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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years ago

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #thor x reader #dark thor #loki x reader #dark loki #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Text

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure.

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon!

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get.

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical.

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.”

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.”

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.”

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.”

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.”

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?”

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.”

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.”

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse.

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue.

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?”

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.”

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship.

No, he could never do that. He would not.

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot?

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just—

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this.

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that.

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened.

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time.

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking.

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place.

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks.

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut.

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob.

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work.

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science.

God, he was an idiot.

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…”

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.”

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.”

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.”

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.”

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?”

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything.

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?”

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story.

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before.

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.”

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?”

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.”

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.”

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs.

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard.

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased.

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said.

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue.

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva.

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking.

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches.

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive.

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva.

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster.

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him.

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.”

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach.

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth.

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.”

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come.

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him.

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth.

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right.

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!”

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him.

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap.

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan.

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?”

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.”

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!”

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t.

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed.

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

#hoseok #smut #hoseok smut #bts #bts fic #bts smut #bangtan boys #jung hoseok #pwp #drabble #smut drabble #x you #x reader #reader insert #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #college au

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nutellaneedsanap · 4 years ago

Text

Almost a Dream

Jason awoke with a start, the senses he honed as a street kid warning him that something was wrong. It wasn’t a noticeable shift, something a more normal person wouldn’t notice, but to a person with his training it was glaringly obvious. The slight shift of the blankets, the dip of the bed…a quick peek confirmed what he already knew. There was someone else in his bed. The blue-eyed boy kept his eyes lightly shut, feeling the warm body next to him shift ever-so-slightly. Discreetly, he opened his eyes and peered at the figure that appeared next to him, gauging her threat level.

She was a smaller girl with blueish-black hair, likely of asian-descent, and a wiry-muscular frame not unlike Dick’s. Deciding that she was asleep, (therefore not much of an immediate threat), Jason went to move, planning on getting Bruce. He had only just begun to sit up when she pounced.

She gave no warning before lunging forward, giving Jason’s throat a quick jab that left him gasping for air. Taking advantage of the moment it took for him to catch his breath, the girl grasped his hair at the root and brought his head down on her knee. A telltale crack sounded throughout the room and internally, Jason groaned.

“Ahhh, Alfie’s not gonna be too happy about that.” His voice had a slight lisp, another sign pointing towards a broken nose. His assailant scrambled to get off the bed and backed towards the balcony, her hands quickly touching her ear lobes. She did not seem to like what she found, her face quickly settling into a scowl.

“I don't know who you are or what you want from me,” she began, settling into a (rather good) fighting stance. “And I don't care. I will be leaving and you will not stop me.”

Jason looked at her, grasping his nose that had begun to leak a small trail of blood.

“What the hell?” He wasn’t screaming but he sure wasn’t whispering.

“I’m not exactly sure how you do things in France, but I'm pretty sure most parents teach their children to not break into someone’s house, sleep next to them like a weirdo, and then break their nose!”

There was a chance that the bluenette couldn’t understand him(there was no shortage of immigrants in Gotham), but Jason hadn’t learned more than basic French yet. Technically, learning the more common languages was a part of his training as Robin, but he had kind of forgone those specific lessons. And why would he put in all that time and effort learning French when he could be reading more books from the Manor’s library?

She blinked at him. “What do you mean, I broke in? I apologize but sir, you are not pretty enough to pretend to be so stupid.”

The black-haired boy blinked right back. He may not know French but he does know an insult when he hears one, so he fires one back. “Well fuck you too.”

The girl scrutinized him, her expression screaming “Is that the best you can do?”

“Oh? You want to go? Fine. My middle finger salutes you and your assholeishness. Calling you an idiot would be an insult to those who truly worked hard for the title.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“There is a special place in hell for you, ya know that?”

The girl cocked an eyebrow. “I’m aware there is a special place in hell for me, it's called a throne. And those are bold words for someone who literally kidnapped me, but go off I guess.”

It didn’t take much more for the pair to dissolve into a screaming match, the bluenette yelling in French and what he thought was Cantoneese and Jason using more than a few of the Spanish phrases he had picked up from his dad and other folks on the street. Jason was in the middle of one of his more strongly worded combinations when the door slammed open, Bruce and Alfred standing in the doorway.

The both of them took a moment to examine the situation, Alfred accessing Jason for injuries while Bruce switched on the Batglare™. “Who are you, and how did you get here?”

The poor girl looked exasperated.

“I don’t know how I got here!! Last thing I remember was collapsing into bed and the next thing I know I wake up to the face of this,” she pointed at Jason, “creep who doesn’t even have the decency to talk to me! I keep on asking him how I got here and why he took me but he just won’t answer. He’s pretending that he doesn’t know French, but who in Paris doesn’t know French?!? I mean, sure, there are immigrants, but who the hell would immigrate to Paris nowadays? What with Hawkmoth akkumatizing people day and night.”

She paused before flopping down on the floor, dejected. “Today was supposed to be perfect, the day I finally got my soul mark and got one step closer to finding my soulmate, but no, I just had to get kidnapped the night before my 16th birthday!” She put her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake slightly.

Jason looked from the girl back to Alfred and Bruce. “Is she?” he mouthed, thoroughly bewildered. Bruce exactly as Jason felt, while Alfred’s face was twisted into something that resembled pity and understanding.

“Master Bruce, may I have a moment with you?” Bruce sighed and turned to leave. Not wanting to be left alone with the now sobbing girl, Jason followed.

Alfred handed Jason a handkerchief for his nose before he began. “Masters, this young girl has been through quite the ordeal and I will not have either of you using your vigilante intimidation tactics on her, understood?”

He waited until he got a nod from the two of them before continuing. “Good. You know, Master Jason, I read a very interesting book recently about Kate Goodwill and her studies on soulmates. And before you ask, Master Bruce, I do have somewhere I am going with this. The book was absolutely fascinating, the theories, the experiments, simply everything. However, the one thing that stood out to me the most was Dr. Goodwill’s research on the different types of soul bonds, specifically the one that she and her wife shared. Her research was kick-started because no one had heard of their type of soulbond before and it had caused quite the panic for both the young girls and their families.” He paused, making eye contact with Jason. “Their soulbond caused the younger of the pair to teleport into their soulmate’s bed in the middle of the night on their sixteenth birthday.”

•••

Marinette was not having a good day. First, Mlle. Bustier assigned her to work with Lila, Lila of all people, for the end of the semester project in summer school (which she was attending due to her absences as Ladybug and Lila was attending because she was constantly absent for “charity work”), then in the middle of the night, Hawkmoth sends out 1 and ½ akumas (long story), and now she wakes up to find that she was kidnapped by a psycho in her sleep? What the actual FUCK?!?! Where was Tikki’s luck when she needed it?

And ok, sure, she wasn’t necessarily proud of how she handled the situation, but she was under a lot of stress, ok! She woke up in a random kid’s bed with no earrings and no Tikki. And yeah, she probably could have done without antagonizing the boy, but it was so easy and fun to get him riled up! How was she to know that the yelling would bring scarier other people? Ok yeah scratch that she probably should have figured that out herself (I mean the boy obviously had money so it makes sense that he’d have more people around his house) but in her defense she was like, really tired.

She glanced at the closed door that the men had just exited, wiping a few stray tears from her face.

“If only I had Kaliki,” she mused.

But no matter. She already had the beginnings of an escape plan forming in her head. I’ll just need a handkerchief, a piece of twine, and maybe a hairpin to pick the lock on the balcony door, but then how would I get out of the property? A house with a room like this must have crazy security measures… She went on like this for a couple of minutes, formulating her plan before she checked out the window. Three stories up...could normal civilian Marinette survive that jump? I would transform, I still have my earrings, but without Tikki I can’t... She went on like this, thinking of different plans and contingencies. The bluenette was so lost in her head that she almost didn’t notice when the three re-entered the room.

“Miss,” the older man who looked like a butler began. “I deeply apologize for the earlier behaviour of Master Jason.” He gestured to the now apprehensive boy who gave her a little wave. “He has not yet learned French and had no way to comprehend the situation. I was able to hear both sides of the story, and I believe that there has been a large misunderstanding. You were under the impression that Master Jason kidnapped you, correct?” Marinette nodded, more than a little confused. “Master Jason was under the impression that you had snuck into his bedroom in the middle of the night.”

“So what are you suggesting, someone put me here without either of us knowing?” I swear to all things holy if this man accuses me of lying…

“I am getting there, Miss. I assume you are familiar with the soulmate story of Dr. Kate Goodwill?” Marinette nodded yet again.

The man took a deep breath. “I believe this is a similar situation, and that the two of you are soulmates..”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean I...we...what? N-no way.”

She racked her hands through her hair. She... she wouldn’t overlook something like that, right? You were supposed to feel a sense of belonging the first time you met your soulmate and she...had kind of felt that. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. From a logical standpoint, it would explain so much! Why he spoke English, why Tikki wasn’t with her, why her earrings weren’t on… Her face turned crimson as she realized the full implications of the statement. She turned to face the newly named Jason.

“Oh Kwami I’m so sorry Jason! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so surprised and kind of scared and oh Kwami, the first time I met my soulmate I broke his nose and called him every name that I knew,” she smacked herself on the head. “Only you Mari. Oh gosh I totally understand if you never want to talk to me again I’m probably the worst soulmate in existence I just-” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two adults leaving the room.

“You can speak English?” Jason exclaimed, looking equal parts amused and exasperated. “You spent this whole time yelling at me in French and Cantoneese and you can speak English? So much of this could have been avoided if you had just talked to me!”

Marinette gave a nervous chuckle. “Uhhhhh, surprise?”

At his incredulous look, she rushed to elaborate. “Well I thought we were still in Paris and no one has immigrated to Paris in literally two years so I thought that you knew French and the choice to speak English was conscious? Like maybe it was some weird interrogation tactic or something? I don’t know, I was just confused.”

“You thought I kidnapped you?” He whistled through his teeth. “Yeah, I can see why you reacted the way you did. No worries though, my nose isn’t too horribly fractured and I probably would have done the same thing.” They both chuckled.

He has a nice smile, Mari noted. (She wouldn’t know until much later, but Jason thought the same about her laugh.)

“I think we should start over.” Marinette held out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I live in Paris, France, today is my birthday, and I think I’m your soulmate.”

Jason smirked, holding out his hand. “Hello Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m Jason Todd-Wayne and I think you are my soulmate too,”

They shook, and that was that.

The End.

Bonus:

Jason: You know, Ethiopia can wait for one more day.

Marinette: It can wait FOREVER.

Bonus 2:

Alfred: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Jason: Would you like to stay forever?

#maribat #jasonette #jason todd x marinette dupain-cheng #jason todd x marinette #fluff #soulmates #soulmates au #jason and marinette being disasters for 2121 words straight

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hawkinsindiana · 4 years ago

Text

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous.

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more.

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose.

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives.

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him.

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements.

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat.

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it.

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth.

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier.

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore.

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late.

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth.

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too.

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.”

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid.

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets.

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep.

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.”

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her.

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise.

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened.

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time.

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him.

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms.

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder.

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention.

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow.

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction.

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it.

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for.

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.”

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.”

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working.

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it.

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you.

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?”

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore.

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here.

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine.

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.”

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels.

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else.

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves.

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain.

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

— taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

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donaidk · 4 years ago

Text

Marcus Armstrong - Almost Home I.

In advance: This is getting a Part 2 for sure. I don’t want to leave it here, but at the same time I felt like it would be really long if I left it in one piece. Turns out I have a whole lot of inspiration for Marcus fics right now. 😂 I also wanna let everyone, who’s waiting for their request, know that uni is starting next week for me. It means less free time, but I will make sure to finish every one of them in the next week or so, and then focus on all the series I started. There’s gonna be slower updates to them, but I’ll make sore to have one or two per week at least. Hopefully they won’t try to kill us in the starting weeks and I will finish up the Lando one so I could start posting that every week and just add some parts from the others to the queue 😊

Thank you Anon for requesting this one though, and sorry for the wait. Hope you will enjoy it and as it’s almost the next day here, have a really happy start to your Friday everyone 🧡

Kind of Taglist: @mickschumcher, @art-gp

Title Song | Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ��Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

“ I’m gonna text you in the morning when’s my last lecture. We can meet up after that. ” I told them, before turning around with one last wave and catching up to my group. I could only hope that they would at least let me sleep before the questions start pouring out of them all at once.

