#true piece of shit in every sense of the phrase | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magmahearts · 7 months ago

Text

TIMING: current. PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @magmahearts LOCATION: the magmacave. SUMMARY: after stumbling on the aftermath of an eruption, nora runs to warn cass that makaio isn't what he seems. CONTENT: implications of emotional manipulation, hints of suicidal ideation.

The mimicry of normalcy was the weirdest part of moving on. It was a grasp at old activities in hopes that old joy would seep through the cracks and fill the hole inside her. They didn’t, but each day it was getting a little easier to venture outside the zones she’d been haunting this past month. Most days these excursions were facilitated by Babadook. He’d turned into a guard dog in his own right, protecting her from herself more than from the world around them. Every trip would include a route that passed them near to some event where the humans of the town were afraid. The proximity to the fear forced Nora to ingest it, despite her distaste for it. Babadook really was a good boy.

Today the trip was a winding path that led them to an abnormality viewing station. Nora had viewed the abnormality. It was a cursed rock in Wicked’s Rest. A rock she’d seen eat people. She’d viewed this rock enough that she was ready to turn around the moment she realized where they were going, but that wasn’t why Babadook had led them there. Activity swarmed around the station like ants that had just discovered something tasty to bring back to their queen. These ants were boys in blue, a distinction Babadook probably never had to make when looking at people. “We don’t fuck with cops,” Nora whispered down to her dog. Babadook gave a mournful howl. Nora was about to turn to leave but a phrase caught her attention. “Like a volcano erupted.” Nora paused, a flutter of worry started to build in her chest. There was only one volcano she knew of, and it was her bright and shining friend. Well, that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Wynne had spread word that Cass’s father was in town, and while Nora had never seen the man, wouldn’t them both being volcanoes make sense?

The outing changed from a walk to a mission. Thirty minutes, two stealth missions and one failed illusion later Nora had enough information. The abnormality had not sprouted a volcano, as the pigs feared. Nora knew the exact source, and it wasn’t her brilliant superhero friend who shone the brightest in the world. It couldn’t be, because she was a hero, always wanting to save everyone around her. However, this was going to devastate her, but wasn’t it a rite of passage for all children to learn their fathers were just shit men? Nora was tired of rites. Tired of the way they left people shattered, and the pieces were pushed under the rug with a swift ‘it is what it is.’

“Cass!” Nora was out of breath, a sharp knife stabbed her side with each breath. Babadook dropped at the entrance of the cave, panting. The pair had run as fast as they could, no breaks, to the cave. She’d been careful to sniff the air and check the scent. It was just Cass. The scent of the murdering volcano man lingered, but it wasn’t present. Now was a good time. “Cass, we need to talk.” No hesitation this time, she burst deeper into the cave. There was no time to second guess, no time to consider the mean things Cass had said lately, the push she’d made away from her friends. Cass needed help, and this time Nora would be there. “Cass I need to tell you something, and I know it’s hard to hear, but I am begging you to listen. I’m begging you to please hear me, and know that I’m not lying because I wouldn’t lie about this.” Were those the right words? The right sequence that would push past the issues between them and lock them in the zone of trust they once shared? “Your dad killed someone. I saw the body. The police described it as a volcano going off. But,” Nora shrugged, a gesture to fill in the blanks. There are no volcanoes about the two of you. “Cass, I don’t think your dad is a good person.”

—

In her mind, screams still echoed. She heard them in the silence, in the empty space that existed between one heartbeat and the next. It was as if that man had never stopped screaming, as if his skin was still melting in her grip. Makaio had been there for her, just as he had after the hunter. He’d sat beside her in the quiet of the cave, close enough for her to feel his heat but not so close that it was stifling. And Cass ached more now than she had then, couldn’t shake the image of the dead man laying in the dirt and the way he hadn’t looked much like a man at all, in the end, but she liked that her father was still there.

He’d offered a few words of comfort in the quiet, the only thing louder than those screams in her mind. He told her the same thing he had at the viewing station, when the smell of burning flesh was so overwhelming that she was sick with it. He repeated it over and over again: that her friends would no longer accept her, that it didn’t matter, that he loved her no matter what. He didn’t tell her she’d done a terrible thing. He didn’t chastise her for moving without thinking, didn’t point out how irredeemable it was to kill a man after disarming him, didn’t shake his head at the way he’d been harmless long before Cass made sure he took his final breath.

There was a man, and he was dead now. There was a man, and Cass had killed him. And the only thing that made any of that anything even mildly resembling okay was the fact that her father was sitting beside her in her cave, a quiet and steady force. The only thing that kept air traveling into her lungs were his reassurances that, even though no one else would, he loved her all the same.

He’d stepped out a few moments ago with a quiet promise to return soon with food. She hadn’t eaten since it happened, though she didn’t think it had happened very long ago. It was difficult to know for sure; time felt slippery, that constant screaming in her mind drowning out the ticking of any proverbial clock. She didn’t really know how long Makaio had been gone. She didn’t really know if she ached because the spot beside her was temporarily empty or if the ache was just a part of her now, if it was just the way things would be from now on.

A voice broke through the quiet, barely rising above the screams. It wasn’t Makaio, and Cass felt her brow furrow. She looked up as the owner of the voice entered. Nora, breathless and tentative. Cass couldn’t decide if she was happy to see her or if she wanted her to go. Her mind kept returning to Nora’s posts in Ireland, of how much she seemed to love a place she’d run to without even bothering to tell Cass she was going. It felt too much like New York, like the empty apartment she’d waited in for so long that she suffocated on its vacancy.

Why are you here, she wanted to ask, but the screaming was too loud. She couldn’t quite raise her voice enough to be heard over it, and she didn’t particularly want to try. So she met Nora with a blank stare, rocky brow as furrowed as it was capable of being.

Nora needed to tell her something. Nora needed her to listen. Wasn’t that rich? Would Nora have listened if Cass had asked her not to go to Ireland, if she’d joined the chorus of voices begging her to return home? Bitterness flared in her chest, a distant thing. She wished it were louder. She was tired of the screaming.

Still, Nora seemed desperate and, in spite of everything, Cass loved her enough to push through the screams and listen. Whatever Nora wanted to say seemed important, seemed pressing, seemed —

Oh.

The words seemed to bounce between them. Your dad killed someone, a blade sinking down into her flesh. And then, the inevitable followup that gripped her by the throat: I don’t think your dad is a good person.

Did the two go hand-in-hand? Was one a direct result of the other? Your dad killed someone. No he hadn’t. It was Cass who wrapped magmic hands around tender flesh, Cass who erupted like a volcano with only one target in mind. I don’t think your dad is a good person. Why? Because of the corpse? If Nora thought Makaio was bad because she thought he had killed that security guard, then — then did it matter who had actually done it? The perpetrator wasn’t a good person. Wasn’t that what Nora was saying?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, loud so that she could hear herself over that screaming in her mind. “You don’t — It doesn’t make someone a bad person. Just because — It doesn’t. If — If he did that, it still wouldn’t make him bad.”

—

The run had left Nora buzzing. Her legs itched, her breath caught, her side stung. But she had known without any doubt that the moment she was standing in front of Cass everything would be okay. When they finally talked in person, everything would magically repair. Their bond of friendship would envelope them. They would be able to talk again. They would be back in New York, two kids alone in the world together, playing pretend. That had been a driving thought. That had pushed back the insecurity of their online conversations, and driven her forward. Cass deserved the truth. She deserved so much more than the truth, but the truth was what Nora could give her.

The world had shattered into glass the day Delcan died, and since that day glass hadn’t stopped falling around her. It was rain pouring over her at all the time. Somedays, it was light, the glass bouncing off her skin and falling into piles of light around her. Today, as Cass snapped at her, it was sharp. The pieces digging themselves into her skin, the piles of light covered by her blood. The pair were standing in a field of sharp edges, there was a canyon between them, and Nora had done nothing but help the glass from cutting it there. “Oh.” It was breathless. It was useless. It was all she had to respond with.

Cass was right, of course, Nora didn’t know what she was talking about. Nora wasn’t there, she hadn’t seen the incident that resulted in a charcoaled body. “I don’t-” Nora let out a frustrated sigh. There were feelings inside of her, and they told her things, they made her feel ways, and they needed to be communicated, but those feelings died in her throat, they hid from the dictionary, and most of all, they ran from her vocal cords. “It doesn’t make someone bad to kill.” It made her bad. It tainted her. It covered her in blood. She would spend the rest of her life mourning. But there had been other people she’d forgiven. “I think. But it does, because it’s him.”

Nora was a bad daughter. That was an undisputed fact. The sky is blue. Water makes you wet. Eleanor Pine is a bad daughter. She’d been a bad daughter from the moment they’d chosen to adopt her. She hadn’t fit into the model they created, and no matter how much they hammered her, she couldn’t take the space they wanted her to fill. The old nursery rhyme was step on a crack and break your mothers back, but she had misheard. Run away and don’t come back to break your fathers’ hearts. But she knew the longing to want to be loved. To be told you’re enough. To change every aspect of your being because they ask. But how was she supposed to tell Cass that when she didn’t know the words that would tell her?

“Wynne told me about your dad.” They had been direct, that Cass’s dad had been manipulating her, and Nora believed Wynne because Wynne was right and someone that should be listened to. “It’s not killing someone.That makes him bad. I think. Because you’re right, I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Blood covering her. The line across her throat. Nora swallowed, forcing back the memories. This wasn’t about her. Cass needed her. It was the least she could do to be present for this conversation. “Because sometimes people kill and it’s not what they wanted to do. I mean, we were both there for Debbie. You know? And I get it. But it’s more than just killing someone.” Nora had never known she’d one day be ingrained in a world where she’d be the one saying ‘well I can excuse killing.’ Muchless a world where she was the one doing the killing. Yet here she was.

“It’s -” Nora sighed, looking around the cave, grasping at words and straws that kept rolling away from her. “Wynne said your dad is manipulating you. They wouldn’t lie. I think that’s what makes him bad. And now someone is dead.” It sounded lame. Nora knew it sounded lame and it frustrated her more. “Wynne only wants to help. I just want to help. How can I help?”

—

Because it’s him, Nora said. Killing didn’t make a person bad unless the person was Cass’s father, who loved her and supported her and was there for her when no one else wanted to be. Where had Nora been when Cass was aching these last few months? Where had she been when Cass nearly killed that hunter, when her hands burned through his flesh and would have burned further if Ariadne hadn’t told her to stop? It was fine that Nora had her own things going on. It was fine that she’d run away to Ireland without giving Cass a head’s up, it was fine that she’d disappeared again after returning. It was fine that she left Cass all alone in a stranger’s apartment in New York. It was fine, because how could Cass expect anything more from her? How could she expect Nora to stay for her? It was fine, because this was all it was ever going to be. Cass was the sort of person who was left and Nora was the sort of person who did the leaving. Hadn’t this story been written in stone long ago?

What was less fine was this… this blind judgment of someone who hadn’t left her. Because hadn’t Makaio been here when Nora wasn’t? Hadn’t he sat beside Cass in her cave as she read public post after public post of Nora arguing with anyone who asked her to come home? Hadn’t he comforted her through the realization that there must have been even more arguing going on in private, that Nora had probably already decided to stay gone? Hadn’t he been the one to hold her in her cave when her hand still shook with the memory of that hunter’s skin bubbling beneath them and Aria’s voice telling her no? Nora could leave, because Nora would always leave. But what right did she have to try to turn Cass against the one person who would always stay? She had no idea who Makaio was. Neither did Wynne. Neither of them had seen the way he made her feel safe. If his grip was too tight sometimes, wasn’t it just because he’d lost enough to know what it felt like to have someone slip through your fingers? If his voice was hard, wasn’t it only because his world was made of stone? Nora didn’t understand, so who was she to barge in here and act as though she did?

“Wynne doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” she said, voice sharp like a knife. “I mean, god, Wynne grew up in a cult. They probably think everyone’s parents are, like, cult leaders or whatever! And — And you don’t know what you’re talking about, either! You’ve never even met him, because you weren’t here! You left. And that sucked, Nora, that really fucking sucked.” You left, and I was a kid in New York again. I was sitting in an empty apartment, I was waiting for you to come home. You left, and all I could think was that I must have done something wrong. You left, and everyone leaves, so doesn’t that mean it’s me? You left, and he stayed. There was so much she wanted to say, but her throat was tight and her voice couldn’t quite make it through its claustrophobic tunnel.

In a lot of ways, she preferred the anger that was burning through her chest now. It was heavy, it felt clunky and awkward and didn’t fit her as well as she thought it would, but at least it was better than the strange emptiness left by that security guard’s death. She’d rather cling to the rage she felt in the moment her hands met his skin than the grief that took its place when she removed them.

She let it burn through her, let it clear the barrier that trapped her voice in her chest and drag it up to meet her tongue. “I have something good in my life. Someone who loves me, who won’t leave. And — And none of you want me to keep it, and I don’t understand why. You’re all here, all — making up stories! He’s manipulative, or he’s a murderer, or he’s bad. But he’s not! He’s not any of those things, Nora! He’s my dad, and he loves me! I don’t need your help! And thank god for that, because when have you ever done anything besides walk away?”

Her veins burned brighter, eyes glowing a deep red as her voice rose and echoed off the walls of the cave. This, Cass thought, was who she was supposed to be. Not the scared little girl in the New York apartment waiting for someone who would never return. Not the grieving ache that held a stranger until he was ash and bone and hated herself afterwards. Volcanoes didn’t need to apologize for their eruptions, didn’t need to feel bad for them. Killing didn’t make someone bad, Nora said, but it would if it were Makaio. And if Cass and her father were the same, didn’t that mean it would if it were her, too? Wasn’t there some relief in accepting yourself as the villain?

—

The galaxy was round, it circled around the sun. A slowly turning mass of planets and other space shit. The universe was round and it circled around Nora, one huge cosmic joke. Nora Pine. Born on April 1st. The fool. The laughing stock. The butt of some joke written in the stars. The divine comedy staged in real time. After being the headstrong girl, yelling at everyone for not believing her, for refusing to listen to those in her life who just wanted to help, she was now standing on the other side of the sound proof glass. She was banging against the glass, but Cass couldn’t hear her. Cass was a world away, begging everyone to hear what she found obvious. I hear you, I do, I really do, Nora was shouting behind that sound proof glass. She could see her own face transposed over the rocky features she loved so much it hurt. Because Nora knew how this story ended. It ended in burning a body next to a weeping waterfall. It ended in wondering why she couldn’t have listened when she had the chance.

No one had given up on Nora, despite the inevitability of her story. Nora would never give up on Cass. That was love. That was all she had to give.

“That’s unkind.” That was what Nora wanted to say, about Wynne, about their parents, about their attempt to help. There was no room for kindness in a struggle to be heard, accepted and understood. There was only desperate pleading, and the feeling of being all alone in a world that didn’t understand you. “Wynne didn’t choose where they grew up.” Nora said insead. “But they did their best with what they had. They saw through the lies they were told and chose themselves, and now they want to help. You. Me. Anyone they can, because they are kind like that. Because they don’t think everyone’s parents are cult leaders.”

Nora took a deep breath, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeves. “I did leave.” Ireland was a sore spot. It would be an open wound until the day she died. Declan would still be alive if she hadn’t left, but she couldn’t say she regretted leaving, because she could never regret meeting him. The red string of fate was always going to lead her to him, but if she had waited, if she had gone at a better time, would he still be alive? It was all very complicated, and the complications made it round. An internal argument that circled around and around in her. It invaded her so deeply it had become a part of her DNA, it whispered to her while she slept, and it wrapped its hands around her and drowned her. But Cass didn’t know that.

