new camera and chew James out, and he won’t go it again.”

At this, Roger stops pacing. “No. We need to kick them out.”

“What?”

He puts his hands on a desk between them, leaning in ever so slightly. “Lily. They broke a camera. They’ve cost this school — us — hundreds of dollars. And they’re not even good at yearbook! They only joined because —”

“Because what?” Lily asks, annoyed.

Roger purses his lips. “Not my secret to tell, but it’s so fucking obvious.”

“Then tell me.”

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “No. Can we at least… put them on probation?”

“Yearbook probation?” Lily says disbelievingly, trying to reconcile this version of Roger with the one in her head, puzzle pieces mashing against each other but not sliding into place. She doesn’t understand why Roger is so upset, but James’ words keep echoing in her head. He’d tear him to pieces. “I didn’t know that existed.”

“You’re right. It’s fine. I’ll email Ms. Rodriguez.”

Lily exhales. “Thank you.”

He shoulders his bag, takes a deep breath. “Okay. I have practice, but I’ll text you once I’ve sent the email.”

Lily knows she should be ecstatic at the promise of more communication with him, but, as she watches him go, she can’t quite summon the excitement. You know how Roger is. No, she doesn’t.

read part two here!

#jilytober #jilytober 2020 #jily #jily fic #my writing #mine #lily evans #james potter #harry potter fanfiction #jily au #james x lily #jily fanfiction #sirius black #marlene mckinnon

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Korekiyo Shinguuji x reader fluff

Request: Hello!! ✨ Can i request something fluffy with Korekiyo (it would be nice if it would be with his pregame version (but original is okay, too))? Maybe he's having a sleepover with reader? Thank you in advance ✨ I really like your writing. Your oneshots and imagines make my day!!

Okay I’m gonna de pregame Korekiyo like you asked! So just a tall, lanky, beautiful man with a face mask. No incest and lipstick or killing game lmao. Also I’ll make him interested in anthropology but not the Ultimate/SHSL - Admin Kokichi

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose…” your best friend, Korekiyo Shinguuji, stares at you from behind his black dust mask with a concerned gaze. His brows are furrowed deeply in the center.

Korekiyo had gotten into a fight last night with his legal guardian, his older sister. Apparently, it had been a nasty one, unlike anything that’s happened between them before. It gotten so bad that she kicked him out of the house, with no word of when he would be allowed back in.

“Yeah, of course, Kiyo! We are buds right? You’re my bestie! I can’t let my bestie just spend the. night alone in some hotel or sleep out in the street, now can I?”

“But Y/N-”

“Would you let me go sleep in the street if it were me?”

“No, I suppose not, but-”

“Then any argument you have in invalid. Case closed!” You closed your notebook on your desk haughtily as if to signify the end of the conversation. Korekiyo sighed, a slight blush on his cheeks as he placed his head down on his desk with anxiety.

“You’re sure your parents are okay with it?” He mumbled, his black hair cascading down his back and shoulders and splaying out around his desk.

“Well…”

“Y/N…” he warned, scolding you like a mad mother.

“They will be out of town this entire week. My dad always travels for work and my bitch of a stepmother has to stay attached to his hip like a leech at all times so-”

“Then me staying over seems highly inappropriate. I’m sure your father would-”

“Don’t make me guilt you into coming over. You’re my friend. You’re in need, and I love spending time with you! Please?” You reached over and pulled on the sleeve of his exorbitantly-priced sweater with eyes wide like a puppy dog.

“You win this time, Y/N, but if your father finds out and becomes hostile toward me, I’m going to blame you…” he joked breathily, shaking his head at his stubborn best friend. He couldn’t help but give into your every want and desire, and you often pulled him into your schemes and plans. Well...he called them schemes, but he was just a goody-two-shoes, so anything not morally immaculate or life-enriching was considered foolish to him.

“Then it’s settled.” You nearly squealed. You’d been waiting forever to have him over to your house, but he’d always declined. You’d known him for about a year, and still your humble abode had remained a mystery to him. He lived with his older sister who took care of him after their parents died, and she was extremely strict with him. He was never allowed to come over after school. You’d been to his place once or twice, but always with supervision and strictly for studying or some other educational activity. If you wanted to spend time after school, he had to lie to her about where he was going and why. Finally, you’d have your crush, your best friend over to your home.

You had to admit to yourself, you did feel a little guilty about the whole situation. You were inviting him over for mainly selfish reasons. Yes, he was your best friend and you’d never let him go without a place to stay, but there was a large part of you that just wanted the boy you liked alone and to yourself for a night or...maybe two, if this first sleepover went well. Unfortunately though, your crush on him weighed heavily on you. You felt horrible for keeping this secret of your feelings from him, because he trusted you with everything. You were so scared that letting him know that you wanted to be more than friends would ruin the close bond you two had. Yeah...it would be way too awkward to remain friends afterward if he rejected your feelings.

You both were let out after the last class of the day. Korekiyo walked you back home every single day since you’d become friends. At first, you found it a bit embarrassing, seeing as he was one of the kids from the rich neighborhoods around your school and you lived in a middle-class suburb a bit further away. Your fears about your class-difference with your best friend quickly faded as you got to know him. It became clear within weeks of hanging out that he would never judge you based on financial status, whether you lived in a trailer or a palace. That was just one of the many things you loved about him. And boy could you list a bunch…

He was intelligent, a straight-A student and teacher’s pet. He had endless wisdom and knowledge of both practical things and useless trivia. He gave the best advice, and was so passionate about both his hobbies and yours. You could talk with him forever without the topic getting dry.