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rolandtowen · 3 years ago

Text

three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

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passable-talent · 4 years ago

Text

nobody requested this but here it is

dedicated to: the new love of my life, for whom I reopened my lip piercing. also to @haydens-moles

Sam Monroe x Male!reader because this is 100% self indulgent

Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, you’d outgrown a lot of things. Thinking you were cooler than the need for school, that was one of them. Trying to scream along to your music was another- you just let the professionals handle those parts, and picked up the song again when the singing came back.

The two things you hadn’t outgrown, through the last two years of high school, and the first two years of college? Your excessive amount of piercings, and your crush on Sam Monroe.

Honestly, fuck that guy. Fuck him and his high cheekbones and smooth biceps and long-sleeve-under-short-sleeve fashion sense. Fuck him and his dyed hair and his rings and his piercings.

You’d been closer friends with him then your sister, Alyssa, for most of your life. She stopped talking to him for a while in the first few years of high school when he moved out of his dad’s house right next to yours, but he stayed close to you, your taste in music and drugs keeping you familiar.

Sometime right before his dad died, you started to pull away from him. It was a dick move, yeah, to abandon him when he so desperately needed his friends, but you were crushing on the straight guy who’d started fucking your sister, so. You had some valid feelings, too.

You both went off to college, and didn’t see each other, pretty much ever- you went to different colleges, and both of you roomed on campus. You thought that maybe you would even escape him when you went home for the holidays, since Alyssa broke up with him before freshman year. Because she liked to ruin your plans, though, she stayed friends with him, for some fucking reason. She wasn’t one to hold onto an ex-boyfriend, so you didn’t really know where that was coming from.

Especially since...

Okay, Alyssa tells you practically everything. You’ve always been really close, being fraternal twins and all, but when you figured out you were gay in fifth grade, it gave the two of you so much more to talk about. And yeah, she knew you super well, and she knew you were crushing on Sam. She had always assumed the two of you were the perfect match, with your piercings and your attitude and your band tee shirts. It didn’t hurt that she thought he was gay. Right up until she started sleeping with him.

You couldn’t exactly blame her.

And then she broke up with him a year or so later because she could feel something was off, and it seemed like he took about a year or so to figure himself out before texting her one night with the words ‘you were right, turns out: I am gay.’ Which pissed you off more than surprised you, because- honestly, the bad timing, right?

Either way, you grew to loathe holidays. Whenever you came home from college, so did he, and he always came to see Alyssa.

Every time he did, he felt the simmering anger you held toward him, it’s not like you hid it very well. It’s hard to look into a face adorned by dyed hair, just like yours, and lip and ear piercings, just like yours, and still manage to hide your emotions. Dammit, he really was perfect for you. The older you got, the more he proved it.

It just made you hate him more.

He never said a word about your animosity, when you disappeared into your room whenever he visited, not to be seen again until after he left. He didn’t say a word when you got snappy with your sister when he was around, he said nothing when you didn’t come down to eat dinner with your family, so long as he was at the table. He took it in strides.

And then he decided to stop sitting idle, and figure out what was wrong with you.

You were in the living room on December eighteenth, watching TV. Your mom and sister had left to do some Christmas shopping, so you’d tossed your feet up onto the arm of the couch and raided the alcohol your mom swore up and down she’d notice if you swiped.

She never did.

It was about eight PM when the doorbell rang, and you groaned, knowing it meant you’d have to leave your extremely comfortable position practically upside down on the couch. Throwing your legs to the floor, you made it to the door, moving the remote from its place on your chest to the coffee table.

Pulling aside the curtains covering the door’s window, you realized that it was Sam- why the hell he’d come after sundown, you didn’t care to know.

You popped open the locks, then opened the door.

“Alyssa’s not here,” you said, voice short, and went to close the door again. He stopped you before you could.

“I know,” he said, then shouldered past you and into the house. What a dick move- to assume he was welcome inside, to assume he could wait until she got back.

“Jackass, she’s not gonna be home for a while,” you said, hostility in your voice even as you took another sip of your beer.

“I know,” was his only response, leaning against the stairwell. He crossed his arms, just... looking at you. How did he know that? And why was he staring into your soul?

“Yeah, alright, whatever,” you conceded, skirting past him and into the stairwell, retreating to your room as you always did when he entered the house. “You know where the food is. Enjoy doing fuck-all until they get back.”

“Four years ago, we were friends,” he said, catching you off guard when you’d made it to the landing halfway up the stairs. “What happened?” You froze, then turned to face him.

“You..” you trailed off, giving him a look. That was why he’d come over? To interrogate you? “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I do?” You glared for a moment longer before stepping forward, leaning your elbows onto the banister of the stairwell. Before you spoke, you grabbed your lip ring between your teeth.

“You’re in college, you’re smart enough to puzzle it out,” you said, looking at him like he was scum on earth. “What did you do four years ago that might piss me off?” You could see him begin to consider, thinking through his history. It only frustrated you further that the obvious answer wasn’t obvious to him.

“Okay, jackass, I’ll give you a hint,” you said, beginning to let anger into your voice, “What did you do in this house that might piss me off?” You saw a realization light his eyes, but he didn’t say a word.

“What, you need another hint, dumbass? You slept with my fucking sister!” Sam looked up at you, and finally you began to see some anger cloud his gaze.

“So? What’s that got to do with you?” You leaned forward further, lifting a single finger toward him.

“First of all, I’m pretty sure its a fucking rule that you shouldn’t sleep with your best friend’s sister.” He rolled his eyes, which just pissed you off further.

Like you’d been doing all your life, you vaulted over the bannister, landing in the center of the entryway. You righted your spine, stepping toward him dangerously.

“And you know what I was doing while you were sleeping with my sister?” You snarled, intimidation in your step as you approached him, “You wanna know what your best fucking friend was doing?” He stood his ground, and fuck him, he was just a bit taller than you, so you couldn’t be as intimidating as you wanted to be.

“I was trying to stop being in love with you,” you snarled, lip piercing clacking against your teeth as you spoke. “My best friend’s in the next room over, his dick in my sister, and I’m the dumbass who’s in love with him.” For a moment, there was silence in the house- you hadn’t really expected to admit it to him, especially not like that, and he hadn’t expected such a confession at all.

You couldn’t let the silence last. You were too infuriated.

“And then, you had the fucking nerve to go off to college and find out you actually were gay.” An odd thing to be angry about, sure- but you weren’t sure your anger was really at him. Maybe you were angry at yourself, maybe you were frustrated with how the past had unfolded. “How dare you? You had the fucking nerve to be into guys the whole time and still go for my sister over me? You know how much easier it would’ve made high school if you’d just figured that out a little earlier?” You turned your back on him, incapable of looking at him directly. Whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, you didn’t care in the moment to discover.

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was into dudes when I was with Alyssa.” Somehow, hearing him say that made you even angrier.

“Yeah, whatever.” You were fucking done with the whole conversation- fuck the movie you were watching, fuck the beer you left on the kitchen island, fuck him. You were going to go upstairs and wallow in some self-pity. Mr. Brightside by the Killers had been your latest song obsession- if it had come out while you were in high school, it would’ve been your anthem.

“You’re studying to be an engineer, right?” he asked, once again surprising you.

“Yeah,” you said, not turning to face him, hissing the word over your shoulders.

“So you’ve probably not taken too many humanities.” What the fuck was he on about?

“Just ethics, freshman year.”

“I took a human sexuality course last semester,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Where the hell was he going with this? Did you really care to know? “Figured out a lot about myself. You know, some gay guys sleep with their friends’ girlfriends because they can’t sleep with their friends?”

He couldn’t be serious.

He could not be implying what you thought he was. It would make him not only an idiot, but a destructive one, too.

“Are you telling me,” you said, voice almost a growl as you turned to him, “That you slept with my sister because you wanted to sleep with me?”

He didn’t say yes. But nothing about his body language said no.

“You fucking prick-” you snarled, and it was like all of those issues you’d had with discipline and anger in high school rushed right back. In that moment, you really did mean to punch him. You took the deliberate step, aimed for his jaw, right below that pretty blue eye with the accentuating eyeliner.

He saw you coming and ducted out of the way, letting the swing pass over his head. This meant he was close enough, though, to receive your right knee under his ribcage. He reacted in time to grab the knee before it reached him, holding your leg in the air, and time paused while you stared at each other. Rage boiled behind your eyes, and he dared you to try again.

“Get off me,” you hissed, ripping your knee from his grip and shoving him backwards by the shoulder into the wall. When his shoulder blades impacted the drywall, picture frames hanging halfway across the room rattled. You held him there, right hand keeping him against the wall. Your face inches from his, you brought an accusatory finger under his chin.

“Fuck you,” you growled, but you noticed when his gaze flicked to your lips. Whatever you had meant to say was absolutely gone from your mind- no way you could think of anything after he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours.

‘Cause, like... fuck.

This is what you’d been thinking about since you were twelve, you know? This is what you’d been dreaming about, waiting for. Holy shit. His lips were so soft, the slight chapping catching and dragging across your lip piercing, and his hands had left the wall and now dragged across the fabric of your shirt, wrenching you closer. You dug black painted fingernails into his hair, freshly blue for the holidays, and damn, this really was everything you’d ever wanted.

He brought his hand down to your lower back, tugging you closer until there was no space between the two of you anywhere, especially not where his tongue invaded your mouth.

You pulled away, breath heavy, eyes half-lidded.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but he knew you didn’t mean it anymore. Or, not in the same way, at the very least.

“Were you really gonna punch me?” He asked, reaching up to cup your face, running his first finger over the first of your two earrings.

“What else was I supposed to do?” You asked, and he just laughed, pulling you in to kiss him again. This time, you took your arms all the way around his neck, willingly pressing your chest and hips against his. He reached down to your thighs, lifting you up, carrying you back to the couch and the movie you’d long forgotten about.

He broke from your lips and started attacking your neck halfway there, and when he dropped you onto the couch, he fell with you, like he’d rather risk smacking his face to the couch than lose his lips on your skin. Only when you had a nice dark spot on your neck and your heels trying to drag him closer did he pull away, a smirk pulling his labret to one side.

“Still gonna go up to your room whenever I come over?” He asked, expression playful, like he expected you to swing for him again.

“Ass,” you sneered, dragging him back down to you again.

-🦌 Roe

part 2

#sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x male!reader #gay!sam monroe #life as a house #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #life as a house 2001

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years ago

Text

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that ��if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years ago

Text

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 11

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns to be a person and protect those who have been hurt like he has.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory, mentions of abuse from teachers, discussions of institutionalisation, implied medical abuse

Chapter summary: Caleb was hurting, but he wasn't the only one. If he could do nothing else, he could care for his friends, and they could care for him.

Chapter notes: Kirschtorte is just Black Forest Cake with the geographic reference removed because Zemnian. Chapter title is from Neptune by Sleeping At Last

Chapter 11: If brokenness is a work of art surely this must be my masterpiece

Dinner was a solemn affair, no matter how much Caduceus and Yasha tried to provide comfort in the food they made. The spiced, fried bugs that Yasha had convinced them all to try were actually very good. And they hadn’t made apple tarts today--Jester would have been furious if they’d tried it in her absence--but they made a different Zemnian dessert instead: Kirschtorte. Layers of chocolate sponge sandwiched with whipped cream, sour cherries and a cherry liqueur unique to the Zemni Fields, with a few cherries placed on top.

It tasted so much like home that Caleb stopped eating, folded his arms on the table, rested his head on them, and cried. He had been too tired to excuse himself.

“Was the cake that bad?” Yasha half-whispered.

“No,” Beauregard said thickly. “It’s good, babe. I don’t think that’s… I think it’s been a long day. Long two days.”

Essek rubbed slow circles into Caleb’s back, but the group let him cry without disturbing him. Caduceus handed him a glass of water when he was finished. Caleb did not miss Beauregard twisting away from him to wipe her eyes. And Caleb was struck by another wave of emotion, grief at how much Beauregard was hurting, that almost brought him to tears all over again.