They hadn’t spoken since Nora had come back, except for Cass to tell Nora that she was a bad friend and that Cass deserved better, and that Nora should leave since leaving was all she was good at. “I had to go.” Her tongue felt heavy and her mouth was dry. “But I came back, Cass. I’m standing right here in front of you. I came back home because this is home. Sometimes people leave, but Cass that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.” Was this a lie? Hadn’t she been willing to stay? This wasn’t about her. Those thoughts could shut up.

“You deserve someone in your life that loves you. You have people in your life that love you and won’t leave. You have Wynne, you have Ariadne, and you have Van. You have so many people that are messaging each other to try and figure out why you won’t talk to them, because they care and they miss you. Sometimes dads don’t want you to be someone you’re not.” Didn’t Nora know that. Hadn’t she had two dads that had tried their best to mold her into something she wasn’t. “I know what a good dad looks like. And a good dad wouldn’t keep you isolated in your cave, and tell you that all your friends are bad for you, and keep you from living your life. A good dad would help you, and offer advice, but also know that you’re alive and being alive means making mistakes. He’d be a safe place to come back to. Forgive you, and help you. Not change you. Not ask you to be someone different.”

Cass’s eyes glowed red, she seemed to be brighter, and bigger. She was still the same beautiful Cass, but instead of soft flowing edges, they had redefined themselves into something sharp and unforgiving. A stone that had been sharpened on the edges of rough situations. “We’re glad you have a dad who loves you. You deserve to have a dad who loves you. But Cass, why did this dad who loves you and would never leave you come with a Cass that no longer sees her friends and doesn’t want to hang out with them, and doesn’t want to have fun anymore? What does that mean, Cass?”

—

“I don’t need their help!” Her voice was louder than she meant for it to be, but it was a necessary thing. Didn’t she have to scream, just a little, if she ever wanted to be heard? No one listened to her otherwise. She could talk and talk and talk, but no one ever really listened. No one made her feel heard the way Makaio did, with his patient nods and his quiet understanding. People like Nora, like Wynne, they only listened when it suited them. They listened when Cass was meek and small and easy to swallow. They didn’t listen now. Nora wasn’t listening now.

She had to go, she said, and wasn’t that an excuse Cass had heard a thousand times before? Didn’t everyone claim that they left because they had to? Alex had to go. Metzli had to go. Wynne had to go. The aos si in Hawai’i claimed necessity as they expelled her into a world she didn’t understand, the people she’d sought comfort with when living on the streets left because they swore some outside force dictated it. What did any of it mean to Cass? If everyone who left her had to do it, did that mean she just had to be alone?

No. No, it didn’t. She knew it didn’t now. Because while Nora and Metzli and Alex and everyone else might claim that they left because they had to, Makaio stayed on purpose. He saw the things Cass was, saw the things she did, and none of it made him feel as though he had to walk away. He held her when she was afraid, he comforted her when she was sad, and he chose to. He took ownership over it. He didn’t stay because he had to; he stayed because he wanted to. He loved her, and he loved her on purpose. And wasn’t there strength in that? Didn’t it say more about someone when they did something not because they had to do it, but because they wanted to? Didn’t admitting that carry so much more weight?

“You came back,” she repeated flatly. “Great. You came back last time, too. And then you left. Again. So — So what good is it, Nora? What good is coming back just so you can leave again? How long until you have to go somewhere else? God, this is — You have to know that this is all bullshit! You’re making shit up, just like Wynne was! All of you say one thing, and then when it’s not true, you just come up with something else! Why are you so desperate to take this away from me?” Weren’t friends supposed to want you to be happy? Why couldn’t hers accept that she was now? Makaio had been right to point out that none of them really understood her, to warn that they’d understand her even less when the truth about the security guard came out.

Nora was going on, reassuring her that her friends loved her, too. But how long would that last? How much would they be able to defend her when the truth came out? “I do have someone who loves me and won’t leave. He won’t run off to Ireland and argue with anyone who tells him to come home, he won’t get old and die and leave me alone or — or apologize to people who try to kill him. He does help me. And he gives me advice, and he cares about me. You — What do you know, Nora? You left your dads. And now, what, you want me to do the same to mine? You have no idea what this means to me! What it means for me to — to have a dad who actually wants me.”

But Nora was still going. She was still trying to poke holes in a boat that Cass wanted so badly to remain afloat, still trying to coax Cass onto a different life raft to leave Makaio to drown alone on this one. She didn’t understand; how could she? She thought Makaio was bad and wrong and she didn’t understand. Anger and frustration bubbled like the lava beneath her skin, and she let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “I don’t need you to come here spouting bullshit because you’re mad I don’t want to watch movies with you anymore. You said — You said he wasn’t a good person. Because you think he killed that guy, right? But he didn’t. He didn’t do anything. I’m the one who did it, Nora. So I guess that makes me the bad person.”

It slipped out without her really meaning for it to. She’d had no intention of confessing, but the anger and frustration forced the words through her clenched teeth all the same. She wanted, desperately, to reach out and pluck them out of the air, to shove them back down her throat and trap them in her ribcage. But it was too late for that now. The truth hung between them like a noose, and it was all Cass could do not to strangle herself on it.

“You should go,” she said flatly. “I don’t want you here.”

—

I don’t need their help! Cass’s voice was an eruption. Lava dripped from her words, flecks of fire falling around them, burning Nora. The ground sizzled between them. Had the ground turned molten between them before? While sitting in the diner, talking one on one for the first time since New York? Nora tried her best to remember it. The flickering diner light. The waitress smiling. The world still around them, as Nora’s one constant anchor weighed on her. What was she supposed to say to make up for leaving? The words weren’t easier to find, the leaving had never stopped. Nora knew she deserved these burns. She would wrap herself in aloe vera and cry later, because that was who she was now, someone who cried. But right now she would stand tall and take the burns. If Cass had changed her reaction, it was because the world had changed her, and Nora had done her part to inadvertently help isolate her friend into this situation.

Nora listened as Cass went on. As Cass scolded her. There was nothing she could say in her defense, but she could stand up for Wynne, who had been nothing but a saint. “Wynne isn’t making shit up. We don’t want to take this away from you. We just don’t want him to take you away from you. If you don’t want to be our friend, fine, but why Cass? If it hadn’t been for him, would you have come to this decision? Is this what you want? Because if this is what you want, then I’ll support you.” I see you. I see you. Nora was practically screaming on the inside. Nora was banging on the glass between them, trying to show Cass the scar on her arm, and her broken heart. “I know what it’s like to want something so badly you ignore everyone else Cass, and I know what it’s like to not listen to everyone trying to help, because you finally see what life could be, who you could be, and you want it so bad that ignoring everyone looks like a small price to place.” A tear had slid out, unwelcomed, unwanted. Nora turned away to wipe it. She didn’t want to cry. This wasn’t about her, she didn’t want to make it about her, she couldn’t cry.

The lava was back, burning deeper into Nora. Cass was right. She had left her dads. She had left her dads like she’d left Cass, like she had been willing to leave all of Wicked’s Rest. “Okay.” Because what else was there to say? Cass was right. “But I do know. I know what it’s like to have someone who wants you. Who cares about you. Who is always there, and one of those people was you and I’m sorry if I wasn’t good at showing it, or being there for you, but Cass I’m begging you to think of everyone else who is. Hasn’t Ariadne always been there? What about Van and Wynne? And you’re sitting here saying mean things about them. I just want you to think about them, and why they aren’t good enough for you anymore. I don’t know, Cass. I just know no one is perfect, and no one is ever going to always be there. One day something will come up, and he’ll have to go somewhere, even if for a bit, and then he’ll be gone like everyone else, and you’ll have thrown all your friends away for him.”

“I’m not mad you don’t want to watch movies with me, Cass. I’m sad. I miss you. I miss my friend. I mis-” But Cass had admitted something. That she had killed the man. And Nora had come in here sprouting words that hadn’t been helpful, that hadn’t supported her, when she must have been spiraling because she killed people. “Cass.” It was a plea, an apology and an explanation all in one, but those were unspoken, because no words could ever fix what had happened. “You’re not a bad person. I’m sure you had your reasons. I’m sorry you had to. I’m sorry I said what I said.” I killed someone too. Debbie. Declan. Nora wanted to tell her. Nora wanted to sit down with her and tell her everything, to let her know she wasn’t alone in this world. And even if she had killed a man out of bad, it wasn’t unforgivable. Not to Nora. Because she had killed the love of her life, and sometimes life hurts like that. Nora knew Cass’s heart, and rampant murderer without remorse wasn’t it. She wished Cass would talk to her. She wished she could talk to Cass, but the promise wove around her lips and kept her from speaking. “You’re not alone. If you need me. I’m in town. You’re not alone. You had your reasons. I know you did. When you’re ready to talk to me again, I’ll listen. Or anyone will listen. No one who knows you would ever believe you’re bad, Cass. Never.”

But Cass wanted her gone, and this was Cass’s home, and there were words Nora couldn’t say, and she was only making everything worse. So Nora did what she always did, the only thing she was good at, she left. The shadow wrapped around her, twisting its fingers in her hair and smiling. “It should have been you.” It reminded her. “You can’t do anything right.”

—

Maybe, if Cass hadn’t already made up her mind — or if her mind hadn’t been made up for her, by a hand that gripped her too tight and a voice that reminded her time and time again how temporary everyone was — the things Nora was saying would have chipped away at the stone around her heart. If she weren’t trying to listen to her friend’s quiet words over the never-ending sound of the screaming security guard who she’d burned away into nothing, or if Nora hadn’t come her so sure that Makaio had killed the man and was bad for doing so, things might have been different. If Metzli, Wynne, Nora, and Regan hadn’t all disappeared to Ireland at the same time, if Nora hadn’t left her in that apartment those years ago, if Alex had stayed…

If, if, if. It was a stupid word. It never amounted to anything worth keeping.

Cass didn’t live in a world where her mind had the luxury of changing once someone else had made it up. This wasn’t the universe where that guard’s screams were silent, or where Nora came with a different approach. In this world, everyone went to Ireland, and Nora left her alone and aching in someone else’s apartment, waiting for someone who would never return. In this reality, Ireland swallowed up a month of her friends’ lives and left her alone with a stranger to fall back on. Alex left, and Ariadne stopped her from finishing off the hunter who would have killed them both. Leila didn’t know the right things to say, Wynne chose the wrong method of convincing her that she had something else to fall back on. Some other version of Cass heard what Nora was saying and collapsed into her arms, left the cave and went back with her to watch movies and eat pizza.

But not this one.

This Cass was still angry. This Cass had been abandoned too many times to trust that it wouldn’t happen again. This Cass knew it was better to push people away than it was to have them leave you, because the best foundations were built from stone and her friends were flesh and blood and bone and all of that was so much more temporary. She had Makaio. She would always have Makaio, and she only had Makaio.

Nora talked a good game. She said she was sad, that she missed Cass, and maybe Cass would have believed her if not for the way she faltered the moment Cass’s confession echoed through the cave. She fumbled the recovery just enough for Cass to notice, just enough for her to internalize it. She’s afraid of you now, the voice in her head that sounded like Makaio whispered, and Cass couldn’t help but agree. You heard what she said before. She’s trying to placate you, trying to buy herself time to get away. That’s all.

How could she believe anything else? Nora had been so adamant that Makaio was bad when she’d thought it was him who’d done the killing. Why was Cass any different? How could Nora claim that Cass was good, that anyone who knew her would agree? Makaio was her father. They were the same, the same blood and the same heart. If he was bad, wasn’t she? Couldn’t she still feel that man’s skin melting beneath his palms, couldn’t she still hear him screaming himself hoarse in the back of her mind?

She said nothing as Nora turned, said nothing as she walked away. Cass had asked her to go, but it felt like a rejection all the same. And it wasn’t fair — on some level, she knew it wasn’t fair. She asked Nora to leave, and all Nora had done was listen. But it ached anyway, stung in a strange and quiet sense.

She watched until Nora was a dark spot fading into the background, shadowy and intangible. Her chest hurt, and she tried not to think about it. Makaio would be home soon, she thought; she should try to pick up the pieces before then. Her father liked her better whole.

#honeysmokedham #nora: mess of everything #wickedswriting

6 notes · View notes

the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see · 10 months ago

Note

drop the lore for your song !

(insert "sorry i put this in drafts and immediately forgot about it" cake here. sorry i put this in drafts and immediately forgot about it!!!)

okay so first i guess we should probably drop the lyrics, theyre on bandlab but also who give a shit. here you go:

-and you sit there like youre some starry-eyed god

asking for sacrifice, knowing what i lost

and what can i do but follow you?

i made you my temple, just follow through

and your honor, you sit and stare as i stand witness

to this man burning everything i love down with this building

and from the ashes his eyelash comes falling, i make a wish

it wont ever come true but ill make him pray it did

and god, my god i would follow you to death

you know this so you hold a blunt knife to my neck

i am more than just your satisfactions and regrets

but you are less than i thought, you are less and you're not even worth it

i am breathing just a little and calling it a life

you are walking in the wild with a mass market knife

and it feels so juvenile to talk it all through

we are teenagers at battle, we are always coming true

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW YOU COULD NOT HAVE SAVED ME?

AND DO YOU BELIEVE IN EVERYTHING YOU SEE ON THE NEWS

CAUSE YOU SHOULD KNOW BY NOW THAT ALL KIDS DO IS LOSE EVENTUALLY.

I HATE THAT YOU COULDNT SAVE ME.

that must mean im stronger.

you said you would protect me.

but im like ocean water.

and youre like twenty three!

so i choose now between honesty and dignity

and i cannot worship a god i cant believe

yeah i tore my palms down your altar

for war, blood must taste sweet

i dont know what to do to make you believe that im insane

you made me, made me you, made me who i am

no you didnt make me, i made me, you were just a tool

ill say anything so ill sleep the whole night through

first piece of lore: i did in fact write this in tumblr drafts. people tend to not believe me when i tell them but notes app is far too open. tumblr drafts is for the arteries. also the sense of danger from my drafts being cleared or my account being deleted (which happened) keeps me on my toes.

second piece of lore: this is less of a song and more of a conglomeration of words i thought go together good. i didnt really have a plan for this as i was writing it, it sort of formed the image and story it has as i wrote and only when i was "done" (the song isnt complete but im done writing it for now) did i have it completely. my sister said the phrase "starry-eyed god" and i ran from there! i was kind of toying with the idea of being hurt by someone who doesnt really believe they are harming you, and sort of falling across that line all the time of are they really innocent or are they playing innocent.

i also liked the idea of being so in love with someone that you'd worship them, not understanding that that isnt love, its obsession. lots of misunderstandings and insanity in this bad boy.

this is also definitely the ending half of the song. in my recording the end is a little fucked because, third piece of lore, i accidentally slammed my hand on the table out of passion and spent the rest of the song trying not to cry in pain. why did i push through, you may ask. why didnt i just stop and rerecord in a minute. well im something of an artiste (idiot)

that bit on "what can i do but follow you/i made you my temple just follow through" where im high and singing almost reverently is what i want more of the beginning to sound like. for this section we have more of those divine chorus vibes peeking through every once in a while, so the beginning will have this almost spoken desperate vibe peeking through, but majority of that high angel voice for most of it.

okay this is already long so im gonna stop here with general lore -- if you want me to go through the lyrics as well and talk about that, i am more than happy to!! lyrics are my favorite parts of a song, especially writing-wise, so i would love that actually. some of the lyrics in this are inspired by poetry so its pretty fun to look back and see.

thank you for asking!! i love you sm <33

#asks #the tree sings #the tree speaks #ily anon

2 notes · View notes

bigsusreview · 2 years ago

Text

Why Do You Love Me Satan? - Review #6

i love sharing random obscure shit

this is by a band called Fucking Werewolf Asso. they are a band from Sweden. this record is putrid and absolutely amazing at the same time and i honestly don't even know what genre to define it as. punk rock is probably the closest match. at only 31 minutes in length, this release flies by in what feels like seconds. but man, those are some memorable seconds.

