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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #x reader #harry x reader #bartender!harry #bartender!harry styles x reader #bartneder!harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #bartender!harry styles #tw sa #one direction #fan fiction #one shot #angel shot

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thelmworkspace · 3 years

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Feeling Better– Seungcheol x Reader

Hi, all! Thank you for all the love on the Woozi fic I posted a few weeks back. I wanted to introduce myself briefly! My name’s Lily (she/her) and I love to self-indulge with writing sometimes. Here is some Seungcheol comfort and the rest of the boys being cuties for everyone :) Let me know if you have any ideas you’d like to see!

Warnings: being sick, alluding very vaguely to throwing up

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Ever the confident, sure of himself, optimistic, and resourceful, Seungcheol projected himself as calm and collected to his members, his coworkers, and to you. It was one of the things that had initially drawn you to him. He was a constant steadying force in your life, even when he was feeling anxious and overwhelmed himself. As a leader, he always tried to keep his worries to himself in order to take care of the other guys. They almost never saw him shook up, although there were some exceptions, especially when it came to you.

It was a Monday and the guys had come in early to run some choreography. Seungcheol had noticed you’d been a bit off over the weekend, not your normal self. You had said you felt a little under the weather, but nothing too bad. When Monday morning rolled around, however, Cheol could tell something was wrong. “Babe,” he nudged your knee slightly under your shared covers while you looked over emails on your phone, “are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to see if I can stay home?”

“No, no, I’m fine it’s just a stomach ache,” you grimaced a bit, pausing in typing out an email response to a coworker. Seungcheol sighed, placing a hand on your head and smoothing down you hair, unconvinced. “Okay, stay in bed for a bit,” he mumbled, reluctantly leaving your bed to get ready for practice. A few minutes later he walked back into your bedroom, a glass of water for you in hand. You hadn’t moved much from the position he left you in, but your hands were pressed into your brow and your head was bent downward. Hearing him walk in, you looked up and met his gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital? You know I don’t mind being late,” he raised his eyebrows at you, moving to set the water on your bedside table. “I’m fine I just didn’t sleep well,” you said, quickly adding, “I have work to do, shoo” and reaching out to push him towards the door playfully. He holds onto your outstretched hand, though. “Try to eat something and call me if you need anything,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hair before heading out for the day.

A couple hours later, Seungcheol and the other guys were still running choreography, all the details taking a little longer than expected. A secretary popped their head into the room, looking around for Seungcheol. When he meets his eyes Cheol makes his way across the room to him, a little confused at the interruption. “Sorry to interrupt, I have a ‘Y/N’ in the lobby for Seungcheol?” the man asks, keeping his voice low. Despite the effort, all the member’s heads snap to the door– you never make such a formal entrance. Dokyeom almost starts to laugh before seeing all of the color drain out of Cheol’s face and his back stiffen. His mind jumped immediately trying to work through why you didn’t just call, if you were okay, feeling guilty for not insisting he stayed home with you. He knew you wouldn’t just show up unannounced unless something was really wrong. All twelve of the other men felt his shift in mood, but Jeonghan spoke first, reaching out to grab his elbow, “is everything okay?” Cheol’s eyes shifted to Jeonghan’s, noticeably panicked, “she was sick this morning but seemed okay when I left, I don’t know if-”

“I’m sure she’s okay, hyung,” Wonwoo interrupted him, noticing Cheol’s volume raise as he kept talking. He turned back to the secretary, still waiting in the doorway and looking incredibly unsure of what to do, “Could you bring her up, please?” he asked before walking over to Cheol’s stuff and grabbing his water bottle for him. A hush had fallen over the room– the guys didn’t have much experience comforting a shook-up Seungcheol. “Hyung, she was sick?” Dokyeom asked, “I’m sure she just doesn’t feel good and missed you!” he laughed slightly, trying to raise the mood. The guys nodded, agreeing and throwing “don’t worries” his way as they went to grab their phones or water, gladly accepting the impromptu break.

A knock on the door signaled your arrival a few moments later, the secretary opening the door for you and quickly retreating as you thanked him quietly. “Y/N-ah” Seungkwan called out quietly in greeting, earning a glare from Jeonghan. Seungcheol took a couple big, rushed steps towards you. You were in the comfiest sweatpants and hoodie you could find, the hood pushed up over your unbrushed hair and makeup-less face, and just your phone and keys in your front pocket. Cheol’s left hand found your shoulder, his right pushing the hood off of you and cradling the back of your head. You give him a futile smile, knowing before you even started shifting your face that it won’t convince him. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he whispered, lowering his head slightly to meet your tired eyes. You looked down, avoiding his eyes out of embarrassment for interrupting his and all the other guys’ work . “I’m sorry,” you started, feeling Cheol automatically tighten his grip on you, “I feel awful and I haven’t been keeping anything down and I’m afraid I’m gonna get dehydrated. I wasn’t sure I should go to the hospital so I thought maybe I could see one of the medics here?” Cheol had brought you to one of them once before when you’d twisted your ankle badly in a pair of heels. He could see how uncomfortable you were, heart breaking a bit knowing you felt so crappy. He pulled you into his chest, hand still holding the back of your head protectively. “Why didn’t you call?” he mumbled, “You know you can always call.”

“I know,” you said into his chest, “but I thought you would be in a meeting by now and I figured having you excuse yourself for a minute would be more professional than having your phone go off.” Despite his nerves still calming down from the panic he felt a few minutes ago, he let out a broken laugh. “You’re so funny, you think too much.”

As he lets you out of his embrace, Jeonghan extends a water bottle to your side, “here you go, Y/N- ah.” You smile up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes involuntarily. Both men notice, Seungcheol concerned and Jeonghan smiling at your sudden emotion, “are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired and I really don’t feel good. I cry easily when I’m sick,” you sniffle, trying to push your tears back and letting out a choked giggle. Seungkwan and Dokyeom let out audible “aww’s” at you from across the room, making you laugh a little more. “Okay, you, let’s get you to the medic,” Seungcheol wraps a protective hand around your waist and steers you out of the room. “I’ll be back,” he says, followed by your rushed “I’m so sorry, guys” before you’re ushered into the hallway.

Fifteen or so minutes later, you try your best to sneak back into the practice room, Seungcheol holding your hand behind your back and following you in. You stand against the edge of the room for a minute before he lead you towards his bag on the other side of the room, letting you sit down next to his stuff and handing you your half empty water bottle. The guys were all focused on going over a particularly intricate hand movement, but stop when Cheol walks over to join them, looking at him expectantly for an update. “They gave her an IV for hydration. She’s gonna hang out until we’re done and then I’m taking her home.” The guys’ eyes shift to you, your back leaned up against the mirrored wall and head tucked far into your hoodie. “I’m sorry!” you say to the room, a whine in your voice to indicate that you feel horrible about your interruption. They shush you, Seungkwan rolling his eyes playfully, “as if we don’t love having you here no matter what, Y/N.” You smile up at them from the floor, eyes meeting Cheol’s and finally feeling a little better.

#seventeen #svt #svt imagine #svt imagines #scoups imagine #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #scoups #seuncheol imagine #seungcheol imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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periwnklblu · 3 years

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Haikyuu as House Husbands

I finished “the way of the househusband” and this idea has lived rent free in my head ever since

please accept this as i take a mini break from writing for my 100 follower event stuff

featuring: bokuto, kuroo, osamu and oikawa

Bokuto:

Please he would be the best house husband ever

Happily wears any kind of aprons but his favorite are ones that say “kiss the cook” or something.

Would wake up early not only to go on his morning run, but also to make you breakfast and make sure you have everything for the day

Not the best cook but he would do his best and the meals typically come out edible

While you’re gone for work, he likes to clean because he knows how much you like coming home to everything being tidy and neat.

Absolutely will go to exercise classes offered at the community center

Bokuto in a zumba class omg

Likes being in a group setting where everyone is motivated and hype, brings him back to his high school days

All the housewives are in love with him and fawn over him whenever he shows up

Attendance definitely increased once he started going

Probably gets a dog at some point because he wants the company

When he’s not busy cleaning or exercising, he definitely sends Akaashi a bunch of facebook links throughout the day

He always gets excited when you finally come home for the day

Please tell him he did a good job

Kuroo

Annoying but loveable househusband

Is annoying in the morning and will obnoxiously wake you up if you hit snooze

“Aww is the breadwinner still tired? That sucks, now wake up before your breakfast gets cold”

After you leave for the day, he likes to hit the gym and workout for a bit

Definitely posts thirst traps on his social media

Loves to go grocery shopping in the morning after he showers so he can get the freshest produce

Always stocks up on your favorite snacks and other items he notices you’re running low on

This mf 100000% has loyalty cards to his favorite shops and is determined to fill them completely so he can get that one freebie

He was against getting a cat at one point because he didn’t want the mess that comes with pets but now he is absolutely obsessed and even talks to it more than you sometimes

He wears aprons but only if they’re the ones with badly screen printed abs on it

prefers going out for dinner but will go all out if he cooks for you

When you get home, he greets you with a kiss on you forehead and while he doesn’t verbalize it, is always looking for your validation on the housework

I love him

Osamu

He loves you but will not wake up before you or anything

You have to wake him up

He’ll grumble and complain tiredly but nevertheless, once he’s awake he will not go back to sleep

He’ll make you breakfast and reassure you that he’ll bring your lunch to work.

After you leave, he plans out what he’s going to make you

If necessary, will go to the grocery store and get only what he needs, otherwise he goes straight to cooking.

If it’s a new recipe, he’ll invite Atsumu or the neighbors or really just anybody to taste test it before he brings it to you

Yes, he quite literally will show up to your job around noon to bring you your freshly made lunch

All your coworkers are definitely envious of you

He’s not super big on cleaning but will keep things tidy

Swears by the roomba

He’s definitely a fixer, not a buyer. So if something breaks, he’ll do his damn best to repair it, insisting that he can do it and no you don’t need to buy another one.

Makes dinner every single night unless you specify wanting to go out

When you get home, he’s most likely in the kitchen arguing on the phone with his twin

“No ya can’t come over I only made enough for me and y/n!”

Overall, a good house husband you can always count on <3

Oikawa

Oh my goodness

Firstly, he is an early riser and will wake you up before your alarm so he can cuddle with you

As you are getting ready for the day, he will make you breakfast but he leaves it out for you because he likes to go running early.

When he gets back, he likes to take a shower before he goes back to sleep 🙄

You best believe he loves daytime television

It’s so bad, it becomes amusing to him

Spends most of the day at home on the phone with his buddies from seijoh while he cleans around the house

He doesn’t know how to cook many things but the few dishes he knows are very good.

Sometimes he likes to go over to the neighbors house and gossip with the other housewives of the neighborhood

Also likes to go over because he almost always leaves with a bunch of tupperware filled with delicious food

For dinner he lies to you and says he made it asdfajfdkjadkl

When you come home, you almost always find him sitting on the couch, watching telenovelas he got into while living in Argentina

He was honestly made to be a house husband and no you can’t change my mind

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elisela · 3 years

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and eat it too buck x eddie, 1.3k, fluff for @eddiediaz the love of my life

“Red velvet with cream cheese frosting,” Hen says, a faraway look on her face, chin tilted up. Eddie feels the same way as he thinks about his own childhood birthdays and the cakes his mom would make, always chocolate, always with some type of filling that makes Eddie cringe now—he’s pretty sure that he insisted on Pop Rocks one year. “Everything else she tried to make was a disaster.”

“Unless it’s chocolate on chocolate, it’s wrong,” Chim says, and curls in on himself when Buck hits him with a throw pillow.

“The bakery my mom always ordered from made a really good carrot cake,” Buck says, and Eddie can practically hear the conversation screech to a halt.

“Yeah, it was a bakery,” Chim says, looking over at Buck. “Of course it was good. But you’ve got to have some kind of birthday cake horror story, everyone does.”

The smile on Buck’s face becomes a little fixed, too rigid. “She wasn’t the homemade cake kinda mom,” he says, shrugging. “What does it matter? The cake was good.”

Eddie can’t pinpoint exactly why it matters to him that Buck’s never had a homemade birthday cake, only that it does. But Buck’s birthday is only three months away, and Eddie can definitely remedy that.

Maybe.

Boxed cake mix can’t be so hard, can it?

He does a trial run a month out. Chocolate cake mix, canned frosting—the expensive kind from Whole Foods, natural sugar and all that shit that Buck blathers on about occasionally when he gets deep into tracking his macros. He follows the directions on the back with fidelity, watches a damn YouTube video just to be sure, lets it cool before spreading the frosting and cutting a slice for Chris.

Chris looks at him suspiciously before taking a bite. “Did you do something wrong? Max’s dad gives him candy when he does something wrong.”

“Buck’s birthday is next month,” Eddie says, giving Chris a look. He’ll stick with apologies over bribes when he fucks up, thank you very much. “I thought we could make him a cake.”

Chris’ brow furrows. “Why don’t you ask abuela? Buck likes her cake.”

Eddie stops. “I just thought it’d be nice,” he says, frowning. Asking abuela hadn’t actually crossed his mind, but maybe it should have. It feels like cheating, even though he knows abuela made plenty of his birthday cakes. “We can ask her to make him one, too,” he says after a moment. “You know Buck’s sweet tooth.”

Chris takes another bite and shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says finally. “But abuela’s is better. I think she puts vanilla in it. Did you do that?”

He hadn’t—the box hadn’t called for it. “It’s chocolate cake,” he says, “why would you need vanilla?”

Chris rolls his eyes.

Despite his coworkers teasing him, Eddie is not afraid of technology, he just doesn’t like how it tracks his every move and stores a lifetime of information about him, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to dislike. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t use it—it’s the first thing he turns to after Chris is unenthusiastic about the cake (although he had no problem finishing off half of it himself over several days).

Eddie’s not fooling himself—he’ll settle for good, which is frankly just a step above okay. He’s well aware of his abilities, and they don’t include baking anything that anyone will clamor for, but he can live with that when he saves lives on a regular basis.

“Why are you doing this?” Chris asks, eyes roaming over the ingredients on the counter. “You never made me a birthday cake.”

“You want me to make yours this year instead of abuela?” he asks. He will, but he doubts that’s the point. His kid is getting—too old, too interested in Eddie’s life, too presumptuous—

“Sure, but only if abuela still makes one,” Chris says, and Eddie snorts.

“Nice try.”

Chris shrugs like it was worth a shot and eyes the counter again. “Call me when it’s done,” he says, and then, over his shoulder, “just tell Buck you love him.”

Casually.

Like it’s no big deal.

Eddie doesn’t bother denying it.

The second attempt goes better. The third goes horribly—it tastes good, but Eddie can rarely leave well enough alone and decides his ambition is taking him to new heights in baking and that a two-layered cake is what Buck would really like. By the time he’s gotten both layers level, there’s hardly any cake left—and three days before Buck’s birthday he sets a slice of cake in front of Chris and prays.

Chris, simply to torture him, eats every bite—incredibly slowly—before nodding. “This is really good, Dad,” he says, giving Eddie a crooked grin. “Can I take some to school tomorrow for Maria?”