After dinner, Essek helped Caduceus and Yasha with the dishes. They hadn’t let Caleb or Beauregard help tonight. Caleb caught Beauregard as she left the kitchen, and guided her to the couch. They sat together, quietly at first. Sometimes Caleb felt so many things that it seemed impossible to put them into words. But he couldn’t leave things like this; she had gotten involved because of him. She’d run into a burning house with him, she’d watched Felix so Caduceus could help him try to save the Baumanns, she’d spent a day and night watching over Nico in the same state she knew Caleb himself had once been in. Eleven years in Vergesson, broken under the weight of what he had done to his mother and father. She knew all that. She knew more than almost anyone what he had gone through; she had listened to his story and written it down so they could stop Trent from hurting anyone else, and give Caleb just a little shred of peace. She cared about Caleb. She cared about people like him. And she had also been abused by a powerful man.

And they’d had the chance to help Nico in a way neither of them had been helped when they most needed it (and what help they had received only came years after the damage was done). Then, all their efforts to help Nico had failed. She’d mobilised the monks and done her best to find him, and had come up empty just like Caleb had.

She was hurting, too.

Caleb took her hand in both of his and, feeling awkward about it, kissed her knuckles. Beauregard looked at him strangely.

“Uh, Caleb? You’re being weird.”

“You’re a good friend, Beauregard.” Caleb patted her hand, setting it down on her leg.

“Oh, we’re gonna have one of those talks.”

Caleb’s track record for emotional conversations with Beauregard was, for the most part, horrifying. They were both awkward people who sometimes understood each other well, and other times couldn’t understand each other at all. He had, on more than one occasion, stormed away from a conversation silently screaming.

“Beauregard…” He sighed. Caleb was running on sheer willpower, emotionally bruised and given to cry at a moment’s notice. But he wanted her to know how much he appreciated her, and how sorry he was for her pain. “Thank you.”

“Caleb, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to say this shit.”

“I do, though.” Caleb hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so small. So fragile. But he… Caleb needed her to hear this.

She looked away. “Sorry. I just… you’re going through a lot of shit, and I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated…” She trailed off, staring at the colourful, jewel-toned rug Jester had brought from Nicodranas.

“This is not easy for you, either,” Caleb said, and Beauregard sagged against the couch, looking at him like he had grown another head.

“Caleb, what the fuck?”

“You are a caring person, Beauregard. And you know better than most what those children have been through. You listened to my story and wrote it down for me. You stood with me while I faced Trent in the courtroom and recounted, again, everything he had done to me.” Caleb didn’t know where he found the strength to speak, to build up the steam he needed to spill out all his feelings, but he did it because Beauregard needed to know. For both their sakes. “You and Veth were the first people I ever told. You are… invested. You care. You are kind and good. I need you to know that I am grateful for everything you have done for me, and for people like me.”

“Caleb, I know you’re grateful,” Beauregard said, with that same tired frustration she often had when he was being emotionally obtuse. “You’re also a fucking wreck and need to stop wasting your time on me.”

“I am not wasting anything,” Caleb said. He had to fight down his frustration. Neither of them were comfortable having this kind of focus on them, and she was trying to be a good friend. “That is not all I wanted to say. I want you to know… I see you.” Caleb wasn’t great at eye contact, but he made a special effort now, locking eyes with Beauregard and hoping she got it. Hoping she understood he knew she was suffering, and that it mattered to him.

“Hard not to, man. I’m pretty hot.”

“I’m glad you know that about yourself.” It would have been easy to let her deflect, but Caleb steeled himself to drag this conversation where he intended it to go. “But that is not what I meant. You know that.”

Beauregard averted her eyes once again.

“Yesterday was hard. Today was hard. For all of us. And you…” Caleb reached for her hand, relieved that she let him hold it. “You have been abused as well. And yet, you ran into a burning house with me. You saw Nico unresponsive in Wulf’s arms, knowing I was once like that, too. You watched over Felix while Caduceus and I tried to save Nico’s parents. Then, you watched over Nico and had to witness what I was going through that day, and that night. You have seen me in a bad place before, and that was the worst I have been in a long time, and I know it was confronting for all of you. And you did everything you could to keep Nico from running, and you were there when it all fell apart. I know you are hurt, Beauregard. And you are allowed to be. Please allow that for yourself.”

She squeezed his hand, and some of her guardedness fell away to reveal the sheer depths of sadness in her eyes. “I love you, man.”

“I love you, too, Beauregard. Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“I know. You are a good person. I am sorry for your pain, because I am your friend.”

Beauregard clasped his hand in both of hers, staring down at the tangle of fingers. “I’m worried about you, Caleb. And about the kids. But I can do something about you, at least.”

“You have done a lot already, Beauregard. Thank you.” He tugged her by the hand until she shuffled close enough that he could throw his arms around her and drag her into the tightest hug he could manage. She squeezed him back, and his spine cracked a little in a way he didn’t know he had needed on both a physical and emotional level until relief flooded through his system.

****

Caduceus stayed overnight in case he was needed, and Essek dropped him back at the Grove the following morning.

“Call me any time,” Caduceus had said as his parting words. “Whatever you need, even if it’s in the middle of the night, I’ll be ready.”

The Volstrucker and the monks continued searching for Nico, and Caleb was at a loose end. So he launched himself into preparing for the upcoming semester, his first as a teacher. He split his time at home between his study in the dormer, the floor of Beau and Yasha’s living room, and occasionally the Cobalt Soul Archives while Beau was working, depending on how much his need for privacy warred with his need to have his loved ones close at hand.

Essek stayed. Caleb stewed in silent guilt whenever he let himself think about it too much, but he knew better than to ask Essek to leave when the man was clearly worried about him. More often than not, Caleb left the house with his hair braided, whether it was a single braid at the back or, Essek’s favourite, two narrow braids tucked into a half or full ponytail. Sometimes it felt like Caleb’s mental health hinged entirely on the presence of a braid.

Caleb sent daily messages to Felix and Nico. For Felix, it was simple to find a routine. A question about his day, little tidbits about a spell the boy had indicated an interest in, updates on the search for Nico, and whether either of them had received responses from him (the answer, thus far, was no). He didn’t push Felix for an answer about school. Not yet.

For Nico, Caleb weighed his words far more carefully.

On one day: “Hallo, Nico. It’s Caleb. How are you? I am working from home today. You are welcome here any time.”

A few hours after that: “Hallo, Nico. Caleb again. I just wanted to say: I know how you are feeling. I went through this as well. You’re in my thoughts.”

Another day: “Hallo, Nico. Me again. Are you safe? It’s cold out. Remember to drink water. Boil it first if necessary.”

And another: “Hallo, Nico. I am a teacher at the Academy now. I intend to watch these fuckers like a hawk. Keep the kids safe, ja?”

He burned a second spell for that one: “We deserved better. I will make sure the children who come after us get it. And you… come back when you’re ready. Let me help.”

And countless other messages, little updates about his day, about Felix, about work, about just… coming back in one piece.

And he did not receive a single response. Caleb cried more often than not after going through this. He preferred to be alone in his study in those moments, and the others had learned not to disturb him until he was ready to be around people again.

Overall, he felt he had been pretty good about it. He kept busy, spent time with his friends, let Essek hover around him and take care of him. Caleb let Essek help with his lesson plans, bounce around ideas for a presentation he would have to make in the first week of semester as a new teacher at the Academy. He had already told the Nein they were invited, and had spoken to Astrid to make sure the non-citizens would be welcome.

He also remembered to invite Nico, on the off-chance the boy needed a specific call to action to return to Rexxentrum.

“Hallo, Nico. I am presenting a talk next week at the Academy on the first day of semester. 7 o’clock. You would be welcome.”

Caleb met regularly with Bettina and Alphira to work on their lesson plans together. He spent most of that time with Bettina, given he would literally be taking over one of her classes. He was mostly assisting Alphira, though she was interested to get him in to talk to the senior Evocation students at some point about his experiences with the Sending spell. Including the funny ones with Jester. There was also an interesting discussion to be had about why Sending was considered an Evocation spell while Message was considered a Transmutation cantrip. Both professors spoke carefully in a way that suggested they knew what had happened with Felix and Nico, but they never brought it up. He was relieved they let him keep his academic work separate from that heartbreaking shitshow.

Between work, Caleb found time to catch up with Astrid and Wulf. He pretended not to notice their visible relief whenever they saw him, because he was genuinely unsure what they would do if he brought it up.

At a certain point, meeting in Astrid’s office brought up too many memories, so they moved their meetings to the dance hall. Beauregard, Yasha and even a disguised Essek had “accidentally” wandered in on more than one occasion.

“Are you still talking to Felix?” Astrid asked him as the three of them sat around a table in the farthest corner of the room from the dance floor.

“Ja, he doesn’t tell me everything, but he responds at least.”

“Still nothing from Nico?”

Caleb didn’t need to say it out loud; he couldn’t school his expression to hide the pain there. And Astrid and Wulf had once known him very well.

Astrid reached out, touched the back of his hand where it rested on the table beside his mug of ale. “I’m sorry, Bren.”

Wulf had his eye on Yasha, who was calmly drinking at the bar. “Astrid’s people are still looking for him.”

Caleb did his best to shrug off the hurt. “I know.”

Astrid squeezed his hand once and then retreated. “Now, about your lesson plans…”

She had been teaching for a while, so Astrid had plenty of advice to give. However, she was also hesitant to steer Caleb too much.

“You have good instincts,” she told him every time they spoke about it. “Trust them.”

On their way out of the dance hall, where they had sat for a good three hours, Astrid caught Caleb’s arm.

“One more thing. I have secured a venue at the Academy for the support group, mid-week. I have contacted most of the Volstrucker. We are ready to go ahead when you are.”

“Astrid, the point of this is not for one person to steer it.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him. “Bren, we need a dedicated person to drive this. And that person is you.”

The thought of that was frightening. Caleb was barely figuring out how to be a person himself, let alone be responsible for the healing of dozens of people who had been under Trent’s thumb for far longer than he had.

“Astrid.”

“I am not expecting you to have all the answers for them,” she said firmly. “But you have had more time to process than the rest of us have.” She gave a small, wry chuckle. “In fact, you may be the most stable of us all.”

“Astrid, that is horrifying.”

“She’s right,” said Wulf. “Besides, you have a way with people. Always have.”

Caleb was not like Fjord or Jester or Caduceus who always seemed to have something to say when someone was hurting, but he could talk when he had to. He feared some of the Volstrucker would not take him seriously because he had broken, or because he had gotten out long before they had. This would take time. Fortunately, Caleb was one of the few Empire wizards with in-depth knowledge of time, learned from a reliable source.

Astrid still held his arm. She slid down to grip his hand instead. “I know this will not be easy for you. You were always sensitive. But that is why you have a chance with these people. They are not…” She sighed. “Trent made sure we don’t know how to exist in a world without his boot on our throats.”

“We don’t know how to process our emotions,” Wulf said, and it was odd to hear him admit it aloud. “Well, most of us. You do all right.”

Caleb laughed at that, because it sounded like a horrible joke. Caleb, who felt so constantly bruised on the inside that even the slightest inconvenience threatened to send him into tears. Who still woke up gasping in the night. Who was so choked by pain sometimes that words left him. Processing his emotions? It was more likely that his emotions processed him. Like a fucking meatgrinder.

Astrid frowned at him. “Let’s take a walk. Just the three of us.” She glanced back at the door, where Yasha was visible. “If your shadow will allow it.”

“My shadow does what she likes,” Caleb muttered, letting Astrid tug him along. Wulf took his other hand, leaving him little choice to let the two of them take him where they willed.

They wound up in a small park they had used to visit regularly, especially when drunk after a night of dancing. It was strange to see it in daylight, and while Caleb was mostly sober. They sat on the grass beside a small ornamental pond, Astrid and Wulf pointedly bookending Caleb, sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. The wind played with the strands of Caleb’s hair that had fallen out of his braid. He never bothered to fix them because Essek found it endearing.

“I apologise,” said Astrid. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset, Astrid.” At her doubtful noise, he added, “Not at you.”