His looks only enamored you to him further. He was tall and slender, with a perfectly built frame. Unlike your peers, he never got acne, and his complexion was pore-less and smooth like marble. He was pale, and his eyes stood out like flecks of gold against an ivory surface. His hair was healthier and more majestic than any female you knew. It was long, all the way down his back, and was the deepest, darkest shade of black with delicate bangs that fell across his forehead. He was absolutely gorgeous, but for some reason he still had self-esteem issues. For this reason, he always wore a dust mask over his mouth and nose that concealed his entire lower face. You could never understand why. Everyone at school either liked him or was jealous of him, and he had nothing to hide from anyone.

He tried to lie to you at first, stating that he had a weaker constitution and because of frequent illness and hospital visits, his sister made him wear it, but once you got closer, he admitted he liked hiding his face and it made him feel comfortable. He customized his masks, or commissioned them to be specially made, having embroidery on them or patchwork and sometimes shelling out for the more expensive leather or designer masks...which you didn’t even know existed until you met him.

You’d tried to convince him multiple times that he was beautiful and had nothing worth covering up, but he insisted upon wearing the masks in public at least. After knowing him for a few months, he let you see his bare face, but only at his house. And man...were you blown away. He almost...looked like a woman without the mask. But not? It was hard to explain. He was like some kind of gender-less, androgynous deity. He certainly had a strong, masculine brow and jaw, but then his lips were pert and plump and soft...soft-looking at least. They were gentle and the cupid’s bow dipped down low and rounded out. He had a wide, manly chest and slender waist, but long eyelashes. Large, veiny hands, but delicate skin and hair. He was absolutely heavenly to look at. That first time, when you’d seen him without his mask, you knew you were falling hard, and it made you sweat and your heart speed up. You were always so scared that you’d go too far or flirt by accident and he’d catch on and pull away from your friendship. It hadn’t happened yet, thankfully.

It was raining, pouring down actually, and you two rushed down the street side by side, backpacks over your heads for protection from the downpour.

“I apologize. As you know, I would usually have an umbrella but after she kicked me out last night, Miyadera has refused to let me go in and get anything that I didn’t have on my person at the time.” He was right, he was always prepared for any possibility, and his sister had now made that impossible.

“It’s fine. I read the forecast this morning. I should’ve brought one as well,” you yelled, the rain pelting you both loudly. “We really should get a car or something. We’re seniors for fuck’s sake.” We? You didn’t know why you’d said that. He was his own person and probably could afford to buy you both cars with his own pocket money.

Why did you even say that?

“Ah, but walking is better exercise! It’s good for us! Besides...Miya won’t let me buy one... you know that. She practically controls all of my funds.”

“Kiyo, you’re 18 now, get your damn money back!”

“I’m scared…” he chuckled, only half-joking. It was true, you both had turned 18 recently and were about to graduate, but his sister still treated him like a little kid. Pretty ironic, as you wouldn’t kick a little kid out onto the street on their own.

You passed his neighborhood, and he looked up at it longingly, raindrops substituting tears dripping down his cheeks. You could tell this was weighing on him. He loved his home, it was where he felt safe, and he hated fighting with his sister. She was a tough guardian, yes, but she gave up her life as a young woman in her prime to raise him.

You were approaching your street now, both of you soaked down to your socks and hoping your bags didn’t also soak through. You both had many folders of homework and electronics inside that would all be ruined if so. You reached the curb, waiting to cross into your neighborhood, when an unruly teen in his beaten-up sedan screeched by, speeding past you two carelessly. You grabbed Korekiyo’s pale, cold hand, startled by the sudden volume of the law-breaking vehicle, and you both gasped as its wheels dug into the puddle in front of you just below the curb, and splashed onto you both like a tidal wave.

“Fuckin’ asshole!” You yelled, charging forward after the car until a hand landed firmly on your shoulder, holding you back. You swore the rain would begin to evaporate and steam up into the air with how hot your skin was right now. You were royally pissed off.

“Y/N if he’s the type of man to do that, what do you think talking to him would accomplish? Also, do you really think it’s possible to catch up to a speeding vehicle on foot?” Always the voice of reason. Always so calm and mature. You usually admired that in him, but right now you were seeing red, and his dismissal of your mood made you a bit ticked off at him as well.

“But! I-gah! Aren’t you pissed? He just-”

“Got us wet? We were already wet.”

“But he did that on purpose!”

“I know. Being irate changes nothing. Come on, once we are inside I’m sure we can get warm and dry off. I’ll keep you warm,” he smiled gently behind his mask, his eyes crinkling. Your cheeks would’ve heated up had your body not already been aflame from rage. You didn’t know why you were always so flustered when he was caring toward you or touched you or even mentioned touching you. You felt gross reveling in his platonic intimacy so much. It felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness. Yes, he could keep you warm once you got home. That was normal. You two always cuddled or held hands or leaned on each other. You were just that close. But it was all just casual, as friends...right?