“Just tell her you love her,” Eddie says, and Chris’ mouth drops open before he starts to laugh.

He follows every step the same way the morning of Buck’s birthday. He spends extra time making sure he didn’t drop any eggshells in the batter, gets the espresso shot from the better coffee shop a few miles away, and uses the organic, full-fat milk in place of the water in the recipe. He keeps the canned frosting as a back-up and spends too long looking for the old handheld beaters he inherited from abuela so that he can try making the buttercream on his own—and then eats at least a quarter of it straight out of the bowl when he’s done before he manages to stop himself.

They celebrated the day before at the station, when all of them were on shift, with a carrot cake that Maddie had gotten from a bakery, but Buck is supposed to come over later—the family celebration, he’d called it, and Eddie had to pretend his heart didn’t give out at the words.

The cake is as far as Eddie will go, though—abuela’s providing the rest of the food, though he’s pretty sure it’s just because Chris had let his baking experiments slip and she wants to see how big of a disaster it’ll be.

Eddie’s looking forward, just a little, to showing off.

Dinner goes well, sitting in the backyard at twilight; Buck is gracious as he opens gifts, exclaiming happily over each one. He tears up when Chris hands him a robotics team sweatshirt with a beaming grin and tells him the team is a go—his school had finally approved the activity and Buck had offered to help out at the meetings and competitions. Eddie’s gift of an emergency kit for his car—he still can’t believe Buck doesn’t have one—is boring and practical, but Buck will find the gift certificates for mini-golf when he finally gets around to opening it up and Eddie finds a strange joy in knowing that he’ll be surprised later on.

When it’s time for cake, he’s surprised to realize he’s nervous. Chris—well, Chris hadn’t been joking when he told Eddie just to tell Buck he loved him, but—that’s kind of what Eddie’s trying to do. He’s just not sure that Buck will understand.

“Dad made it himself,” Chris blurts out as soon as their done singing happy birthday, and Buck turns a blinding smile his way.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he says, and it’s soft enough that Eddie thinks he might know.

“Make a wish,” Eddie says, wishing he didn’t sound so hoarse, so breathless, and Buck closes his eyes as he blows out the candles.

Buck’s warm against him, thumb rubbing against Eddie’s knuckles as they sit on the patio steps, half-empty beer bottles at their feet as the sounds of Los Angeles at night float past them. “What’d you wish for?” Eddie asks, finally breaking the quiet.

“Same thing I wished for the last five years,” Buck says, looking over at him with a small smile. “This. You and Chris.”

“You got us,” he says, and leans in to kiss Buck again, new and exhilarating and so achingly familiar, all at once.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #for may my sunrise #queenmay #fluff fluff fluff #eli writes

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strawbeebo · 3 years

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~♡ Damned If I Do ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem! (She/Her) Reader

Warnings: ❌MAJOR SPOILERS!!❌ Seriously, if you aren’t caught up with the manga, don’t even finish reading this description lmaooo

Words: 5.5K

Genre: Fluff & Angst

A/N: this has shit that’s 100% me taking shit into my own hands and assuming the shibuya incident ends with things going well for those still alive and everyone returning to the Tokyo school for rehabilitation and mourning so ye ye ye. also i’m delving into completely unfamiliar territory so don’t @ me if it makes no sense LMAO

As always, if you enjoy this and want to see more of my work, PLEASE consider reblogging as it’s the best way for my works to get around and keepin’ me motivated to make more for y’all!

❌ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ❌

Gojō remembered the first time he met you, after all, how couldn’t he? It was actually a pretty funny situation, but if Nanami had a say in it he would heartily disagree.

It was his birthday, something Nanami had never put much thought into and actually preferred others to treat it in the same way. For the longest time, his birthday was just another day that happened to show that he had been on this hell of an earth for one year longer than the year before. It was a countdown leading to nothing when he had nothing he really wanted to live for, but when he met you, that seemed to change in a blink of the eye. Well, at least your relationship felt just like that, a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type situation, but despite that, the handful of years he had spent with you felt like something he never could have even dreamed up happening.

You had met by chance, running into each other at the grocery store. It was nothing special, he had quite a few more items than you did so he offered up the spot ahead of him so that you could get through more quickly. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately so, the line was still fairly long so you decided to strike up a conversation with him following your list of ‘thank you’s’. You thought he was nice, a little bit on the serious side and not overly cordial, but you could tell just from that short conversation that he was the type of person you could sit with and not say a single word and still feel comfortable and content. He had a sort of calming, mature air about him and with a handsome face to match, you couldn’t help but think about how surely a man like that had someone waiting for him back home, wherever that was. Either way, before your conversation could go on for long, you had to turn your focus to checking out, so you thanked him once more for letting you pass him and simply went on your way, not thinking in the slightest that such a minor encounter with a stranger would change your life like it had. Your life continued on as normal and so did his and, for a few months at least, things went on as such until the two paths of your respective lives came together once more.

This time, it was at a small café that you later learned was near his place of work, so he frequented it often. You actually didn’t see him at first, he had intentionally chosen a table that was at one of the corners closer to the entrance so he could be away from the noise of the front counter, but the cafe was a bit packed that afternoon so it didn’t really matter in the end. You had only noticed him because you were looking for a place where you could sit and your disappointment in the fact that there didn’t seem to be any empty tables was soon replaced with intrigue in response to seeing that vaguely familiar face. It took you a moment, but his unique features allowed for your memory to be jogged quickly as you made your way over to him after putting in your order, starting with a small wave to get his attention.

To your surprise he actually remembered you, though that was for the better since it made you feel a little bit less creepy about remembering him. You introduced yourself, something you didn’t feel like you had to do last time but for some reason with this meeting, you felt it was appropriate. He returned the favor, ‘Kento Nanami’ was his name, something that at first didn’t seem to suit him well, but who were you to say? Your small talk continued and, while you didn’t actually have any intention of ‘using’ him for the empty chair that sat across from him, the topic of how busy the cafe was came up and his request for you to sit with him followed soon after. You turned him down initially, you assumed he was working since he had both his laptop and his phone laid out in front of him and you didn’t want to be an annoyance, but he politely insisted it was not bother for him, so you eventually accepted his offer.

You were only on your break after all, so you figured it wouldn’t be long and that if you drank your coffee and ate your chocolate croissant quietly, he wouldn’t regret allowing you to share the small table, though once again to your surprise, it was him who started up another conversation a few minutes after you got settled. You talked about your respective work, his disdain for his job being clear as day even as he seemed to try and justify it either to you or to himself, but you almost felt bad speaking of your boring day to day job that didn’t seem nearly as bad as his. Aside from work however, you spent a lot of time talking about good places to eat in the area as it seemed you shared a love for good food amongst a few other things. He was as nice to talk to as you had initially imagined he would be, to a point where you had to cross your fingers and hope that he didn’t notice your interest peak and your eyes flicker to his ring finger when he happened to mention living alone. To be honest, you had never really been one to put yourself out there unless the person who you found an interest in had a clear interest in you in return, but when you stood up to leave, you felt compelled to slip him your number written on a piece of notepad paper you always kept in your purse, telling him if you ever happened to be out at the same time, you’d like to meet up for coffee or something another time.

He, much like you, wasn’t particularly romantically focused, but he accepted the offer nonetheless. If anything, he wouldn’t deny it was nice to have some company that wasn’t his coworkers. You were polite and all, though for some reason, he felt a want to get to know you on more than a ‘small talk with a stranger’ level. He didn’t have much to go on, but that was all the more reason to get to know you more, and that he did. You had one more meeting over coffee, and then once again, this time at a different café you had told him about. He liked to stick to his routine, but it was cute how excited you got raving about how amazing their cherry danishes were, so he decided it couldn’t hurt. From there his feelings of ‘it couldn’t hurt to go’ slowly turned to him waiting to see you again, for once tapping his pen in annoyance not just because he wanted to get out of another pointless meeting, but because he wanted to see you. You had become a breath of fresh air in his mundane life, one that made all those late nights seem slightly less exhausting and after some time, made the idea of making money for himself come second in his thoughts. Your coffee dates turned to dinners out, then to him cooking dinner for you, then to nights spent together that ended with both of you being late for work the following mornings.

You had gotten more than ‘close’ over the span of a year or so, so much so that after many evenings of you commenting on how you could tell something was wrong, he decided that you were someone he could trust with the information regarding his former work as a sorcerer and eventually, you were a big part in convincing him to go back to it, something that, thinking back, you both regretted and welcomed as a fantastic idea. Despite the injuries you’d see him with, he seemed...lighter, as if something that had been previously bothering him had vanished with him returning to the objectively much more relentless work. Still, you could tell he was happy in his own way and as cheesy as it sounded, if he was happy, then so were you. A few months after that and you decided there was no point in living separately if you were spending almost every night over at his place anyways, so the two of you moved in together. Things were about as normal as you could possibly imagine being with someone who did what he did, but with you, a sense of normalcy was all he wanted.

Another year passed and he fully welcomed his thoughts making the change from thinking about how he was going to live out the rest of his life in a tedious manner to how he was going to live his life with you in it. Hell, even his acquaintances could tell you were more than just some woman he was seeing because if you were, they wouldn’t know about you at all. He was rather private like that, everything about his personal life was very much on a need-to-know basis that in his eyes, they didn’t need to know, especially Gojō, but unfortunately you had asked for a few contact numbers just for emergencies and Gojō happened to be one of them. It didn’t take him very long to abuse said connection though, and before Nanami knew it, he was walking into a private party room of a small restaurant the two of you frequented often, only this time he was met with an obnoxiously loud array of ‘Happy Birthday’s being shouted at him. Still, the sheepish smile you wore as Gojō explained he had been secretly planning this little surprise party with you was more than enough to make him ok with his birthday being celebrated in such an over the top way. More than that, something about the way you interacted with his coworkers and students made him...oddly happy. The way you handled Itadori’s numerous enamored questions about your relationship, being able to hear that loud, full on laugh you let out at the stupid stories Gojō told about when the two of them were in school, and all the little small talk in between as you got to know eachother. He hated to admit to thinking of them as his family, but he knew there was no other explanation as to why he felt so fortunate to see you all get along so well.

That night felt like it went on forever, though slowly the party began to thin. The students left first, they had lessons early in the morning after all, and eventually it was down to him, Gojō, and you. You shared a drink with them before tapping out early with an apology, you had pulled an all nighter the night before and the exhaustion was starting to set in, but you insisted he stay out a little bit longer and enjoy himself and after a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and a whispered “Happy birthday, Kento.”, you were off to hopefully catch the last train home. Nanami knew what was coming next as he could see the knowing look on Gojō’s face before he even turned back to look at him, and maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t mind the conversation that he knew was about to follow.

It started with a simple comment.

“She seems awfully nice. Too good for you, don’t you think, ‘Nanamin’?~”

If he were being honest, he would have answered ‘yes’, but that wasn’t something he really wanted to get into. Instead he brushed him off, making a comment on how he sincerely hoped he wasn’t suggesting that somehow Gojō would be a far better option for you, to which he laughed in return. They talked quietly like that for a while, after all Gojō hadn’t gotten to hear the whole story yet and he was intrigued about how this seemingly normal woman managed to wiggle her way into the overly serious and stoic Nanami��s heart. He didn’t ask that directly though, instead he just listed off different harmless questions about what you did for work or what kinds of things you liked. It wasn’t the answer itself that necessarily mattered, but with the way Nanami spoke about you, he could tell that he was simply taken by you. For someone so blunt and pessimistic, when he spoke about you, even if his tone didn’t change, Gojō could practically see the passion he held for you in his eyes. Still, he couldn’t let his carefree reputation be tarnished so to hide his interest he would crack a few jokes and, as always, Nanami would respond with something clever. The night droned on like that until finally, in a slightly more serious tone, Gojō asked a question that Nanami had already asked himself many times over.

“So, you gonna’ marry her?”

It was a simple question with a technically simple answer, however it took much more pondering than one would think. The life he lived was a dangerous one, one that rarely made room for romance at all, let alone marriage, but somewhere along the way, you had helped him break from his repetitive schedule of a life that was meticulously planned and for once, this was something he was certain of even if the outcome itself wasn’t so. The two of you had already had this conversation, more than once actually since he was the one who needed some convincing, so it was really just a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Still, he didn’t have to let Gojō know that.

“....I’ve thought about it.”

“Uh huh. So can I see the ring?”

He should have known there wasn’t a single thing on this planet that Gojō couldn’t pick up on. With a sigh, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the small black box that he had carried with him practically every day that he wasn’t working since he had bought the damn thing and placed it on the table. Gojō snapped it up almost immediately, flipping the lid open and lowering his glasses to look at the ring properly. It was simple, something that wasn’t surprising since Nanami didn’t put much meaning into materialistic things and you didn’t seem like the type to want something too excessive anyways.

“A sorcerer’s salary sure doesn’t buy much does it.~~”

The box was snatched away from him in a matter of seconds as he continued to laugh it off as Nanami mumbled about how ‘he shouldn’t have bothered’ despite the fact he knew Gojō was just messing with him. Slowly, the topic faded and after one more drink, they were back to their own personal realities which, luckily for him, involved slipping into bed with who he was sure was the love of his life.

The morning came and went and your worlds settled back into their odd sense of a different kind of ‘mundane’, one that involved curses and demons, but was saved by the comfort and love you had for one another. However even that could only hold up your spirits for so long and with every passing day, it seemed like Nanami was always coming home with worse news, and that was with him sparing you as many of the details as he possibly could. Even with him explaining it to you, there were still things you didn’t understand, but you knew that things were escalating in the world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses. The flashes of true normalcy and happy days seemed to appear so few and far in between lately, the days where you could visit him and the students he helped out with became a thing of the past as said meetings were deemed ‘unsafe’ by the higher ups.

Then, all at once, it seemed the steady decline of the situation seemed to falter just for a moment before sinking even deeper than any of them could have possibly imagined. You knew this mission in Shibuya was different from anything leading up to it just from the way Nanami spoke to you before he left. He made a point to never treat you like a child or as if you couldn’t handle the work he did, however this time, unlike before, he made a point of telling you about the amount of sorcerers that would be there and that they already had an idea of what the curses’ plans were. He was reassuring you that this would be no different than any other mission, and that alone was enough to let you know things were much more dire, but as if that weren’t enough, he held you with a lack of his usual confidence, keeping his arms locked around you for longer than usual before pressing a sweet kiss against your lips that you wished to god you could have savored more than you did. He assured you once more, told you he would call you as soon as he possibly could, and he was gone.

You didn’t even live that close to Shibuya, but with the amount of noise and the way the ground shook that night, you felt even people halfway across the world could feel the sheer amount of power that was devastating the area. You didn’t dare turn on the news, so instead you simply waited. You kept waiting until somehow, you fell asleep. You waited through your morning coffee that you could hardly stomach, waited through the calls and texts from coworkers and friends asking if you had seen the news, you waited and waited and waited. Every call that wasn’t from him became irritating, and as the afternoon passed and the sun began to set, you felt every wave of emotion fall over you. You began to agonize as night fell, calling Gojō you don’t know how many times before eventually falling asleep, no doubt due to stress.