“You should get out of Rexxentrum,” she said abruptly. “Just for a few days. We have things well in hand. Your lesson plans are solid. Bettina and Alphira are pleased. You do not need to be here until next week.”

“And if Nico comes back?”

“You will be contacted. I promise.” Astrid looked to Wulf, who shrugged at her, which caused her to roll her eyes. “Jester keeps pestering me to make you visit Nicodranas.”

Caleb had been messaging with Jester regularly, and she had hinted that he should visit, but she was usually a lot more explicit when she wanted to see him. And he knew she was talking to Yasha, Beau and Essek, but none of them had said much about it.

It was odd. “Is there a reason she is pestering you and not the people I literally live with?”

Astrid shrugged. “I may have let a few things slip.”

“Astrid, you do not ‘let things slip.’”

She looked utterly unashamed. “Well, apparently you had not told some of your dearest friends you are going through a rough patch, so I did it for you.”

“In how much detail, exactly?” Caleb did not like to be angry with his friends, especially Astrid, but he needed to work out how much of a problem he needed to have with her.

“Very little, just enough that she knows you are not at your best. I would not rob you of that agency.”

That last part hit Caleb harder than he could have expected. “I… thank you.”

Caleb had to admit he missed his friends terribly. Especially Veth, who of all the Nein had seen him at his worst, helped him put the pieces of his brain together on the days he collapsed, who had cuddled up to him on bad days, who had been the first friend he’d had in many years. And Jester, who knew how to ruin a dark mood. Fjord, with his quiet understanding. Kingsley with his… Kingsleyness that was a little painfully close to Molly sometimes but more than welcome.

He always knew they would be worried sick if he told them even a fraction of what had happened in the last few days. Seeing the pain he brought to Caduceus, Yasha, Beau and Essek was hard enough. But they loved him. Those who did not know what had happened would want to know, so they could help.

And he was touched that Astrid and Wulf had taken the time to sit him down and discuss this with him. He didn’t know what they were now. Maybe he never would. Maybe they were friends again. They had all changed so much, Caleb especially, that it was hard to say if they could even be friends. But Caleb wanted it. He wanted it a lot.

“I suppose I can spare a day or two,” he finally said. It would be good for Essek to get out of Rexxentrum, too. Maybe he could drag Beau and Yasha out for a bit, even if Beau had obligations at the Archive.

Wulf and Astrid looked at each other in a knowing way he had not seen from them in seventeen years. The familiarity was strange, and a little uncomfortable, but also comforting at the same time. He had spent so much time emphasising how much he still cared for them, doing his best to drag them away from Trent, and then gently guiding them through sharing their trauma to put Trent away for good. But he had never forgotten that for such a long time, they were the ones looking out for him and protecting him. He had done the same for them, of course, but there had often been an unspoken understanding that Caleb was just a little bit squishy, needed just a little extra care.

Caleb was also keenly aware that sometimes it was easier to care for someone else than to care for yourself.

Wulf’s large hand found Caleb’s knee. “Good. Say hi to Fjord for me.”

“Tell him yourself,” Caleb muttered, because he knew Wulf would find it more funny than offensive.

Wulf chuckled and squeezed his knee. “Oh, and warn your boyfriend: if he hurts you, I will cut off his balls.”

“You will have to beat me there,” said Astrid.

Okay, this conversation had taken so many twists and turns that Caleb had half a mind to visit the Grove and ask Caduceus to check him for whiplash. Unsurprising, really. Things were complicated between the three of them and likely would be for a very long time.

He wasn’t sure what to say about the fact his exes were on the cusp of threatening his current partner, and not in the way one might expect. Caleb found himself fiddling with the end of his braid while he tried to process what the fuck was happening to him.

Finally, he said, “There are a great many people who would fuck him up if he ever put a foot wrong with me, and he himself is first in line. You need not worry about that. Thank you for your… concern?”

Astrid and Wulf shared another look, much more pained than the last. Then they both looked away, Astrid into the grass and Wulf at the pond.

“He treats you well?” she said quietly.

“Ja, very well. He came back to take care of me.” Caleb had no words for the depths of his gratitude towards Essek. He was always gentle with Caleb, sensitive to his needs. And these last few days, he had been nothing but a source of endless love and support, a soft place to land when Caleb felt like he was in freefall. He always offered this, but every protective and caring instinct in Essek had been cranked upward, like casting an old, reliable third-level spell at eighth level instead. Or ninth, though Caleb and Essek were not quite to that level of magical skill yet.

“Good,” Wulf muttered. “You play with your braid when you talk about him.”

Caleb chuckled, not even embarrassed he had been caught with such an obvious tell. “Ja, he likes to braid my hair for me.”

“Hard to hate a man who braids his partner’s hair.” Wulf’s voice was almost wistful; Caleb’s hair had never been long enough to braid when the three of them were together, but they had occasionally been able to get a small one into Astrid’s hair.

“Good. Don’t.”

Astrid’s hand found Caleb’s other knee. “You’ve been through a lot, even in the past few days alone. And… we know you are capable. You have the willpower and the support you need to get through all of this, and to guide the Volstrucker who agree to attend the support group. But we do worry for you. And we are… glad… you have people in your life who take care of you.” Once again, she could not look at him. “Wulf and I… we are sorry we failed you.”

That was a new one. “Astrid, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Greater Restoration,” Wulf said quietly.

“If we had found the nerve to talk to a cleric ourselves,” added Astrid, “we could have gotten you out of there years ago.”

Right. Vergesson. “Trent wouldn’t have allowed it. You know that.”

“We could have tried.”

They had been teenagers. Frightened, grieving teenagers at the mercy of a powerful man. Of all the things Caleb could have held against Astrid and Eadwulf, this would never be one of them.

“You could have gotten us all killed,” Caleb said, forcing steel into his tone in the hope it would break whatever spiral Astrid and Wulf had worked themselves into. “You didn’t know that Greater Restoration would have done shit for me. Why would you? That is not the skillset Trent cultivated in us. He taught us how to hurt people, because we were to be his weapons. He had us murder our own fucking parents because all he wanted us to know was violence and pain and fear and utter reliance on him alone. You do not need to apologise for not taking on a fool’s errand.”

They refused to look at him once again. Jaws clenched. Eyes wild and staring holes into the ground.

“We were children,” Caleb reminded them, squeezing their hands where they remained on his knees. “We were children. Of all the things we have done or not done, that is the last thing I will ever let you apologise for. Do not hurt yourselves, hurt me, like this. Please.”

Astrid’s free hand pressed over her mouth, catching a sob. Wulf’s thumb drew a slow circle on Caleb’s knee.

“You’re right,” Wulf said quietly. “It would have been foolish. But we…”

“We were cowards,” Astrid snapped. “We left you there for eleven years. Trent made sure you were cared for, but… it was Vergesson. And you were defenceless.”

“I am well aware,” Caleb said before she could pull up memories that were far too painful for any of them. “I have told you before that I remember little of my time there. I would prefer it remain that way, I think.” Caleb wasn’t sure he could survive remembering that place beyond the flashes of awful that would sometimes come to him.

“I’m sorry, Bren. I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh. Enough of that.”

Astrid cleared her throat, straightened up. Evidently she had remembered they were technically in a public place.

“Do us a favour,” said Wulf. “Go to Nicodranas. Get some rest.”

“I will, if the two of you will also do me a favour.”

Astrid, newly composed, raised an eyebrow at him. “What is this favour?”

“Try to hate yourselves a little less. Hypocritical coming from me, but I think we could all stand to be kinder to ourselves.” Caleb had said almost those exact words to Essek in the Blooming Grove all those months ago, and he was struck by how much he had a type.

“All right,” she said, smiling with so much affection that Caleb was taken back to their first kiss in a freezing cold tower. “You first.”

They parted ways not long afterwards, and Yasha melted out of the shadows to walk Caleb home.

“That looked very intense,” she said, leading him by the hand like he was a small child bound to get lost in a big city. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Think you can convince Beauregard to visit Nicodranas for a bit?”

Yasha chuckled. “I think I can manage.”

****

Making arrangements for Nicodranas kept Caleb from stewing too much in his talk with Astrid and Wulf. That was welcome. He appreciated the care they still had for him, but there were some things that were still too painful and probably always would be. He had already messaged Jester to confirm the Nein Heroez would be in dock at the time.

“Of course, Caleb! Did Astrid talk to you? She’s super nice, and she really cares about you a lot. I’m sorry I was mean to--” The message cut off at twenty-five words; Jester’s word economy, or lack thereof, would always be a source of joy even on a bad day.

Essek, mercifully, had messaged Veth for him; she would hear the exhaustion in Caleb’s voice and worry herself into a panic.

Despite the flurry of activity, Caleb still found himself occasionally caught, freezing in the act of folding a shirt or cataloguing his spell components. And he’d remember how much the two visits to Vergesson he had made since his escape had rattled him. The few memories he had were bad enough, and he knew so much of the pain the place brought him was buried in his subconscious. Or in moments that his body seemed to remember but his mind didn’t.

The bloodbath he’d caused while on the amulet heist. So on edge that he had forgotten a crucial detail about the Wall of Force spell until he had expended all his spells that he could have used to disintegrate it. Caleb did not forget things like that. Until he did, apparently. And then there had been his complete inability to do anything but fight when Trent had appeared suddenly, temporarily thwarting their escape. He’d fallen back on his training. Always his training. And the violence it entailed.

While part of him was a tiniest bit curious what had happened during those eleven years, if nothing else to further catalogue Trent’s sins on the public record and dig up his accomplices, most of him hoped he never found out.

As he stood a little too long in these thoughts, a pair of dusky purple hands lifted Caleb’s component pouch from his shaking grip, setting it aside. Essek sat Caleb on the end of the bed and wordlessly climbed behind him, knees gently pressing Caleb’s hips as he pulled the braid loose and began it anew. The gentle tugging motions slowly pulled Caleb back into his body, and the present.

Essek finished off the braid and kissed Caleb’s neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

More like Caleb needed to talk about it before he imploded. “Astrid and Wulf apologised for not getting me out of Vergesson themselves. And… I think they know some parts of what happened to me there. Things I don’t remember. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I might know subconsciously that I don’t think I can handle knowing consciously. I’m just… out of sorts, I suppose.”

Essek slid his arms around Caleb’s chest, pressing himself up against his back, squishing their cheeks together. “I would like to turn them into spaghetti for making you think about this when you have enough to worry about, but you would be upset with me.”

“I’m not angry with them.”

“I know.” Essek kissed his cheek, nuzzling Caleb’s stubble.

“Vergesson is… I do not like the person I became when I was last there. I don’t think I could survive remembering what happened to me.”

“Then don’t try to remember.” Essek flattened his palm over Caleb’s heart and gently pressed down, forcing Caleb to focus more on his breathing. Remembering that his heart still beat. He was here.

More immediate, practical thoughts began to filter back into Caleb’s mind. He remembered he was going to Send to Caduceus and invite him to Nicodranas. Caduceus would hear the rough edges in Caleb’s voice, but he could handle it far better than most of the Nein.

“Hallo, Caduceus. It’s Caleb. We are visiting Nicodranas for a few days tomorrow. Would you like to come? We can pick you up in the morning.”

There was a slight pause, and then Caduceus’s warm, soothing tone filled Caleb’s mind. “Hey, Caleb. That sounds great. I’ll be ready, with fresh tea for everyone. And sunhats. You and Essek will burn in the sun.”

“Caduceus is in,” Caleb said, stifling a yawn. Essek laughed softly, his breath tickling Caleb’s neck. “Now for Yussa.” He cast again, directing a message to Wensforth. “Hallo, it’s Caleb of the Mighty Nein. We are visiting Nicodranas tomorrow. May we use the circle? It would be good to see you both.”

Wensforth replied quickly. “Yes, of course! The master is eager to speak with you at any time. Please… message before you arrive?”

Caleb let himself laugh a little. The Nein were notoriously awful at warning people of their arrival. And Caleb was touched that Yussa, ever a busy man, thought so highly of them now that he would happily drop everything to talk to them. They had spoken a few times since Cognouza, and if Yussa had been a less restrained man, Caleb had the strong impression he would’ve hugged each and every one of the Nein in gratitude for saving him.

And, to think, Caleb had once been so frightened of him that he could barely speak.