“Y-yeah. You can shower and I have some baggier, more comfortable clothes you can wear to hang out and sleep in. I think those should fit.” Korekiyo was taller than you and awfully skinny but you had some general sweatpants and oversized t-shirts that you were sure would fit anyone comfortably. You knew Korekiyo was used to the best and most expensive textiles and fashion, but for just hanging out at your house? It should be fine.

“That’s very kind of you, thanks.” You were sure he was thinking: how could you put me in peasant-wear, but he would never say that aloud to you. “Why do you have that awful look on your face? Did I say something to offend you, Y/N?” He took your hand in his as you reached your front door and rummaged through your bag for your house keys, Korekiyo holding his phone’s flashlight over your bag to assist you.

“No, I’m fine, Kiyo, why?” The keys jingled in the lock and you opened the door.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Y/N,” his voice dropped into a low rumble, and you got chills down your spine. He was just so...sexy without even trying.

“I just...sometimes I feel bad that you spend so much time with me or like I’m not enough, like the rest of our classmates who live in that bougie housing plan of yours...like with the clothes I’m giving you tonight. I feel like you deserve better or like...like what if those kids start to judge you one day because you’re hanging out with people that are beneath you.”

“Y/N,” he stopped you, rolling his eyes as you both dropped your soaking bags and overcoats on the floor on your living room, “You’re my ‘bestie’ as you always say,” he chuckled dryly. “Do you really think I care what clothes I’m wearing when we are alone or what any of our peers think of my friendship with you? I know you know me far better than that… where is this all coming from? You’re unusually… emotional today,” he took your hand once again, leading you to the couch, but pausing before sitting down with you. “I do not wish to soak your couch. That shower would be nice about now,” you could see the pallor of his skin, coated like wet porcelain as he shook slightly.

“Y-yes! Well okay, we have a bathroom in my parent’s master bedroom and one just in the hallway for guests and myself. You can take the master bedroom one, it’s much nicer,” you stuttered.

“Why do you insist on babying me and always thinking I need pampered or require only the finer things in life? I was born wealthy, I don’t need all of those things. I think your house is wonderful,” he gestured around him, “just like you!” He encouraged you before letting you lead him upstairs. You ran to the bathroom closet then to your room, leaving him in the dark hallway alone for just a moment. He observed the photos on your wall, the paint, the carpet. Why would he judge you for any of this?

You returned with the sleep-wear you promised and a fresh towel.

“You can go ahead and use anything in there. My dad won’t even notice. B-but... if you don’t like his soaps and shampoos let me know. I have quite the skincare and bathing collection!” You were a little proud of that fact, and he smiled at the happiness finally leaking back into your attitude.

“I’m sure it will all be fine. Thank you, Y/N.” He nodded, taking the towel and clothes from you before heading into your father’s room. You turned on your heel, fetching what you needed before taking a shower of your own in the hallway’s smaller bathroom.

You sighed, but not in relief or relaxation, letting the hot water fall over you and loosen your tense muscles. You felt just so...fucked up. Conflicted. Confused. Guilty...love-struck. You didn’t know what to do and felt extremely overwhelmed.

Tonight would be the best opportunity to tell him how you feel: alone, private, cozy and warm, cuddling up together? Yes, that was perfect...but at the same time, if he rejects you, then what? He leaves immediately and has nowhere to go? Or maybe he stays the night to be polite and there’s an awkward silence between you for the rest of your lives...what if he avoids you after school and no longer wants to go to the same university as you?! Your head was spinning.

Why am I such a coward...you thought to yourself, tears mingling with the shower water.

When you finally dried off and got dressed, Korekiyo was already waiting for you in your room, having turned on your electric blanket on your bed and sitting patiently waiting for you underneath it. His hair was damp and his mask was on your night stand. He acknowledged your entrance with a warm grin and patted the bed next to him.

“Why are you in bed? It’s only like five, I was thinking we would go downstairs and cuddle on the couch and eat something-” you approached him slowly and he cut you off.

“Goodness, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He stood to meet you, inches away and towering over you.

“Huh?” He took your chin in his hands and tilted it upwards to meet his dandelion-colored eyes.

“Your eyes are all puffed up. You’ve been crying? Why?” Wow…

“You never miss a thing, huh, Kiyo?” You tried to change the subject or lighten the mood or...anything!

“Only when it comes to you~” he hummed before leading you down the stairs and onto your couch. You dragged along behind him like a child being forced to the dentist. “Now, what’s upsetting you? You can tell me anything, you know that…” his eyes were full of concern and he but his lower lip, apprehensive.

“Kiyo, I- well….it’s just...nothing’s wrong. Let’s go get some snacks. I know you love soup dumplings with white rice~” You smiled weakly.

“First of all, that’s more of a meal than a snack, but anyway, you know you can’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I just...I just want...this is so hard.” You sighed, voice faltering.

“What’s so hard? Me sleeping over, or your dad being gone? The rain earlier?”

“No no.... I want you here and you know I don’t miss my dad...a-and I feel much better after washing up…” your voice trailed off. He took your hand one final time that night.

And then...

“May I kiss you?” Kiyo spoke so gently, so scared and soft, like he couldn’t even believe his own words. Your eyes widened in shock.

“W-what?!” You pulled away from him, incredulous.

“I want to kiss you, Y/N. Will you allow me?” You paused for a moment, your mind reeling, but then you nodded slowly, your brain taking over and deciding it knew what was best for you.