You woke up to a call from the principal of the school Kento worked for, someone you had never even spoken to before, asking you to come to the school the following day. That wasn’t the call you were waiting for, that wasn’t who you wanted to hear, but what else could you do? How long could you reasonably wait to hear Kento over the phone apologizing for being so late and complaining about the amount of overtime these curses were running up? All you could do was agree to be picked up by one of the few sorcerers left, who oddly enough wasn’t the usual black haired man who you had seen drop off Kento on occasion. The young woman didn’t speak much aside from confirming your name, but you were glad for that as you didn’t know what you would say. Or rather, you didn’t want to ask the question that was clawing at your skull because somewhere deep past the threads of hope you were hanging on to, you knew what the answer would be. You could feel something was wrong from the moment you woke up that morning to right this second as you walked with bated breath before being asked to sit in a small lounge room.

It wasn’t long before you heard the slide of the door and were met with the familiar young face of Itadori and lengthy figure of Gojō who, for as strong as Kento had described him as, looked particularly exhausted and lacked that usual grin he always wore.

“...We need to talk.”

Never had those words made your chest feel so tight, but as the rest of his explanation spilled past his lips, you felt emptier than you ever thought was possible.

You knew from the beginning of the end that he was gone.

You knew, yet nothing could have prepared you for the words your heard cried from young Itadori’s mouth as he practically collapsed down onto his hands and knees with his head bowed to the floor as he sobbed out a whirlpool of apologies and regrets that made your stomach turn in knots. You felt cold and painfully numb, as if you were off in a dream somewhere watching all this happen, your brain scrambling for a way to prove that none of this was real. You didn’t feel in control when you got on your knees and hugged Itadori close to you, your own tears finally beginning to spill from your eyes as reality set in and yet, you still tried to mutter through your own weeping that it was ok, it wasn’t his fault, it will be okay. It felt like an eternity that you were crumpled on that floor next to this poor boy, your thoughts completely shut down by your emotions. You had talked about this so many times, sworn up and down that no matter what happened to him, you wanted nothing more than just just be with him. Now, you couldn’t remember how you convinced him of that, because suddenly you weren’t sure how you could possibly be ok with him gone. What was next? Did you even have a single faction of your future planned that didn’t involve him? Over and over your brain went back and forth, between acceptance of this new reality and ridiculous explanations as to the ‘fact’ that somehow, they were wrong. That they missed something, that Kento hated overtime more than anything else and would be waltzing in with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises and ask you what you were doing on the floor like that. It was then that you must have either passed out or dozed off as you could have sworn you felt the phantom of his embrace and his lips pressed to your forehead.

——————————————————————————

For all the late night dramas you watched on television, you could never quite understand what people meant when they said ‘it all passed in a blur’ in regards to what followed after a loved one passed away, but now you knew with certainty that description was not far off from reality. You felt as though you did nothing but cry for days, days that were spent at the school since the mere thought of going home to an empty apartment made you feel sick. Every time you thought you couldn’t cry any longer, there was always something, an item belonging to Kento being offered up to you or a question in regards to his funeral that would send you further down the spiral that you already thought you had reached the bottom of.

The numbness began to fade, slowly, but as awful as it sounded, luckily things around you seemed to be moving just as slowly due to the sheer amount of chaos there was to be dealt with. You tried your best to pull yourself back up again and you were fortunate for the lack of pressure from the others to do so because the reality was, you didn’t know what to do, so for a while, you really didn’t do much of anything. Some days you cried for hours on end, some days you were angry, some days you just didn’t feel much of anything. Days turned to months, though now some of those days were occupied by grief counseling that seemed to help the more you got used to it. You were finally able to return home, though even after another few months of counseling, it felt hard at times with how empty it was. Still, having all of Kento’s friends and acquaintances nearby helped and you all supported one another in the ways that you could.

Eventually you found yourself able to think about Kento more fondly and less about the fact that he was gone. You slowly began working again, you were lucky to have an understanding boss who didn’t have a problem with you having days here or there where you still couldn’t quite handle a normal work day. You also took your counselors’ advice of taking care of yourself physically quite seriously, though most of that motivation came from the fact that if Kento could say something to you now, he would be more than willing to scold you for missing meals or not drinking enough water. Little things like that were working their way into your thoughts more often and you found yourself able to smile again, pushing yourself forward with the idea that Kento would give you as much time as you needed, but you knew he would still hope that you’d be able to find your old flow of life once more.

It had been a while, you still felt off in regards to being social, but you had finally decided to reach out to Gojō and ask him out for a drink. To be honest, you hadn’t been keeping up with the sorcerers as of late. At first you obsessed over it, your lover had given his life over their cause after all, but it was doing you no good and eventually Gojō genuinely convinced you that he was going to keep you up to date on everything significant and let you know what was happening. As far as you knew, they were still in a bit of a recovery period, thought that was partially because the opposition had been awfully quiet while they were left with little to no leads to follow. Still, Gojō was more than happy to hear from you about something other than updates and happily accepted your offer.

He wasn’t surprised at your choice of restaurant being that same one both you and Nanami had loved, but he still felt ill prepared to face that longing look you had as the two of you met up in front of the place. You still looked worn down, but you seemed well off enough considering the situation and the amount of time that had passed.

“He pretended to be pissed off the last time we were here together, but he was really happy that day.” You started, nursing a cup of the shared bottle of sake the two of you had ordered.

“Really? I’m sure he’d deny that with everything he had.”

“Yeah,” You said with a short laugh and a tired smile. “He probably would.”

The two of you talked a bit about nothing in particular, you could tell he was avoiding any mention of his work and the current state of things, but you didn’t mind. That wasn’t why you wanted to see him anyways, though to be honest, you didn’t know exactly why you had wanted to meet up with him. Maybe you just wanted to feel close to Kento again, a part of you dreaming of a world where the three of you were chatting over drinks, just like before. Your chatter quieted, the silence between the two of you drowned by the quiet murmur of the other customers before you finally decided to speak something that had been on your mind as of late.

“I- um…” You started, the telltale tightening of your throat creeping up on you as you gently fiddled with your cup. “...I’ve- I keep thinking...or maybe daydreaming...I think about what would have- what we would have...been.” You finished, stumbling over your words in the process as you tried to fight back against your own emotions.

You knew that thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ was probably horrible for your mental state, but sometimes, when you were really alone with your thoughts, you just couldn’t help yourself. A part of you thought that maybe if you thought about it enough, if you wished for it hard enough, your dreams would somehow come true. Even knowing that in the end that could never happen, those thoughts were always bittersweet in a way. In the end you were and always would be happy for everything you had with him, even if your time together was cut short.

“This has been a topic of debate, you know.” He spoke, tapping a finger on the table a few times as if in thought. “The consensus was ‘don’t give it to her’ but I disagree and I think Nanami would agree with me for once, so I took it anyway.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly, or maybe he didn’t understand what you were saying? Your questions were quickly snuffed out before you could even ask them though as a small black box was placed down in front of you and your heart just about stopped. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him and he simply gestured for you to open the box. You did just that, staring at the simple ring with a single pear-cut opal set in the center, a stone you had commented on loving seemingly years ago. Your fingers felt tingly as you reached for it, your mouth finally closing once you finally held it in your hands. All at once your emotions began to overflow with the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m no expert, but I think you woulda’ gotten married. Obviously I would be the best man and Nanami would find some new ugly tie to wear.” He said with an air of reminiscence for something that never actually was.

“You’d probably look great, but that’s a given. Then you’d party and get drunk and finally go home so you could do some stuff that would end up with us having some good news a few months later….Ok maybe no kids but I’m sure the two of you could make a damn good night out of it.”

You were silent for a moment, and then you burst out with laughter that quickly dissolved into crying as he handed you napkin after napkin to wipe your face with. You wondered how Gojō could make everything sound so simple and make you somehow both overjoyed and saddened at the same time, but after a while, you were left smiling even though you still had tears running down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry that couldn’t come true.” He spoke in a more serious tone, a gentle smile gracing his features. “-But, who knows? Maybe it could, someday, with someone. Point is, you should know that all Nanami ever wanted was to be happy with you. Whether or not that was for a hundred years or two, he was more willing to ride that train through than he was with anything else. He knew there was a chance that being happy with you could only last so long, but he’d want you to keep living and loving the things and people that you do. That’s what he fought for, after all.”

You nodded, laughing once more through your most likely obnoxious crying. You knew there was no way you could ever get over that want to have lived a happy life forever with Kento, but you also knew it would break his heart if you were never at least able to enjoy the rest of your life alongside the grief you held. You wiped your eyes once more, your tears finally ceasing, and you slipped the ring onto your left ring finger and lifted your hand up to admire it and everything it represented.

“Would you look at that!~ Guess he really did have an eye for perfect measurements.”

You smiled and gave him a nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring that now sat proudly on your finger. This was where your life and your love had led you, mourning for the loss of everything you had and yearning for the things that you now knew would have been, yet you knew from him proclaiming it many times that if there was one thing Kento cherished, it was the fact that you gave him something to look forward to, a reason to truly live rather than just go through the motions. He would want you to live the rest of your life just the same, even if it was without him. You would love those you held dear, you would laugh til’ you couldn’t breathe and cry until you ran out of tears. You would eat your favorite foods, sleep in on your days off for as long as you could, and be sure your calendar was marked with little “X’s” for even the smallest of things to look forward to. You would live your life to what you felt was the fullest with him in your heart throughout all of it until maybe, someday, you could see him once more to finish your story with a long awaited “I do”.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

Text

a fine line, part one

a/n: did you really think i could control myself enough to NOT do an enemies to lovers professor!bucky fic? did you really think i have that much willpower? i fucking love this trope and it’s so cute and i definitely will be doing more of these. k bye! leave feedback if ya want, and as per usual, don’t copy/share w/o my consent! if you read this all, luv u tons <33! - ali

wc: 4.2k words

Walking into your office bright and early was always the worst part of your day. Not because you hated your job, or because you hated the students you taught, but because of your neighbor.

Being a college English professor was something you dreamed of since you were a young girl, and it was something that you thoroughly enjoyed doing every single day.

Even if it meant being up before 7 AM during the week.

But something that never failed to irritate the absolute everliving fuck out of you when you walked in was Dr. James Barnes.

Dr. Barnes was an incredibly educated man. He could tell you anything about historical events. Any day, any year, any country. But there was something about him that gave off an air of arrogance and ‘I’m better than you because of all my friends in the staff.’ You only joined the English Department of the Avengers University about a year ago, but in your time there, you’ve already built a strong reputation for yourself.

Unfortunately, you were a bit shy when it came to conversing with your coworkers. Your most prominent friends who you’ve made are Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the Russian Literature and Studies professors. They were the ones you gravitated to the most, naturally, and have been incredible friends since you started this job.

While they’ve been friendly, you’ve been having a pretty difficult time breaking out of your shell. You tend not to really put yourself out there in terms of sociality because of how unfamiliar you were with the setting, but you were slowly building your confidence to truly get to know your coworkers.

Steve Rogers, one of your fellow English professors, came into your classroom on this gloomy, early Monday morning with a cup of coffee in both hands.

“Mornin, Dr. Y/L/N.” Steve says while placing your cup on your desk, taking a fine morning?” He asks, breaking into a grin.

Steve was contagious when it came to his happiness and uplifting mood, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

“I’m just peachy, Professor Rogers. How was your weekend?” You ask, opening your laptop and reaching for your lesson binder.

“It was actually really nice. I got my grading and planning for the week done last week so I got to spend time with the fiancée.” He smiles, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, how nice! What’s her name again...? I keep forgetting, forgive me.” You laugh, failing to recall the name of Steve’s beloved.

“No worries, Y/L/N.” Steve laughs at your aloofness, “it’s Peggy. She actually works as a military strategist.” He says with a proud smile, which you took notice of rather quickly.

“That’s really interesting... I would never even be capable of doing anything with the military.” You giggle, making sure you have everything ready for your lesson today.

“So... Y/N.” At the mention of your first name, your head shoots up in concern. Was something wrong? “Do you have anyone special at home?” Steve asks.

Your mouth felt dry at the question. You know Steve probably wasn’t trying to pry, but you couldn’t help feel yourself shrink under the question.

“I- uh, no. Unless my cat counts.” You try to lighten the mood and lessen the speeding of your heart.

Steve takes notice of your bright blush and embarrassment. To be fair, you were embarrassed. You were well into your twenties, a successful woman with a stable job, but little to social life. Or love life, at that.

“You have a cat?! Let me see ‘em!” Steve exclaims, trying to deflect from the previous question.

“Oh! This is her...” You say, flipping a frame facing you on your desk to Steve. In the picture frame was a beautiful, tiny black cat. “Her name is Lucy.” You tell him, smiling fondly at the image.

“How old is she?” Steve asks.

“She actually just turned a year old. I thought it would be nice to have some company in my apartment when I moved here. I was getting a bit lonely.” You tell him, reminiscing on when you first adopted Lucy.

“She’s a real sweetheart.” Steve’s not able to wipe his grin away while looking at the furry animal.

“Oh, you don’t even know. She’s a spoiled little thing, you should see her when I leave in the mornings.” You scoff, looking back to your checklist on your computer.

“Y’know, Bucky has a cat, too. I think he would like to know that someone else around here has one, the rest of us all have dogs.” Steve mentions casually, but your brows furrow in confusion.

“I-I’m sorry, I know I haven’t been the most sociable person here since I arrived, but... who’s Bucky? I don’t think I’ve met someone with that name...” You search your brain for any recollection of meeting someone named Bucky, but you were coming up completely short.

“Oh! Bucky is what James usually goes by... I mean, normally people don’t call him James, just Bucky or Barnes as nicknames, y’know?” Steve clarifies.

“Oh, that makes sense,” you say with a slight laugh, “Dr. Barnes and I haven’t interacted very much since I started here... I get the feeling he’s not too fond of me.” You say with a smile to not make Steve uncomfortable. You knew the two of them were friends, as they were always chatting in the professor’s lounge and cracking jokes.

“Bucky...? Not fond of you? Did something happen between you two that I wasn’t aware of? You’re not unlikable or anything...” Steve wonders out loud, trying to understand.

“I-I’m not too sure, Professor Rogers.” You try to stop the conversation here before things got too blown out of proportion. “I hate to cut this short, b-but I’ve got a lecture in ten minutes, so I should get going.” You tell him curtly, gathering your things into your tote and seeing Steve out of your office.

“I’ll catch ya later, Y/L/N!” Steve says as he walks in the direction of his office down the hall.

“See you, Rogers!” You say back, making your way out of the building to the next.

Just as you locked your office shut, you see a head poking out of the office next yours.

You keep your head down, not really wanting to engage in any aggressive banter right before your lecture.

But of course, Dr. Barnes had other ideas. And while you really didn’t have the time, Barnes definitely did.

“Mornin’, Professor Y/L/N! Already late to your first class of the week?” James calls from his spot as you walk in the opposite direction to the exit of the building.