He felt better, so he got up and finished sorting his spell components, making a note that he would need to restock his teleportation circle chalk after a few more uses.

Caleb helped Yasha cook Eintopf that evening, a one-pot stew. Caleb had grown up eating dozens of versions of the stew, but he had his favourites. Carrots, leeks and celeriac were key to the base of the soup, as they were preparing their own broth. Along with a bunch of parsley. Yasha had found some excellent pork sausages at the market today, so those went in along with green beans (Caleb’s sentimental favourite), potatoes, and a ton of onion. Lots of garlic. Yasha had also found marjoram at the market today.

This was a recipe Caleb had helped his mother cook even as a boy, so he also insisted they add apple like she always had. For a little bit of sweetness and acidity. And surprise.

Caleb cleaned and steamed the beans while Yasha browned the meat and onions and potatoes and garlic. From there, they tag-teamed to get everything bubbling away until it was all finally ready to put into a pot and simmer away to completion.

It was a good use of the evening, and it kept Caleb busy and enveloped in happy sensory memories of his mother’s kitchen. While the stew bubbled away, he munched on a few green beans he’d set aside for the fun of it after they had steamed.

Essek hovered in the corner, reading a book about sea creatures Jester had brought him last time she was in town. Caleb pulled out his lesson plans and speech preparation, spreading it out across the dinner table, and made edits into the evening.

Beauregard arrived home from work--Yasha had visited her already to persuade her to come with them to Nicodranas. And then they ate dinner together at the table, and the taste of home did not send Caleb into a grief spiral tonight. This time, it just soothed him.

Before bed, Caleb sent one last message: “Hallo, Nico. It’s Caleb. I will be in Nicodranas for a few days. If you need shelter and the house is empty, take the key--” He cast again. “From inside the flowerpot on the right side of the house. I have an illusion set to guide you. Password: Wilkommen. Gute nacht.”

No response, but Caleb hadn’t expected one. He let Essek tuck him into bed. They curled up together, Essek slowly but firmly stroking his back with grounding pressure, until Caleb fell asleep.

#caleb widogast #professor widogast #shadowgast #essek thelyss #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #blumendrei #blumentrio #critical role #cr2 #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #my fics #fanfiction #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

the art of making a move at a kegger

jj x reader

word count: 2877

warnings: drinking, cursing, and towards the end almost sexual content but not actually

synopsis: harboring feelings for jj + getting drunk doesn’t always equal the smoothest of times but it all works out in the end

requested by @maybebanks really hope you like it!

JJ wasn’t on your radar until he slept through three quizzes in a row during your 8:00 a.m. English freshman year. He sat across from you, and you thought he was pretty cute, even when he started showing up wearing Pike letters. Which coincidentally is when he started falling asleep during quizzes.

One morning, when the professor left the room and you were packing your backpack, you heard JJ clear his throat. You glanced up, unsure if it was for you or not, and caught him smiling at you sheepishly.

“Hey,” he mumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair, “I was wondering if you had the readings for Thursday, I lost the syllabus.”

You pulled out your planner, “Yeah, it’s Act 3 of Hamlet and a part from the textbook on dramatic irony, pages 176-179.”

He quickly jotted it down on the corner of his notebook and smiled tiredly at you, “Thanks so much, I can’t keep failing these fucking quizzes, my grade is cheeks right now.”

“Is everything okay?” you cautiously asked, you didn’t want to push but you were a little concerned about the cute boy.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, “Hazing shit, they’re making the new pledges stay up. I haven’t slept a full night in two weeks.”

“That’s, uh,” you weren’t really sure what to say, “not okay?” You settled on.

With a shrug, he tugged his backpack up and pushed in his chair, “Yeah, well, I guess it comes with being a legacy.” And then he was gone.

After that first interaction, you and JJ chatted every so often. Sometimes you’d let him cheat off your quizzes because they were pointless anyway and sometimes, you’d ask your professor to repeat one of the questions so he could get a second chance to answer if he was running late.

The last day of the semester he brought you coffee, “I just wanted to thank you for everything this semester, and I was hoping I could get your number so we can keep in touch.”

The next semester you had two classes together, much to your shock. When the two of you started to hang out outside of class to study for statistics, you learned some stuff about him. He was from the Outer Banks and he had a rough childhood. He was also receiving the Pell Grant so school was totally paid for, his only expense was the frat.

You also learned that the two of you were the same major and had to take all of the same courses, so the two of you decided to try and register for some of the same classes. It didn’t always work out, you had priority scheduling as a note taker for at least one class every semester and sometimes when JJ went to schedule, your section was already full. But sometimes it did work out.

Either way, the two of you always studied together. You used to go back and forth between apartments, one week was yours and one was JJ’s, until he moved into the frat house and no work was meant to be done in those walls. That atmosphere was conducive to parties only, something else JJ loved.

One afternoon, fall of your sophomore year, JJ balled up a piece of paper and threw it at you. It bounced off your forehead landed in your open coffee cup, and you looked up and glared at him, “Was that necessary?”

He gave you an innocent look, “Do you have plans next weekend?”

“I mean, we have a test the next Monday so I’ll probably be studying.”

JJ took the last sip of his coffee, “I have a formal and I need a date, wanna go?”

“Not particularly,” you responded with a shrug.

“No strings attached,” JJ told you, “promise. My friend from home, Kie, normally comes with me, but she has her own shit to do, and me and you get along. If you don’t go, I’ll have to take a stranger and then I’ll be bored.”

You’d been to some of the parties his frat threw, you knew he wouldn’t really be bored all night, he just didn’t want to have to actually work to get a date. Not that he’d have to work hard, his good looks would pretty much guarantee him a date. But you were a little intrigued, so you agreed.

“Great,” he told you, clapping his hands, “let me know what color your dress is and I’ll get a matching tie.”

“Fancy,” you told him with a smile.

“Kie loves matching, she’ll be proud,” JJ responded, and it made you really curious about Kie and the rest of his friends, but you didn’t ask.

Eventually you would get to meet them. JJ invited you to go home with him for spring break and he showed you around the Outer Banks, took you surfing, and threw a party that almost rivaled the ones his frat normally threw. Meeting his friends was nice, but really getting to know JJ was nicer. That’s when you started to complicate the ‘no strings attached’ deal, you felt yourself catching feelings.

By the time senior year rolled around, you were the most tired you’ve ever been. School was hard, having a job while doing school was harder and your social life was suffering. You still hung out with JJ a lot, mostly to study or to unwind and just watch TV, but he was really the only person you spent time with on a regular basis other than your coworkers.

Late on a Saturday afternoon, you were already in your pajamas, studying for an anatomy test, when there was a knock at your apartment door. Startled, you wrapped the blanket you were sitting under tightly around your shoulders and cautiously walked to the door. Peering through the peephole, you saw JJ standing there, looking at something on his phone.

You threw the door open, “What are you doing here?”

He looked up and smiled, “I’m here to kidnap you.”

“What?” you asked blankly, not really in the mood.

JJ pushed his way past you and sat on a barstool before answering, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how miserable you’ve been lately. When’s the last time you went out?”

And, God, when was the last time you’d done something fun? You sighed, “Fuck, I don’t know, like maybe a month ago when we went to that basketball game.”

With a hum, JJ stood up, “Get dressed, Pike’s throwing a kegger tonight.”

You didn’t even think twice before tossing the blanket onto the couch and going to your closet to find something to wear. JJ turned the TV on while you got fully dressed, minus makeup. Peeking your head out, you caught JJ’s attention, “Can I do my makeup at the house?”

He nodded, “Yeah. You almost ready because I’ve gotta pick up the keg soon?”

“Let’s go.”

JJ locked the door behind you and the two of you walked to his truck. The music blasted as soon as he cranked it up and he turned it down with a sheepish smile, “My bad, the song playing when I got here was a banger.”

Plugging your phone in, you put on the collaborative playlist you and JJ made together. He turned it back up a little and peeled out of the parking lot to the nearest liquor store where his frat normally got their kegs.

You bought cups at the convenience store next door while JJ loaded the keg into his truck, and a few pods because you were low and JJ was almost always out. JJ was leaning against the truck when you met him back in the shared parking lot, and he handed you a Twisted Tea, “For accompanying me on this adventure, madam.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you responded, cracking it open and took a deep sip before climbing back into the truck to head to the frat house.

JJ left you to finish getting ready while he helped everyone set up for the party. You joined him eventually, having finished your first drink, and helped lock all bedroom doors and put all valuables away.

By the time people started arriving you were happily tipsy, hanging onto JJ while he talked to some of his friends, sipping beer slowly out of your assigned cup at the house. You were over there enough that you’d claimed one of your own and all the other guys that lived there respected it for the most part.

The party started to pick up and one of JJ’s frat brothers called you over to attempt a keg stand. You’d always wanted to try but never had, so you handed JJ your cup and kicked your feet up, trusting the two guys were ready to catch you. They did and someone put the spout into your mouth.

A crowd gathered around you and started counting loudly. You made it all the way to a minute before kicking to be let down. Slowly the two guys lowered your feet and your vision swam while beer bubbled in your throat. You almost choked but managed to swallow while everyone cheered around you. JJ wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Not bad for a first time!”

He topped your cup off and guided you away. You cleared your throat, “Thought I was gonna puke for a second there.”

“You turned a little green when you first came down, how you feeling now though?”

“Feeling fantastic,” you told him earnestly, swaying in place.

JJ chuckled, grabbing your shoulders, “You got plans tomorrow?”

“Anatomy.”

“So that’s a no, I won’t cut you off then.”

“Don’t cut me off, please,” you told him seriously, trying to focus on his face.

He gave you a little two finger salute, “Aye aye madam.”

You lost track of how many drinks you had as the night went on. Sometime during the night, JJ disappeared and came back with something besides beer for you which was really nice and you thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. He just laughed and squeezed your shoulder before going off to talk to someone else.

When the party started winding down, you attempted to find the Uber app on your phone to call a ride home. JJ tapped your shoulder, startling you, and in your clumsy, intoxicated state, you dropped your phone. It slid out of your eyesight and you glared at him, “Pick it up, J.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

“Goin home, party’s over.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Can’t make it up the stairs,” you told him seriously.

JJ raised his eyebrows, “You live on the second floor of your apartment building, at least here you have me to help you up the stairs.”

He had you there. So, you nodded and he took you to the kitchen for a clean cup. JJ filled it with water and made you drink two before leading you to the stairs. You lifted your foot to put it on the first step and almost fell over. JJ reached out but you shushed him, as if his silence would help you focus more on not falling over.

On the second try, you managed to climb up one step and immediately shuffled close to the wall so you could lean your whole body against it for balance while attempting to climb. It was a really slow process, but you were too stubborn to ask for help, and JJ knew better than to try to help you when you were feeling stubborn.

JJ stayed one step below you to help in case you started to fall backwards. Eventually you made it all the way up and immediately forgot which door led to his room. Huffing a laugh, JJ grabbed your wrist and led you to the second one on the left.

You sat down on the bed and went pretty much boneless at the comfort of finally not being on your feet.

“Fucks sake, dude,” JJ muttered, pushing you up into a sitting position.

“No,” you whined, fighting to lay back down.

It wasn’t hard for JJ to keep you sitting up, “You’re going to be so pissed if you wake up in your clothes with makeup on, you need to change and get ready for bed.”

He was right again, but you didn’t have the comprehension level to remember how to do that so you shrugged in response. JJ sighed and helped you kick your shoes off before going to get you a change of clothes from his drawers. You somehow managed to get your shirt off and your shorts unbuttoned, but he had to help you get the new shirt on and change shorts.

The guy JJ shared a bathroom with’s girlfriend left makeup wipes and JJ helped you get all your makeup off. You kept making faces to be difficult because you liked the furrow between his eyebrows as he tried to focus on being gentle.

“I will intentionally poke you in the eyeball if you do not stop,” he warned.

Pouting, you poked his cheek, “Don’t bully me, I’m drunk.”

He threw the wipe away and looked at you exasperatedly, “Brush your teeth, your breath smells like a liquor store.”

Giggling, you grabbed your spare toothbrush from the drawer next to his and sloppily started brushing your teeth. JJ was standing behind you and leaning on you, trapping you between the counter and his body so you didn’t fall over or sway.