Korekiyo leaned in, the couch squeaking a bit at the shift of weight. He clasped your chin with one hand, and guided you to him. His lips pressed gently into yours, as if he thought he might break you if he went any further. His lips were plush, surging with warmth, exactly how you’d always imagined them. After pecking you, he pulled back, looking for consent, looking for a sign that you enjoyed that, too. You nodded, getting the hint, and he pressed back onto you, a bit more liberal with his affection this time around.

“Mmm…” you moaned into the kiss as you both tilted your heads at an angle to reach deeper, and his mouth slid open. His tongue trailed against your bottom lip and you opened up without hesitation, your heart going a mile a minute. His tongue massaged yours carefully for a long moment that seemed frozen in time, and then he pulled back. You both sat staring at each other, panting a bit, until a smirk teased across the corner of his lips, and a blush appeared on his normally-concealed face. “H-how...how did you know?”

“I’ve always known…” you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over you. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

“Kiyo...I’m so sorry. I know we are just friends and I shouldn’t feel this way. I just- you are...I can’t stop feeling this way.”

“Y/N...did you think I asked to kiss you out of pity…?” He saw something like realization register in your expression, and he reached out, pulling you into his chest.

“You...you feel the same?”

“Exactly the same.” You didn’t feel so guilty anymore. “And I suppose we both were just too afraid of rejection to say anything. But knowing you, I knew I would have to make the first move if I ever wanted you to myself…” he hugged you tighter with those words.

“Y-yeah, I’m sorry about that...Kiyo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“And I should’ve told you, but there’s no use feeling guilty. We both want this.”

“Kiyo, will you...be my boyfriend…?” You now knew his true feelings, but still felt a lump in your throat. What if he didn’t want a committed, serious relationship right now, or his sister wouldn’t allow it...?

“I want that more than anything.”

You spent the rest of the night cooking soup dumplings, then shoving your faces with the greasiest snacks money could buy and watching documentaries while snuggled into his lap on the couch. He pointed out little facts and trivia along with each documentary, his obsession for culture and anthropology unabashedly taking over.

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binniedeactivated · 4 years

Text

saint. || soobin (3.1)🌪

pairing: soobin x reader genre: au word count; 3k

“wow, you’ve really been studying a lot haven’t you?”. you say, seeing soobin’s notebook splayed out on the bed filled with notes that you had no supervision on. you were shocked to know that he took the time to study by himself. he was really taking things seriously. soobin nods,

“i want to pass”.

“it sure looks like it. you’re going to do more than pass with all this knowledge”.

soobin laughs, “good. maybe I’ll earn the ski trip”.

“ski trip?”. you question, having absolutely no clue as to what he was referring to.

“yeonjun told me that everyone who does good on the exams earns a ski trip as an incentive”.

you were kind of amazed, “wow. that sounds fun. when did our school start doing stuff like that? they must really want us to pass”.

“definitely. and I think if everyone doesn’t do well the school’s going to be shut down. so I already know my parents are to blame”.

you roll your eyes and smile a bit, writing down your chemistry notes to study. “must be nice having money”.

“stop saying that. you have money too now”.

“really? where?”.

“right here”.

you shake your head and laugh. soobin eyes you before going back to write his notes.

“seriously why don’t you ask me for money? you never ask”.

“you want me to?”.

soobin nods as if it were a stupid question. “yes”.

“why?”.

“because why not? I think every boyfriend does”.

“I love how you just call yourself my boyfriend in front of my mom and now that counts as us being an official couple”.

soobin laughs and takes your hand. you look at him like he was the biggest joke in the world. “what are you doing?”. you say trying not to laugh. soobin was holding in laughter also while attempting to look at you seriously in your eyes.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”.

“i hate you soobin”. you laugh.

“I’m serious I’m serious stop making me laugh”.

you roll your eyes playfully. “fine. I guess I can be your girlfriend”.

“good. are we an official couple now?”.

you sigh scrawling your pen against your paper pretending to be frustrated. “I guess we are an official couple now soobin”.

“you’re always trying to act like you don’t like me”. soobin laughs again, flipping his notebook page to finish the rest of the notes on the backside.

“because if i act like I’m in love with you then things will be cringy”.

soobin lays his head on his hand, staring at you.

“are you in love with me?”.

you try not to blush. keeping your eyes on your own paper. his stare was eating you alive.

“of course not”. you mumble jokingly. soobin chuckles.

“your first time lying to me and this is what you waste it on?”.

you continue laughing leaving his rhetorical question floating in the air. he was still staring at you lovingly.

“tell me the truth. because I’m in love with you. and I’m not afraid to admit it”.

“why are you in love with me? I’m not shaming you I just kind of find it odd--I’m just a church girl. living a normal middle class teenage catholic life. there’s nothing special about me. and here you are every girl’s dream. you’re rich. good looking. everyone wants to be you. why me? I’m nothing”.

“do you really think I can fall in love with someone whose nothing?”.

you sigh. “I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket. I’m scared of getting my hopes up and then one day you just leave. there’s so many girls out there that’s better. look better and dress better. and you can get with every single one of them if you wanted”. you ranted and you didn’t mean to take it this far but it’s honestly how you felt. you couldn’t help it.

soobin presses his warm hand against your cheek. “why are you getting so upset, princess?”.