“I’m actually perfectly on time, Dr. Barnes. And it’s Doctor! Have a good day!” You turn back briefly for about two seconds to meet his gaze, and walk into the biting morning air, ready for the long day ahead.

Dr. Barnes, damn you for making my days ten times longer than usual.

Going home was always your favorite part of the day. Your apartment was your safe place, your place where you could drop the professionalism and not worry about having to interact with other people.

Most of your nights were spent reading, watching movies, learning new recipes, and whatever you could do to take some time to yourself. Lucy was roaming the kitchen while you were trying to perfect your latest baked good.

As Lucy intertwines herself between your legs, you look down, making sure you don’t trip over yourself.

“Luce, you have a whole plaything set up over there, why do you insist on putting yourself right ther-” Just as you were scolding your kitten, your phone rings from its’ spot in front of you on the counter.

“Hello?” You say into the speaker.

“Y/N! How are you?” Natasha’s voice came through the speakers, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“I-I’m good, Natasha. What’s up?” You ask, wondering why she was calling you since she was very clearly not at home.

“W-Well,” she lets out a laugh with commotion in the background, “a few of us are down at the bar a couple blocks away from your place, I think.” Another round of ruckus in the back, “would you like to join us?”

“O-Oh... who else is there?” Your voice came through softly, making your nervousness evident through the phone.

“Just a few people in our group... Wanda, Banner, Stark, Rogers, Wilson, Odinson...” Natasha’s voice trails off, like she was still going to mention someone else, but was holding her tongue.

“Oh... Uhm, I was just in the middle of a recipe, but I think I could swing by for a bit...” You look down at your mixing bowl, covering it and placing it in the refrigerator.

Lucy scurries through to your closet once you open it, searching for something to wear, because your current situation was quite frankly sweats. Choosing a black turtleneck and jeans, you dab on a little bit of makeup and pull on some boots, making your way to your car and warming it up.

Once you made it to the bar, you were met with a stench that only bars have, one you haven’t smelt in years. College was fun while it lasted, though.

The first person you spot is Wanda, who’s sitting at the bar waiting for drinks, you presume, so you make your way towards her.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you came! Natasha said you were, but we weren’t sure, you don’t normally do, but it’s perfect! I’m so excited, we never hang out too much, you know? And-” Wanda was rambling, and although you could tell she didn’t want to offend you, it stung. You know you haven’t been out with your coworkers, but it was just one of the effects of your social anxiety.

“It’s okay, Wanda. I know, but I’m gonna try to come out more... I think it’s time.” You tell her with a small smile.

“That’s great, Y/N. I’m glad, you deserve to let loose and have fun every once in a while, you know. It’s okay to relax.” She pats your shoulder, and you can feel her warmth in it, both physically and emotionally. It was nice.

“I- Yeah, thanks, Wanda. Do you need a hand with the drinks?” You ask, seeing the two full trays.

“Yes! If you don’t mind, we’re just back there. We got you a drink too, but we didn’t really know what you liked so we just played it safe.” She explains, pointing to the Old Fashioned on the tray.

“Oh! You didn’t have to...” You trail off, placing the tray down on the table.

“Hi, Y/N! Didn’t know you’d be joining us tonight, good to see ya!” Steve says while scooting further down the booth seat to make room for you, everyone else welcoming you.

“Thanks for inviting me, guys. I guess I really did need to get out of the house.” You say while sipping on your drink.

As the chatter around the table starts again, you quickly end up finishing your drink, caught up in the atmosphere around you and how you were having such a good time.

Maybe this isn’t so bad. I should do this more often.

And as this thought came to your head, Natasha sees that you’ve finished your drink, motioning to the empty glass.

“Need another, Y/N?” She points to the bar, “I’ll come with, I need one too.”

You nod, scooting out of the booth.

“I’ll just have a glass of red,” you tell the bartender, Natasha giving you an odd look, “I still have to drive home later..” You laugh when she hums in realization.

While waiting, a tall guy with dark hair is already chatting up Natasha. And just when you didn’t think your night could get any weirder, you feel someone come up next to you.

“What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing here all by yourse-” But the voice was cut short as soon as you turned your head towards whoever it was. As soon as your mind recognized the face, your eyes widened, met with equally wide, ocean blue eyes.

“Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice was filled with confusion and mild disgust, ouch.

“I-I was invited... By Natasha...” Your voice was meeker than you wanted it to sound, because who the hell was Bucky to question why you were here?

“Oh. I didn’t know it was you, for the record.” Bucky states, watching in satisfaction as you look down at your wineglass that the bartender placed in front of you. She gave you a sympathetic look, turning back to another customer.

“I-Yeah, I figured, Barnes. Sorry to disappoint you, I suppose.” You grab the glass and walk back to the table, trying to not look as though someone just called you ugly to your face.

“Y’know, I don’t quite understand why you can’t just let her be.” Bucky turns his gaze to Natasha.

“I just... don’t like her. It’s as simple as that, Nat. She walks around acting all high and mighty, like she isn’t equal to us.” He reasons, trying to make his point.

“Bucky... Maybe if you took five seconds to get rid of that ego of yours, you’d know the kind of person she is. And she is most definitely not as pretentious as you’ve made her out to be. She’s a human being, just like the rest of us here.” Natasha finishes defending you, turning back to the table, leaving Bucky even more confused than before.

As the night went on, you very evidently avoided anything that had to do with Bucky. If he came by the table, you would waver your gaze elsewhere, and if he initiated the conversation, you would keep quiet. Although you knew it was probably the easiest way to avoid conflict with him, you could tell you were folding in on yourself.

And Wanda and Natasha most definitely noticed.

Every time Bucky spoke, it was like you would disconnect. Focus your mind elsewhere, filling your head with thoughts completely unrelated to your current atmosphere.

“Y/N, what do you have planned for the holiday break?” Sam’s voice pipes up, trying to include you in the conversation.

“Oh, uhm... Not much, I usually stay at home and make myself a nice meal. Take some time to myself, y’know.” You smile at the thought of the holiday season. You were completely ready to take the time off to catch up on self care.

“Oh, no family to go see?” Steve’s voice asks from across the booth.

“Uh... no, not really.” You try let out a light laugh at the answer, trying to not show the stiffness of your body at the topic at hand.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...” Steve says, trying to rectify the situation.

“No! You’re completely okay, Steve.” You reassure him, not wanting to make things even more uncomfortable.

“Well, now that we’re on the topic,” Bucky’s voice breaks the silence, “Y/N, how come we know, like... nothing about you? You’ve been at the university for a bit now and this is the first time we’re seeing you outside of work.” Bucky’s expression was smug as could be, and you were really fighting the urge to cry right now.

“Bucky, leave her alone.” Wanda’s voice was coming as a warning, daring Bucky to go even further.

“No, I’m not trying to sound rude or anything,” Bucky keeps pushing, “but you just seem to act like we don’t deserve your time, like you’re better than all of us or something.”

“Buck, that’s enough.” Steve’s voice was like ice. “Just leave her alone, for God’s sake.”

The table falls silent, your eyes fixed on your hands in your lap.

“I-I’m sorry, guys...” Your voice was holding on by a thread. “I think I should go, thank you so much for inviting me out with you guys. Have a good night.” And with that, you slip out of the booth, disappearing out the front door at an exceptional speed.

The rest of the table was watching Bucky with several emotions, including mild disgust, anger, and hopelessness.

When will this stop?

That night when you return to Lucy, you were drained. Tired. Exhausted. Ever since you were a child, it seemed that you couldn’t outgrow your shyness and quietness. The only place that made you feel like you belonged was your lecture hall. And although you tried, several times, to overcome this horrid quality of yours, it seemed that you could never escape it.

It just always came back.

And you know how it made you seem to others. Pretentious, snobby, it gave you an air of a superiority complex.

When in reality, it was exactly the opposite. You were so afraid to speak sometimes that you just choose not to. You didn’t want to be judged or ridiculed for saying the wrong things, so you thought it was better to keep quiet.

Becoming a professor definitely helped you break out of that shell a little bit, but it never really translated outside of the classroom.

Flopping down on your grey comforter, you realize that you couldn’t continue to feel like this. It was years and years of meekness, of keeping to yourself. That was the reason why you were almost 30 with no boyfriend, no fiancé, and certainly no husband or child.

You knew you had to make a change, but you didn’t quite know how to. But that’s something you’ll have to worry about later, because you were close to passing out right now.

The following week had been... different. You were spending less of your lunch hours in your office, alone, and finally accepting Natasha and Wanda’s consistent invites to eat with them. It took them by surprise at first, but they welcomed you with open arms.

It was now Thursday, and you were in Wanda’s office, digging into your pasta salad that you’d packed.

“So, Y/N, just out of curiosity...” Natasha speaks through her lunch, “What suddenly made you want to join us? I mean, after last week, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see us again.” She laughs a breath out, clearly feeling guilty for last weeks’ events.

“Well,” you supply after a moment to think, “I realized something. After James... spoke his mind, I guess you could say, I realized that he was right, in a way.”

“Wha-” Wanda interjected but you continued to explain.

“I realized that I had removed myself so far from the people that I see every single day so much that they don’t even know me. And it’s been like this most of my life... I usually just keep to myself, but I think that even though I’m terrified of speaking to people I don’t know, it’ll never get better unless I actually try.” You release, feeling a metaphorical weight lift off your chest.

“Well, Y/N, I’m glad you finally chose to let us in... But Bucky was still an asshole, and totally out of line. We know we can’t speak for him, but we’re all really sorry for what he said... He doesn’t even know you, and he shouldn’t have made those assumptions about you.” Wanda says after a moment of silence.

“Thank you, guys.” You smile, gathering your things and standing up. “I have a lecture to prepare for, but... thank you for everything, both of you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had good people in my life that I can call my friends.” You’re shocked at the fact that you feel two sets of arms wrap around you at your confession, holding you tight.

“Y/N, you don’t ever have to thank us for being your friends... you deserve good things, never forget that.” Natasha tells you, and for the first time, you actually believe it.

“Okay, I actually have to go now, but I’ll see you two later?” You ask, already halfway out the door.

“Yeah, we’ll text you!” Wanda yells back, and you’re making your way back to your office to gather your belongings for the lecture.

But of course, you could never get ready for a class without Barnes popping out and giving you a little pep talk.

“Afternoon, Y/L/N. Getting ready to bore another groups of kids to death?” He asks, a smug look on his face with a mug held in his hand.

“Actually, Dr. Barnes, I happen to have excellent students who truly enjoy being in my class, being that I don’t teach any 101s, that’s more Steve’s part. But thanks for the concern.” You tell him, shutting the door behind you and letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

You’ve never spoken to anyone like that in your life before.

And James was equally shocked at your attitude, standing in his doorway, dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open. He was staring at your shut door, wondering where the quick with came from.

He begrudgingly turns back into his own office, truly trying to process what just occurrfaxed.

While you slung your bag over your shoulder, there was an infectious smile gracing your face, proud of not being his doormat for the first time.

That day, class was even better than usual, and you even let your students out early, telling them to enjoy the rest of their day.

And that night, you went home feeling the best you’ve felt in a long time.

You went into the university the next week feeling refreshed from you girl’s weekend that you hosted at your apartment, inviting Natasha and Wanda, and even another professor named Carol who you’ve recently befriended as well- to unwind and have fun with.

And as you swing the usually locked door of your office open with ease, your eyebrows furrowed.

I remember locking it when I left on Friday...

But the only thing that seems to out of place is the iced americano and chocolate croissant sitting on your desk.

On the bag of the croissant, there was writing that read, ‘Thought I’d make it up to you.’

Who the hell would go out of their way to bring me breakfast? You thought to yourself. And they know my usual...

You honestly assumed it could’ve been one of the girls, but you don’t know what they could’ve been making it up to you for. Maybe girl’s night? But still, everyone did a good job of bringing things with them to compensate for you hosting.

But nothing explains the door being unlocked. But you weren’t really afraid. You didn’t keep anything too valuable in there anyways, taking most papers home with you, and keeping classified files sealed in the file cabinet.

It didn’t really scare you, but you truly wondered who would go out of their way to do something like this for you.

The rest of your day went by pretty quickly, and it was oddly quiet. Specifically from the office next door.

It’s now 5 PM, and not a peep from James.

It unsettled you, to say the least. First the breakfast and unlocked office, and now not a word from him.

It was weird.

You spotted him talking to Steve earlier in the day, but you haven’t seen too much of him either.

Although, there was a staff meeting tonight, so you’d definitely see him then.

As you made your way to the designated conference room with Natasha, you see Dean Fury waiting for everyone to arrive. He greets you with his usual disgruntled look, which you’ve learned to not take personally over the time you’ve spent here at Avengers University.

Slowly, everyone made it in, taking a seat.

“Good evening, staff. I hope you’ve all had a productive day thus far, but there’s a reason I’ve called you here tonight. I have a proposal for all of you.” Fury explains, making you all curious.

“I’ve decided, after a few months of toying with the idea, I’d like to do partner teaching. Each and every one of you will be assigned a counterpart, and you will both help each other in making the others’ teaching environment better. Here at AU, we’re committed to always pushing the envelope, and that means that sometimes, you’ll have to get uncomfortable. And if you’re wondering, there’s no way out of this. You all have to do it. Each one of you has received an email to your .edu inbox with your partner assignment and further instructions on how this will be done.” A pause overtook the room as everyone pulled out their phones to check their emails. “Happy teaching, we start next week, folks.” Fury finishes, exiting the room.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t believe your eyes when they saw the opened email.

Dr. Y/L/N, you’ve been selected to teach alongside Dr. Barnes.

Oh fuck no.

And the look he was sharing with you from across the table confirmed he was thinking the exact same thing.

a/n pt.2: ooooooh cliffhangerrr!!! holy shit y’all this bitch long asf. don’t worry, part 2 will be coming soon! comment and lmk what you thought down below! this might have a part 3, i haven’t decided yet !! lol, anyways, i have class in an hour, so bye! if you made it this far, i seriously love and. appreciate you!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #prof!bucky #professor!bucky #prof!bucky x prof!reader #college professor au #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #ive been writing this for so long omf

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calwrites · 4 years

Text

The Gala (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Reader is dreading spending the weekend with her family. Of course, even a gala is interesting when you’re a member of the BAU.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 6.7k

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Time seemed to move slowly around you as you watched helplessly as your team moved around you. Surely there was something that you could be doing. Some way that you could be of use. But all you could do was sit there and watch.

It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. You had gone around asking everyone if there was something that you could do to help. You had even asked Penelope if you could clean her computer screens for her. She had very firmly told you never to touch her computers. It was probably the most scared you had ever been of a woman wearing a neon pink dress and a headband with cat ears.

Really, it didn’t make much sense. How were you so on top of all your paperwork, while your coworkers were so behind? And why wouldn’t they just let you do more of their paperwork for them? You had already managed to spend most of the day doing some of Emily’s, but she had eventually cut you off. Apparently she had told the rest of the team not to let you help out too.