The bright bathroom lights plus the water were clearing your brain a little, but you were still gone and not really able to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time. You leaned back to feel his chest moving as he brushed his teeth and giggled at the feeling.

JJ sighed again and gently nudged you out of the way to spit and rinse in the sink and you followed suit, having forgotten to do so yourself. You followed him out of the bathroom and grabbed his hand as he led you back to his room.

From what you could remember, JJ slept on the left, so you climbed into the right side of his bed and stretched out comfortably. He crawled in behind you a few minutes later, and you turned around to look at him. He had a small smile on his face as he looked back at you and reached up to push a piece of hair that had fallen in your eyes out of the way.

Suddenly, you were overcome by the urge that you’d been fighting for over a year and you leaned forward to kiss him. He froze and you almost regretted it until he started kissing you back.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours but could’ve only been minutes until he rolled the two of you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. Your lips were only separated for a few seconds before he was kissing you again, more deeply than before.

Sighing into the kiss, you brought a hand up to his head and ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned lightly at the feeling and you felt a hand creeping up your thigh. Before it could get too far, you nudged his shoulders back to catch your breath. He kept stroking your thigh and you shifted, “Hey, can we wait maybe?”

“Wait for what?” JJ asked you, confused.

“To fuck,” you told him bluntly.

JJ huffed out a surprised laugh, “Oh, uh, yeah definitely.”

You grinned at him sheepishly, “Sorry, you’re my best friend and if we’re going to do this, I want to be sober and you know, really ready.”

“Right, yeah, I totally get it,” he reassured you, dropping back down next to you.

You sighed as he wrapped his arm around you again. Lifting your head, you let it rest on one of his biceps and drank in his facial features. He held onto one of your hands and played with your fingers, not looking at you directly.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, feeling a little uncertain.

JJ looked at you, furrow back between his eyebrows but a little different than before, “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

“What?” you asked, feeling the urge to press the wrinkle until it went away.

“For forcing myself onto you,” JJ mumbled.

Suddenly it felt like you couldn’t keep up with the conversation, “Wait what?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes again, so you lifted his chin until the two of you were almost nose to nose. JJ shut his eyes, “You’re really drunk, I shouldn’t have ever returned the kiss because you might regret it in the morning.”

“No, I really do like you JJ, I just,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I just want it to be special, I guess,” you trailed off, hoping it made sense.

JJ smiled gently and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “We can talk about it tomorrow, yeah?”

With a giant yawn, you nodded and the last thing you remember is him running a hand through your hair and tangling your legs together.

#jj maybank request #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #pike!jj #frat!jj

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Late Nights

Andrew (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: Late nights are famously accompanied by deep conversations. The type to keep you up like a full dose of caffeine. Those are the best, most relaxing and freeing conversations you’ll ever experience. Good thing Andrew and Y/N are the perfect company for each other when it comes to those exact talks.

Requested by Anon. Hello! I’m sorry there is no specifications on your request. You requested for some Andrew x Reader fluff and this idea immediately dawned on me haha. I hope you like it and I’m so terribly sorry for the wait. Hopefully the final product makes it worth your while. Looking forward to hearing your feedback and receiving any other requests you may have! Love, Vy ❤

A random notification sounds from my phone, scaring me out of my peaceful, dreamless slumber. Oh wait, I’m not in my bed. I’m sitting at my desk, surrounded with sheets of paper with notes I’m supposed to memorize by my 8 AM exam. Speaking of that exam, it’s in less than five hours. I’ve been studying for what feels like days, but my head still feels as empty as it was at the start of the semester. The way I see it, I have two options: I can either die from a caffeine overdose or from the heart attack this exam will cause me. No in-between and no other options. Just death. Maybe not in the literal sense, but if you ask me, burn-out should be considered death and that’s exactly what I feel right now. And the fucking exam hasn’t even happened yet, for fuck’s sake!

I lift my head to look at the clock on the wall and instantly get dizzy. Thankfully, I’m still seated. Damn, this calls for more caffeine.

“Hey T, can you -“ I look behind me in search of my roommate who’s supposed to be pulling this all-nighter with me. Needless to say, she has perished.

I already have an idea of where she might be, but the sticky note she has left on my dresser confirms it.

~ Daniel has more notes. Come to the floor lounge

Oh, hell no. I am not that committed to passing this exam. I am not about to be a third-wheel for five hours and feel miserable afterwards. Correction: More miserable than I’m already going to feel. Good thing there are two staircases on either side of the floor so I don’t have to pass through the lounge in order to get to the dining hall. That’s the only place I could obtain coffee and if I don’t I might just die right here on this desk.

I put my slippers on, throwing a jacket over my pajamas as well. It’s January and the dorms could not be colder. I swear to God, they are trying to build our immunity and resistance to cold one freezing night at a time. The heating doesn’t do much even if it’s on, which is a rare occurrence considering it’s faulty and doesn’t work 80% of the time. I leave the dorm, quietly shutting and locking the door behind me before taking the right hallway instead of the left. I wander around the dimly lit hallways, some of which don’t have lighting at all, my arms folded over my chest in a pointless attempt to bring myself more warmth than the jacket is able to provide me. No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of the intense shaking that started from my torso and has now spread as far as my bottom jaw.

I navigate the halls, mumbling curse words to myself while doing so. Having taken the long way, I have an extra two minutes or so of freezing before I can find myself in the warm and cozy dorm. Taylor and I bought a small heater for Christmas cause we were not having it with the shitty heating system. Must say, that’s a better investment than all the money I threw to be here.

The dining hall is dark as usual. The only lights are the exit sign and some small lights on the vending machines. And the glorious coffee machine! I can just imagine myself turning into a heart-eyed emoji looking at it.

“All-nighter?“

The voice is so sudden and so out of place, it startles me to the point of letting out a half-scream and immediately backing away towards the entrance of the dining hall.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me.“ A light appears at one of the tables, illuminating the person holding it.

I sigh in relief when I finally get a good look at the person opposite me. It’s Andrew - a classmate and friend of mine. We have creative writing together and a few other classes. We’re in the same friend group as well. I started hanging out with him more through Taylor’s boyfriend Daniel who’s roommates with him. I’m glad I met them both, they are really fun to be around. However, recently, Andrew hasn’t been himself. It might be a stretch, but I think it’s because of the upcoming field trip our creative writing professor John has organized. I have tried asking him what has been bothering him but he always brushes off my concerns by claiming nothing’s wrong.

“Jeez, Andrew. You scared me half to death.“ I place a hand over my racing heart, taking a deep breath to calm myself down, “You’re lucky I didn’t chuck anything at you.“

He has the audacity to laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He puts his phone on the table, flashlight facing up at the ceiling, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

I return to my previous task, “Getting coffee, can’t do without it. What about you? Do you just hang out here, waiting for student-zombies to scare?” I get my four cups of coffee, balancing them in a very risky way to where he’s sitting. “Want one?”

His eyes widen, “These are all for you?” I nod, “And they are all just straight espressos?” I nod again, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

I scoff, “That’s plan B. For now, I’m just trying to stay awake.” I knock back one of the cups, trying hard not to cringe at the unpleasant flavor due to the lack of sugar. “You didn’t answer my question.” I say after getting over the initial battle to get the coffee down without puking.

He hesitates, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the tabletop. I can tell he has spaced out, leaving me unsure of weather I should nudge him again or let him return to reality at his own time.

“I, uh....I had a nightmare.“ He says despite his eyes still carrying that thousand yard stare. “Daniel wasn’t there, and I didn’t want to stay alone in the dorm, so I came here. A lot more open. Not so suffocating.“

I frown, “What was the nightmare like?” I don’t try to hide my concern, there is no reason to do so. I want him to know I care, that I am and I always will be there for him. Even if it’s just as a friend, I will take what I can get. This is not the time to be thinking of anything more than being a good friend and helping Andrew.

He shrugs, his eyes slowly lifting to meet mine. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last cause he shakes his head, breaking eye-contact again, “You’ll think it’s ridiculous.“

I put my hand on top of his, stopping the repetitive tapping of his fingers. This causes him to reconnect our gazes. After a two second confirmation that he won’t look away, I speak up, “You could tell me elves chased you around with axes and I still wouldn’t say that, Andrew. Come on, talk to me.”

He sighs, nodding his head. I take this as a positive sign and give him an encouraging smile. Instinctively, I start withdrawing my hand as I lean back in my seat. To my surprise, he turns his hand, taking a hold of mine when he begins to speak.

“They started a week ago, when John told us about the trip to Little Hope.“ he still hesitates, but I still consider it progress. “It’s always one of two nightmares - it’s either a housefire which non of us survive or...I can’t even explain the other one.“

I give his hand a comforting squeeze, “Take your time. I know it’s tough.”

“Um, we are at this ruin of a house and we, well, you guys get attacked by these deformed, demonic monstrosities. I can’t get to you. I can’t save you. Darkness takes over my brain and all I hear is horrified screams and calls for help. And then I wake up. Terrified.“

I am terrified just picturing it, let alone experiencing it. I’d probably sob like a baby and refuse to go to sleep ever again. “That’s horrible, Andrew. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” I pause for a second, “Little Hope is a place with terrible history, I can’t blame you for being so hesitant about going. I’m a sucker for these types of places, but I completely understand your angle.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I believe I overheard you saying you’d like to visit Centralia.“

I can’t help but smile, “Oh, I’d love to.”

Suddenly, completely out of the blue, he gets a spark in his eye. He becomes livelier, almost like new life was breathed into him. Pushing back his chair, he stands up and takes the remainder of coffee cups. “Well, that’s not gonna happen if you kill yourself.” Without batting an eye at my baffled expression, he throws the cups in the trashcan near by. “Let me help you with the studying. Two work better than one, after all. I’m sure you’ll grasp everything better if you have an actual person explaining it to you. Also, I’d like to make up for the time you wasted here with me.”

I get up as well, “No need, seriously. I can figure it out. Apart from feeling so energized I could run a marathon, my brain is working a lot better now. You go try to catch some z’s.” I wave my hand dismissively but he catches it mid-motion, mumbling a quick ‘come on’ before leading me out of the dining hall and towards the staircase I took earlier.

* * *

It’s been about two days since that night and history is over here repeating itself. I am, once again, pulling an all-nighter, this time alone because no one else from my friend group shares this class with me. You’d think I would have learned my lesson and would start studying at a reasonable time, granting myself both peace of mind and a better functioning brain, but NOPE. Actually, I’m beginning to think I can’t study at any other time of day. The late nights/early mornings give me the best atmosphere. Those hours before dawn are the quietest I’ve ever had the chance to experience - for studying and just chilling on the roof of the dorms. The dining hall is still a place I frequent. I can’t help but hope to run into Andrew every time I walk in that big, eerie room. I haven’t been so lucky, though. We got the results of our last exam today and I was, and still am overjoyed for the grade I got. Not only was it a passing one, it was a SOLID passing one. I can swear, if it wasn’t for Andrew’s help, I would’ve failed it with the lowest score in the class.

“How does this work...?“ I mumble in frustration, reading through the poorly written notes I’ve made. Full disclosure - this is my nap class. This is the class I spend spacing out and - as its title suggests - taking naps. I am surprised I have as many notes as I do.

Taylor, being the great friend she is, refused to budge from our dorm, determined to help me in any way she could. I appreciate the gesture, don’t get me wrong, but having another person would defeat the purpose of being up this late, so I talked her into sticking to her original plan - hanging out with Andrew and Daniel at their dorm while I fry my brain cells.

Just as I’m about to take a sip of my third coffee for the night, my phone starts ringing. I look at the phone screen that’s displaying Andrew’s name and straighten up in my chair, ready to launch myself out the door in case he needs my help. Screw the exam.

“Hello? You ok? What’s wrong?“ I blabber into the phone after picking up the call

“Hey, sorry for bothering you. Hope I didn’t wake you up. Um, I had another nightmare....never mind. Sorry for calling.“ His voice is shaky and hesitant, almost as if he’s speaking with zero air in his lungs.

My concern shoots through the roof, “Don’t you ‘never mind’ me! And don’t apologize! Meet me in the dining hall in five minutes.” I jump to my feet, pulling my jacket on with my unoccupied arm.