“I don’t know”. you utter being swarmed in a sea of vulnerability.

“I’m not going to leave you. and if I did who would I even leave you for? some girl who only wants sex and clout from me?”.

“what about the ones who are looking for a relationship?”.

“I’m too in love to care”.

you sigh again, giving him pitiful eyes. being the cheesy person he was leans in and kisses you. that didn’t stop you from liking it though.

“I only want you i swear. now please admit to being in love with me because I’m tired of waiting for your answer”. soobin says gradually laughing. you smile a bit breaking out of your sadness. his reassurance was what you needed. to be this deep into a relationship and him leaving you? it was your biggest fear.

“I may or may not be”. you joked. soobin sucks his teeth playfully.

“fine don’t admit it then. guess you won’t be getting a car for Christmas”.

“soobin?”.

“yes?”. he grinned while continuing his notes, knowing he caught you by surprise there.

“a car?!”.

“you heard me”.

“don’t buy me that it’s way too expensive”.

“i’m totally going to obey your command”.

“soobin I’m serious”.

“so am I”.

“how am I even going to explain that to my parents? they’re going to think I did something for it”.

“something like what?”. soobin asks knowing exactly what you were getting at.

“you know. they’re going to think I had sex with you or something for you to buy me such expensive gifts”. soobin waited and laughed once you finally said it.

“that’s hot. they think you’re like a little churchy prostitute”. you childishly punch his arm. “that’s hot to you?”.

“if it’s you doing it then yes”.

“how is having sex with someone for gifts and money hot?”.

“I just like the idea of you being a whore for me”.

you laugh, wondering what else went on in soobin’s mind.

“you know--like the outfit you wore when you came over my house for the first time--god i wanted to devour you”.

“oh yeah? why didn’t you say anything?”.

“because you were most likely going to punch me. you didn’t know me yet”.

“I still don’t. I’m still learning”.

yeah, but you know enough about me now”.

“I wouldn’t say all that. how do I know you’re not some serial killer deep down?”.

“you sat on my face last night I’m pretty sure that whole ‘secretly a serial killer’ bullshit is out the window at this point”.

you laugh loudly, “soobin!”.

“you also didn’t call me soobin you called me daddy”.

“alright that’s enough!”. the both of you laugh in perfect sync. interrupting it was his mother obnoxiously calling him from downstairs. soobin promises you his return before he goes to stand at the top of the stairs answering her.

“yes?”. he says kind of annoyed.

“me and your father have a conference to attend. our flight leaves soon. if I come back and find out you’ve studied nothing words can’t explain your punishment. don’t just sit around this house making nothing of yourself”.

soobin rolls his eyes, “where is your conference being held?”.

“france”.

“for how long this time?”.

“why are you asking meaningless questions? did you hear what I said?”.

“it’s not meaningless if you guys just came back and spent less than 8 hours in the house with me before you leave again”.

“soobin don’t start. we’re leaders and we are also missionaries. you know what is required of us”.

“what about me?”.

“what about you? study and make yourself useful for something soobin. we were glad finally seeing you out with the sports team and doing things that don’t require a suspension”.

soobin’s breathing pattern changes swiftly. he could hear the nonchalantness in her tone and he hated it with a passion.

“study and make myself useful and then what? so you both can come home and beat me and yell at me anyways?”.

his fathers enters the foyer pointing his finger up at soobin.

“watch your volume”.

“for what! for what whose going to hear me?”.

“for respect soobin! don’t make me come up these stairs”. his father threatens.

“why should I respect you both if you guys barely respect me?!”.

“what are you talking about you have a house to live in don’t you? you have cars you have nice clothes you have gourmet food to eat and your bank account surpasses any number of ever seen in my life. you have nothing to complain about you need to be grateful!”. his mother spat.

“yes you’re right thank you mom thank you dad for subtracting the parental love I could’ve gotten in my life and supplementing it with material things! I appreciate it so much!”.

“what did I tell you about saying that? huh?! we love you. this is tough love”. his father replies. soobin ball his fists.

“that’s bullshit you’re only saying that because you don’t want anyone in this town to know that the two people they respect so much don’t give a damn about their son! half the shit that you do you only do it so I can never say that I don’t have anything”.

“soobin watch your mouth!”. he father growls.

“it’s true just fucking admit it and stop getting angry!”

soobin spat harshly and his dad was about to take off up the stairs in a fit of rage until his mother pulled him back.

“our flight leaves in less than a half hour we have to be at the airport. we can deal with him later”. his dad nods and points his finger at soobin again.

“consider yourself lucky”. he stated before clutching his suitcase. his mom clutches hers and they both approach the door. she shoots a disgusting look at him.

“maybe this getaway will help you clean up your act”. she muttered and closed the door behind him.

“What about me!?”. soobin stands at the top of the stairs still yelling.

“your getaways don’t help! they never fucking did!”. he could feel his heart racing and his cheeks growing hot.

“just say you don’t really love me. thats all you have to do”. he croaks without even realizing he was crying.

you’d been in his room overhearing the whole argument but unable to come out due to you not supposed to even being there in the first place. so you kept silent until you heard the front door shut. you snuck out of soobin’s bedroom to see him down the hallway still yelling, so it was hard to tell if it’s parents really left or not. you approach his tall frame timidly, touching his shoulder.