Cri Du Chat is a (mostly) instrumental introduction, allowing you to get a good feel for how the rest of this album is gonna sound. pretty standard stuff. My New Sneakers Could Never Replace My Multi-Colored Bangalores then continues with a massive breakdown beat and some of the most in-your-face, abhorrent screaming and singing i have ever heard. but there's a level of cohesion and understanding to the madness. this band really knows what they're doing and have already shown that with just the second track. The Tito Beltrán Massacre has a much more punk-friendly sound with some 8-bit-inspired synths added into the mix, reminiscent of some sorta old Nintendo game (hence why this band is usually referred to as "Nintendocore," but i hate that phrase). Alphonse Laurencic starts out with the now typical whiny scream-singing until exploding into a massive wall of sound. if the band hadn't shown you that they're worth your ears just yet, they have now.

the biggest highlight to me, though, is the 5-minute Your Ex Doesn't Mark Treasures. it's the longest piece on this record by far, with every other song having an average runtime of around 2 to 3 minutes. it closes out everything perfectly, feeling like the band's true magnum opus. if nothing connected beforehand, this one will. it's probably the easiest song to listen to by them and it really shows. it also features a different vocalist sometimes, which can help keep it grounded for the more serious tone it sets.

as mentioned before, the main vocalist sounds like shit. it may be on purpose, but i can definitely understand why that would turn some people off. having an open mind is a pretty necessary part to enjoying this album because it sounds like this band wants to rip your face off as soon as possible and then eat it. but hey, that's the main appeal in my opinion so there's a really good chance this one's not for everybody and that's alright too.

i hope you liked my little show and tell. this album has become a favorite of mine, reminding me a lot of MCR's debut if it was more unhinged with the vocals and tighter with the instrumental. there's a clear influence of all things punk and old VGM on this record, which is a hard combination to nail as well as it does here.

favorite tracks:

Your Ex Doesn't Mark Treasures

Alphonse Laurencic

everything else (it's all very consistently great)

overall score: fucking werewolf ass out of 10

also i think one of the guys from this band made Hotline Miami? that's some pretty fun trivia. it does make a lot of sense though. i swear scandinavian people are some of the most insane individuals alive.

#FUCKING WEREWOLF ASSO #why do you love me satan?#rock #album review

8 notes · View notes

thespreadsheetzone · 2 years ago

Text

Poems I like, part 1: "Aspens" by Matthew Brenneman

They say that aspens propagate and grow

Not scattering seed-pods to the whimsies of

The wind, but from a common root below,

Which binds them surely each to all

And is their counterpart of human love,

So that you'll find no solitary tree,

But in great stands arrayed against the cold

They seem to keep each other company

And, at this apogee of fall,

To cloak the mountainsides in cloth of gold.

Short and sweet, very sappy (pun intended). A few technical details jump out at me as carrying or supporting meaning - the punctuation, the meter, and the line breaks.

Starting with the line breaks, specifically their placement in the middle or at the ends of phrases (putting line breaks in the middle of a phrase is called "enjambment," which I had to look up because it's been a long time since high school English class). Every line in this poem consists of exactly one complete phrase or clause, except for the bit about "scattering seed-pods to the whimsies of/the wind."

It could be an accident or a case of the poet not being able to work out the line to end at the "right" place, but it's not like the poet couldn't have used some other phrasing to make the line break fall at the end of the phrase if he wanted to. "Not scattering seed-pods to the tearing wind" would work, for example, or "whistling wind" or "blowing wind" or any other two-syllable adjective, followed by "but rather from a common root below" to keep the syllable count in the next line. The fact that alternate phrasing would be so easy to insert here means it's deliberate rather than a case of "oh shit how can I end this line, fuckfuckfuck just put in whatever kinda makes sense," and the fact that it's the only break in the pattern means it's significant.

It's certainly no coincidence that the part about "scattering seed-pods" is the only part where the end of the line breaks up a phrase. Both the phrase and its enjambment speak of a sudden break, and the last few small words in the next line seem cast out, scattered like seed-pods far away from their parent trees. It makes the sense of sudden separation more potent and keenly felt than if the poet had stuck to perfectly-placed line breaks.

Secondly, the meter: this poem is in iambs (a repeating pattern of one unstressed syllable followed by one stressed syllable - they SAY that ASpens PROpaGATE and GROW, etc). Each verse has three lines of iambic pentameter (5 stressed-unstressed syllable pairings), then one of iambic tetrameter (5 stressed-unstressed pairings), then one last line of iambic pentameter again.

This pattern of iambs is unbroken except for, arguably, in one instance: "not scattering seed-pods" is metrically laid out as "not SCAT-ter-ing SEED-pods." "Scattering" is a dactyl (STRESSED-unstressed-unstressed) and doesn't fit nicely in the iambic pattern that has been established.

You could argue that it's meant to be read as two syllables, "SCAT'ring," with the middle syllable sort of elided or skipped over. And that certainly could be true! Plenty of poetry includes lines like that. If you did read it as "scatt'ring," that might have the effect of making it seem a bit more olde-timey, like a well-worn tale or a piece of folk wisdom. That would also fit with the very rigid and defined form that this poem follows, since it's a lot more common to have a very strict rhyme scheme and metric pattern in older poetry than in newer (and by newer I mean in the last 150 years or so) stuff.

I can't prove that the way the poet speaks normally does or does not include the habit of swallowing the middle syllable of "scattering," or that the poem was "meant" to be read out one way or another. I think it's certainly possible that it was "meant" to be read out as scat-ter-ing; the poet has already shown us that he is willing to break poetic form for the sake of meaning, as in that case of enjambment I talked about 4 paragraphs back. Frankly, though, it doesn't matter! I am choosing to interpret it as being a dactyl, because it seems no more or less well-supported than the other option, and because I can make a solid point based on its assumption.

The solid point that I can make, which it took a very long time for me to get to, is that the effect of placing a break in the established metrical pattern on that word in that line is to emphasize the meaning of the line. When you read it out, your mouth does the same thing it's describing - fire out a few more syllables a bit more quickly than it does for the rest of the line, trip over the rhythm of the line a little bit, scatter the word. The shape of the word is made meaningful right along with the word itself.

And at last we come to the punctuation. The crux of it is this: the whole poem is one long sentence. There are phrases and clauses separated by commas, but ultimately everything is grouped together.

If the last line did not end with a period, then the only punctuation in the poem would be commas, which would then seem like the most separating option as compared to no punctuation whatsoever. The lines of the poem would form smaller, discrete groups merely placed next to each other.

The presence of the period at the end, though, says "see? I could have done this the whole time. Any of those lines could have ended with a period. But they didn't - because they didn't need to be separated like that." The lines of the poem are shown to belong to the same group precisely because the period is there to define the group. It is no great mystery why this was done, either - the whole poem operates on themes of togetherness and separateness, and so it is only fitting that the lines of the poem are bound together like aspens, each to all.

#poetry #Aspens by Matthew Brenneman #my thots #Poems I Like

2 notes · View notes

zapsoda · 1 year ago

Text

so by that logic, must every collage artist contact everyone whose art (or similar creation) they repurpose to make sure its okay. what if someone is making a collage from the copyrighted works of a racist or some shit for the purpose of turning their original message into an anti racist one? must they yield to the desires of the original artist, thus stifling their own creativity? what about recently deceased artists whom never commented on their art being used in collages? i find it impractical to expect this because collage is by nature transformative, thus the permission of the creators of the works it derives from isnt necessarily required (as far as i know, legally speaking. of course, being art this is a gray area and it Very much depends on How tranformative the new work is. which is generally a bit subjective. it goes down to case law).

i just think. when it comes to work that brings inherently new value to that which it is derived from (significant enough to where the original wouldnt lose profits because the other one fills its niche too closely) permission isnt necessary (especially for the sake of critique or satire of the original!!) and with this in mind, even though ai art is very different and its difficult to measure intent, i dont think art made via ai and art made through other means should be held to different standards in that regard. if theres a good reason they should be, ill keep an open mind, but as it stands, i really dont see that making sense.

crediting each and every work a piece is derived from (while a very good thing!!) is a more reasonable request but it becomes difficult to execute in situations outside of like. posting online. especially since its hard to know how many images an ai uses to create its work. maybe fucking thousands. that would be a bitch to catalogue, and at that point it should theoretically be so different from each of the original works that crediting it doesnt really matter because its so disconnected from the originals. (theoretically speaking. im just fucking speculating i dislike ai and dont want to use it even for the sake of an argument). honestly this heavily depends on how many pieces are used and how different those and the subsequent piece made are from one another (this is difficult to measure TwT)

the thing about art is that every single human has an inherently original style and perspective, which is why no mqtter how saturated the market is, no matter how many artists there are, regardless of species, human ones will always have a place in society. i will be honest though i fucking hate the idea of companies employomg ai artists it disgusts and disturbs me but i really dont have any fucking clue what could feasibly be done about it. (banning the use of ai in companies? i dont know. large scale policy like that is scary idk if the government should be able to do that). but yk, that doesnt apply to bozos on the internet making dumb images.

i appreciate that u have a nuanced perspective ❤️❤️❤️ you definitely enlightened me more on how other people view the issue. i hate to say it but i think a lot of (fellow) artists are sensitive pussies (hence the existence of the phrases "art style theft", or "pose theft", among other ridiculous things) and it pollutes the more objective side of ai art discourse. maybe thats not true though maybe im just a big fucking meanie idk sorry dont quote me or anythinf

i think that gay sex cats is the new duchamp's fountain

#interesting though!!!!!!

25K notes · View notes

fmp2mt · 2 years ago

Photo

Finalized

Short Story:

This is the complete work based on my story boards. This follows a more in depth written example of what happened that wasn't explained in the original sketches.

Overall, I am happy with this outcome, as simple as it looks, it only adds onto my other finalized work, enhancing it while also showing it in another medium, showing how I can re-conceptualize an idea and display it in other forms.

If I was to improve this, I would try and use a bigger vocabulary of various adjectives and verbs, this would allow for the piece to be far more structurally interesting and better formed.

I like how this came out, while it is simpler than it could have been, I believe that works in its favour as it works better as an accompanying piece than if it was overzealous.

...

His face was frozen. With a lagged motion, he reached for the doors outdated handle and pulled it open.

A dull light broke out from above a mirrored medicine cabinet, revealing a forgotten room, it’s tiled floor discoloured, every surface coated in an organic varnish of dust. His body found rest at a murky sink, its bowl still stained by hardened pastes, as he flicked the tap up, allowing a forceful stream of water to cascade down.

The rooms light hummed around him with its monotonous screams as he looked at himself in the mirror, its surface, much like the rest of the decrepit room, was blotted out with plains of limescale.

He looked horrid. His face’s surface had started to shatter, cracking under the pressure of the scuffle. It’s mosaic pattern that it splintered into showed his robotic nature that was usually hidden by layers of plastics and metals that mimicked natural tissue. He felt its surface, rough now with scratches and dents, he would need to replace it later.

“God…”

His eye flickered.

That wasn't good. He had never suffered from technical faults before, and so this came as a shock. As he looked around, his left eye began to freak out at random intervals, going against his will before completely blacking out in a whimpered whirl of its motors. He placed his palm on his temple, Why now?

His face clicked, small latches detached and motioned for removal as his hands reached for its edge. As his fingers pried under his false carapace, an error warning emerged in the centre of his mind, its red luminous glow flooding his senses. “ERROR, REMOVAL OF PROTECTIVE PLATING IS DISCOURAGED,” screamed throughout his systems. His fingers loosened slightly in shock, but he quickly resumed the extraction, after all, this was probably normal. He had yet to be serviced due to his spotless record, and this was undoubtedly a job for a professional mechanical engineer, but he couldn’t leave his eye in its current state.

His mind roared at him to halt, the repetitive phrase of, “ERROR, REMOVAL OF PROTECTIVE PLATING IS DISCOURAGED,” lapped in his mind in waves, “ERROR, INFECTION RATE- ERROR, VOID- ERROR-”

His mask hissed with warmth, as the mental messages receded back into the recesses of his mind. It came off satisfyingly, its seam perfectly matched to his head. As he pulled it further off, the stream of water that was still jettisoning from the tap was slightly off put by a lone drop. His eye looked down, his view slightly obscured by his now detached face, but he could see a lone red streak stretch down the sinks surface. An eyebrow would have been raised if it's motors were still connected to his head, but they both would have been raised after more dibbles of red liquid poured from his now exposed face.

He quickly yanked the metal from his face and-

“AHHHHHHHH SHIT!” his voice yelled, his sensors suddenly overloaded with pain, “what in the world was that?!” his face… tingled, it felt squirmy and unnatural compared to the rigidity of his shell, as if his systems were trying to wriggle its way out of him. But that would not be true, as he would find. The sound of the tap defined in his current shock, but as he levied his head to the mirror, it was completely blocked out.

His eye, while still, squirmed. His toes dug into themselves as his mouth hung slightly ajar at the sight that was revealed.

He didn’t scream, nor did he run, he was frozen, his mind rubberbanding back from running away to perfect stillness.

Blood. He had never seen it before, and now it fell from his exposed face. What should have been rows of motors and processors, a mess of wires and pistons, was rather filled by meat as tendons and muscles pulled themselves across the vacancy of his face, pulsing slightly as he breathed. His right eye glistened with tears while his left was dark and dormant, the pain burned.

His breathing quickened, and he slowly reached the face plating back to his head, his fingers fumbling as he did so. The locks reattached and sunk back together in a satisfying click.

…

He stared at himself in the dirty mirror, it’s grime reflecting his current status of silent disbelief. In this time, the blood had hardened on the sink in a vicious pattern, the tap still running in the background.

His face still stung.

What was that?

What is this?

What am I?

Who-

“Sven?”

A voice rang out again his head, obscured by the layers of pain layered against it, beaten and bruised. “Sven?” came a calming voice, its tone repetitive. His brain whirled to life, systems were launched but none came into view, as if none were even accessed. He lowered the handle and the water halted. He turned and left the room and returned to his job.

The street had begun to get dark, compared to when he entered the stall, it was bright only a few moments ago. An older man looked up at him, his gaze fixed unlike Sven’s, which had somehow managed to find it’s way up to the sky. He coughed impatiently, but still Sven looked on, perhaps he was looking at nothing the man could understand. “Are you alright Sven?” he inquired, “You look dazed.”

He finally looked away from whatever caught his attention and looked down at the man, before shrugging uncertainty. The man’s concerned looks were softened as they both moved on.

0 notes

zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

@luci-in-trenchcoats You absolutely MADE my night, hun!! 💕💕🥰 It is a beast of a fic, and I'm so grateful that you read through it all and gave me such a lovely review.

Diving into your comments:

Lol so I created an OC version of this story on Ao3, and it clocks BMD as just shy of 100K words. 😂 But something I worked very hard on was the pacing of this story. I didn't want the "enemies to lovers" aspect to be rushed, as it really can't be if done right. So I'm very glad you thought it gave "everything time to breathe."

This very much feels like it properly exists in the world of The Boys while being it's own thing. I love the inclusion of Supe Affairs as a plot device. It brings things together from canon but gives us something new to explore too.

I just love this show, its characters, the grittiness of the world. I tried my best for this to feel like an extension of season 3 while still being a "what if" story: as in "what if" Soldier Boy was able to defeat Homelander and escaped custody. How the hell would the Boys deal with that? And insert a sassy reader character to Liam Neeson her way through it. 😂

I love the missions the reader and the team goes on. There's clearly been a lot of thought put into not just the obvious Ben/Soldier Boy & reader relationship but how you get there, how you keep Ben as Ben and keep the reader as the strong capable person she is and have them as clear enemies at the start.