He sighs, “I’m already there.“

I nod distractedly, momentarily forgetting that he can’t see me, before leaving the dorm. I power walk the familiar hallways, the only reason I’m not running being the late hour and the trouble I’d get in for the noise.

I stop right outside the dining hall doors, giving myself five seconds to compose myself so I won’t look absolutely unhinged when I walk in. I get that it’s pointless, considering I have massive bags under my soulless eyes, but a girl can try.

Pushing the door open, I am met with small, flickering dots of light hovering over one of the tables. The outline of Andrew’s silhouette is also visible, but nothing more. It takes me a second to realize the lights I was looking at were three small candles.

“Andrew?“ I whisper-call his name while I’m still at a distance of about ten feet, cautious not to freak him out by approaching without making my presence known.

As I near the table, the candle-light illuminates his face enough for me to be able to see that he doesn’t look at all like what he sounded like over the phone. Something about his gaze when his eyes meet mine screams ‘I’m so glad you’re here’, but then again, that might be wishful thinking. Apart from that, he looks rather normal - not like someone who just had the most horrific of nightmares. Actually, I think I can see a hint of a smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“Hey Y/N.“ He greets me, “Ready to study?“ He points to the several notebooks and sheets of paper neatly stacked on the table. Next to that pile is a similar one of snacks.

My eyes widen, “Wait, what? What is this?“ I narrow my eyes at him, “Is this your way of dealing with the nightmares or something? It’s completely ok if it is, don’t get me wrong...“

He shakes his head, the smile now fully formed on his face, “No, Y/N. I actually haven’t had a nightmare since that night you found me here. This...” he motions to the table, “...is several things. First of all, a celebration for your passed exam. Second, a thank you - cause I believe you’re the reason the nightmares stopped. I just needed to talk to someone about them and you were the only person I could do that with properly. And third, I know you have an exam in a few hours, so I wanted to help. We make great study-buddies, don’t you agree?”

I’m honestly speechless, “You schemer.” I’m smiling and blushing like crazy and I couldn’t be happier to be surrounded by darkness at this moment. “How did you even get these notes? You’re not in that class.”

He gives me a conspiring smirk, “That’s classified info.” He hands me a coke can, “No more coffee for you tonight.”

“You interrupted me on my third cup, but better late than never I guess.“ I giggle taking the handed soda and taking a seat on the chair opposite him. “Thank you so much, Andrew. Really, it means a lot to me. How am I supposed to repay you for this?“ I can tell he’s about to protest so I hurry to stop him, “No, no, no. You can’t change my mind on that.“

He sighs in defeat I can only guess is fake, taking the smirk on his face into consideration. He contemplates whatever’s on his mind for a second, buying himself time while he opens a soda can for himself. I copy his action, opening mine as well. “Um, well, there is one way I can think of....” he trails off, avoiding eye-contact. The brief moment I manage to catch his gaze I give him a nod, encouraging him to go on. “How about calling this a date?”

I am shocked. No, ‘pleasantly surprised’ is a better term to use. ‘Overjoyed’ an even better one.

The blush I thought couldn’t get any darker or more wide-spread just proved me wrong. Despite the chilliness of the dining hall, my face, neck and ears are on fire. Once again, a big thank you goes to the darkness that surrounds us.

Instead of showing off how surprised and happy I am, I lift my soda can in the air, “It’s a date then.”

His smirk turns into a relieved smile as he takes his can, clinking it against mine, “It’s a date.”

@sparrow-gg @artlovingbre @chairtiger

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blkmxrvel · 5 years ago

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All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited.

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments?

Do you think this relationship is going to work?

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking.

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building.

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered.

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all.

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1.

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down.

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?"

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you.

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more."

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body.

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates.

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead.

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up."

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat.

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap.

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?"

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers.

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass.

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well.

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie.

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work.

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly.

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day."

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours."

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her.

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows.

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away.

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed."

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?"

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through.

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand.

“I promise, princess."

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend?

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter.

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.”

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie?

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.”

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better.

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.”

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.”

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone.

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad.

What had she just done?

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had.

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head.

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain.

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.

#madi writes #brie larson #brie larson x reader #brie larson imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers

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nsheetee · 5 years ago

Text

6 Shots of Tequila

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Genre: College AU | Crack, with some Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: implied female reader, lots of alcohol, doie throws up, some swearing

Summary: After Doyoung attempts to impress you by downing 6 shots of tequila, he throws up on your skirt. And confesses his feelings for you right after.

doyoung is not a party person

never in his 3 years of college has he ever stepped foot into a party, or even thought about going to one

and now, on his 4th and final year, he doesn’t want to go to a party just to spite his friends and keep his streak going

but when he hears that you are going to his friends’ first party of the school year, he thinks again

he honestly hates the way he’s a fool for you, and he’s sure you don’t even realize it

doyoung has gone through (almost) his whole college career without catching feelings for someone

but the minute you walked into the class we has TA-ing last semester, he was caught by cupid, an arrow forced through his heart

it doesn’t help that you're in the same major as him

he constantly sees you in with his other friends that are studying in the same classes

you frequently ask him about the best classes to take in your future years

there isn’t a day that doyoung doesn’t interact you

and he loves hates it

so, like a lovestruck clown, doyoung sits on his bed in his underwear and socks facing his open closet, wondering what in the hell college students wear to parties that are held on wednesday nights

why is the party on a wednesday night??

don’t these kids have class tomorrow morning???

doyoung decides to screw it and picks a random button up shirt, tucking it into some pants he found, and buttoning every button

he walks into the party, the stares of his friends who are standing around the kitchen island are almost worth dressing up and coming here

“do my eyes deceive me or is that our doyoung?”

“alright, who paid you to come here?”

“no, what possessed you and made you come here?”

doyoung rolls his eyes at the various over reactions of jaehyun, jungwoo, and haechan, meeting them at the island and awkwardly looking over the copious amount of alcohol cluttered before him

“I thought I might as well try this party thing once before graduation.”

“seriously. what possessed you? do we need to have a quick exorcism before other people get here? I know this guy-”

“haechan.” doyoung warns him, and he leans away with his arms up in surrender

the party kicks into full gear in a matter of minutes, the music in the living room turning up to the max, people showing up and taking back shots as if their lives depend on it

jaehyun made doyoung a drink a while ago, but it only took doyoung one sip to realize he doesn’t like it

“sorry...” he whispers to a house plant, pouring the rest of his drink over its soil after being blocked out of the kitchen and too afraid to go to the bathroom

“doyoung?” he hears a voice over the loud music, almost knocking over the plant and dropping his plastic cup at the same time

he turns around to see you smiling at him, his heart doing he stupid “du-du du-du” thing over and over again

doyoung thinks he might choke on his own breath as he notices you’re wearing a skirt, not something he usually sees you in around campus

it takes his whole might to not stare at your legs

get a grip doyoung! you’re not even drunk, yet you’re acting like a major fool already

“h-hey” he curses his stutter and then straightens out his back, noticing the clear cup in your hands, signifying that there is no alcohol in it, “you’re not drinking?”

it’s not the greatest conversation starter, but doyoung is curious as to why you’re drinking water at a party like this

“yeah, I don’t drink. I came with my friend to make sure she doesn’t do something stupid that she’ll regret in the morning.” you explain, shrugging

your small act of kindness makes doyoung’s heart melt, and he mentally cringes at himself

before he can think of what to say next, haechan appears next to you both

“what are you two doing all alone over here? come to the kitchen, jungwoo is about to do shots!” haechan drags you by the arm through the kitchen door, effectively pulling doyoung with him without even touching him

in the kitchen, jungwoo has 6 shots of alcohol in front of him, winwin (a friend of doyoung who is also in his major) has a phone out with the stopwatch displayed on the screen

doyoung’s body moves by itself, placing him between you and haechan and effectively breaking haechan’s hold on you

he doesn’t think either of you noticed his actions, and he could hit himself for acting like one of those jealous freshman he sees around campus

winwin counts down and jungwoo takes back the 6 shots in 19 seconds, the crowd cheering for him as he sets the last shot glass upside down

“that’s the new record everyone!” the students in the kitchen go crazy and ruffle a drunk jungwoo’s hair, slapping him on the back for his amazing drinking skills

“wow,” you call out next to doyoung, “he’s gonna have a headache tomorrow, but that was weirdly impressive.” you mindlessly comment to doyoung

but doyoung is thinking

thinking hard

“is there anyone who wants to challenge that time?”

“me.”

okay, maybe doyoung isn’t thinking at all

half of the crowd’s jaws drop when doyoung steps forwards (including yours) and the other half laughs, thinking it’s just one of doyoung’s dry jokes

“really?” winwin asks hesitantly

“yeah, how hard could it be?”

doyoung feels confident one moment, but when 6 new shots are poured out in front of him and more bodies pile into the kitchen to see the infamous stick stiff doyoung take back 6 shots in less than 19 seconds...

he doesn’t feel super confident anymore

“hey,” you appear at his side, “you don’t have to do this. you can back out now.” there’s worry in your voice and concern in your eyes, but doyoung doesn’t want to back down

if this drinking competition is a way to impress you, then he’ll do it

no matter how stupid it is

“it’s okay. I got this.” doyoung voice is surprisingly smooth, until your hand lands on his bicep to give him a supportive squeeze

he almost melts into your touch, getting one last bit of energy to pull him through the next few minutes

doyoung rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt

then, the crowd counts down, and the timer starts

doyoung takes shot after shot, the cheers of everyone in front of him drowning out everything else

his throat is soar after the first shot but he keeps going, almost like a machine, drinking all of the alcohol in front of him

you’re absolutely stunned by doyoung

never in a million years did you think he would do something like this

you have to admit...

...it’s kinda hot

the way his forearms flex with every kick back of a shot and how his silver chains underneath his shirt tease his chest

you grow a little dizzy from watching him

doyoung lands the last shot glass upside down on the countertop, winwin stops the timer and laughs before letting everyone know doyoung’s time

“17 seconds”

the crowd goes absolutely mad, the small kitchen becoming engulfed with students of all ages cheering for doyoung

he holds himself up against the counter, and unlike the rest of the people in the kitchen who pay no more attention on doyoung, you notice his swaying figure and bowed head

grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the stuffy kitchen, you find your way to the balcony, opening the sliding door and closing it behind you

no one else is here, and the fresh night air hits doyoung across the face like a pillow, alarming but harmless

he breaths deeply, now leaning over the balcony, eyes closed and hair ruffled by the wind

you rub circles onto his back, a reflex from when you take care of your friend while she’s puking up her guts after parties, and wait a few minutes while doyoung catches his bearings

he stands up as straight as he can, wobbling on his legs as he attempts to look at you

“you’re so pretty.” he slurs out of nowhere, and you’re immediately taken back, heat rushing to your face at the unexpected compliment, “seriously pretty. do you know how long I’ve been wanting to tell you that?”

“t-thank you, are you feeling better now? I can always tell when someone is about to-” suddenly, doyoung hiccups and you take a step back

unfortunately, stepping back does nothing to shield yourself from doyoung’s throw up

most of the contents from his stomach end up on the balcony floor, but some land on your skirt as you hold onto him to keep him from falling over

your eyes screw shut as doyoung leans over, resting his hands on his knees, seriously winded

“c-can I tell you something?” he asks, seemingly unbothered by how he just threw up on you

“what is it?” you squeak out, trying to keep doyoung talking so he doesn’t pass out, since you know from experience that that’s what usually happens after throwing up

“I like you, like, a lot. you make me a fool for you, I just took 6 shots of tequila because I thought you might be impressed. I think I might do anything for you if you ask me too.” your heart starts thrumming in your chest at the confession, you try to hide the smile coming to your face as you open your eyes

doyoung is bent at your height, eyes glossy and half-lidded, lips dry from consuming all the dehydrating alcohol

“I know I’m severely drunk right now, but I’m being 100% serious. I really like you.” you laugh at him, at how he still hasn’t realized he just threw up on you, and take a moment to feel the giddiness in your stomach and the stutter of your heart at his words

“let’s get you home, and tomorrow morning we can talk more about us? yeah?”

“wait. us? d-does that mean you like me, too?”