“soobin?”. he palms his face sniffling. you wrap your arms around his torso and glance up at him.

“it’s going to be okay alright? they don’t deserve you. you’ve made mistakes in your life and sure you weren’t the best behaved kid but you are still theirs and they should treat you as such”.

“I hate them. I fucking hate them both”.

“soobin don’t say that”.

“I will say it. because they don’t care about me”.

“look at me”.

soobin sighs, removing his hands from his wet eyes to glare down at you. he looked so miserable when he cried and you hated it. you’d only ever like to see him happy and laughing. this was cruel.

“I’m in love with you, okay?”. you say, reaching up to help him dry his eyes.

“do you mean that?”. he replies.

“yes I do mean it”.

“good because I fucking knew it”. soobin admits with a straight face until you playfully slap his chest and laugh. it was a relief to see his reddened face contort into a smile.

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱

“babe! hurry up!”. soobin yells from the living room couch. he had the movie ready and he was just waiting for you to cuddle with him. you figured you couldn’t leave him alone while he felt like this. so you gave your parents your usual excuse for being out so late.

you promised soobin you’d do anything to help him feel better and guess what he requested? you guessed it.

four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches specially made by you. and of course the big baby was being impatient. you rushed and slabbed the layer of peanut butter on the last slice and sat all the sandwiches on the plate.

you carefully walked into the living room with it and soobin started the movie. you sat criss-crossed between his legs on the couch, trying to hand the plate off to him.

“feed me”, he begs. you turn your body and face him. “you’re a big baby do you know that?”. soobin smirks knowingly. you rip a piece of one sandwich and hold it up to his lips which he munches on adorably. you feed him a few more pieces and watch the crumbs fall from his lips.

“you’re the only person I know that can get fed and still make a mess”. you use a hand to dust the crumbs off of his lips and hoodie.

“you’re such a mom”.

“and you’re such a baby”.

“your baby right?”. you sigh trying not to blush once again.

“cmon. it’s okay to admit it”.

“I’m not going to make things cringy soobin”. you mumble and he immediately tackles you down on the couch playfully.

“soobin you’re going to make me drop all of these sandwiches on the floor!”. you laugh.

“admit I’m your baby”. he laughs.

he face was inches from yours. he looked so cute and cuddly in his big sweater and hood over his head. you pulled one of his drawstrings.

“fine. you’re my baby”. soobin smiles and softly kisses you.

“you forgot to get me something to drink with my food. I’m going to suffocate from this peanut butter”.

you laugh, “you didn’t ask for anything to drink”.

“I know. I should’ve asked for milk”.

“see, that’s your mistake not mine”.

soobin thinks for a moment before grinning. “i mean--if i wanted some milk I can just--”. he interrupted himself just to snake his hand up your shirt and massage your boob. you cackled loudly.

“soobin!”.

and your mornings were usual. this time around though you were encouraging soobin. he’d be taking his first history exam today.

“remember you got this. you are smart. you can do anything and you studied really hard for this”. you remind prior to kissing him. “I believe in you”. you added. you went into your classroom and let soobin put his skills to the test. he was even more inspired now that he had you rooting for him.

“I tried to call you yesterday but either your phone was dead or you didn’t pay your phone bill”. taehyun admitted.

“my phone bill is paid. my phone was probably dead”. you lied. you were declining his calls to keep from soobin’s wrath.

“we can study today after school if you’re down. I don’t have anything to do and plus the exam is coming up soon”.

damn. you couldn’t say no to his face. could you?

“yeah that’s fine. library?”. you ask.

“yeah that’s cool”. taehyun shortly replies. all the while you were wondering how the hell you were going to continue studying with taehyun behind soobin’s back. it wasn’t like you were cheating on him or anything. just studying. maybe soobin was being too overprotective.

soobin adjusts his backpack strap and attempts recalling his notes in his head while he walked to his classroom.

“ayo? you ready?”. yeonjun asked catching up to him

“hell yeah. I actually studied”.

“good. I uhh- kind of have some news for you though”.

“what is it?”.

“they found more evidence on the hotel case”.

“shit. why the hell would you tell me that right now?”.

“I’m trying to tell you all the shit I know before anything comes up later so you can be prepared”.

“how do you know this shit anyways? do you have a part time job at the police station or something?”.

“I have my connections. and i’ve been following it to make sure they don’t try and frame me”.

“why would they frame you?”.

yeonjun shrugs, “I was acting pretty hostile during interrogation. but still”.

“I don’t have time for this shit”.

“yeah that’s probably why you still haven’t told your girlfriend”.

“don’t start yeonjun”.

yeonjun shrugs again, “I’m just saying. you keep dragging this shit out she’s going to fuck around and leave you”.

#choi soobin #choi soobin smut #choi soobin au #choi beomgyu #txt au #choi yeonjun

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troop-scoop · 3 years

Text

Youth III

Chapter Three - Brawford

Word count: 2.3k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: Some semblance of trust with Jonathan is built. Steve shows what you’d consider his ‘good side’ and you remember things from your early childhood and before you ended up in 1983.

⟛⟛

“Where do you need to be dropped off?” Jonathan questioned quietly, turning down the music on the radio. The rain had let up a half-hour ago, and the sign welcoming drivers into Hawkins had been passed five minutes ago.