Thank you for shouting this out because that aspect was very important to me as well. I thought Jensen did a great job with SB. I wanted to stay as true as possible to his characterization while giving room for a long-winded redemption arc lol.

And with the reader, I try to create reader characters that feel like OCs. I love that you said she's an absolute badass but you still feel her humanity -- because that's exactly what I was going for. She's got a traumatic past, but it gives her the unique perspective of identifying with Ben while helping him grow.

I love the different locations throughout the series! It feels like a global adventure you go on and each place brings with it a different vibe (although the first safe house is always gonna be my favorite for obvious reasons).

Oh fair enough, hun. 😘 The first house in Medellin is my favorite as well. Even though it's the stage of her kidnapping, it does become quite idyllic in a way lol. But you're right, that does become a kind of motif throughout the whole story -- the various "homes" they share with one another before finally choosing how they're going to spend their life together.

And the original side characters! They're fleshed out and add great value to Ben and the reader's development as the story goes (ngl was so happy with how these guys got some proper conclusions to their own stories).

Omg thank you!! A piece of writing advice I've gotten and held onto ever since: treat minor characters like the protagonists of their own stories. (And I couldn't not give them the ending they deserved. 🥰)

As for Ben and the reader? Fucking kudos for the writing of the two of them. This is the Soldier Boy from the show if we had more time with him. This is him with fears and growth and the mouth of a sailor. And you fucking adore the "bad guy" because maybe the bad guy ain't so bad after all. He's a dick but the way he changes for the reader, in obvious and not so obvious ways, makes you root for someone who does some pretty bad shit.

So I love every bit of how you phrased this. As I said, I tried my very best to get Ben's characterization right. He's the quintessential John Wayne/John Winchester archetype, so it was familiar to me in that sense, with the strengths/weaknesses of emotionally deficient men. (Not unlike Butcher.)

I'm a sucker for it, unfortunately, but it was fun trying to figure out how push him to his emotional limits and give him a partner who gets under his skin in the best and worst of ways, and who has a heart big enough to work with him lol.

I remember someone commented on a chapter that they "didn't know who to root for," Ben and his team or the Boys, and that was honestly one of the best compliments ever because the situation is messy. And making Ben sympathetic is hard to do lol.

The reader is a force to be reckoned with. She's a straight up badass. I loved the balance of her strength and her humanity, of the calculations of trying to escape and the slow realization Ben isn't what she first thought. As she tells everyone, they just don't know him yet.

I grew to love her as a character as much as Ben, tbh. She's a combo of tough as nails and deeply flawed and emotional and giving. And once you have her loyalty, you have it for life. Actually, funny enough, I loosely based her personality and background as a sort of female Dean Winchester. 😂

The non-relationship relationship between these two, the refusal to put a label on it even if it's clear what it means to them both, is a joy to watch unfold. Hatred turning into carnal need, loose friendship, protection, life-saving, a need for each other...the way Ben refuses to say, even think, how we know he feels about the reader. The growth of this man is something I will not get over.

They both go through a denial of the highest form lmao. And yet they can't help but gravitate toward each other like magnets. I wanted to create undeniable chemistry, and I so appreciate how you phrased this as well: "Hatred turning into carnal need, loose friendship, protection, life-saving, a need for each other...the way Ben refuses to say, even think, how we know he feels about the reader."

Half the reason this story is so long is because I felt his growth arc literally needed this much story. Anything less felt rushed to me.

There's just so much to this story I can't possibly get it all down. I didn't even mention the stellar smut scenes which are a plenty! There's action, angst, slow moments and fast ones, betrayal and enough cliffhangers to make you grateful you're not waiting for new parts to drop. Even the fluff suits the story beats and feels natural, not like it needs to be shoved in.

Oh I know I frustrated and angered many of the readers who were following along when I was posting chapter by chapter loll. They were only a week a part, but I love a good cliffhanger. 😂😂 I will admit, smut writing is my greatest challenge, but I'm happy you enjoyed them! loll Along with all the other magical moments in the rollercoaster that is this long-winded story. 😂 (And I love me a good bit of fluff. 💓)

This is the best Soldier Boy x reader story I've read out there and I only wish I'd found it sooner! If you're looking for something to sink your teeth into and get lost in, read this story!

You're so very sweet. Thank you so SO much!! I hope you enjoy the other BMD stories whenever you get to them. They're on this masterlist of course, but there are also a few BMD-verse stories labelled under my Soldier Boy Masterlist under "Imagines." Those were requests that I fit into the world. 💕💕

And truth be told, I'm not done with these two just yet. They have more story in them, and as long as I feel there's more to explore (and as long as people still want to read about them), then BMD will never truly be done. 🥰

Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Read More In the BMD-Verse:

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Denotes 18+ only)

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Strong As Blood** - (Soldier Boy x Reader) After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #break me down feedback #amazing review #absolutely made my night and day

3K notes · View notes

redhead-batgal · 3 years ago

Note

Hi 😁 Could I request either (31.} “Good morning gorgeous,” “Fuck off I’m trying to sleep.” 8.} “Why do you have to be so cute?” “Why do you have to be so hot?” 27.} “I love every damned piece of you no matter what anyone else says.”) Or ( 21.} “If anything happened to you, it would utterly ruin me.” & 1.} “I honestly don’t think there’s anyone I ever loved as much as I love you.”) with Dick Grayson?

Type: Two-Shot

Pairing: Fem! and Librarian! Reader x Dick Grayson/Nightwing

Part One: Here

Prompts: ☙1: “I honestly don’t think there’s anyone I ever loved as much as I love you.” ☙8: “Why do you have to be so cute?” “Why do you have to be so hot?”☙21:“If anything happened to you, it would utterly ruin me.” ☙27: “I love every damned piece of you no matter what anyone else says.” ☙31:“Good morning gorgeous,” “Fuck off I’m trying to sleep.”

Content: Cursing, mentions of abuse, implied sickness, a minor curses, depressive thoughts (the negative Nancy’s may suck y’all but they bring in the fluffiest fluff), flashbacks, little bit of angst, FLUFFY so freaking fluffy, heavily reader x Nightwing, good luck 😂

Word Count ([Mama Mia] Here we go again!): 10,108 words

(P.S. I saw these prompts and thought hmm what could I do and the idea for a part two popped in my head. Hope you guys enjoy it!)

(P.P.S So I’ve recently decided that I’m gonna do OC stuff so like two of my OC’s with stories are going to make an appearance. Let me know what you guys think of them. 😉)

(P.P.P.S I’m putting an author’s note at the end so if ya wanna read it it’ll be there. And don’t worry I won’t count the author’s note in the words count.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The unexpected tends to hit you when you don’t expect it, obviously, however sometimes the unexpected hits you literally at the worst times. Things from your past can come back to punch you in the gut, things you had forgotten about can return and bring a host of memories with them, good or bad.

The unexpected can cause revelations to come to you, for you to realize things you should have thought of, things you should have seen before. It can cause you to realize certain feelings and certain people are more important than you ever thought.

The unexpected can be kind, but it can also be ruthless. It can give you new relationships but it can also cause you to remember things better left forgotten. Things like past relationships and mistakes you wish you never made.

The unexpected is... well unexpected.

It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since Dick Grayson asked you out when literally everything went to shit.

It had all started when you began to receive texts from old friends telling you to lay low. They were very vague and it made your stomach shift due to nervousness. There was a number of reasons why they could have texted you, they could have been joking, they could have been referring to anything really.

The longer you thought about it the worse your stomach swirled. So when you got a call telling you to come to a meeting with a detective right after your shift at the police station you felt like you were going to puke. The more time that passed the worse you felt however right before you left you ran into Mira.

“Hi, Y/N.” She said with a bright smile, “Are you excited for your date later today?”

She wiggled her eyebrows at you and you gave her a nervous smile. She hadn’t meant to, but you were even more nervous now then before. Nodding you let out a sigh trying your hardest to push the nerves swirling in your stomach back.

“Yeah, yeah I am...” You paused for a moment noting how her hair was much shorter than before.

She noticed your look of surprise and grinned in almost a wicked kind of way, her hazel eyes glittering.

“I got my hair cut and now I feel like a woodland pixie!”

You laughed and Mira raised a hand to the end of her hair fiddling with it before shifting slightly as if something was bothering her. And it was then that it occurred to you, you hadn’t asked her how things with Jason were going.

“So,” You began, feeling a mischievous smile working its way onto your face, “how are things going with Jason?”

Mira’s let go of her hair and shrugged a look of almost disinterest on her face. She leaned against the wall before looking over her shoulder and sighing.

“Well for one, after hanging out with him I’m like ninety percent sure we’re just better as friends.”

You nodded in understanding, it was common for that to happen and it pained you to see how many times people had told you or Mira to just go for the relationship just because it would give you experience.

“I get that-” Before you could finish however she continued.

“And there’s this girl...”

Girl, there’s a girl? You couldn’t believe it! Not because Mira didn’t seem like the type but because she didn’t really get out enough to meet people.

“Ooo really? Where did you meet?”

A blush appeared on Mira’s face and she straightened out before the blush darkened and she averted your gaze.

“She’s new to my apartment complex.”

You smiled widely trying not to giggle in excitement. Mira had been rambling to you for months about wanting a relationship even if it was just a fling, she wanted love and was angry at the gods she believed in for not sending any her way.

“Ooo, very cool. I hope things work out better than with Jason.”

Mira’s blush dimmed slightly and she got a frustrated look on her face before she pushed away from the wall and the two of you began to walk again. Tucking her much shorter hair behind her ear she bit her lip before giving you a look.

“I think that it wouldn’t have matter if we were just better as friends or if Rosemary was in the picture-”

You couldn’t help yourself, “Rosemary? Is that her name?”

Mira’s blush returned to her face making it red as she waved a hand at you almost as if to stop you from asking questions about her possible crush. You moved out of the way of her hands and you realized you hadn’t been thinking about your nerves. And the second you thought of them they came crashing back down on you.

“I’ll tell you everything later I promise!” Mira remarks with a sigh, “Anyways, I’m pretty sure Jason has a thing for someone else.”

You froze for a moment blinking a few times in surprise, looking at Mira you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Really? I could have sworn he liked you.”

She shrugs before crossing her arms, tilting her head she gives you a look before smiling slightly.

“I’m a psychology major at Gotham U Y/N. I noticed somethings and I don’t know I’m pretty sure he likes someone else... and in case you were worried it isn’t you.”

You blinked a few times processing her words, Jason like you? Have a thing for you? Of course that couldn’t be true. Why would Mira think that you might think Jason might like you? He was like your brother!

Mira laughed and you realized all your emotions were crossing your face in that moment. Blinking again you furrowed your brow in confusion. Shaking your head you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of Jason liking someone else.

“I just thought he liked you.”

“He likes the parts of me that remind him of this other girl. I mean like... we sorta talked about it, so it’s more as I know he likes someone else.”

You gave her an exasperated look and Mira laughed nervously before taking a step back. She waved her hands smiling somewhat before saying,

“Listen I don’t know who, and he didn’t outright say it, but he might as well have. He said there’s this one girl he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over. Something about them being childhood friends and thinking she was dead.”

Shaking your head you sighed, you hadn’t heard anything about this then again you and Jason both agreed to not talk about your pasts. Even thinking of it now makes you feel sick. Swallowing you pushed away the memories as Mira gave you a concerned look.

“You okay Y/N? You got a little pale just now...”

Mira trailed off and you nodded brushing off her concern. Pulling your phone out of your pocket you noted the time and how you were supposed to be meeting the detective soon. Shoving it back into your pocket you hurried to say goodbye to Mira, you really didn’t want to be late to this meeting.

“I’m fine. I promise, I’ve just got a meeting with some cop soon-”

“Do you think it’s about Daniel?”

You flinched at the sound of his name. Closing your eyes you took in a breath. You could think about him now... well briefly think about him, without feeling scared or panicking. However now that Mira said it, it made a whole lot more sense. All your friends telling you to lay low and the meeting with the detective.

The room seemed to spin a bit and you felt hands on your arms.

“Woah, woah Y/N. It could just be Dick wanting to meet with you about your date, you said he doesn’t have your number right?” Mira remarked, scrambling to get you back to your senses.

You pressed a hand to your head and nodded even though you felt like you were going to puke. Mira began guiding you towards the door with a very concerned look on her face.

“How about I drive you there? I don’t like the idea of you being alone right now.”

You must have nodded because the next thing you knew you were in the passenger seat of Mira’s car as the world seemed to go in slow motion. Things passed by your eyes but for some reason the only thing your brain could focus on was the fact that Daniel was more than likely back.

Your throat felt tight and you tried to breathe but it got harder the longer you tried. Biting your lip, you forced air through your lungs. There was a faint sound in the background almost like a humming as you heard Daniel’s voice yelling at you. Dozens of phrases all at once, insults, accusations, anger in general. You felt your heart beat pick up when suddenly your lip felt warm and a sharp pain went through it.

Blinking back into reality you realized that Mira had been talking to you and that you were pulling up to the station. The car stopped and Mira turned towards you, her eyes going wide automatically.

“Y/n you’re bleeding. Did you bust your lip or something?”

Raising a hand to your face you pressed a finger to your mouth only to pull it away and find red. For a moment you weren’t in the passenger seat of Mira’s car but on the floor of that apartment. With him looming over you. Your breath caught and Mira was shaking you back into reality.

“Y/n? Y/n are you okay?”

You nodded somewhat slowly before opening the door. Looking up you shot Mira a weak smile as worries about all the trouble you were causing her hit you like a train.

“Yeah, sorry I’m fine. Thanks for taking me here... I’ll get a ride back to the library... you should go home.”

“Y/n-” Mira began when you cut her off by climbing out of the car.

“I’ll be okay Mira. I promise.”

Mira sighed and you turned back towards her. She nodded and you closed the door waving goodbye as she drove off. Turning back to the station you let out a sigh and straightened your posture before walking in.

Inside a woman at a desk directed you to a Detective Brooklyn’s desk. Something about that name tickled the back of your mind but you pushed it back and walked towards where she directed before stopping in front of a woman’s desk. She looked to be a year or two younger than you and tired. She had a phone in her hands and you could faintly hear a little girl’s voice on the other end.

“No Flori you cannot give Ace frosting. I don’t care if he really wants it... What do you mean Ria’s climbing on top of the cabinets? Flori I swear if you don’t- ... Tim, if you don’t get Alfred in there soon I’m going to- Hi Steph, yes it is so good to talk to you but can you please.... ugh. Duke hi... oh Alfred is handling everything? That’s fantastic. Could you please tell him thank you for me? Awesome!” Her dark red-brown hair was pulled into a tight bun and she looked up to you, her deep brown eyes lined with exhaustion.

However upon seeing you her eyes flickered for a moment before she held up a finger. Motioning for you to sit down. She nodded her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to say something to the other person on the line.

“Yeah, yeah I know Ria. Frosting tastes really good. I hav- Hello Damian. I would love to come over and play with Titus, Ace, Ria, Flori and you but I’m at work right now- sorry your right I didn’t mean play, I meant I was going to help you guys exercise Titus and Ace... no we are not keeping William Snakespeare Ria, I don’t care that you named him- I have to go okay? I will handle this later. Yes I mean later, I have work to do- Hi. Yeah I’m still at the station. No, I’m meeting with her right now. Yes please. Thank you so much Babs. You are a lifesaver! Bye.”

Placing the phone on the receiver she sighed before looking at you. She smiled slightly almost weakly before she pulled a file off of her desk and opened it.

“Hello Miss L/N. I’m Edelynne Brooklyn. Most people around here and in general call me Eddie.”

You blinked twice as an image of the past hit you hard.