“depends if I can wash your throw up out of this skirt. it’s my favorite.”

----------

doyoung wakes up, barely, to a pounding in his head

he thinks it’s the construction outside that’s causing it

but he instantly remembers all the alcohol he consumed in a short time last night

he sighs

this is the worst part of drinking

he tries to rack his memories for what happened after the drinking challenge, but nothing comes to mind, and he wonders how he got home

a dip in his bed startles him and he opens his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight coming into his room

but he’s still able to see you sitting next to him, the button up he was wearing yesterday over your frame, and the now very obvious indent in his bed of someone sleeping next to him last night

“morning. here, take this. it’ll make your headache go away.”

doyoung jaw is unhinged and you can’t help but giggle at his confused state

how in the hell was doyoung only just thinking and hoping of spending mornings like this with you less than 24 hours ago, and know you’re here

with him

in his bed

in his clothes

doyoung doesn’t know what he did last night for this to happen

but he sure as hell doesn’t regret it

(yet)

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

Alone Together part two -- Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: You’re warming up to Bucky and you equally hate and love it. Bucky has no idea what to do with himself and calls some reinforcements.

With each day that passes by, you’re a bit friendlier to James.

You weren’t going to. You genuinely expected yourself to accept his apology, and remain civil, which you have been, but you’ve been doing more. You don’t escape the room the moment he walks in anymore. The two of you washed your sheets together just yesterday. You were doing it first because your mom had been nagging you to, but James walked in with his own sheets just a few moments later.

It was a strange moment, having the both of you on the same page. Yes, it was about washing sheets, but it was something.

You take walks around campus every couple days just to get out of the building, and James joined you on one today. In complete silence, but you didn’t mind. That’s your whole point of walking is to listen to the world around you.

But you know you’re warming up to James, despite your inner protests, because when he invites you to hang out with him in the common area, you agree.

Two rounds of pool (both of which, you won) and one rematch of ping pong later (James won that one), you both crashed onto the couch, bored out of your minds.

“So…” You decide to try your hand at some conversation. You must seriously be desperate for human interaction. “Why aren’t you at home?”

“Home is Romania,” James says quietly. “They got hit pretty early on and so there aren’t any flights going in or out of the country right now.”

You frown deeply. “I’m so sorry.” He’s literally stranded here. That sounds awful.

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, nodding in your direction. “What about you? I really wasn’t expecting you of all people to be here.”

“What do you mean me of all people?”

“I just figured you had a boyfriend or someone that you’d be jumping at the chance to go home to.”

Your face flushed at the comment. “No...uh, no boyfriend or anything. My sister is high risk, and I didn’t want to accidentally give her the virus — or anything. I’m always super careful when I go home, but this is like on an entirely new level.”

To your surprise, James is serious. “I’m sorry, that must be really hard.”

“Not as hard as being literally stranded here,” you tease.

He accepts the change in tone. “Hey, I’m just lucky they let students stay on campus. Some colleges kicked everyone out. I’m lucky to have this roof over my head right now.”

“Same.”

You don’t know what you would’ve done if you were forced to go back home. Probably quarantine yourself in your tiny bedroom and refuse to let your sister come anywhere near you. You know she wouldn’t listen, though. She never does, and so that’s ultimately why you made the decision to stay here. It’s harder, sure, to be away from your family right now, but it’s for the better.

“I guess it’s not as bad as I thought it would be, though,” James stretches, discreteness being one of his absolute weakest skills. “Since you’re here to keep me company.”

You raise an eyebrow at the arm that is dangerously close to being wrapped around your shoulders. “You’re an idiot, Barnes.”

He retracts his arm. “Why am I an idiot?”

“I’m not falling for your charm. Quarantine or not, keep that shit far away from me.”

He nods. “Note taken.”

You cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. “Good.”

A few beats of silence pass between the two of you, leaving you wondering if James’s intent really was to charm you. But he speaks up again before your brain has the time to give that too much thought.

“Hey Red?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“Fine,” James breathes slowly, almost annoyed, if you had to guess. “Hey Y/N?”

You sigh. “What, James?”

“My friends call me Bucky.”

You roll your eyes. “Are we gonna watch a movie or not?”

Bucky laughs loudly, nodding his head. “Yeah, we can watch a movie. Let me hook my laptop up real quick.”

He slides off the couch to do as promised and you have to cover your smile. Well, you don’t have to considering his back is facing you right now, but you want to. You shouldn’t be smiling. James Barnes is bad news.

+++

“I don’t know what I’m doing, man.”

On the other end of the line, Steve Rogers laughs loudly. “I have to say I’ve never seen you this messed up over a girl.”

“This isn’t funny, idiot,” Bucky mutters, fisting his hair, leaning his head back into the pillows on his bed.

“It’s hilarious!”

Bucky groans. “Why do I even call you for help?”

“Because you need help courting, and I’m the master,” Steve replies, deadly serious.

“Courting? This isn’t the 40s, and you’re not the master. You’ve had one girlfriend.”

“I still have her, thank you very much,” Steve scoffs. “And we’ve been together for long enough that I consider myself an expert.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes, damn, okay, I want your help. It’s why I called you in the first place.” Bucky stands from his bed and begins pacing. “She...She drives me crazy, Steve, you don’t understand.”

“I understand,” Steve says, hint of knowing in his tone. “I was the same way when I met Peggy.”

“Yeah, but you and Peggy, you— You’re practically soulmates. She wanted you from the day she met you, and Y/N, she— I think she’d rather be dead right now than be stuck here with me.”

“Didn’t you just watch a movie with her yesterday? And hung out the whole day?”

“Yeah, but I told you what she said,” Bucky pauses his steps, the memory flashing behind his eyes. “She rejected my move, man.”

“Of course she did, you dumbass,” Steve can’t contain his laughter. “Geez, Buck, I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.”

Tiredly, Bucky rubs his forehead. “I don’t have time for this right now. If you’re not going to help.”

“Forget all you’ve ever known about courting a girl,” Steve replies, slower and more serious. “This isn’t about a hookup—”

“No, God, no.” Bucky likes you way too much for that. All of his hookups in the past have been because the girl didn’t want a relationship. But you’re not like that. Bucky isn’t either, deep down, and it’s killing him.

“Okay, good,” Steve says. “But that means you’re gonna have to actually get to know her. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Bucky hisses, defensive. “I want to. You have no idea how bad I want to, but she wants nothing to do with me, so what do I do now?”

“I think you’re overthinking,” Steve replies honestly. “I don’t know about you, Buck, but from what I know about Y/N, if she didn’t want anything to do with you, even this quarantine wouldn’t make her spend time with you. If she really wasn’t interested in at least a friendship, I don’t think she’d agree to watch a movie with you. Or go on a walk. Or kick your ass in pool.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, absentmindedly. “Wait. How do you know her?”

“Peggy and her are friends, sort of. They were in the same history class last semester, so they studied together a lot in the library. I never talked to her a ton, but I saw her when I’d stop by to say hi to Peg.”

“Where? I literally never saw Y/N in there.”

“You weren’t looking hard enough,” Steve chuckles. “Or she was hiding. Probably the latter.”

“Hiding from who?”

“Probably you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he throws his hand in the air hysterically. “Great, thanks Steve. Really boosting my confidence here.”

“Hey!” Steve laughs. “You’re the one who decided to be the school’s resident playboy. You did this to yourself. You should’ve known better than that. Tools don’t attract the good girls.”

“Then who does?”

“You’ve gotta be yourself, Buck,” Steve pleads. “Just quit overthinking and quit — for the love of God, quit the arm stretch move. It’s ridiculous.”

“Thanks grandpa.”

“I’m not the one who rejected your move, but okay.”

Bucky mutters something inaudible under his breath. His best friend has a point with that one.

+++

You’ve been lying on your bed for the past hour, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been to the kitchen to make an omelette, around campus for a walk, and attempted to play a game of pool against yourself, all with the smallest of hopes that you’d see Bucky. But you haven’t.

And when it dawns on you that you even had a sliver of hope about seeing him, you texted your best friend. Please tell me I’m not crushing on Bucky.

“Wait, hold on a second,” your best friend leans closer to the camera. She Facetimed you after you texted for a few minutes because she apparently just had to see your face for this conversation. Even though you didn’t want to answer her call. “You’re telling me a few days ago you were ranting to me about how much you were dreading quarantine because of James and now you’re calling him Bucky and you hung out with him all day?”

“Not all day!” You protest.

“Most of the day!” Your best friend fires back. “You watched a movie! And went on a walk!”

“And beat his ass in pool,” you mutter under your breath, realizing a second later that you’re doing nothing to help your case. “That’s not the point.”

“It is most certainly a point,” your best friend replies pointedly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I have to be going insane.”

“What?!”

“I hung out with James Barnes for God’s sake!” You cry, giving her an incredulous look. “He’s the exact kind of boy I avoid.”

“And now you have a crush on him.”

“I do not!” You hiss, wanting to chuck your phone out the window. “I said please tell me I don’t.”

“Well I can’t lie to you.”

“God,” you run your fingers through your hair, falling back into your pillows on the bed. Quarantine was fine before James showed up -- or, before you knew he was here. Before then. Everything was fine.

“Can I ask you a question you’re not going to like me asking?”

You sit back up, giving your friend a suspicious look. “No.”

“Tough shit, I’m asking anyway,” she snickers. “Why have you been avoiding him?”

“He’s a fuckboy,” you reply easily. “I avoid all fuckboys, you know that.”

“Not Sam.”

“Sam’s different.”

“How so?”

You stay silent. You know what your answer is. And your best friend knows it, too.

You don’t find Sam attractive. Sure, he’s not ugly by any means at all. But he’s not your type. Who is your type?

James. Bucky. Barnes. All the way.

It’s obvious. The guys you’ve had crushes on in the past have fit the same bill. Dark hair, sharp jawline, kind eyes, blinding smile, strong shoulders. Not to mention, James’s style. He’s all monochrome and black leather. You’re the same way, though you experiment with maroon and forest green more.

But the point is...James fits everything.

And you’ve had a subconscious crush on him since the very first moment you ever met him.

You remember the day perfectly, too. You were in the dining hall with your best friend. She had gone to the game (maybe it is football, then) just the day before. He recognized her from there and typical James, he made a conversation. You stayed silent and escaped into your phone, but you didn’t miss the way he looked at you before running off to class, saying it was nice to meet both of you, as if you hadn’t just ignored him.

Since that day you made sure that you were never in the same place as James Barnes, which, to be fair, wasn’t hard at all. You’re not the biggest fan of sports, so unless you have a real reason to go to a game (like a friend performing or very rarely, when Sam asked if you were coming and your best friend would answer for you, inevitably dragging you in), you never went. As far as where you like to hang out, the library is high on the list, and you like to be in a back corner, hidden away from everyone. You like getting genuinely lost in the shelves, both to avoid others and honestly, to avoid yourself.

The dining hall, though. That was always a game to play, a fine line to walk. You mostly kept yourself busy with a book or some form of work, or sometimes so engaged in conversation that it physically pained you, but no one ever interrupted.

But now...now everything is different.

The barriers are gone. The distractions are no more. And you’re stuck in the same building with him for who knows how long.

“He’s not a bad guy,” your best friend tries to explain. “He really isn’t.”

“He hooks up with girls like it’s a sport,” you remind her.

“But do you see him ghosting them? Do you see them feeling betrayed because he led them on?”

You stay quiet.

“James-- Or Bucky, I guess, he’s...I think he kind of went after those girls because he knew nothing would come of it. He wasn’t looking for anything real and they weren’t either. He wasn’t doing it because he wanted to hurt them. And they’re not hurt, trust me. He’s still friends with a lot of them.”

“But he’s just-- We’re so different.”

“From what you’ve been telling me, you’re a lot more alike than you want to admit.”

“How do I know this isn’t just because of quarantine, though?” You murmur. “He never paid attention to me before.”

“He did,” you friend replies quietly. “You were just too busy to notice.”

You aren’t sure what to make of that. And you don’t have the energy to ask. So, you stay silent. Until your friend says she needs to go.

After hanging up, you go back to staring at the ceiling, and battling your own feelings. You have a crush on Bucky. There’s nothing you can do about that.

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