“Oh, the um – the motel. . . on Brawford.” You answered just as quietly. It was beginning to get dark. It always got dark quicker in the fall. You forgot why, but it always added to the feeling of fall. Dark orange sunsets and pink sunrises, leaves falling onto the concrete pavement for little kids to jump on while walking to school. At least that’s what you were reminded of in the early days of November.

But November always made your dad anxious when you were growing up. He’d always be tense throughout the first part of the month like he was ready for something bad to happen that he could focus all his attention on. But now, maybe you were actually beginning to understand why he got so uptight. Now that you thought about it, he really began to get nervous in late October as well, and in July was when he’d take a week or so off of work completely. Those were the days that worried you. He’d be held up in his office going through old things of his that he kept hidden away in the closet until that time of year.

November made sense to you now. But October and early July? Those were odd.

“The motel? Like, Linda’s motel? The lady who’s daughter used to babysit me?”

“Well, the owner is named Linda, I didn’t know her daughter used to babysit you.” You responded, shifting in your seat to cross your legs and bring your arms to tighten around yourself. “But yeah. You know, the only motel in Hawkins.”

Jonathan nodded, taking a right turn onto an unmarked street. But it was the way to the motel, you knew that.

“You’re emancipated, right? That’s the word around school.” The attempt at small talk was genuine, and it was obvious by how he gave you a quick glance before looking back to the road.

“Yeah.” Was your only answer. You didn’t know how to elaborate on that. You didn’t have papers. Just a load of cash you’d saved for over a year from doing chores, random bets with friends that you’d won. It allowed you to pay for a room and cheap food. But Linda had offered to let you stay there for free if you helped her around the motel. You’d agreed. So you washed sheets, made sure appliances were still working in rooms, cleaned rooms when people checked out, and went about their business.

The motel came into view when Jonathan turned onto Brawford, and the first thing you’d noticed was the red BMW parked near the front office, with a familiar brunette leaning against the trunk of the car. There was only one person in all of Hawkins you knew who had such an expensive car.

“Harrington knows you’re staying here?” Jonathan asked, pulling into the parking lot and into a spot a few spaces away from Steve’s car.

“I never told him.” You responded, reaching into the backseat, grabbing his shoulder bag, and pulling it into your lap. Counting out the number of posters, you took half of the stack and a random pen from the bag. Tearing off a corner from a poster you wrote down the number for your motel room and handed it to him. “If you need help with anything, call me. I’m serious.”

Jonathan nodded, taking the small piece of paper as you got out of the car. The sound of distant cars driving by against the set street could be heard, as well as drops of water sliding off the roof of the motel and hitting the metal railing. You looked at Steve, hearing Jonathan drive out of the parking lot and down the street.

“I wouldn’t expect to see you here, Your Majesty.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes at your greeting. He crossed his arms over his chest, which is when you noticed the thin black notebook, with red ink scratched into it. He saw you look at the notebook and he held it out to you.

Holding the stack of posters close to your chest with one hand, you reached out and took the notebook from him with the other. “Mr. Swann told me, to tell you, to stop writing in red pen.” You chuckled a bit at his comment, placing the posters on top of the notebook and holding it close.

Steve gave you a questioning look before reaching his hand back out, his index finger hooking onto the notebook and pulling it to be parallel with the ground so he could see the posters. “You’re helping Jonathan? I thought that was about your project?”

Sighing, you pulled the notebook back. “His brother’s missing, Steven.” At the sound of his full first name, Steve shifted uncomfortably. “No one at school is in his corner, right now. Sure, people are volunteering, and the cops are trying to help, but no one at school is actually trying to support him. Besides, Will needs to come home.”

“He’s a bit odd. I’ve known him since preschool, I just-”

“He has issues opening up. That’s it. I’m sure having people think you’re odd since preschool doesn’t really help.” Steve sighed at that, looking down at the ground, kicking the ground with his foot, almost gently. “You know, if you went missing, I’d help try to find you.”

At that, the two of you seemed to switch demeanors, with him looking up at you and you turn your attention to the wet ground. “Begrudgingly.” You added quickly, getting a laugh from him.

“Well. . . It’s something, I guess. Not as rude as I thought.” He joked, moving to open the trunk of his car. Looking up you watched as he pulled out a plastic bag, and hold it out to you.

“If you put anthrax in there-”

“Y/n, are you serious? Where would I get drugs?”

“I mean, I’ve heard you talk about weed before.” You responded, taking the bag from him. Holding the notebook and posters between your upper arm and ribs as you held open the bag and reached in for something that was in plastic packaging. Turning it in the bag to see the Sony logo. A metallic, pink, rectangular device in the packaging. “A walkman?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like one. Everyone else seems to have one, except for you.”

“What’s the catch?” You asked, tilting your head.

Steve shook his head, placing his hand over his chest in fake offense. “Catch? What, I can’t buy something nice for a friend?”

“Oh, so we’re friends?” You asked, a smile creeping onto your face. “I already owe you like five bucks for lunch last week, it’s starting to feel like you're trying to collect as many favors that you can cash in whenever you want.”

Steve shook his head again. “No. I had to go to Radioshack for my mom, I saw the Walkman and thought you’d like one.”

Nodding in response you grabbed a plastic case, the cover for a familiar album. “AC/DC? You bought me cassettes?” You hadn’t had anything to listen to music on for a while. Sure M.TV was available in your motel room, but the speaker was fuzzy and sometimes cut out during the best parts of a song.