This was a betrayal you never thought you would face. Of everyone in this office, you thought Emily would always have your back when it came to avoiding family. The two of you had similar relationships with your mothers. Of course, you couldn’t even admire your mother for being a diplomat like she could. Instead, you just had to pretend to be impressed by the charity balls and silent auctions that your mother organized.

That was how you found yourself in this situation. Prentiss continued to work, trying her best to ignore you, as you continued to glare at her. You didn’t even notice that you had been furiously clicking your pen until Reid spoke.

“Uh Y/N, are you okay?” You jerked a bit in surprise, having been so focused on trying to make Prentiss feel your anger. Setting the pen down quickly, you looked over at Reid a bit guiltily. “You’ve been clicking your pen a lot, which you only do when you’re nervous or upset.”

“Sorry, Reid,” you apologized. Reid’s desk was right next to yours. When you had first started at the BAU almost a year ago, it had been obvious that Reid wasn’t thrilled to have someone at the desk next to his, though he tried to hide it. You still weren’t sure if it was because of a germaphobe thing or Reid not wanting to get distracted by a deskmate or what, but, thankfully, the two of you worked together well. Most of the time, you ignored each other unless one of you had a question for the other. You kept your desk organized, so Reid didn’t get distracted by a messy desk in his line of sight. If anything, Reid distracted you more than you distracted him. You didn’t really mind when Reid would start telling you facts about something he had just read, though. It was always interesting.

“She’s just avoiding leaving the office because she doesn’t want to go home.” You turned back to glare at Emily as she spoke. “Oh come on. Really? It’s not my fault.”

“Well you’re the one who won’t let me do your paperwork. I’m going to remember this the next time you ask for some help.”

“Why don’t you want to go home? Trouble with your neighbors again?” Giving Emily one last glare, you turn back to Spencer. He had the most adorable confused expression on his face. Not that you should be finding your coworkers adorable.

“Not my apartment. I have to go to my parents’ house.”

Reid opened his mouth, no doubt to question why you were going and why you didn’t want to and why you were going even though you didn’t want to, but you were saved by Hotch exiting his office. With any luck, there would be an important case that could be your excuse not to go. Although you probably shouldn’t be hoping that there was a serial killer that needed to be tracked down.

Hotch’s eyes met yours as he walked down the stairs. Probably not a case, then. “Y/N, what are you still doing here?” Definitely not a case, then. “You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t leave soon.”

“Tragic,” you mutter. At Hotch’s blank stare, you continued, “I was just sticking around to see if I could be of any help.”

“Yeah, sticking like gum on the bottom of a shoe,” Emily interjected. She gave Hotch an exasperated look. “I keep telling her to leave, but she won’t.”

Truly, this was the officially the greatest betrayal you had experienced. It was one thing to stop giving you paperwork, but telling on you? Unbelievable.

“Well what if there’s a case and I’m at the airport? It would just be a hassle to get back.” Hotch continued to look stoically at you as you pleaded your case. You had always found it a little unnerving how he managed to keep his face like that all the time.

“If there’s a case, then you won’t be going on it either way,” Hotch said slowly, like he was explaining something to Jack. You glared at Emily, who was wearing a smug grin. “You asked for this time off, so you’re going to take this time off. Now, get out of here before you miss your flight. You can’t take the jet. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask.”

“Well it’s just sitting there,” you grumble. Still, you start gathering your things. It was useless to argue with Hotch. He was right. When your mother had asked, well begged really, you to do her one favor, you had foolishly agreed before hearing what the favor was. It was a mistake you hadn’t made in years, but you blamed it on the fact that you were in the middle of a case when she had called.

“Why are you so upset about getting to leave early, sweet thing?” Morgan asked. He had been a silent spectator of your struggle. Maybe if you had gone to him for paperwork first you could have lasted longer. He was probably less likely to cut you off than Emily was. “I would love to be able to start my Friday night early.”

“No one wants to know what you do on a Friday night,” you quipped as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

Derek raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you jealous that I’ll be spending my evening with someone else? Are you just going to miss me that much this weekend?”

You put your hands over your heart as dramatically as you could manage. “Yes! Whatever will I do? I won’t be able to see Derek Morgan all weekend. How will I survive?” If your mother had been there, she would have scolded you for being overly dramatic. Your team, however, rolled their eyes and smiled.

“Get out of here, sweet thing. And have a good weekend.” You glared at Derek, then Emily, then Hotch, but you couldn’t keep it up. A small smile tugged at your lips as you made your way to the elevator.

“I hate you all. I hope you have a boring and safe weekend.”

“What did I do?” you could just hear Reid ask as the elevator doors closed.

-------------------------

“Oh I’m just so happy that you finally took time out of your busy life to come by for a visit. Of course, I would love if you came to see us in the city. New York is so much closer to DC than the Vineyard is. It is so nice to have all of my girls here for the weekend. We really should do this more.”

You tried your best not to look like you were ignoring your mother as she continued to chatter while she finished doing your hair. It had been a long day and you hadn’t even made it to the gala yet. Your mother had insisted on having an early morning tennis tournament with your sisters. It was something you had done most weekends growing up, but it didn’t work as well now. It was a little hard having a tournament when two of your sisters were pregnant and the third never woke up before ten. So you woke up at 7 to play against your mom.

At least afterwards you had gotten to have brunch with your family at your favorite brunch spot in Martha’s Vineyard. It had been nice to catch up with your sisters, though you mom still had a tendency to rule over all conversation. Brunch was more chaotic than it had been in years. Your older sister already had two kids, with the third on the way. Luckily, her husband was always quick to chase after them whenever they tried to make a break for it. You wished you could run away with them.

You had tried to act surprised when Kelly announced that she and her boyfriend were engaged, but you had known for two months. Kelly had let it slip when you were talking on the phone. You had also known exactly what your mom would say after the congratulations stopped.

“Well, I guess it’s Y/N’s turn.” All eyes turned to you. Your father and sisters looked apologetic, though Kelly also seemed a bit annoyed that you were stealing her thunder. Not that you wanted it. “Rachel, my first born, is about to have her third baby. And now my babies,” she smiled at the twins, Lily and Kelly, “are both going to be married. I just want you to be taken care of, Y/N.”

“I can take care of myself.” You tried to sound as civil as possible, but this was a conversation you and your mother had already had. You didn’t think she meant anything by her comments, at least that’s what you chose to believe. She just had antiquated ways of thinking. Growing up, you hadn’t realized just how antiquated. It wasn’t until college, when you and your roommate had been watching Gilmore Girls. The two of you had laughed about something Emily said. Of course, she was laughing because of how ridiculous it seemed that anyone would think like Emily. You were laughing because your mother had done the exact same thing the other month.

“We know that,” your father tried to save you, but your mother cut him off.

“You’ve just been so focused on your job. Now you’re in the BAB-”

“BAU.”

Your mother waved her hand like there was no difference. You had to focus on steadying your breaths to keep yourself from interrupting your mother as she continued her speech. It wasn’t anything new. You’ve reached a good spot in your career. You’re almost 30 and not getting any younger. Surely you wanted kids soon.

“So is there anyone in DC you’re not telling us about?” Kelly asked. You shook your head as you continued to eat. Any minute now your family would remember that you were the middle child and therefore should be ignored.

“What about that Spencer guy?” Rachel asked, immediately making you regret telling her about Spencer. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up as you thought about him. You had had a crush on Spencer since you started at the BAU. After almost a year of working with him, you thought you had it under control. “You talk about him a lot.”

“We work together. I spend a lot of time with all of my teammates.” Hopefully, they would let it go and start talking about baby showers or something. Of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Not all of you teammates are hot geniuses who are the same age as you.” Of course Rachel had looked him up. She seemed to think that it was her duty as your older sister to find a boyfriend for you.

You were saved from responding by your phone beeping. “It’s a text from Spencer Reid!” Lily gasped, leaning over you to look at your phone.

“It’s work,” you snapped. You quickly excused yourself, going outside before opening the text. The team had a case. Hotch wanted you to be aware, but had forbidden anyone from telling you any more than that so that you wouldn’t hop on a plane to meet them. He seemed determined to make you spend time with your family. Not that he knew what he was subjecting you to. The only person who knew that you came from a family of Manhattan socialites was Emily, and you had only told her because the two of you had actually met at some event your mothers were both attending before you started working at the BAU.

So now you were stuck here, sitting still while your mother pulled your hair in an attempt to style it. About to be forced into a dress that your mother had assured you was “absolutely perfect.” Emily had shuddered in sympathy when you told her that. It didn’t get any better once your mother was done making you look presentable. She rounded up you and your sisters, so that she could take pictures. Luckily, you all still knew the drill so pictures didn’t take too long. You couldn’t wait for this night to be over. The dress was uncomfortable, the shoes pinched your feet, and you had already been reprimanded for touching your hair and face.

“Oh look at my girls. I feel like I’m in Pride and Prejudice.” You mother fanned herself as she looked at the four of you.

“There are five girls in Pride and Prejudice. You’re thinking of the four girls in Little Women. And both of those families were poor,” you corrected her before you could stop yourself. Your mother threw you a glare, but then ignored you, choosing instead of focus on getting everyone out the door and to the gala.

-------------------------

The night didn’t get any easier once you were there. It was just like all of the other events you had attended at the Vineyard. A bunch of snobby people you had known since you were little pretending to like each other. It was the first event you had attended since joining the BAU. You passed the time profiling whoever your mother was talking to. She seemed determined to keep you with her at all times tonight. It was becoming increasingly apparent why.

“So what did you think about the Malcolm boy?” she asked as said boy walked away.

“I thought he was boring. And I think you should stop trying to set me up with all of the men at this party.”

“I’m not trying to set you up with all the men. Just the single ones who are around your age.” You tried to respond, but your mother was already off to the next man, dragging you along behind her.

“Thomas,” she called, approaching a group. Your breath caught as the man turned around. “Y/N, you remember Thomas Barnes?” You smiled politely, though you wanted nothing more than to wring your mother’s neck.

“Of course,” you replied tersely. Your smile became much more genuine when you met Tommy’s eyes.

“That’s a relief,” he joked. “We only dated for six years.” The two of you embraced warmly. It was the first time you had seen him since you broke up. He looked even better than he had back then. “How’s the FBI? I don’t know how you do it. I get nervous just reading about your cases.”

“You read about my cases?” you asked in surprise. Part of you had always assumed that Tommy would resent you for joining the FBI. After all, that was what had caused you to break up after you both graduated from college.

“Of course! I get to brag about how my ex girlfriend is a badass FBI agent. It gets my friends to shut up when they start telling me that I was an idiot for letting you go.” You were so caught up in your conversation that you didn’t even notice your mother slipping away into the crowd, a pleased look on her face. She had never made it a secret that breaking up with Tommy was the worst mistake you ever made as far as she was concerned. Joining the FBI was a close second.

You cleared your throat a bit uncomfortably. “The FBI is good. Keeps me busy. This is the first time I’ve seen my family in months.”

“Oh, I can let you get back to them.”

Your hand shot out to grab his arm as he began to turn away. “Please don’t,” you begged. When Tommy laughed it felt like you were kids again, sneaking champagne glasses when your parents weren’t looking. “How’s New York? I’ll admit that I don’t read about your financial world, but I hear you’re doing very well in it.”

“New York is good. We don’t have to talk about my job. It’s boring.” The two of you stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds. You tried to ignore some part of your brain that was telling you that there were eyes on you. No doubt your family was watching you like a hawk. Not to mention all of the other guests who were probably curious about the FBI agent. “I heard that Kelly is engaged. Tell her congrats.”

“I will. So anyone back in New York? I’m hoping that my mother hasn’t resorted to trying to set me up with men who aren’t single.”

“No. No one in New York. You know, my parents tell me all the time that I should have married you when I had the chance. They want grandkids.”

“I get that. My sisters have the grandkids taken care of already, but my mother won’t rest until I’m finally married too.”

The two of you laughed and chatted. It was strange. It felt like no years had passed and suddenly you were eighteen again, but it also felt like there was some unspoken gap between you two now. Despite all of your history, your lives had taken you to such different places. Still, it was nice to have a friendly face.

Tommy sighed before taking a big gulp of his champagne. Your stomach suddenly twisted when you realized what he was about to do. “I should have just said screw it to New York and moved to DC with you. I was an idiot for letting you go. And none of my relationships have worked out because I think I’m still in love with you.”

Any words that you could have said were stuck in your throat. You thought about how you had turned down a position in the New York field office after you graduated from the academy because you didn’t want to be tempted to go back to Tommy. You thought about how you had turned down the chance to run the New York field office a month before you made it into the BAU. And suddenly, you were thinking about Spencer. How he smelled like coffee and old books all the time. How fun it was to annoy him by arguing about the interpretation of books. How cute he looked when he was working on a particularly hard crossword. How he was looking right at you right now.

You blinked in surprise. Across the room was Spencer Reid. Standing there in a suit like it was obvious that he was supposed to be here. Surely that wasn’t real. It had to be your brain playing tricks on you. Why would Spencer be here?

“Y/N?” Your eyes snapped back to Tommy before flicking back over to where Spencer was standing. There was no one there. Shaking your head a bit, you focused on Tommy again.

“I...I, uh…” You just couldn’t say any words. Tommy’s face fell as your mouth continued to open and close.

“Hey, sweet thing.” An arm was casually thrown around your shoulders, causing Tommy to frown at the man now standing next to you. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was, though it made no sense for him to be there. “I think we need to talk.”

“Hey man, leave her alone,” Tommy said, puffing out his chest a bit. Your heart warmed a little bit for Tommy, who was trying so hard to seem like he could protect you.

“It’s okay,” you told him, causing him to frown even more, before turning. “Derek, what are you doing here?”

“Come with me and I’ll tell you.” The look in Derek’s eyes made it clear: this was not something Tommy, or any of the people eavesdropping, should hear.

“Y/N, do I need to get security?”

“No, Tommy. This is my friend Derek. I have to go. I’ll see you later.” Before Tommy could say anything else, Derek was leading you away from the party and into the kitchens, where the rest of your team was gathered.

“If you missed me this much you could have just asked me to meet you for the case,” you said as they looked up at you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” JJ asked. Her eyes widened as she took in your dress. “Are you a guest?”

“My mother organized this gala. I have to be here. What are you guys doing here?” You didn’t need to ask. You knew what the answer would be.

“Trying to catch a serial killer.” Hotch’s face was as stoic as ever as he answered. “Morgan, did you see anything?”

“No. Reid is still out there, but I saw Y/N and thought that we should bring her up to speed. She could have some valuable information about the unsub. I also thought that she could use an excuse to get away from lover boy out there.”

You groaned as everyone raised their eyebrows. “My ex just told me he still loves me, but I think we should focus on the serial killer first.”

JJ pulled out a picture of the unsub. “She’s been killing men around New York City that we believe are surrogates for a man here. The overkill is getting worse, so she’s devolving. We think that tonight is her endgame. Profile says she’s after an ex boyfriend.”

“We haven’t been able to find her here though,” Emily added.

You kept looking at the familiar face. “Yeah and you won’t. She’s banned.”

“What do you mean?”