You and your friend Elysa were sitting on the chairs at the station. You didn’t want to be there, your stomach churred at the thought, but Elysa had insisted saying how your relationship with Daniel had gotten too far. That he had taken it too far. You couldn’t fully see out of the black eye, but you knew it was better than not seeing at all and really it was your fault, if you had just made the food he wanted it never would have happened.

“Hi, I’m Officer Brooklyn.”

You looked up and saw a girl no more than nineteen with hair just below her ears, she had a fresh scar on her neck and something in her eyes reminded you of yourself.

You had blinked and she had given you a look before offering you a smile of sorts. Gesturing with her head she began walking towards the dozens of desks.

“This way please.”

You stood up, not fully understanding why and Elysa gave you a look of surprise but followed after you and Officer Brooklyn. She stopped in front of a desk and gestured to a seat. You sat down not even looking at who was in front of you.

“Eddie what is this about-”

Something about that voice was familiar to you and you looked up, however instead of seeing someone familiar you saw a dark haired man with bright blue eyes in a uniform.

The man in front of you blinked twice before holding out his hand and you flinched almost instinctively. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Eddie flinch as well.

“I’m Detective Richard Grayson, it’s nice to meet you...?”

“I’m Elysa Aidenson. And I’m here because my friend needs help.” Elysa said instantly.

You shook your head in protest however Elysa ignored you. Detective Grayson did not, he instead looked at you and you felt like shrinking down in your chair. If Daniel knew you were here he’d kill you. Not only were you going to talk to the police, forced or not, about personal matters, you were without him in front of another man.

“Why do you need help?”

“I don’t-” You began when Elysa scoffed.

You sighed in almost frustration before remarking, “I don’t need help. He just got a little mad! He said it won’t happen again besides it’s more my fault then anything....”

Detective Grayson gave you a look almost as if what you said pained him and Officer Brooklyn had a strange look on her face almost as if what she was hearing was familiar. Detective Grayson leaned forward to say something but Officer Brooklyn stopped him before he could.

“What’s your name?” She asked, her voice soft.

You looked at her and you didn’t see pity in her eyes but understanding, a recognition of some sort. You swallowed and looked at her for a moment more before turning back to Detective Grayson.

“I’m Y/N. Y/n L/N.”

You blinked back into reality and found Detective Brooklyn writing something down in the file. Shaking your head slightly you blinked again.

“You know,” Detective Brooklyn began not looking up from the file, “every time I see you come in here, you’re injured.”

She looked up slowly from the file, a strange look on her face, almost worried.

“Though last time it was much worse.”

You nodded somewhat slowly before clearing your throat. You had to figure out why you were here before the memories overcame you and you had a panic attack.

“Why am I here again Detective?”

Detective Brooklyn tilted her head before raising an eyebrow at you, “You already know Y/n. He’s back. And he wants you.”

The air caught in your throat and you choked out a breath staring at her in disbelief.

“You didn’t even try to sugar coat it!” Was the only thing you could find yourself saying.

Detective Brooklyn sighed, setting the file down before she shrugged, “Seemed to me that it wouldn’t help since you had already guessed. It’s why your lip is busted. You were biting your lip, I assume, and bit too hard... I would know. It’s happened to me before.”

Something about her words seemed to have a double meaning and you stared at her nose, it was a bit longer and a tad bigger then you remembered but it had been almost three years.

“I just wanted to let you know because I’m going to be assigning you a protection detail starting tomorrow. Daniel Natalonie is one of the biggest players in the Gotham Underworld these days. Well him and Caleb Brooklyn.”

She said the words as if she hadn’t just revealed something astronomical about herself. And that Daniel.. well he had gotten what he always wanted, power. You swallowed and Detective Brooklyn sighed.

“Yes, Caleb Brooklyn is my father. No, I have no contact with him. However I do know that Daniel has a price on your head... well sort of. He is willing to pay big bucks to anyone that brings him you.”

You flinched and then watched her clench her fist regret flashing in her eyes before she shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

“You have a choice here Y/N. You can have the protection detail... or well I have a few off the record friends who would be happy to help.”

You couldn’t help but think of Nightwing. In his black and blue suit smiling at you and your stomach flipped. Your memories were mixing, you knew because instead of seeing him sitting on your couch, he was on the fire escape smiling that same smile at you.

“But if you want you can just have the normal protection detail.”

You shifted in your seat and avoided her gaze. For a moment your eyes darted to her neck and the scar was still there. Isn’t wasn’t as fresh as it was almost three years ago, but it was still there.

“I-”You began not fully sure of what you wanted to say, “I’ll do whatever works easiest for you.”

Detective Brooklyn sighed slightly, shooting you a strange kind of smile. She then hesitated before holding up a hand and picking up the phone. She quickly punched in a number and held the receiver to her face.

“Hi, It’s Eddie. Yeah I was wondering what the word about the protective detail for Y/N L/N was? ... They what? Okay, No, no I can handle it. Yeah. Thanks bye.”

Rubbing her forehead she hung up the phone and gave you an apologetic look. Leaning back in her chair she opened her mouth to speak only to close it. Sighing once again she finally spoke.

“For some reason they decided you don’t need a protective detail. Some jackass who is probably in Natalonie’s pocket planted the idea in some upper management's heads that you’ll be fine on your own and it’s not our job to keep you safe from ‘non-existent ’ threats.”

You sank into your chair slightly giving her a nervous look when the phone suddenly rang. Detective Brooklyn picked it up running a hand across her forehead, as stray pieces of hair slipped out.

“Eddie Brooklyn- oh hi Bruce.... they WHAT?” Standing up suddenly she got an alarmed look on her face before her voice cracked as she said, “I am so sorry about that! Oh so the kitchen didn’t catch fire? Alfred caught it? Oh thank goodness... so no one’s hurt? They’re on their way right now? Alright well thank you so much for allowing them to spend the day there. It was a big help.”

She nodded, slowly sinking back into her chair and it was then that you realized Detective Brooklyn was talking about the Wayne family. Alfred, Bruce, Tim? Definitely the Wayne’s what confused you was who Ria and Flori were. Judging by the way she was acting you assumed it was Detective Brooklyn’s children. Though if they were playing with Damian they would have to be a bit older and unless she had kids at like fourteen that was highly unlikely.

“Of course, yes... he’s on his way? Okay. Thank you again.”

Hanging up the phone Detective Brooklyn stood up, yanking her coat on. You followed her to your feet and she grabbed a bag along with keys before moving away from her desk.

“My shift is just about over, so I’m about to head out. Come with me would you? I have a few more questions I want to ask.”

You followed Detective Brooklyn outside and just off to the side of the station was what looked like a fairly nice car. Two girls no more than eleven dashed from it towards you and Detective Brooklyn.

“EDDIE!” The girl with bright red hair squealed as she ran towards her.

Instead of smiling and moving towards the girl with the same excitement Detective Brooklyn gave the girl a reprimanding look. But it didn’t stop her from slamming into Detective Brooklyn, wrapping her into a hug.

“Ria!”

A girl with a more sandy red-blonde hair who looked almost exactly like the redhead stopped right next to Detective Brooklyn and the first girl.

Twins.

The word was at the front of your mind before you could stop it. The two girls looked at you; the redhead had bright green eyes and a wide smile. She pulled away from Detective Brooklyn and held out her hand.

“I’m Ria!”

“Ria!” The other one remarked pulling on her arm, her dark blue eyes clouded.

The redhead- Ria, looked to the other and smiled brighter. She grabbed onto her sister’s arm and pulled her forwards.

“Come on Flori! We need to be more friendly. This is the librarian I was telling you about.”

You blinked twice before realizing the little girl you have given a book to right before panicking and cursing at Dick the other day was none other than the girl in front of you.

The other girl, Flori, gave Ria a look of surprise and asked, “When did you have time to go to the library?”

“When you were playing with Steph. Cass told me where to go.”

Flori gave Ria a look of shock and Detective Brooklyn snorted. You took a step back for a moment. Something about the three of them made you want to smile, but it also made you want to get as far away as you possibly could. If Daniel was after you, he’d go through anyone... anyone to get to you. And you couldn’t put these girls in harm’s way.

Turning to leave you noted the dark sky and remembered that you had no way to get home. Closing your eyes you let out a sigh however before you could even take another step you heard the sound of feet hitting the ground. Opening your eyes you saw Nightwing standing in front of you.

However instead of his usual smile you found a concerned look on his face. He took a step forward looking at you almost as if he was checking you over for injuries.

“Hey Nightwing,” Detective Brooklyn remarked, capturing his attention.

The concern looked slipped away from his face and he quickly replaced it with a smile.

“Detective... girls.”

Ria laughed in what you could only call a maniacal way and Flori snorted. Smiling slightly you looked over to them and saw Ria looking between you and Nightwing a strange look on her face. Flori had a gleam in her eye and she and Ria shared a look before grinning in an evil kind of way. However before you could even think to question it Nightwing was asking you a question.

“Huh?” You asked since you didn’t hear him.

“Where do you think you are going?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow.

You give him a confused look. Fiddling with your fingers you looked at him and he looked you in the eyes. Your cheeks flushed and you took a step back as the feelings wrapped around your throat.

“A-hot-ment- I mena- mean. I mean, I’m going back to my apartment why?”

Nightwing raised an eyebrow at your comment before remarking, “Alone?”

You nodded and he sighed. Shaking his head he placed his hands on his hips and gave you an almost reprimanding look and you gave him a confused one.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t really go home any other way.” You replied feeling even more confused than before.

“With your psycho ex on the loose?”

You froze for a moment and you could swear you heard his footsteps. Swallowing you pushed the thought away and took a step back from Nightwing. A slightly surprised expression crossed his face and then he winced, dropping his arms.

Shifting slightly you shrugged not wanting to meet his gaze. Rubbing on your arm you sighed trying your hardest to pick up the courage to look him in the eyes. However the thoughts hit you so hard you had to choke back tears.

Now look what you’ve done, you’ve upset him. Maybe it’s a good thing that Daniel’s back, maybe it’s a good thing he wants you again. After all you deserved everything that happened to you

You sunk into yourself a bit, parts of you tried to tell yourself that the thoughts were wrong but you didn’t truly believe it. Why did you always have to go and fuck everything up.

“I’ll be okay.” You finally forced out.

Part of you wanted to assure Nightwing that it wouldn’t matter if you ended up dead because it would be for the best. However the thoughts weren’t through with you yet.

You’re just phishing for sympathy for him to tell you you’re wrong because you know he will

But really you weren’t you just wanted him to stop caring because you weren’t ever going to change. You were terrible. Horrible. Awful really.

“Hey, I know what you’re doing. Don’t do that. Don’t do it, don’t you dare!” Nightwing suddenly said.

Before you could even react he had your face in his hands and was looking you dead in the eye. Cupping your cheeks he leaned in slightly.

“You are amazing Y/N. Completely and totally incredible honestly. You don’t deserve a single damn thing that happened to you. You are one of the funniest, kindest and honest to god prettiest women I ever met. You radiate this kind of light I haven’t seen anyone else radiate. You make my darkest days bright so don’t you dare think you are anything less than spectacular.”

Your cheeks flushed and you gave him a surprised look as the feelings you’d been trying so hard to push back jumped straight into your throat and you had a violent urge to kiss him.

However, you knew better. Mainly because as soon as he saw your bright red cheeks Nightwing let you go, his cheeks flushing slightly. He cleared his throat and you held a hand to your chest as if to catch the heart that was about to beat out of it.

Of course you knew people cared about you but something as blunt as that... something so direct hit you hard. You swallowed again, your heart beating rapidly pushing all your nerves away.

“... If I can’t go home what am I going to do?”

Nightwing looked at you for a moment and you felt flustered. Your feelings were thrumming in your chest and lungs along with the beating of your heart. However instead of saying anything he just looked at you.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and you looked to see a slightly smug looking Detective Brooklyn with the twins clinging to her sides. She raised an eyebrow at Nightwing, who then took a step away from you.

“Y/N can always crash with me if she wants... I mean if she doesn’t wanna have a sleepover with you, Blue.”

You froze for a moment and the thought of Nightwing staying over at your apartment, of you talking to him early into the next morning... of you sleepily confessing your feelings to him. Heat flushed your cheeks again and you shook your head.

“I uh,” You began causing both Nightwing and Detective Brooklyn to look at you, “I’ll stay with Detective Brooklyn tonight.... I mean for all we know Daniel’s waiting at my apartment to ambush me.”

You had stammered slightly but Nightwing nodded and a slight smile appeared on his face. The twins were looking at you, Ria’s green eyes were almost glowing and she blinked once then twice.

“Why are you so pretty miss?” She asked bluntly.

Your blush intensified and you scrambled to answer her as you watched her sister nod in agreement, as if she had the exact same question.

You wanted to reply but only gibberish came out. When the gibberish escaped you, Ria pointed a finger at you, her jaw dropping. Detective Brooklyn leaned forward and pushed Ria’s arm down. However a grin exploded onto Ria’s face and she began jumping up and down.

“The nice and pretty librarian does what I do!”

She squealed with delight and all the worry about embarrassing yourself slipped away from you. Ria turned towards Flori and stuck her tongue out at her before blowing a raspberry.

“I told you pretty people could do that!”

Flori smiled slightly before rolling her eyes, “I’m still the attractive twin.” She remarked.

She then used her finger to pull her nose up and she snorted a few times continuing, “Miss Piggy.”

“Liking food does not make me a pig.”

“Naming your stomach does make you a loser though.” Flori retorted.

Ria gasped in a clear dramatic fashion as she pressed her hand to her chest, “Marshmallow and I are both offended, that was very rude Flori.”

Detective Brooklyn snorted, then tried to cover it up by coughing and looking away as she smiled fondly. Catching you staring at her, her smile widened and she laughed slightly. Then she turned to the girls and sighed.

“Alright ladies, it’s time to head home.”

“But Eddie!” They said in unison.

“If we go home we can have a movie night and eat those cupcakes I’ve been hiding for you guys.”

“CUPCAKES?” Ria squealed as Flori’s jaw dropped.

It was then a hand came down on your shoulder and you flinched slightly. Looking you found Nightwing giving you a concerned look again. You blinked at him almost asking what was wrong.

“You gonna be okay?”

Turning back towards the girls who were now having a poke war, you smiled and nodded.

“I think I’m going to be just fine.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Nightmares of the past, memories so clear you could even taste them, yanked you from your sleep.

Ghost touches raced across your skin and you shuttered, pulling your legs to your chest, you took in a deep breath and tried to calm down. However it was a bit difficult. Your breathing was erratic and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t calm yourself down. However, when you heard the small soft voices you began to come back into reality.

“Do you think a hug will help?”

“It doesn’t help me when I get like that. But it might, I think she’s just scared not... Should we ask Eddie?”

“Maybe Ria. Maybe.”

You took a deep breath in and your breathing slowed down, closing your eyes, you took in another breath. As you let it out you felt someone sit down next to you. Peeking an eye open you saw Flori looking up at you with concern and curiosity mixed on her face.

“Are you okay, miss?”

You nodded slowly, taking another breath in you nodded a bit more firmly and looked at her. Accidentally you met her eyes and her dark blue eyes reminded you of the color of the sky right before night fully took over. She blinked and raised an eyebrow at you slightly confused.

“Are you sure? Do you want a hug?”

Before you knew what you were doing you replied, “I’m fine... but a hug would be nice.”

Flori’s face brightened and she wrapped her small arms around you. You returned her hug and saw over Flori’s shoulder, Ria lurking in the darkness a blanket wrapped around her shoulder. She stepped forwards into the light and blinked. Her face was paler than earlier, she looked empty for a moment before she blinked and a smile was on her face.

It, being around Ria and Flori, reminded you of your childhood. Of your busy household and the noise, the laughter that it always held.