“You don’t really strike me as Rick Springfield kind of person.” He shrugged. “You seem more like a rock kind of person.”

“Hey, Jessie’s Girl is gonna be a classic, just you wait and see. You’ll be begging your future kids to stop playing it.” You responded. “But. . . yeah. I get it from my dad. Queen, The Smiths, The Clash.”

The two of you stayed quiet for a second as you looked into the bag again, seeing a few more protective cases for cassettes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over? Carol’s been up my ass all day about trying to get you to come, and from what I’ve noticed, you don’t hang out with people outside of school.” The concern that was mixed into his voice was subtle, but you noticed it, and you’d lying if you said you didn’t appreciate his concern. He cared about people. While a lot of people wouldn’t see Steve Harrington as the type, you knew he was. He was just so wrapped up with Carol and Tommy that he didn’t take the time to realize he treated others.

“I’m sure. Parties aren’t really my thing, even with only a few people. Three’s a crowd, ya’ know.”

Steve gave an understanding nod. “Right. . . Enjoy your music, by the way, asshole.”

“Enjoy your party, douchebag.”

⟛⟛

The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and fresh baked goods surrounded the coffee shop as you held onto your little brother’s hand. The two-year-old little boy had just started to walk outside of the home, though he still insisted on holding someone’s hand. Considering you were the closest to his height, he usually went for you.

Waiting by the counter with your dads for your drinks allowed your gaze to wander. The warmth that the shop usually offered seemed to fade, and be replaced by a cool air that surrounded you and as that happened you saw a young woman with a child around your brother’s age. She wore a pale pink sleeveless shirt tucked into a flared skirt. Her hair was neatly done and put up, and her jewelry was sparkling around her neck and wrist. A single silver ring with a diamond on her left ring finger.

The woman looked directly at you, readjusting her grip on the infant she was holding and giving you a warm smile as she walked towards the counter.

Looking up to your dads to see if they had noticed her as well, you saw they were talking to each other, and when you looked back over to where she had been, the warmth of the coffee shop came back and the woman was gone, as well as the child.

⟛⟛

“Torrey-”

“Oh hush, James.” Torrey held her finger up to James’ mouth, he stepped back a bit, grabbing onto Olivia’s shoulder as the older girl moved to her bed, reaching under and grabbing a bag from underneath. “We’re going on an adventure. Buddy up, losers.”

Looking over to your left you saw Daniel looking at Torrey with a skeptical look, sitting on the arm of the rundown couch in the motel room. His brown hair unbrushed and sticking up in random directions. The imprint of the seam of his pillow in his cheek from when he was sleeping. You already felt bad enough that you had to wake them up because Torrey was on some sort of sugar rush.

“This is a terrible idea,” Olivia grumbled, pulling on her vans and hoodie. “Dad’s gonna kill us.” She added, speaking mostly to Derek. James, Derek, Issac, and Olivia were all siblings. With Olivia being the only girl in the family and probably the second most reasonable out of her siblings. James was first in that regard.

“What? You think mine won’t kill us?” Torrey asked, gesturing to her two younger siblings, Sarah and Howard. “They’ll be fine,” Torrey added, gesturing to you and Daniel. “Uncle Will is always nervous to even take something away from them. Especially, Y/n. She’s daddy’s little girl.”

“Shut up, Torrey!” you told her, grabbing your jacket from the armchair. “I am not ‘daddy’s little girl’ I do what I want!”

“Oh yeah? Then don’t chicken out, we’re gonna go to the liquor store. I’ll buy you guys some drinks, just not actual liquor. I’m not gonna be responsible for Uncle Will’s little girl getting blackout drunk.”

“You know how Will is with her, he’ll lose his shit if he knows she even left for the vending machine!” James defended you.

“No, I’ll come! I can keep a secret.” You responded, looking up at your oldest cousin, even in the dim lighting with only the lamp on Torrey’s nightstand on, you could tell that her dark brown eyes were narrowed in doubt. “You know, for someone who’s in college and engaged, you’re a terrible influence.” You told her.

“Believe me, I know. Buddy up!”

Sighing, you looked over to Daniel who had gotten his shoes and jacket on as well and was already walking over, taking your hand as Torrey went over to the door, unlocking it and looking both ways down the walkway, before turning to look at the rest of you who had already grabbed someone’s hand. She held her finger up to her lips letting out a ‘shhh’ before slipping out of the door, with Derek and Sarah following right after, then James and Olivia, You and Daniel, then Howard and Issac following right after. On your way out, you noticed a small dent in the wall, like when you missed the nail and the hammer hit the wall instead. It had clearly been painted over, but it was there.

Issac closed the door with a quiet click just as you had all reached the stairs, quietly stepping down the stairs and down into the parking lot.

Your cousins didn’t seem to notice, but you had, the front office was lit up, the floor to ceiling windows allowing you to notice the old woman, likely in her 80’s looking at all of you, but making eye contact with you. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost.

The owner of the motel came out from the backroom, going to the old woman and taking her away from the windows. The younger woman was still older, but she looked at you all as well and froze.

You knew staring was considered rude, but you couldn’t help but stare. Both women seemed as though they’d seen something unbelievable. You only looked away when you were so far away that you couldn’t see them anymore.

⟛⟛

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