You looked at Hotch. “Two months ago she caused a big scene at a charity auction. She’s been blacklisted from basically all events thrown at the Vineyard. My sister was telling me about her a few weeks ago.”

“The killings started two months ago. Y/N, do you know why she caused a scene?”

You shook your head. “Something about her ex being there. I don’t know who her ex is though.”

JJ pulled out another picture and handed it to you. A string of curses fell out of your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked urgently.

“This is my sister’s fiance.” Everyone’s faces paled. Your mind started running a million miles a minute. “They got engaged two months ago. She had to have been stalking him to know that, though. They didn’t tell anyone until today. They didn’t even tell my family until this morning. I have to go find Kelly.”

“Morgan, go with her. Prentiss, JJ, and I will come up with a plan in here and let security know what’s going on. If you see Reid, get him up to speed, but don’t be suspicious.” Everyone nodded as Hotch gave the orders. You were a little grateful when Derek took her arm, steadying you as you wanted to rush out to get to you little sister. But it was important that you look like nothing was wrong. While the unsub shouldn’t be able to get inside, that didn’t always stop them.

Derek, like Spencer, was dressed in a suit, so he didn’t stand out. The two of you meandered through the room in search of your sister and her fiance. Finally, you managed to locate them. Of course, your mother was with them too. Her eyes lit up when she saw you walking arm in arm with Derek.

“This is my coworker-” you began before your mother cut you off.

“You must be Spencer Reid, the hot genius my daughter was talking about earlier.” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you could basically feel the grin on Derek’s face.

“Spencer Reid the hot genius?” he questioned, turning to look at you. You refused to meet his eyes, but you knew that he wouldn’t let it go later.

“First, Rachel doesn’t know what she was talking about. Second, this is Derek Morgan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I can see where Y/N gets her beauty.” You elbowed Derek, but the damage was done. Your mother would definitely try to set you up with him.

You looked at Kelly’s fiance. “Have you seen your ex here?” He looked caught off guard by the question, which was fair to be honest. Kelly looked furious.

“I can’t believe you. Are you trying to ruin our night? You know that she can’t be here after that fit she threw a few months ago.”

“We also know that she has been murdering men who look like your fiance, and she’s probably here tonight. Does anyone want a drink?” You followed Derek’s eyeline to the bar, where Spencer was standing.

“Do you need help with the drinks?” your father asked. It wasn’t clear whether he was trying to be helpful or whether he just wanted an escape from the serial killer conversation.

“I’ll find some help at the bar,” Derek told him. Then he was off, leaving you with your family.

“Are you saying my ex is here to kill me?” You met his eyes, a look of practiced sympathy on your face.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. My team is here to make sure that doesn’t happen. So I need you to tell me everything that happened with your breakup. My team will be listening.” You brushed your hair slightly to show the earpiece you had picked up when you were in the kitchen. “I also need you to act like everything is fine. Grab Kelly’s hand and smile.”

Thankfully, he seemed to understand the importance of what you were saying. The quick explanation was nothing that the team didn’t already know, but it was helpful to hear it in his own words. Maybe there was something in there that could help them. Kelly’s glare continued to be fixed on you, but that was kind of normal. If anyone saw anything, they might think that it was just two sisters fighting.

“Is that the only reason you came?” your mother asked once he was done. “You’re just using us to catch a killer?”

“Be quiet.” It was hard to force the words out without breaking your pleasant smile. You let your eyes harden for a second as your mother met your eyes. It was the same look that had made a number of unsubs confess during an interrogation, but it was the first time you had used it on your mother. “I didn’t know that my team’s new case was here. I came to this stupid gala because you asked me to. Now I need all of you to pretend like everything is fine.”

“Drinks for everyone. And I found an extra set of hands to help me at the bar.” Derek and Spencer passed everyone a glass. As he handed one to you, Spencer let his other hand rest on your lower back for a moment. His eyes seemed to ask you a question. Are you okay? You nodded once. Your mother, of course, was looking quickly between the two of you.

“Is this one Spencer?” she asked. You had to press her eyes closed tightly to keep yourself from glaring at her again. Someone was trying to murder her future son-in-law and she was still worried about setting you up.

“Yes, this is our resident hot genius,” Derek answered. You both ignored Spencer’s “What?” as you turned to Derek.

“Morgan, go with my parents to get my other sisters. If the unsub gets desperate, she could go for them. Reid and I will stay here. Thank god the kids aren’t here.”

“Kids?” Spencer asked as your mother led Derek away. Despite the threat to your family, she continued to pause to give a quick words or smile to her acquaintances. She certainly played her job of host well.

“My niece and nephew. They’re at home with a nanny. My other sisters are pregnant though. I want to make sure they’re safe in case anything happens.”

“How many sisters do you have?” Spencer asked at the same time Kelly questioned, “Aren’t you going to get us out of here? I mean, there’s a psycho on the loose.”

“The profile actually doesn’t suggest that she’s a psychopath.” That did little to calm Kelly, but it was a typical Reid response.

“I have three sisters, Reid. Kelly, we can’t get you out of here without setting the unsub off. If she thinks that you know anything is going on or that she’s losing her chance to get even, she could devolve even more and this could all get much worse. We have to keep you here, pretend everything is fine, and catch her before she has a chance to hurt anyone. If you see the unsub, don’t react. Just calmly tell us where she is. Reid and I will be right here.” The tone of your voice made Kelly’s eyes narrow. It was the tone you had always used when you both were younger and you were telling Kelly to do her homework or to pick up her mess. Now it was also the voice you used when you were trying to calm down a victim while still trying to get them to do as you told them.

Still, she listened to you. If anyone had looked at her, holding onto her fiance’s arm and sipping champagne as she gave a running commentary of everyone’s outfits, they wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong. The fashion commentary was a good excuse to inspect everyone, so you put on your best snooty face and critiqued accessories with your sister. It was hard not to focus on Spencer. After seeing you act like this, would it change his opinion of you? Would he think that you were just some spoiled rich kid? You hoped not.

After a few minutes, your parents and Derek returned. “Your sisters are on their way back to the house now. Officers will be staying with them until we catch the unsub.” You nodded a thanks to Derek. “Mrs. Y/L/N, the security knew explicitly not to let her in, right?” They were well aware now, but it was important to rule out her points of entry from earlier in the night.

“Of course.” She said it like it was an insult to her to even think that security might have let her in.

“It’s not that hard to sneak in. All it takes is a decent wig, some colored contacts, and maybe a new makeup style. It probably wouldn’t fool the guests for long, but it would get you past security.” Kelly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t uncommon for teenagers to try to see how long they could stay inside without getting caught by someone they knew. All of your sisters had done it many times growing up.

“Everyone here knows about her, though,” your mother protested. You nodded in agreement. “If she did sneak in here using a wig, someone would recognize her within minutes. They’d tell me.”

“So it’s unlikely the unsub came in that way,” Derek concluded. “What about the back? Guests can wander the garden and there’s no security at the back door. If the unsub climbed the wall, she could get in through the back easily.”

“The wall is ten feet high. It would require athletic ability that the profile doesn’t suggest the unsub has to get over it. And even if she did, her hair would be covered in leaves or vines. Her dress might be ripped. It would ruin her appearance, so she couldn’t blend in.”

“Actually, Reid, you don’t have to climb the fence. There’s a gate along the southern wall. It’s hidden a bit by some bushes. Teenagers use it to sneak out of boring events here. The unsub would probably know about it. I remember seeing her around when we were younger.”

“You get that, Hotch?” The three of you heard your boss’s affirmative. They would go check the gate to see if it looked like anyone had used it that night. Until then, there was nothing your group could do except look for the unsub.

“You know, this isn’t what I imagined when I thought about meeting your family,” Reid said quietly to you. Not quietly enough, though. You could almost see her mom’s ears perk up, like she was a dog who had just heard the word treat.

“You’ve thought about meeting my family?” Reid’s face turned red as he realized what he had just said. The butterflies in your stomach made you almost forget about the serial killer on the loose, but you blamed that on all of the champagne you had earlier in the night.

“It seems to happen sooner or later with this team. I guess I just hoped I, the team really, would meet your family because you were giving them a tour of the office or something. I should know better, though. I didn’t meet Morgan’s family until he was arrested.”

“Wrongfully arrested,” Derek interjected, more for your family’s benefit than yours or Spencer’s.

“You know, Spencer, I’m throwing a wonderful fundraiser at an art gallery in the city next month. You should have Y/N bring you.” It was a testament to your mother’s persistence that she continued to worry about your love life even when your sister’s fiance was being targeted by a serial killer. Of course, she was also probably trying to pad the guest list.

“I’m not going to that,” you told her. “I already told you multiple times. Besides, we’ll probably have a case.”

“Hopefully not at the fundraiser,” your mother huffed. Her face brightened again. You didn’t like the sly look she shot at Spencer. A voice crackled in your ear. The gate was open. The unsub was probably here. The three of you perked up slightly, eyes focused on the crowd around you.

Of course, your mother didn’t know the news you had just received, so she continued. “Y/N, I saw Thomas when we were looking for your sisters. He looked quite glum. He asked me to tell you that he wanted to finish your conversation from earlier before you leave. You two were looking very cozy. It reminded me of old times.”

“That conversation is already finished. I don’t have an answer that he’d like.” You felt Spencer jerk slightly when he interpreted the meaning of your words. He had seen you two together. He knew from your body language during that conversation that you were comfortable with Tommy.

“I will never understand why you didn’t just move to New York with Tommy after college. You could be married with kids by now, you know. That boy was mad about you. Goody Williams says that he still is. I haven’t been able to get his mother to confirm it, but you should see her face any time you get mentioned. Oh, you two would have been such a successful match. Such a shame.”

“Quiet,” you hissed, not because of how tense Spencer had suddenly gotten, but because of the face you had finally spotten. “Unsub is wearing a black dress. She’s across the room, heading this way. Stay behind us.” You turned to look at your sister and her fiance. The profile suggested that the unsub would be focused on the fiance, but considering how much she had devolved, you had to be prepared for her to lash out at your sister.

You could see security moving in on her as she made her way across the large room. They weren’t being subtle about it, but she seemed too focused on the man behind you to notice them. You could see the rest of your team moving towards her too. Just a few more seconds and Hotch would reach her.

It was unclear whether the unsub realized she had been caught or whether she couldn’t wait any longer to strike. Suddenly, she was holding a gun. You could see Derek and Spencer both reacting beside you. Your hand immediately went to your waist, where your own gun would normally be sitting. Of course, you didn’t have it though. It wasn’t exactly black tie appropriate.

They wouldn’t have a clean shot. There were too many people between them and the unsub. But through some bad luck, the unsub had an almost clean shot of Kelly’s fiance. The only thing standing in her way was you.

Some part of you minds realized all of that in the fraction of a second it took for the unsub to shoot. Without thinking, you pushed Kelly’s fiance to the floor, waiting for the bullet to strike you instead of him.

But the bullet never got to you.

Instead, Spencer was on the floor in front of you. You dropped to your knees as Derek tackled the unsub before she could get off another shot. You barely even heard the screams around you as you ripped open Spencer’s shirt.

A kevlar vest.

A sigh of relief escaped your mouth. The tension left your shoulders as you helped Spencer sit up.

“Thank god you’re wearing a vest,” you said. Spencer’s eyes met yours and your breath was taken away by the earnestness in them.

“I would have done it even if I wasn’t.” His voice was quiet. Serious. No one was meant to hear his words but you. In that moment, you didn’t care whether or not your mother was listening. You didn’t even know if she was still standing there or if she had already been led away.

“You would have jumped in front of a bullet even if you weren’t wearing a vest? Spence, do you know how stupid that is?”

“I’d do anything for you.” The two of you just stared at each other. You had never heard Spencer sound that vulnerable. Your hands found his, squeezing tight. You had to make sure that this was real. This was real life. You hadn’t been shot and this wasn’t some cruel trick your brain was playing on you before it shut off.

A look of panic shot across Spencer’s face when he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I think it’s just the adrenaline from, you know, jumping in front of a bullet. I’ll go. You probably want to finish your conversation with Thomas.” He stood up quickly, and you followed. Neither one of you let go of the other’s hand.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you, your other hand grabbing his suit jacket, like you were trying to make sure he couldn’t run away. And maybe you were. You wouldn’t put it past Spencer to try to run away from this. To just ignore it. He would show up for work on Monday and act like he had never said anything.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. And you didn’t think it was really what he wanted either.

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” The shocked look on Spencer’s face made you laugh.

“Like a date?”

You nodded, smiling widely at him. “Like a date.” Spencer’s grin melted your heart. He nodded eagerly before wrapping you in his arms.

“I still think she should have married Thomas when she had the chance. I guess a genius will do, though. At least he’s handsome,” you could hear your mother saying. Of course her voice managed to make itself heard among all of the other conversation ringing through the room. But you didn’t really care at that moment. All that mattered was Spencer.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x y/n #CalWrites

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livesincerely · 3 years

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dress you up, dress you down ch. 3 - business casual

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter two here.

Also on Ao3

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“Wait, wait, go back,” Katherine says, barely holding back a laugh. “Jack keeps doing what?”

“So, he’ll start getting ready, right?” Davey explains, gesturing with his free hand. “And then, right in the middle, he’ll get distracted or start telling a story or ask me a question, and end up just standing there for ages with his pants half buttoned or his shirt hanging open, like it’s totally fine, no big deal.”

Davey glances left and right to make sure the road is clear, then continues on, Katherine’s hand tucked companionably in the crook of his arm as they walk along.

“It’s driving me crazy, Kath, I am this close to losing my mind,” Davey says, thoroughly caught up in getting this all off his chest. “It’s a miracle I’ve gotten through these last few weeks without throwing myself off the fire escape; no one should be expected to withstand the full force of Jack Kelly first thing in the morning, it’s too much to ask of any one person. And I can’t even just try to avoid looking at him, because if Jack notices he always starts asking me if I’m okay or if anything’s wrong and I can’t say, ‘oh, no, Jack, I’m fine, it’s just that you’re too pretty for this mortal plane and I’m kind of struggling to exist in your presence’ because obviously, so then I have to make something up—“

“You aren’t a good liar,” Katherine comments.

“—And I’m not a good liar!” Davey exclaims. “And I’m definitely not a good liar when Jack is looking at me with his stupid, soft brown, puppy dog eyes and his dumb, messy, adorable hair, or when he says ‘Dave’ in that voice and I just— I cannot express enough how difficult it is to convince Jack that there’s nothing wrong with me when I can barely look him in the face.”

Katherine doesn’t even attempt to stifle her next snort of laughter, the sound bursting out of her.

“It’s not funny, Katherine!” Davey says. “I had to start using Les as a human shield just to get through the morning!”

“No, it’s pretty funny,” Katherine disagrees, shoulders shaking.

Davey huffs out a breath.

“I don’t feel like you’re appreciating the gravity of the situation,” he grumbles.

“Oh, boo hoo, a pretty boy likes to stand around your bedroom half naked, giving you plenty of opportunity to ogle at him uninterrupted,” Katherine says, rolling her eyes at him. “What an incredible hardship you’re facing.”