When you heard the sound of angry whispering you blinked and Flori pulled away from you. She looked back to Ria and the two got excited looks on their faces. Suddenly Flori was off the couch and Ria was running down the hall. Flori froze and turned back towards you. She held out her hand and smiled.

“Come on.”

You didn’t exactly know how you felt about a ten year old telling you what to do but you stood up and took her hand. Curiosity was burning through you, what could get the girls this excited?

You turned the corner and Ria was leaning around another corner smiling brightly. She saw the two of you and motioned for you to come towards her. You did and stopped before peering around the corner as well.

What you saw was... well incredibly surprising.

The window was open and Detective Brooklyn- Eddie was trying to shove Red Hood out it.

“Aw come on doll.”

“Y/n is here Hood. She knows I’m a cop and that you have a warrant out for your arrest!”

“Commissioner Gordon told me if I turn enough criminals in to him that would go away.”

“He did not! He would never.”

Red Hood shrugged before throwing his hands out in a I guess so motion. Eddie took this opportunity to get him mostly out of the window before he realized what she was doing and grabbed onto the window frame, pulling himself back in and undoing her work. Flori and Ria giggled, catching his attention. He turned towards you, poking his head back into the apartment.

“Girls! Come on out and help me, will ya?”

Flori snorted but moved out from the corner, Ria went to do so but paused first rubbing at her chest slightly before shaking her head and following after her sister.

You watched from around the corner as the girls stopped at Eddie’s side. She gave them a stink eye as she continued to try and push Red Hood out the window.

“You two shouldn’t be up. Especially you Ria.”

Taking the opportunity, due to Eddie being distracted, Red Hood pushed himself back into the apartment. Eddie wobbled and then fell on her butt cursing.

“Hood!” She snapped her face flushing.

Red Hood sighed before climbing back through the window. He looked at the girls and they laughed in a maniacal way. He laughed slightly before sighing again.

“You guys wanna try and convince her to let me in?”

The girls looked at each other then at Eddie and shook their heads. At least they’re loyal, you thought with a smile.

“I have a front door and you have normal clothes. If you had done this the normal way, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” Eddie replied as she stood up.

“What would we be doing if I did it the normal way?”

You had to stop yourself from snorting. Eddie’s face was still flushed from when she hit the floor however you caught her eye roll and the hand gesture she showed him but not the girls.

Putting up his hands in defeat he nodded, “Fine, fine you win. Can I at least have a kiss goodbye?”

Eddie froze for a moment, you saw her tilt her head to the side before she blinked and shook her head.

“No.”

Red Hood crossed his arms and you were sure though you didn’t know him very well that under his helmet he was pouting, “Why not?”

“Because I know you Ja-. I know you Hood and if you can convince me to kiss you, you’re going to think you can convince me to let you in.”

Instead of replying Red Hood was silent which seemed strange. Looking towards him you saw him facing the girls and Ria’s wobbling slightly.

“Hood what’s-”

“You alright Squirt?” Red Hood asked, hopping in through the window and moving towards Ria.

“Ugh,” She muttered, her voice weak, “my chest hurts.”

It was then she dropped towards the ground. However instead of hitting the ground Red Hood caught her and pulled her up slightly.

“Ria!” Both Eddie and Flori exclaimed.

The two of them rushed towards her and Flori grabbed onto Ria’s arm as Eddie looked her over.

“Did you take your medicine Ria?”

The girl shook her head and Eddie glared at her.

“I don’t like them.” Ria mumbled as she leaned against Red Hood.

“I don’t care if you don’t like them, Ria, you need them... Flori would go and-” Eddie began but before she could even finish Flori was up and out of sight.

Before you knew it your found yourself in front of Eddie and Red Hood. You heard Flori’s footsteps racing around the apartment.

“Is-” You began hearing your voice crack, “is she gonna be okay?”

Eddie looked at you and for a moment you saw her gaze jump to Red Hood in a kind of nervous way. However, Red Hood answered your question.

“If she takes her meds, she’ll be fine. But the stubborn little squirt doesn’t like to.”

“They taste like shit.” Ria mumbled.

There was a pause of silence and Eddie glaring at Red Hood. She gave him a I told you so look. And he sighed.

“This is why I don’t like you cursing around them.”

“She cursed the bat brat out the other day. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with me.”

“She did what?”

“Curse the bat brat out. It was amazing. He couldn't even say a reply, he was stunned by Squirt’s colorful and creative wit.”

Ria laughed slightly before wincing and Eddie sighed. She rubbed her face looking even more exhausted than before and Flori came dashing back into the room, carrying a medicine bottle and a water bottle.

Flori passed them to Eddie who gestured to Red Hood to hold Ria up a bit more before looking at you. Flori passed you her head hanging down slightly.

“Would you,” Eddie began after Flori turned around the corner, “watch Flori for me? She always has a hard time when Ria has her fits.”

You nodded without thinking and turned to follow after her. Walking a bit quicker you made it in front of Flori and Ria’s room just as the door shut. You raised a hand and your heart began pumping your chest.

You shouldn’t bother her-

If she freaks out whenever her sister has fits she probably needs someone to talk to, if you don’t talk to her she’ll be alone and afraid

Knocking on the door you waited for a moment before hearing a very quiet, “Come in.”

Opening the door you peeked your head in to see Flori sitting on one of the beds in the room. In one corner was a bed up against the wall with art and posters of musicals and ballets on it. In the other corner was a bed with nothing on the wall. Flori sat on the bed against the wall with the posters and art.

She stared at the other bed, her knees against her chest and her head resting on the tops of her knees. Walking into the room, you closed the door behind you and moved to sit on the bed next to Flori.

“Her room is like this back home too.” She whispered as you sat down.

You pulled your legs onto her bed into a crisscross. Resting one arm by your stomach you set your other arm on top of the resting one’s fist and leaned your head against your free hand.

“What do you mean?” You dared to ask.

Flori sighed and pulled her legs tighter against her chest.

“Ria’s bedroom walls. They’re blank. She has no dreams, no ambitions, nothing. She refuses too... Did you know she loves to dance? Nearly as much as I do. She knows every move I know, her favorite ballet is Giselle because she believes she can relate. But she refuses to tell our parents how much she loves to dance. Did you know Ria has the voice of an angel when she sings? She loves to sing too... she loves to do all the things she shouldn’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion as Flori’s voice turned bitter and sharp.

“She is so full of life to be... to be dying.”

You blinked twice and released a breath as you began to understand what was going on.

“Why- is she-” You began struggling on how to word it.

“She’s sick.” Was all Flori said.

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

You let out a sigh, for a moment you saw your mother in a hospital bed smiling at you softly. Fiddling with your hands you began to debate on whether or not to tell her your story.

“My mother... she had breast cancer. It tore her apart, seeing her in the hospital bed... slowly wasting away,” You remarked, sighing softly, “it nearly killed my father. It hurt me even though I was a little too young to fully understand. But... she got better, she recovered. She made it though it, Ria can too-”

“Ria’s sickness isn’t something she can recover from or get over. It isn’t cancer, it isn’t a cold, it isn’t the flu. Her sickness isn’t something you can catch and then get over. It’s been consuming her life since the day we were born! She’s going to die, she knows it too. It’s why she tries so hard to be bright, to be bubbly and nice despite- despite all she’s going through.” Flori snapped tears appearing in her eyes, “Our parents have kept her locked in the house for most of our lives... she has never seen a beach or even snow. Ria has no idea the thrill of tumbling down a hill or what it’s like to ride a bike because- because they never let her. Ria is going to die never having truly lived and it kills me.”

You had no idea what to say to her, or even how to begin to comfort her. Wringing your hands you bit your lip as you looked the girl over. She turned to you, tears in her eyes.

“Why? Why did it just have to be her? Why couldn’t it be me too? She’s so alone in this and- and I don’t know what to do! She has no friends, she has me, our parents and Eddie and that’s it! I have friends, I have so many people but- but it just doesn’t seem right. We are twins, we are supposed to share everything, why couldn’t we share this?”

You blinked twice, Flori really wanted to make sure her sister knew she wasn’t alone but she didn’t seem to realize lamenting over the fact that it was only Ria was the one who was sick.

“How about instead of trying to pin blame on someone for being sick you try to make her feel like her sickness isn’t the only thing about her.” You tried waving your hands, “I mean it’s clear you love her. But it isn’t your fault that she’s sick. It’s not like you wanted her to be born like this. And it seems like your parents are treating her like the only thing she is, is sick. Treat like she’s... well Ria. And I think it will make things easier for both of you.”

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Flori lower her legs away from her chest and she sat up straight. Rubbing her nose she nodded somewhat slowly.

“You’re right.”

You turned towards her and she smiled at you slightly before leaning forwards and hugging you.

“Thank you Miss L/N.”

Pulling apart you gently patted Flori’s head and shot her a soft smile, “How about you get to bed. I bet Ria will be fine in the morning.”

Flori nodded and you got up to leave. However she grabbed onto your arm stopping you in your tracks.

You looked down at her slightly confused.

“Uh, Would you stay?” She asked looking up at you.

You sighed and smiled. Nodding she quickly pulled back the covers on her bed and patted a side of it. You climbed into the bed and Flori smiled at you.

“Thank you,” She whispered with a yawn before closing her eyes, “thank you.”

You looked at her for a moment before nestling into the pillow and closing your eyes with one thought in your head.

It’s nice to be wanted.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It had been almost two weeks since you crashed at Edelynne Brooklyn’s apartment. Two weeks since Daniel returned to town and put a price on you, two weeks since Nightwing became your personal “bodyguard.”

You would be lying if you were to say you weren’t surprised when you arrived back at your apartment, accompanied by Detective Brooklyn or Eddie. There seemed to be no sign of Daniel or any of his goons. So you settled back into your apartment.

However, Eddie informed you, for your safety it would be better for you to stay at your apartment. Not only due to the fact that she and the vigilante’s could easily surveille it, but due to the fact that Daniel could very easily convince someone to lead you away from the library to grab you.

At first you were a little bummed and it occurred to you that you had missed your date with Dick, however he didn’t try to contact you nor did Jason. Instead of worry about it you were actually having a lot of fun with Nightwing

And while Nightwing was fun to hang around and the longer you spent around him the stronger your feelings got, sometimes he was really fucking annoying.

After a late night working on library business from home you decided to sleep in the next morning, Nightwing it seemed, decided that wasn’t going to happen.

At seven in the morning while you were blissfully asleep you felt something gently tap your shoulder, then your face. Blinking blearily you sat up.

“Good morning Gorgeous.”

Standing over your in his classic black and blue costume was Nightwing. Grumbling, you flopped back onto your bed and pulled your covers over your head.

“Fuck off,” You stated loud enough he could still hear you, “I’m trying to sleep.”

You heard a slight snort, then suddenly your blanket was gone and you were lying on your bed shivering. Sitting up you glared at Nightwing who held your stolen blanket in his gloved hands.

Readying yourself into a crouched position you waited for a moment before jumping towards the blanket. Just as you were about to grab it Nightwing yanked it out of your reach and caught you in his arms.

He laughed at your frustrated expression and as you crossed your arms and pouted. Setting you on the ground he smiled broadly at you and remarked.

“Why do you have to be so cute?”

Without thinking you replied looking him dead in the eyes, “Why do you have to be so hot?”

Nightwing blinked a few times, looking slightly shocked, he lowered your blanket closer to the floor and looked at you almost as if he didn’t believe it.

“What did you say?”

You froze as you realized what you said. Your face flushed and you shifted slightly, breaking his gaze before looking to the floor.

“Nothing, it was nothing.”

Nightwing gave you a skeptical look before he leaned towards you a suggestive smile on his face. Your face turned a brighter shade of red and you realized this was a perfect opportunity to grab the blanket from his hands.

Lunging forwards you yanked the blanket from him. You had just grasped it and began to pull away when Nightwing began to pull back until he didn’t. The blanket went limp in your hands and you fell onto your butt.

Nightwing blinked twice and shook his head. Running his hand through his hair he let out a frustrated grunt before sighing.

“I’ve- I’ve got to go. But I’ll be right back.”

He headed towards the window and you blinked in surprise. Scrambling to your feet you chased after him grabbing onto his arm. He turns back towards you, a clearly torn expression on his face.

“Wait,” You said, giving him a confused look as the thoughts descended upon you.

He’s leaving, he’ll never come back, it’s because you’re a mistake a problem a beast-

“Where are you going?”

Nightwing looked at you and sighed, he then stroked the side of your face with one of his hands. You leaned into his touch and then he pulled away.

“I’ve got to go, the other vigilante’s need my help with something but I’ll be right back.”

You blinked and realized while it had been fun with Nightwing being here and hanging out with him you could finally get out of your apartment. You smiled at him and then he gave you a suspicious look.

“You, “ he began looking at you, “are going to stay here, Okay?”

“But-” You protested for a moment throwing your hands up before he cut you off taking your face into his hands.

“If anything happened to you, it would utterly ruin me.” He said somewhat slowly as he rested his head against yours.

Your cheeks flushed once again and you blinked a few times. Pulling away from you he sighed and slowly pulled his hands away from your cheeks. He probably said goodbye but you were in too much shock to realize it and before you knew he was on your window sill and then gone.

You sighed feeling the temptation to leave however his words echoed in your ears and you shook your head.

“If anything happened to you, it would utterly ruin me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you sat down by the window resting your chin in your hand and you waited. And waited. And waited. You waited even when the storm clouds rolled in, even when they split open and rain began to pour down. You waited for hours. It was only when the night was turning day again as the rain continued to pour from the heavens that he returned.

Your window swung open and your stomach swirled, however it was a soaked Nightwing that came through the window and not Daniel or some random thug.

You rushed towards him and quickly wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried about you. I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you. I mean like I don’t really think my feelings matter since your a hero and whatever and people would say so much shit to you if anything started between us- not that it would. But it’s just I care about you a lot.” You rambled as you pressed your face into his chest.

Oh gosh, you couldn’t believe you just blurted all of that out. Maybe he didn’t hear all of it. Maybe some of it was muffled. Maybe, you hoped, maybe.

For a moment the world seemed to stop and everything was right. Then Nightwing had his hands on your shoulders and pulled you away from him. He gave you a slightly angry look and you instantly regretted your little ramble.

“What is this nonsense about other people? I love every damned piece of you no matter what anyone else says.”

You blinked once, then twice, then three times before you fully understood what he said.

“I love every damned piece of you ”

“No matter what anyone else says.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a wide-eyed look. Your pretty sure your jaw had dropped and your stomach swirled as you replayed his words over and over and over again in your head.

“You,” You began your voice almost squeaking, “love me?”

Nightwing smiled and nodded, pressing his head against yours.

“Of course I love you. I’d be an idiot not to.”

You blushed and flushed and tried to stutter out a reply but unfortunately you couldn’t. Your cheeks were heated and you felt your heart racing in your chest.

For some reason the first thing your mind jumped to was Dick Grayson, how you had a crush on him no matter your feelings- your love for Nightwing.

“But-” You began taking a step back from him, “I- I have a crush.”

A smile slowly formed on Nightwing’ s face as you took another step back from him.

“I mean I love- like. LIKE! I like you but, I do have a crush and - and” You rambled shaking your hands very confused.

Nightwing laughed, he actually laughed and you felt your cheeks flushing an even darker color. He took a step towards you and you took a step away from him. He raised his hands almost in defense and remarked,

“About that...”

“About what?” You asked, suddenly feeling suspicious.

“About the whole crush and me thing, I know who your crush is.”

You gave him a confused look and shook your head. there was no way he knew who your crush was, there wasn’t!

“It’s Dick Grayson.”

You looked at him in surprise, your jaw dropping nearly in shock. He laughed slightly at your face before taking a step towards you. This time you didn’t take a step back. He got closer until he was right in front of you.

“And I,” Nightwing began, reaching up for his eye mask, “Am Dick Grayson.”

He took off his eye mask and looked at you. You blinked your eyes going wide as you saw his face. His very much Dick Grayson face.

Nightwing is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson is Nightwing......

You talked about your crush to your crush.........

As your mind exploded in on itself Nightson- Dickwing- the man in front of you held out his hands as if he was going to catch you were you to faint.

You laughed slightly then proceeded to place your face in your hands and let out moans of despair.

He knew.

He knew every little thing that you thought- well most of the things that you thought. He knew of your side of the situation- wait. Wait, why did he ask that? Why did he-

“Why did you ask me if my anxiety tends to make me tune people out?” You found yourself questioning.

Dickwing- or whoever he was smiled at you and laughed slightly before replying,

“Well, because when we were in the aisle at the library and you asked what I liked I said I like you.”

You froze once again blinking in surprise. So he tried to ask you out previously. That’s why Jason and Damian were laughing.

Jason and Damian.... if Dick was Nightwing that meant they were probably vigilante’s too. Red Robin.... definitely Tim.

Bruce must be Batman which would mean Damian is Robin. That just left Jason.

However, before you could try and figure out which vigilante Jason was, your phone buzzed. Pulling it out of your pocket you looked at your phone to see a text from Eddie.

Eddie: Come to the station, now, you need to see this.

You showed ... Dick your phone. He hummed slightly and gave you a look.

“We might as well go... but first let me change”

You nodded with a sigh and went and got your coat.

Before you knew it you were walking up to the station. On the roof of the station was a flash of red. As you got closer you realized it wasn’t a flash but a helmet. Sitting on the roof of the Gotham City police department was Red Hood.

He spotted you and Dick and waved. You blinked as you noticed the other man tied up on the roof looking fairly angry. It was Daniel. Your breathing stopped for just a moment until he tried to wriggled only for Red Hood to kick him and for Daniel to stop moving.

“Oh would you look at that, it’s a pretty librarian. How ya doin sweetheart?” Red Hood remarked getting just a bit closer to you.

You heard Dick sigh and gave Red Hood a confused look. Slowly the gear in your mind began to turn.

“I assume,” Red Hood mused since he didn’t get an answer from you, “You’re doing much better now that scum like Natalonie’s off the streets am I right?”

Before you could reply Eddie walked out of the station looking at her phone. She looked up at you and waved before walking towards you. She stopped at your side and gestured towards Red Hood.

“See what I mean?” She remarked.

“Detective, Detective, Detective,” Red Hood whistled looking at Eddie, “where can I get your number?”

Eddie replied in a sweet tone, “Up your ass maybe?”

Red Hood laughed before getting even closer to the edge of the roof, “Come on doll that’s no way to be.”

“Fuck off to some one who care Hood.” Eddie replied, flipping him the bird.

You heard Red Hood laugh again but before he could say anything else he looked in a different direction and his shoulders sank a little. Looking back to Eddie, had he not been wearing a helmet you swear he would be smiling.

“I guess I’ll have to try you again later Detective.”

Eddie rolled her eyes, the semblance of a smile starting to form on her face, she shook her head and flipped him off again, “In your dreams Hood.”

“Where else would they be doll?” Red Hood remarked before giving a quick salute and taking off.

It took you a moment to realize it but the puzzle piece began to fit together. How Eddie nearly called Red Hood by his name, why he seemed to know who you were, why he talked to you so casually when you met him when you were staying with Eddie.

Red Hood was Jason... which meant Eddie was the girl. The one he couldn’t get over. It all made sense... well sort of.

“Oh my gosh.” You muttered pressing a hand to your face as you realized that Eddie shoved Jason out a window.

“You just connected it didn’t you?” Dick asked with a smile.

You looked at him slightly confused, raising an eyebrow almost in question, you give him a confused look.

“Daniel’s going to prison for a very long time.” Eddie informed you as she looked at her phone again shaking her head, she looked up and smiled at you.

“Have fun you two,” She then said with a wink before turning to walk away.

You flushed slightly before turning to Dick. He smiled at you and you took in a breath.

He was the only man who had your affections. Basically All the Man that you needed. So you should probably tell him how you feel.

“I honestly don’t think there’s anyone I ever loved as much as I love you.” You said slowly, not exactly meeting his eyes.

He laughed slightly before pressing his head to yours, “Neither do I.”

You smiled and looked up, looking at him in his bright blue eyes.

“So, how about a rain-check on that date?”

You smiled slyly and then the both of you burst into laughter.

“I’ve got time,” He replied, “for you, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Blushing slightly, you smiled at him and sighed, “Awesome.”

=============================================================

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!!!

Okay first thing’s first I just wanna let you guys know my original idea of all the man that I need was like gonna be a full on fic. I told my friend all about it and like it had a lot details and everything, but then I got to college and even thought I really love doing these, it was super difficult to write. Not because I don't’ have tome because I actually have a surprising amount of free time but because I just couldn’t find any inspiration. So a few days ago I decided I was going to start spooky season a little early and try writing to some Halloween music.... and it worked! I was able to get moving with this two-shot! So yeah Halloween music is my muse right now 😂.

But yeah, anyways my OC’s... technically there was a lot of them in this but only two are going to have stories, the others will be either background characters or part of their past. I’ll tell you one because it’s actually the first idea I and for a batfam fanfic. It’s Eddie and her story. I’m not gonna lie it’s kinda sad but not nearly has sad as the other one because I have a lot of issues🤣.

Back to the point if y’all wanna see more of certain OC’s just let me know I can find a way to include them into the one-shots, two-shots or fics. But yeah.

Finally I might be a little slower on the posting just because I’m in school and finding enough time to get inspiration and write, edit and have a friend proof-read it will take a while. But I will definitely have some done. Anyway thanks so much for being sooo patient with me!

Lots of love!

-Redhead-batgirl

Tag List:

@andromedaj2003, @battlenix, @sol-the-salmon

110 notes · View notes

get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.“You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

#twice x reader #twice x you #jin bubaigawara x reader #bee writes #bnha fanfiction #college au #library!twice x student!reader #twice mha #bee.writes

296 notes · View notes

darsynia · 2 years ago

Text

I didn't want to spoil some good parts of the fic so I put in a cut, so I'm putting THIS thing I'm about to say up here. I loved this, it reminds me of a story by a friend of mine, a BuckyxReader by @tiny-anne. The Reader in this story has a chronic illness that traps her at home, and watching everyone else be trapped at home at the start of the pandemic put some things into perspective for her and Bucky. It's so darling and this fic of yours gives me the same vibe. Thank you for writing it! Tea Leaves and Basil Plants is the story!

Interesting premise! I sense she lost her eyesight through trauma or illness rather than being born blind, given the 'from when it made a difference,' but the phrase is ambiguous enough that we'll have to see! Aaaaand as soon as I said that, it's explained to be true! hah.

Why do I IMMEDIATELY suspect that Bucky found her very attractive and freaked out because he doesn't want to do anything wrong and skedaddled??

I'm calling it now, the man is FLUSTERED and doing everything exactly wrong as a result! He totally deserved the smackdown tho.

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. I just pulled your chair out a bit further to make it easier and…”

The man needs to be tied to the bed and felt up until he's senseless.

Ahahahhaha Tony and Nat taught JARVIS to call her Oracle, priceless. Go give Bucky a piece of your mind Oracle!!

“Why is your door open, and why are you standing in it?”

“Heard you coming, doll.”

Probably the sound of her FURY.

GIRL HOW DID YOU SHOCK ME WHEN I KNEW HE DOESN'T HAVE FLESH ARM you still got me I'm so impressed! Hell yes!

Every time I wanted to chew you out, I also wanted to kiss you. For trying so hard and so earnestly, but still getting it so very, very wrong.”

“You’re so pretty, Bucky. I wonder how you taste?”

See above gif :D

“Sure is! Gonna help you remember what stars look like.”

This was so lovely! Thank you for writing it, it was sexy and educational and I rooted for Oracle the whole time. I wanna see her chew out Nat and Tony hahahha.

Suddenly I see

AN: Thank you nonnie for this request - I hope you enjoy this. I can’t seem to write anything short at the moment!

heyyy, this is my first request, i love your work!! i was wondering if you could do a blind reader or blind OC and bucky barnes. Bucky has been attempting to help her around even if she doesn’t always need it. he keeps trying and it’s dosent really go his way and he keeps just doing the wrong things but they get there and eventually they fall for each other and it ends with them trying to navigate the only thing they haven’t yet, a sex scene. sooo angsty fluff with a smut ending. thanks you much love 💕

This also fills square K2 on my BBB card - Flowers - @buckybarnesbingo

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board and banner by me,

Masterlist | BBB Masterlist

Summary: Bucky just wants to help you, but it would be better if he asked you first.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Blind SHIELD analyst Reader

Word count: 5.1k

CW: Human disaster Bucky, mild angst, fluff, Nat being Nat, miscommunication, pining, disabled Bucky Barnes, sex with banter (oral - m receiving, unprotected PinV sex)

The first time you met him, you did have to forgive him.

Most people didn’t know how to react when they met you, not expecting someone in your…position, to be doing the job that you were. For the most part you’d given up being mad about it - people either realised very quickly that your disability didn’t affect your job at all, or they felt the sharp end of your tongue and scuttled off with their tail between their legs, so to speak.

You were busy concentrating when Nat brought him into the room where you were working, but not so engrossed in your work that you didn’t register the arrival of new people. Your fingers were flying over the keyboard, typing out your code, and you knew that Nat would wait for you to finish before introducing you to whoever she’d brought into your sanctum. You pressed ‘enter’ and turned your chair towards her and your new guest, lifting your chin and tilting your head to the side as if regarding them - an action left over from when it made a difference.

“Hey, Nat! Good to see you. What brings you to my neck of the basement? And who’s the fresh meat?”

You grinned at the same time that she chuckled.

“Do I need an excuse to come and spend time with my favourite Oracle?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“I’ve told you before - I don’t know the future. I’m an ordinary human, just like you.”

She snorted at that, and you heard her pull over one of the other chairs before she dropped down into it, settling behind your right shoulder as you resumed typing.

“Nothing ordinary about you. And speaking of which, I’d like to introduce you to Bucky.”

Oh! That’s who it was.You’d heard of Bucky, Captain Rogers best friend, released from decades of Hydra brain-washing, but this was the first time you’d been introduced. You spun your chair back towards where he’d been standing when he entered and held out your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and you heard the tiniest exhale off to your left.

Shit!

“I’m over here, doll.”

You turned your chair more, grateful when Nat moved out of your way, and stood up, taking a step closer to where Bucky had spoken from.

“Well, you move as quietly as they say. Normally it’s only Nat who gets the drop on me. If you hadn’t guessed by now, I’m blind. And don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” You heard Nat’s muffled giggle, confirming your suspicion that Bucky’s mouth was flapping up and down with the apology he was about to make lodged in his throat.

You held out your hand again and gave him your name. “But Nat, here, calls me Oracle, because of my knack of interpreting intel and predicting likely scenarios.” His hand, warm but calloused, took hold of yours and gave it a gentle shake.

“Ummm, nice to meet you, Oracle.”

You could feel the awkward tension in the air, and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“Let me get this out of the way, and then we can move on, okay? I was born sighted, but was diagnosed with a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa as a child, which meant that I slowly lost my vision over time. I became completely blind about 18 months back, but I remember seeing. I know what colours look like, animals, etc. I learnt to touch type as a teen, and although my keyboard does have Braille on the keys I don’t really use them. I manage just fine. FRIDAY reads back my code to me, so I can spot errors, I have my cane and I have Jimbo.”

“Jimbo?”

Aha! So the famed former assassin hadn’t noticed everything.

You gave a quick whistle and felt Bucky start as your faithful companion uncurled himself from under your desk where he’d been sleeping and came to stand at parade rest by your right leg.

You crouched down and gave him a pet, and in return he booped his nose against yours.

“This is Jimbo. The best seeing-eye dog ever. Aren’t you, boy? Yes you are!”

You stood back up and made your way back to your chair, Jimbo returning to his sleeping spot now that he realised his services weren’t currently required.

“So that’s me. I’m damn good at my job, and I promise that you’ll never have to worry about any mission information that you get from me. And if you can’t trust me, trust Nat. I’ve never steered her wrong.”

“Ummm. Good to know. I… ummm… if Nat trusts you, then I do too. And it was good to meet you… and Jimbo… but I… uh… gotta go. So… see you later, Nat? And again, nice to meet you, Oracle.”

His footsteps retreated from in front of you and you heard the sound of the door opening and closing before Nat burst into a fit of giggles. You turned your chair towards her, crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really Nat? You didn’t let him know in advance?”

“Hey, it’s not my story to tell, it’s yours. And besides, I wanted to see what you made of each other. Suffice to say, I wasn’t disappointed.”

“It’s a good thing I love you, Nat, otherwise I’d have to sic Jimbo on you.”

Nat moved towards you, and must have crouched down from the way her hand brushed your knee. You knew what she wanted. You scootched your chair back to allow her to reach under your desk. A satisfied huff from Jimbo let you know that Nat had found the sweet spot behind his right ear.

“This sweetheart? I’m more scared of you than I am of him.”

“Damn straight!”

After your less than stellar introduction to Bucky, it seemed that from then on you kept bumping into him. Or rather he kept bumping into you. Literally.

You were making your way back to your office from the bathroom, cane in hand, although you knew the route like the back of your hand, when something caught on the end of it, sending it flying out of your hand. A heavy body then crashed into you, pinning you against the wall.

“Shit! What the fu… Oh. it’s you! Sorry. Sorry.”

Oh, god!

“Bucky… could you get off me please?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes. Of course… umm.”

He pushed away from the wall, and you sucked in a deep breath. Boy, was the guy heavy. Part of your brain decided to tell you it was the right kind of heavy. You told it to shut up.

Bending down you reached out your hand to find your cane, only to find Bucky’s hand - he was obviously trying to help. His fingers closed over yours, and you turned your head upwards in reflex.

“Bucky, you are not my cane. Do you have it there?”

“Yes… umm.. Yes, of course. Let me, just…”

Without any warning you found yourself jerked back to your feet. The sudden movement unbalanced you and your free arm flailed, searching for purchase. Which it found by curling into the fabric of Bucky’s top, bringing you flush up against his chest, pressed to him for the second time in that many minutes. That part of your brain started clamouring for attention again. It was telling you that this was actually quite nice, and that Bucky smelled wonderful. Then, to add insult to injury the rest of your body started to join in, a gentle throbbing starting from between your legs.

Jesus, you needed to get laid, or at least find time to schedule some ‘self-care’, if you were reacting like this to a frankly frustrating man you’d only ever met twice.

You pulled your captive hand free and let go of his shirt, smoothing down your own top to cover your discombobulated state.

“Well, thank you, but I was capable of standing back up myself. I just need you to pass me my cane.”

“Oh, right. Hang on.” You felt the movement of air on your face as he quickly ducked away, and then he was back by your side, pressing your cane into your hand.

“Can I… umm… walk you back to where you were going?”

“Well, I do know where I’m going - I’ve worked here longer than you but, sure, you can tag along. Just going back to my office.”

“Sounds good!”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He sounded like an eager puppy. Maybe he wasn’t so bad… no scratch that…

You were just about to set off walking again, when Bucky threaded your left arm through the crook of his right. You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes. It was obvious he meant well, but by the same token, wasn’t used to being around someone with a disability like yours. You lurched forwards as he set off walking, effectively dragging you along with him.

“Bucky! Stop! Wait!” He came to a halt and you bounced off his, very muscular, arm.