Davey flushes.

“...I don’t ogle at him,” he mutters.

Katherine raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t!” Davey insists. “I can barely keep from embarrassing myself when I’m doing my best not to look at him—I’d have spontaneously combusted by now, otherwise.”

“Uh huh,” Katherine hums, pinning him with a knowing look. “Right.”

“This is your fault, you know,” Davey continues quickly before Katherine can press any further. “I was perfectly content with my life as it was, but no, you wanted him to have nice work clothes and now I’m the one that has to deal with how painfully good Jack looks in a tie on a regular basis.”

“He’s actually wearing it?” Katherine says, surprised. “Given the stink he put up while we were picking it out, I figured we’d hardly ever see him in it unless one of us made him wear it.”

“Well, I wish I could make him stop wearing it,” Davey grouses. “I swear he does it just to torture me—the damn thing is practically haunting my dreams at this point. I’m pretty sure I could fix him up with one hand behind my back, he wears it so often.”

“Wait,” Katherine starts slowly, her expression caught somewhere between judgement and glee. “Have you been.... tying Jack’s tie for him?”

“He doesn’t know how!” Davey protests, face flushing a touch deeper. “He doesn’t know how and I haven’t had time to teach him yet, so I always have to— Stop laughing!” Davey sputters, swatting at Katherine’s shoulder when she devolves into a flurry of giggles. “It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal.”

He decides not to mention the fact that, whenever he goes to fix Jack’s tie, he swears he can feel the weight of Jack’s gaze like a physical presence—almost thrilling in its intimacy, like the warmth of a hand on his cheek or the feeling of fingers carding gently through his hair—except that whenever he works up the nerve to check, Jack’s always looking somewhere else, casual as can be.

How he can’t tell if it’s actually happening or if it’s a figment of his imagination, the sparking tension that seems to flash and flare between them, how he has no idea what he’d do if he actually caught Jack’s gaze in these moments, but that just wondering about it sends his heart beating a few paces faster.

Even if he wanted to try to explain it, he’s not sure if he could put it all into words.

Thankfully, Katherine doesn’t seem to have picked up on his sudden bout of introspection; she nudges Davey playfully in the ribs.

“Sure it isn’t,” she says, clearly delighting in his embarrassment. “Please, tell me more about how you and Jack have built an entire morning routine together—“

“Oh, look, we’re here,” Davey hurriedly interrupts.

The doors to The World stand as tall and imposing as ever, though the effect is softened somewhat by the flood of workers rushing out of them, heading out into the city for their lunch break.

Davey and Katherine linger on the sidewalk, waiting for Jack to come out and meet them, but he never appears.

“He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?” Davey asks, after a few minutes pass by with no sign of Jack.

“Lunch started ten minutes ago,” Katherine confirms. “If he doesn’t hurry, he’s not going to have time to eat.”

“He probably got caught up in one of his art inspirations,” Davey says with a shrug. “I bet he didn’t even notice the bell ringing.”

“Then let’s go fetch him, shall we?” Katherine says, stepping confidently into the building, tugging Davey along behind her.

Davey’s been to The World several times by now, but he still isn’t all that comfortable being inside the building, always feeling distinctly out of place. Katherine, of course, walks right in like she owns the place, which she sort of does, leading the way through the lobby and up the main staircase until they reach the floor for the Art Department.

They find Jack right where they thought he would be, seated at his desk with a pen in hand, deeply engrossed in his latest series of sketches and totally unaware of the world around him... including the small gaggle of his coworkers standing just off to the side, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they watch him work.

A small part of Davey’s brain can’t blame them for staring: Jack makes for quite the sight in his dark slacks and matching vest, a crisp white button up tucked underneath. He’s become a bit disheveled in the hours since Davey last saw him—his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened slightly, exposing the line of his forearms and a hint of skin at his collar—and he wears it incredibly well, looking far more handsome than he has any right to after half a day’s work.

The rest of his brain, however, stands at attention—a fierce, heated sort of irritation prickling just under his skin. Davey feels himself slow to an uneasy stop, a frown pulling at his features.

He happens to catch the eye of one of them: a young woman who appears to be about his age, with blue eyes and dark, curly hair, stepping out of the crowd as if about to approach Jack at his desk. Davey’s not sure what his expression does in this moment, but when their gazes meet she freezes, her cheeks flushing a touch pink as she ducks her head, and she quickly returns to the safety of the crowd.

“Typical Jack,” Katherine says with a soft shake of her head. She doesn’t seem to have noticed the flock of admirers waiting in the wings. “Okay, let’s grab him and get out of here—“

“I’ve got it,” Davey says abruptly, stepping forward.

Jack doesn’t acknowledge his approach, utterly focused on adding a few precise bits of shading to the cartoon he’s hunched over. His fingers are dotted with ink stains, his hair a little ruffled from where he’s been running his hands through it, and Davey feels himself soften at the sight of him, that sharp edge of annoyance fading as quickly as it appeared.

Mindful of not startling Jack while he has a pen in his hand, Davey carefully calls out, “Jackie?”

Jack glances up, distracted, and then does a double take, his expression quickly turning sheepish.

“Aw, hell, is it lunch already?” Jack asks, setting his pen down.

“At the same time as always,” Davey confirms, leaning against the corner of Jack’s desk. “Figures you’d get so caught up in a project that you ignore your stomach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack says with a grin, pushing his chair back. “I know, don’t start.”

He stands up and stretches—full bodied, with both arms over his head—giving Davey a long, generous look at just how well everything he’s wearing is tailored to him.

“Where’s Kath?” Jack says, oblivious to the way Davey’s eyes are riveted to the subtle flex of his shoulders and chest as he shakes the stiffness out of his hands. “Is she meetin’ us there or...?”

“No, we walked here together,” Davey says, clearing his throat. “We’re just waiting on you, Jackie, love.”

The endearment slips past his lips of its own accord, far too affectionate and far too honest.

Jack stills, blinking at him in open surprise, clearly catching his mistake. Then his expression shifts, a bright flicker of warmth lighting up his face.

“So, let’s get a move on,” Jack says with a soft smile, blessedly allowing the moment to pass without comment; Davey lets out the breath he’d been holding, relieved. “At this rate, I’m not gonna have any time to eat.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Davey says, trying for something casual, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. “What, you didn’t notice everyone else leaving all of the sudden?”

“Shuddup,” Jack says. “You know I don’t mean’ta get distracted. An’, hey, everybody ain’t left yet.”

Jack gestures to where a few of his coworkers are still standing, who try to seem as though they haven’t been watching when they realize Jack is looking at them. Davey’s earlier frown returns with a vengeance.

“See, it ain’t just me,” Jack says.

“I thought we were getting a move on,” Davey says lightly, hooking two fingers under the front of Jack’s vest and tugging slightly to get his attention. Jack’s eyes snap back to his with a speed Davey can only describe as gratifying. “Lunch isn’t going to buy itself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack murmurs, allowing himself to be steered back towards the staircase. “Where’re we goin’?”

“It’s Kath’s turn to pick,” Davey says.

“So uptown, somewhere weird and expensive that she won’t let us help pay for,” Jack surmises.

“She promised not to pick anything too strange anymore after last time,” Davey offers, though he’s a bit apprehensive himself. “It won’t be that bad... probably.”

Jack snorts. “It’s the probably that I’m worried about.”

“Buck up, Jackie,” Davey says, curling his hand around Jack’s forearm. “If I have to eat it, you have to eat it.”

“Hey, Jack,” Katherine says once they’re close enough, hitting Davey with another knowing look when Jack steps forward to hug her. Davey bites his lip, gaze falling guiltily to the floor. “Ready to go?”

“You mean, am I ready for your latest poisonin’ attempt?” Jack asks. “Sure, if that’s what’cha wanna call it.”

“I was not poisoning you!” Katherine volleys back. “Those were a delicacy⁠—”

“They was disgustin’, that’s what they was,” Jack replies. “So what’s on the table today, O’ Queen of The World? Sautéed rose petals? A single black bean roasted over an open flame? The left claw of the rare Chesapeake lobster?”

“Why do I even bother?” Katherine dramatically laments, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You uncouth swine.”

“You’re the one that dated me.”

“A momentary lapse in judgement, I assure you.”

“Hey!”

As they head back downstairs, Davey can’t help but throw one last parting glance over his shoulder⁠⁠—Jack’s crowd of admirers has mostly dispersed, the various workers going back to their desks to eat or sulk now that there’s no one to gawk at⁠—and surge of satisfaction rushes through him, unbidden, yet undeniable.

“Dave!” Jack calls, he and Katherine having made it most of the way down the staircase in the meantime. “What’re you doin’? C’mon!”

“Sorry,” Davey says, hurrying after them.

“What, there somethin’ interestin’ goin’ on up there?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Somethin’ caught your eye?”

“No, Jackie” Davey says simply, not quite able to resist a smile. “Nothing at all.”

00000

Chapter four here

Tags!

@yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #the tie fic #*final cut #*editor's note #*the writing desk #tease series #jealous Davey is right up there with flustered Davey tbh #listen: i love them

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

Like a Heart Needs a Beat, chapter 1.

Hello, everyone. This is part one of two of an Abby x Lacie story. The first chapter is pretty much just going to be pure fluff, and next chapter the ink-related angst will kick in.

This story, and the next two two-part shipping stories I write, will be “canon” to my version of events.

---

It wouldn’t have been the first time that Bertrum had dragged Lacie to one of the parties he hosted, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it. She got it, she really did- Bertrum thought she deserved to experience the finer things in life (some of which, to be fair, Lacie did enjoy), and didn’t get that no amount of exposure would make her enjoy this. Still, as she was now, forced into a suit once owned by Bertrum’s son and listening to Bertrum trade compliments that were really insults (or whatever they were. They had a strange way of communicating with each other that Lacie didn’t think she wanted to understand) with his client while dozens of men were flirting with each others’ trophy wives in the background, she felt out of place and a little irritated at Bertrum for insisting she come. It was as Joey and Bertrum were getting especially petty that Lacie just had to look away, and across the room, Lacie saw a woman who looked twice as miserable as she was and only slightly more in-her-element.

Lacie approached her. It was a pretty girl, despite looking like she was completely done with this party. She was wearing a grey suit, clearly tailored for her, and had short, curly hair, dark eyes, clear, dark skin. Her body was pretty nice, too. Yeah, Lacie was going to do this.

“Hey,” Lacie said, “You look like you could use some air. Want me to show you a place where we can get away from the party for a while?”

The woman slowly turned her head to look at her. “Sure. Why not?” she replied without changing expression. Lacie would have to hope that would change and that the woman wasn’t just a natural sourpuss.

Lacie smiled. “Come with me.”

Bertrum was a nice man. He allowed Lacie to step out of parties when she needed to, and even gave her one heck of a place to go when she did: Bertrum’s bird room.

Bertrum loved birds. Bertrum raised birds. It was his favourite hobby. The bird room contained two cages of small, pet-store birds, a larger cage for his doves, and a number of nests for his other birds- three chickens, two ducks, a goose, a swan, and (out of place as they looked amongst the farm fowl) two peafowl. It was easy to keep so many pets when you could pay people to look after them. The bird room opened up to an outdoor enclosure, but this time of day they were all in their nests.

“Pretty cool, right?” Lacie said. “Wanna feed em’? I’m the host’s plus-one. Don’t worry, he won’t mind.”

The woman seemed pretty impressed. “Sure,” she replied.

Lacie showed her to the plastic barrel of dried corn in the corner. The birds crowded them, eager, which made them laugh.

After they’d spent a while feeding the birds, the woman had cheered up significantly, and so Lacie tried to make conversation.

“So. My name’s Lacie. And you know why I’m here. What’s your name, and why are you here? And why don't you want to be here? Because it's obvious you don't.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Abby Lambert. Nice to meet you, Lacie. I’m here because Joey Drew begged me to be his plus one so he wouldn’t have to come alone. And... instead of telling people that I was his friend or his coworker, or lying and telling people I was his girlfriend, he made up this lie that I’d won a contest to get to go with him. That I was his biggest fan. I’ll be honest- that pissed me off. He didn’t think it was right for his image, I guess."

“Oof, that sucks. You know, I’m just one of Bertrum’s engineers, and I don’t know an eighth of the high society stuff he does, but he would still never do that.”

“Thanks. And thanks for taking me out for some air.”

“No problem.”

It was a few more minutes of feeding birds before Lacie decided to throw her shot. “If Joey wants to be a jerk he can stay here on his own. Wanna get out of here?”

Abby looked Lacie up and down, and suddenly Lacie wished she were wearing something a little more revealing than this ill-fitting suit- especially since Abby’s was accentuating every curve of her body. But Abby clearly liked what she saw.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

The two took a cab to Abby’s apartment, where they spent the night.

---

After the one-night stand, Abby had left Lacie her number. If one night was good, why not make it several? And then, Lacie had surprised her by asking her out. To an art museum.

“You like art, right? It’s not just a job? I mean, I wouldn’t want you taking me to a construction site.”

God, she was a dork. A muscular, handsome dork. Abby had to roll her eyes at herself for being so caught up on a woman, but she eventually broke down and asked Joey a few pointed questions during their lunch break a few days before the date. “So, Mr. Romantic- can you give me some tips about how to sweep a woman off her feet? I’m meeting someone tonight.”

Joey had smiled teasingly at her. “Oh, my. The ever-serious Abby Lambert is lovestruck!”

“You’re gross. It was good sex. That’s all.”

“Right. That’s why you came to me for advice. Well, I’d say just be natural. Be friendly, make jokes, find common interests, all that common-sense stuff. And then at the end of the night invite her over for some wine and radio, read her signs, and that’s when you start getting physical.” Joey suddenly went from smiling and talking with his hands to being much more serious. “Oh, and... I’m sorry about the other night. You know how it is... I respect you, the art department respects you, but I can’t trust random people to do so, and I can’t avoid interacting with people who won’t.”

He didn’t even have to say that it was because she was a black woman. It was the same reason why Joey had promoted someone else ahead of her as head of the art department- he hadn’t trusted that the others would accept her authority. But, after she’d handled the art department while her ex-superior was on vacation and there hadn’t been any problems, Joey had snatched the promotion right out of his hands and put it in Abby’s. Not fair to the ex-head of the art department, but Joey rarely was. Even if he wasn’t perfect, though, he was still one of the few in this day and age who would hand a high position to her under any circumstance, and one of the few she could discuss her relationships with.

“Maybe we should just not talk about that. See you soon, Joey.” Why think about that when Abby had more cheerful things to think about?

---

When Lacie showed up to the art museum, she was wearing a leather jacket, scuffed jeans, and heavy boots. She’d definitely stand out in a dainty place like this.

“So, do you know anything about art?” Abby asked as they went to the first section, which featured a number of surrealist paintings.

“Not a thing!” Lacie admitted, not at all ashamed. “Are you the type who likes to teach, or the type who just wants me to shut up and enjoy it on the level I’m at?”

“I... guess I wouldn’t mind explaining some things.”

“Okay. So, this one,” Lacie gestured at a painting of half-melted clocks hanging off of tree branches and the like. “It must represent something real deep, right?”