“What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you when I bumped into you?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that it’s actually harder for me to walk with you pulling me along like this. I need to walk at my speed, and use my senses. I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of navigating the couple of hundred yards between the bathroom and my office. I do it every day.”

“‘M sorry. I just…” You held up your hand.

“... wanted to help? I get that, I do. But if I need help I will ask for it. Assuming I need help is ableism, pure and simple. I may be blind, but I’m not helpless. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I’m already behind schedule.”

As you strode off down the hall, your cane moving from side to side in front of you, you did feel a bit bad for chewing him out. He did mean well, after all, but you’d had your fill of ‘helpful’ people - people who saw a problem that they had to solve for you, instead of trusting you to sort it yourself.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear the dejected sigh from behind you.

It would have been alright if that had been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Bucky seemed intent on helping you every chance he could. Unfortunately it just kept going wrong.

Like at a mission briefing when you were making your way to the table. You pulled out your chair and went to sit down, but suddenly it wasn’t there and you were landing on the floor with a shout.

What the fuck?

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. I just pulled your chair out a bit further to make it easier and…”

You gritted your teeth, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne and what it did to your equilibrium as he helped you back up.

“It’s fine, Bucky. But I was okay.

Like the time he accompanied Nat to see you in your office. He’d said hi, but nothing else, leaving Nat to check some mission intel over with you. But then you heard the tell-tale sound of hands patting thighs, and Jimbo brushed past your legs, followed by the sounds of canine mastication.

“Umm, Bucky… Are you feeding my dog?”

All was silent apart from the sounds of Jimbo snacking.

“Errr…”

You pinched the brow of your nose and tried to ignore the tremors of suppressed amusement from Nat next to you. You strode forward and somehow managed to swipe the offending bag out of Bucky’s hand.

“I thought he might like a little treat for being so good…”

“And that’s very sweet, but he’s not allowed treats when he’s working. And even if he was it’s good manners to ask. He could be on a specialised diet or something. If he gets an upset stomach, not only do I have to deal with being without him while he recovers, I somehow have to clean up doggy diarrhoea, which I can tell you isn’t fun when sighted, let alone blind.”

“Doll, I’m…”

“Yes, Bucky. I know. You’re sorry… You always are.”

You turned your back on him and went back to your chair, tucking the doggy treats into your desk draw and going back to your conversation with Nat. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice when Bucky slunk out. Nat, sensibly, didn’t say anything.

One thing about working for SHIELD was that for those that wanted, you could have accommodation to live in on site. You’d jumped at the chance - anything to do away with an annoying commute. You just had to walk from the main building to the apartment block.

Jimbo sat down at your side as you let go of the handle of his harness, and pulled your key from your purse. You opened the door and signalled for Jimbo to go in, then closed it behind you and hung up your purse, keys, cane and coat, before removing your faithful companions' reflective harness.

“Good boy. You did so well today.”

You walked down your hall and into your open plan living room and then halted as an unexpected smell assaulted your nose.

Flowers?

How and why were there flowers in your apartment?

“FRIDAY!” You called out the AI, a little louder than necessary.

“Yes, Oracle?”

Damn Nat. And damn Tony.

You let out another sigh. You seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“Are their flowers in my apartment?”

“Yes, miss. Roses and carnations. A large bouquet on the dining table. The roses are blush pink and the carnations are red.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“And did Sergeant Barnes put them in here?”

“He did, miss.”

You stalked back towards the door, grabbing your cane, coat and keys.

“And does Sergeant Barnes live in this complex?”

“He does. Would you like to know his address?”

You thrust your arms into your coat and pocketed your keys.

“If it’s not too much trouble, FRIDAY. I need to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Sergeant Barnes’ apartment is 2C.”

Okay, so one floor up and third apartment along. Not quite overhead of you.

As you opened the door you felt a nudge to your leg. Jimbo.

“Good boy, but stay. I’m sure I can make my way upstairs.”

You gave him a pat and then walked out of your door.

You hadn’t been on the other floors of the apartment block more than a handful of times. Nat always came to you if you organised to hang out, and you worked mostly on your own, not having really made friends with many of your co-workers. However, you found your way to the elevator and rode it up to the next floor.

You knew that apartment C should be the second on the left hand side of the corridor, so you walked along that side, and used your cane to identify the first, and then the second door frame. Squaring your shoulder and mentally preparing yourself, because you didn’t really like confrontation, you raised your hand to knock and brought it down… on nothing.

No. Not nothing. A person. Bucky. You were confused.

“Why is your door open, and why are you standing in it?”

“Heard you coming, doll.”

“Oh…”

You could swear you almost heard the smile in his voice. Shit! Your hand was still on his very warm, very broad chest.

“You wanna come in?”

“What? Oh, yes. Thanks.”

You snatched your hand back to yourself as he stepped back and you walked through the door, using your cane to work out where he was.

“Can I take your coat, and cane? This apartment is set out the same as yours, more or less, and I can help you to the couch?”

“Umm, sure.”

God! He was being so nice and considerate, which was going to make this more difficult. You could feel your frustrations evaporating by the second, and damn it, you wanted to stay mad.

You passed him your cane and shrugged out of your coat, then waited patiently for him to escort you. He moved to your left side, and this time he waited for you to start walking, gently steering you around his furniture until your hand made contact with the back of his couch, allowing you to find your own way onto it. As you settled onto it, feeling the soft leather under your fingers, you felt the other side dip. Bucky was sitting next to you, on your right, but not too close.

“So, what can I help you with, doll. Can’t say I expected you to turn up at my door.”

“Bucky, you broke into my apartment and left flowers in it.”

“Well, I realised I’ve been a bit of an ass, and wanted to apologise. And you never let me actually say the words.”

You sank back into the couch and mulled on what to say.

“You gotta realise that since I got this diagnosis when I was five, before I even understood what it meant, I’ve had people saying sorry to me all the time, and then trying to help me. Over and over and over. Running roughshod over my autonomy because I happen to have a disability. My brain works fine. I manage just fine. It’s just so frustrating and it’s hard for those without disabilities to understand.”

The silence between you stretched for a few moments, before Bucky started to speak.

“I…” You cut him off.

“Don’t you dare say it!”

Then you heard something you hadn’t before. A chuckle. Bucky’s chuckle.

Deep. Velvety. Downright sinful.

“Wasn’t gonna, doll. But I did want to show you something, so to speak.” He took hold of your right hand with his own. “Can I?”

You nodded, wondering what he meant, but it all became clear as he raised your hand and placed it on his left shoulder. You could feel the soft cotton of his t-shirt, but where it should have been stretched over his upper arm and bicep it in fact hung loose.

There was no arm there.

Your mouth dropped open and you whipped your head up towards him.

“How did I not know?”

Your words were a strangled whisper, and full of shame.

“Dunno, doll. It’s in my file. Although I do have a prosthetic. A very fancy one at that. It gives me more than normal abilities, but I will admit, like any other amputee, when I get home, I like to take it off.”

“Nat never mentioned it.”

“Like she never mentioned you being blind to me?”

“Oh…”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew what it was like to be bombarded with questions about something so personal.

“Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, you know where I am.”

“I do, doll. One floor down and to the left.”

Your hand was still on his shoulder, and you felt a little awkward.

“I… well… I was wondering, could I feel what you look like? I mean, if you don’t mind?”

He picked your left hand up from your lap and lifted it up towards his face.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Go ahead.”

You placed both your hands on top of his head, feeling his hair. It felt long; tied back.

“What colour is your hair?”

“I’d say brown, but Nat says it’s chestnut.”

You hummed as you trailed your fingers down, finding his brow and sweeping your fingers over his eyebrows and round his eye sockets and cheekbones.

“And your eyes? What colour are they?”

“Sorta blue-ish grey, I suppose.”

There was hair on his cheeks and jaw, long enough to feel soft against your sensitive finger tips.

You realised you were finding it hard to breathe. There was a tension in the air between you, a tension that you knew had been there from almost the beginning, but that you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Your fingers moved towards, and then traced across his lips. They felt plump, albeit slightly chapped and you found yourself wondering how they’d feel against your own. With your left hand still on his mouth, your right trailed over his chin, feeling a small divot. You smiled as you imagined using it in order to grip him, hold his face still.

You were just about to pull your hands away, when Bucky reached up again, and held your left against his lips, so he could press small kisses to your fingertips. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m gonna say it, doll. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such an ass, and that I didn’t listen to you. I was stupid because I was trying to impress you. I wanted to show you how good I’d be for you, because almost from the first moment we met I was totally enamoured. You’re so smart, and confident, and I just felt useless. And then every time I tried to help I made it worse. Nat had to give me a talking to because I was just making a fool of myself.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks at his words.

“Bucky, I…” but it was his turn to cut you off.

“So, I’m saying sorry, and I hope you can give this one-armed super-soldier a chance to show he isn’t an ableist ass, because I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to burst out of your chest, and you could no longer resist what your body and mind was telling you to do. You took hold of his chin, just the way you’d imagined a few moments ago, grabbing his attention.

“You’ve frustrated me from nearly the moment we met - I hope you realise that. Gotten under my skin in a way I couldn’t describe. I didn’t know why. Well at least, not at first. Every time I wanted to chew you out, I also wanted to kiss you. For trying so hard and so earnestly, but still getting it so very, very wrong.”

“You could kiss me now?”

Your lips twitched. “Smooth, Barnes. Smooth.”

“I like to think so…”

“Shut up.” You broke out into a full smile as you pulled him towards you by his cute chin until your lips met his.

It was everything you’d imagined in your private moments. The warmth, the restrained passion. Everything.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, strands coming loose from his ponytail. His arm was wrapped around your waist… and when and how had you ended up on his lap? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to keep kissing you. When he finally pulled his lips from yours you ducked your head down to his neck, wanting to keep any kind of connection. It was like a dam had burst and you had no way of stopping the flood.

“Doll, you gotta stop. Please. ‘Cause I’m dying here.” He was panting. You could taste the sweat on his throat, feel his pounding in his chest, feel the firmness at his groin.

“You really want me to, Bucky? Or do you want me to help you dig your grave?”

“Oh, fuck, doll!”

In one swift movement his arm shifted to cradle your ass and he stood up. Your legs clenched around his waist and your arms went around his neck.

“I got you. I got you, doll. Just moving somewhere more comfortable, if that’s alright with you?”

“Sure is. I need space so I can ‘take a look’ at the rest of you.”

It was only a short walk to the bedroom, and he placed you, oh so reverently, on the bed. You pulled your top over your head and shimmied out of your work pants.

“I have no idea if this underwear matches - I was in a rush this morning.”

There was a rusting sound and the mattress dipped. Bucky took hold of one of your left hand and pulled it down so you could touch his, now bare, chest.

“You look like a million bucks, doll. Now, I gotta warn you. I got some pretty ugly scarring going on here.”

You brought your right hand up, and lightly stroked over the left side of his chest. You felt the edge of the scarring that started just above the nipple, raised and hard, which led up to cool metal which covered all over the shoulder area.

“Is this what your prosthetic attaches to?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, when it was first done, the people doing it weren’t concerned with the aesthetic of it.”

“Good thing I’m blind then. I don’t care.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re incredible, doll.”

“And so are you. Now lie still, so I can take a good look.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Your hands roved over the rest of his body, feeling where his chest hair grew in patches around the scarring. When your palms brushed over his nipples he gasped and you felt him shift beside you. Impishly, you did it again, grinning when he let out a warning growl.

You took the hint, however, and continued your explorations, discovering the solid plains of his abdomen and feeling the strength within his core. No wonder he’d been able to lift you so easily, even with the help of his super-soldier serum.

When you finally ‘saw’ his cock, your hands gently learning the size and shape of it, every vein, every sensitive part, you heard his laboured breathing as he tried to control himself under the sweet torture of your touch.

“You’re so pretty, Bucky. I wonder how you taste?”

You bent over, and licked a stripe up the length of him, revelling in the sound of his indrawn breath. It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but muscle memory was your friend. You traced the contours of his cock with the tip of your tongue, tasting the sweat, the musk, the essence of him, before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh, God! Doll! I wasn’t lying. You’re killing me!”

You pulled off him with a pop.

“Don’t resist it, Bucky. Give yourself over to ‘le petit mort’.”

You returned to ministering to his cock, sucking strongly on the tip of it, while stroking the shaft with your hand. You teased his slit with the tip of your tongue, then swirled around the head. His whole body was trembling with tension and you could feel how wet you were, how aroused you were by the power you held over him.

“Doll, I’m gonna cum! Fuck!”

You wished you could see Bucky’s face as he came, but instead settled for reaching up to twine your fingers with his. When his hips twitched under you, you hollowed your cheeks, and took him as deep as possible, moaning low in your throat as he spilt down it.

You continued to suck and stroke him through his orgasm, until he shifted under you, sitting up and dragging you up his body. You straddled his lap again, pleasantly surprised to realise he was still hard, pressing up against your heated core. He kissed you, licking into your mouth, either not caring about or enjoying the taste of himself on you. His hand pulled at the fastener of your bra, but this was obviously something he couldn’t do one handed, so you reached behind you, quickly releasing the offending garment and discarding it.

“I need you, doll. I need to be inside you.”

“Please! I need you too!”

You didn’t want to pull away from him, even to remove your panties, so you pulled the flimsy fabric to the side, before taking hold of him and guiding him to your entrance.

Bucky let out a gasp and fell back onto the mattress as he started to slide into your heat. Your hands went to his chest, looking for stability and leverage as you moved yourself up and down, drawing him into you, inch by glorious inch.

It felt so fucking good! The stretch, the slight burn. And you were also certain that it wouldn’t matter how long it had been since you’d last had sex, this, with Bucky, would still be mind blowing. His hand was on your waist, helping to keep you stable as you moved. You were so fixated on how he felt inside you, that it took you a few moments to realise that he was talking to you.

“You’re fucking glorious, you know that? I swear, tomorrow we’re gonna do this when I have two arms and I’m gonna take you apart. ‘M gonna fucking feast on you.”

You laughed and tossed your head as you continued to ride him. “Is that… fuck!... a promise?”

“Sure is! Gonna help you remember what stars look like.”

“Get that hand on me and you can help me now!”

“Yeah? You close, doll? I fucking hope so, ‘cause I swear ‘m gonna cum again, any second.”

Bucky moved his hand from your waist, sliding it between you and searching for your clit. You gasped, the bundle of nerves so sensitive, so engorged you knew it wouldn’t take much to make you…

You let out a loud whine, your body clenching down on his cock and your fingernails curling into the flesh of pecs as the pleasure washed over your body.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck! So beautiful when you cum. Gonna fill you up… you’re gonna have me leaking outta you for days…”

His words were cut off, becoming a shout as he came. And, fuck, he hadn’t been joking. You could feel him pulsing inside you, feel the warmth of his cum filling you, and then leaking out of you, coating your thighs. It felt as though your orgasm just kept going as you rode out the aftershocks, jolts of pleasure continuing to shoot through you, just as you thought there couldn’t possibly be any more.

Eventually they stopped and you slumped forward onto Bucky’s sweaty body. His arm came around your waist and rolled the pair of you to lie sideways on the bed. Your eyelids drooped; you were so tired. You desperately wanted to sleep but…

“Jimbo!”

You tried to sit up, but Bucky urged you back down.

“It’s okay. You sleep, okay, doll?” I’ll pop down, take him outside then make sure he has his food, yeah? Then I’ll be back, ready to sleep next to you, all night long. That sound alright?

You smiled softly, high on dopamine and sleepy as hell.

“Sounds perfect, Bucky. Thank you for helping.”

“No problem at all, doll. No problem at all.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#darsy twirls the fic #bucky barnes x reader #i love stories that inform and delight and excite all at the same time #thank you for writing!

223 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

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

377 notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner

215 notes · View notes