“Well, there’s more to art than symbolism, and surrealist stuff doesn’t have to have a deeper meaning. But... maybe it means that time just melts away when you’re having fun.”

It was midnight before Abby was back in her apartment. The museum had closed before they’d felt like any time had passed, and so they’d gone for a walk together in the city and stopped at whatever shops caught their eyes. It had been fun.

Abby’s apartment was the apartment of a chronically single woman in her thirties who had made it. It was clean and organized, but not too clean and organized. It had a large window overlooking the city in the living room, and near it, an eisel had been set up, with a half-done painting on it of a sunset over a city skyline. There was a rack of oft-used wine glasses in the kitchen, lesser-used exercise equipment in the laundry room. Abby’s bedroom contained her collection of houseplants, two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a closet full of suits her mom had tailored for her at a reduced cost.

Joey had always said that he never wanted to get married because he didn’t want to share space with anyone else. Abby had rolled her eyes and punched his arm for that. Joey was always coming up with reasons why he didn’t want a relationship, and none of them were true. Abby, on the other hand, had just assumed and accepted that it just wouldn’t happen. The chances were against it unless she made it a priority in her life, and she was focused on career and art. Could it really happen with this hooligan? It was hard to imagine letting her into this apartment- this apartment of a woman who had made it- on a permanent basis. But, maybe. Only time would tell.

---

Things went from there. They continued to date for over a year. Abby taught Lacie how to draw, and Lacie taught Abby how to fight. They started spending more nights than not over at each other’s places. Joey still didn’t know about it, because Abby knew how jealous Joey got when it came to relationships. Shawn on the other hand definitely knew, and teased the hell out of Lacie for it and later came to Lacie for help with his own relationship once he got into one.

Christmas that year, Shawn had scrapped together enough funds to visit Ireland. This was a problem, because Shawn and Lacie usually spent their Christmases together. As per usual, Lacie didn’t have the means to visit her home state of Alpaccia, so it looked like it would be a lonely Christmas for her.

“You want to come visit my family?” Abby offered as Lacie had been complaining about it.

“Yeah. I’d love that,” Lacie admitted. She hadn’t had a Christmas with a real family in... well, a long time, at any rate.

Abby’s family consisted of her mother and her two-years older brother, who had brought a wife and two kids. The father had died in the war while Abby was a child. They had a traditional Christmas together- old Christmas records, decorating a tree, staying up late to play cards and chat once Abby’s niece and nephew were in bed until they could barely keep their eyes open, and then watching the kids open their presents in the morning.

It kind of hurt Lacie to see such a beautiful family, but it was nice, too. It hurt because she remembered having to go off to her friends’ houses when her parents were too high to remember to feed her. She remembered having to make her own doctor’s appointments at the age of nine, and running off to live with her big sister at fourteen. But it was still nice to be there, just because it was.

As they were packing up in the guest bedroom, Lacie started crying, and Abby took notice. She’d never seen her cry before.

“What’s wrong?

“Nothing,” she said, and thankfully Abby had left her alone about it.

It was a week later, after Lacie had had some time to think, that she made her offer. “Abby, I want to start a family with you. I know we can’t get married in the traditional sense, but we can get a place together, find some man to give us a kid, and stay together for the rest of our lives. I could even buy you a ring if you want. Do you wanna do this?”

Abby was awestruck. “Lacie... oh my God, yes. Let’s do it.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #abby lambert #lacie benton #lacie x abby #my fanfiction #joey drew #thanks to lovelykitten2017 for the Bertrum headcanon!#(the one of him owning lots of birds)

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hobidreams · 5 years

Text

The Early Shift | Second Taste {M}

determined to find the truth, you pay yoongi a visit at his apartment and get more than what you bargained for.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst (well, more like anger) words: 7k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, lots of banter & sarcasm, face f*cking aka oral (m), dirty talk, yoongi continues to be an ass index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“Hmm. I think we should give Yoongi a call.” This is what Sooah suggests, fifteen minutes before the end of your shift. Her full lips are downturned as she cocks a hand beneath her chin, bats you those doe eyes.

The glorious freedom you were fantasizing about disappears in an instant. “Why?”

“Maybe he got into some trouble and needs help.”

You decide she’s much nicer than you. “Or maybe, hear me out, just maybe, he’s decided to skip work today and continue being the inconsiderate jerk he is.” You have no such patience for him, but that might be because you still remember the heat of his lips nipping at yours. Or maybe it’s because the marks he left on your thighs still remain in faint traces of dark pink.

“Hmm.” Sooah doesn’t look convinced. “Still, just in case. We have his number already. It’ll just take a minute.”

You let your nails sink into your palm. “Fine. I guess there’s a .0001% chance that something actually tragic is happening.” You make for the shop’s landline, where all the employees’ numbers are saved. You fully intend on handing Sooah the phone. But when you whirl back, she’s busy taking an order, with another customer in line behind the current. “Fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll do it.” You hit the call button.

There are a few long rings, by the end of which you’re certain that voicemail will pick up. You tune out, listening instead to the bop released a few months ago that Sooah insists on playing at least three times an hour over the speakers. Your foot absently taps along to the catchy beat.

Click. There’s some fumbling, and you, only half-paying attention, wait for the robotic voice. Except what you get instead is a hurried, low-toned “yeah.”

You blink in surprise, pausing as your brain processes.

“Hello?” The voice is more annoyed now.

“It’s me.” You say your name.

A sigh. “What do you want?” Translation: why the hell are you calling me?

That tone has the magic ability to spark irritation in you like no other. You’re actually thankful for your visceral reaction to it; it squashes any unnecessary nerves that might want to flutter in your stomach. “Hmm, let me think. What do you have every Monday morning? Why might your coworker be calling you?”

There’s some more rustling, perhaps a whisper of a curse that you don’t quite catch. “Uhh... I’m sick.”

“Really. Sick.” You enunciate every thick syllable. “Why didn’t you tell Mina?”

“Too sick to.” The fake cough he manages is the worst excuse you’ve ever heard. “Can I go now?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Your thumb grinds the end call button for a few seconds longer than necessary before you set the phone back into its cradle.

Sooah hands a warmed muffin over before she turns to you. “So? How is he?”

“He says he’s ‘sick’.” You make air quotes, just as the backroom door creaks open.

“Who’s sick? Yoongi?” Namjoon, who’s scheduled to take over for you, comes out looking concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s completely fine.”

Sooah frowns. “Hmm, but I don’t think he’d just not show up unless something was really going on.”

“When he’s sick, he tends to forget everything and just stay in bed.” Namjoon turns to you. “You’re off soon. Do you mind just swinging by his place with some porridge?” That’s his go-to; you know because he once did the same for you when you had an awful fever. Remembering that day reminds you that you still owe him one for it. Damn it.

You scratch absently at the back of your neck. “I guess not...” You really can’t come up with a single excuse, because you don’t have any homework to do tonight nor do you have classes. Plus, if Yoongi’s truly ill, you’re not about to let him starve to death.

“Great.” Namjoon’s dimples flash as he pulls out his phone. “His place isn’t too far. Here’s the address.”

That’s how you wind up in front of Yoongi’s apartment door nearly an hour later, a tasty bowl of chicken porridge in hand. It’s a quaint building, small but cozy in its own way. Humble is the word that comes to mind as you take in the older, yellowed wallpaper, the slightly crooked number on his door. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot, feeling somewhat awkward. Like you’re intruding somewhere you shouldn’t be.

But you’re here to get the truth.

Some part of you hopes he’s actually sick. That, or he was just being a dick for the hell of it. Anything works, as long as the reason is not you.

You raise your hand and knock thrice. There is no sound, not even after the first minute passes. So, you knock again. One more minute, you tell yourself. If he doesn’t answer in one more minute, then I’m going to go home and eat all the porridge myself.

Finally, the door opens a crack. Bleary eyes with heavy purple bags behold you from beneath tangled, dilapidated blonde hair. Behind this disfigured creature that was once your coworker, all you can see is darkness even though it’s noon o’clock.

“Yoongi?” You ask, a little incredulously. “Are you okay?”

He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you said you were sick, so...” You hold up the takeout container. “Namjoon made me check up on you.”

“I’m fine. You can go now.” He’s about to shut the door on you but you push your palm insistently against the wood.

“No way. You look like shit, Yoongi.” You sigh. “Look, I don’t want your death on my conscience, so at least let me heat this up for you. Namjoon’ll never let me live it down if I don’t.”

“Ugh…” He contemplates, but ultimately seems to recognize the combative fire in your eyes. “Promise to leave right after.” He turns, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I hate letting people in here,” he mutters as he walks.

“Trust me, I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to either.”

You step inside, and your nose instantly wrinkles. Everything just smells kind of stale, in need of a good airing out. Empty ramen containers litter the kitchen counter while scattered papers decorate the carpet. But what’s worse is when you behold Yoongi in all his glory – stained sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and all.

“Is your hair allergic to brushing or something? God.” You gingerly set the bag on the table, wondering if he even has clean bowls to use. You’ll find out. Curse you and your empathy. “Go take a shower or something. Please. For your own sake.”

“You’re not my mother,” Yoongi mutters, but he seems to know you’re right. He drags his shirt off, and instead of admiring his slim physique, you cringe as he tosses the top carelessly onto the already messy couch. “Don’t mess with anything while I’m gone.”

“What, afraid I’ll fuck around and make it all cleaner?” You shoot back, but he’s already disappeared into the bathroom. “Jerk. Wouldn’t want to snoop in this place anyway.” Grumbling, you rifle through the cabinets and manage to fish out a single bowl that doesn’t look too suspicious.

Despite what you said just minutes before, while the porridge spins away in the microwave, you lean against the counter and take a good look at your surroundings. It’s a studio apartment, already tiny but made even smaller by the clothes strewn around. The bulk of the mess seems to be centered around the electronic set up shoved against a wall, consisting of two huge monitors, a lit-up keyboard, and something that you’ve only seen on TV, usually for a stereotypical depiction of a DJ. What the heck is Yoongi doing with something like that?

The roar of the shower is still going, so you take a few steps towards the desk. The screen is locked, asking for a password but you’re more fascinated by this soundboard with all its knobs and controls. Does Yoongi make... music?

Your first instinct is to think that it doesn’t fit your perception of him. But then it strikes you that your perception of him is incredibly limited. You suppose you’ve never asked about his hobbies or anything about him. You feel a little guilty now. You’ve never tried to understand him, just gotten pissed off at him time and time again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Yoongi walks out of the bathroom, towelling off his hair. Wet droplets are still rolling down his bare chest. A second wimpy towel hangs off his hips, looking seconds away from falling. He’s already glaring. “Get away from my shit before you break something.” He walks towards his bed, lifting a pair of sweatpants off the mattress.

“Please. I’m not as clumsy as you think.” You roll your eyes as you move to fetch the congee from the microwave. You set the bowl in front of him as he finds a spoon. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi mutters as he slips a spoonful into his mouth. “For checking on me too, I guess.” The bags beneath his eyes have gotten even more obvious and gaunt after the shower, as if he hasn’t slept in days. And hasn’t eaten either, judging by the way he goes at the congee as if it’s his last meal on this planet.

“Geez, you’re gonna get indigestion like that,” you say with a wince. “Do you live like this all the time?” Is this why he’s always late?

“Kind of.” Yoongi barely stops eating to breathe. “But this week is especially busy.”“With what? You should at least get some sleep...”

Yoongi’s already almost done his food, meaning your time with him is running towards its end too. “With important things.”

“Nothing’s more important than taking care of yourself.”

“God, please stop talking. Don’t you think I know that?” Yoongi squeezes his eyes together, rubbing fatigue from the corners. “But certain things have deadlines that have to be met.”

“You can’t make deadlines from the grave. Can’t you get an extension or something? What’s it even for?”

“Contest. Song writing contest. Only runs once a year.” His spoon gives a final clatter before resting against the empty bowl. “So, no. No extensions.”

So he does make music. “You should have just started earlier instead of being late, as per usual,” you tease, hoping to lighten the sour look on his face.

Bad choice. “Don’t you think I did?” Yoongi surges to his feet. His palm slams into the counter, rattling the bowl. “You don’t understand how it feels when everything just comes out shitty and not good enough!”

You face his fury, swallow it to fuel your own irritation at how absolutely careless and ridiculous he’s being. “So, you’re just going to not sleep or eat or come to work until its done?”

“That’s the plan.”

Yoongi turns away, trying to end this conversation as he heads towards his computer. You don’t let him escape, because you’ll be damned if you work your next shift alone. “Why don’t you just wait for the contest next year?”

“Well I was going to.” He swivels his head back, “but aren’t you the one who said to fight for what you believe in?” He snaps it, exasperation in his tone. Then he instantly looks away again as if he’s said something embarrassing.

That makes you stop, your jaw slackened in half-surprise, half-amusement. “Wait… You actually listen when I talk? You’re doing all this because of what I said?

“No. Shut up. Just, ugh, get out.” You wonder if he’s turned away so you can’t see the expression on his face.

Okay, now you feel a little proud that some of your words finally made their way into Min Yoongi’s thick skull. A task you once thought impossible. But that makes you a bit responsible for his predicament, doesn’t it? Plus, you’ve never seen this (perhaps a bit overly) dedicated side of him before. It fascinates you.

“Show me something you’ve made, Yoongi. I’m sure it’s not all shitty.”

He snorts as he drops into his groaning chair. “What do you know about music?”

“Well, I listen to it. A lot.” You may not be Beethoven, but you love music and consider yourself pretty well-versed in several different genres. You’re so curious: what kind of music does Yoongi write? “Seriously! Just show me something.”

Yoongi still looks unconvinced.

“Hey, I brought you food. And covered your ass at work. So you owe me one.”

“And this is what you want to use it on.”

“Yup.”

He shrugs. “Dumb choice, but I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you.” But he starts to click through folders. He ultimately pulls up a file named TRASH. Interesting choice, you think as you gingerly perch yourself on his messy bed. Yoongi fiddles with the volume knob on his speakers. Seconds later, the music begins to flow.

You’re already tapping your foot along by the time the tenth bar hits. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this is good! Like, actually good! Instead of vocals, a keyboard plays out the main tune. It’s sounds rather bare, but you assume that’s because it’s unfinished.

But wait… The melody sounds familiar.

Once you realize it, the more obvious it becomes. Yes, some elements have been changed: this version is much more R&B influenced, the song dips in slightly different ways, and the opening has synth elements that the finished piece you know lacks, but…

“Hey, isn’t this…?” You trail off when the chorus hits, and the similarities become undeniable. “We don’t talk together—” you sing, the lyrics going perfectly with the tune. It’s the very same song Sooah’s been playing relentlessly at work.

Yoongi is staring intensely at the screen with something so unfathomably sad in his eyes. He doesn’t speak.

“It’s different than the final version, but similar enough. You wrote this?” You whip out your phone from your pocket. “Wow, you’re amazing, Yoongi!” You hum the song beneath your breath as you pull up the song’s production page; you’ve looked at it before, but you never noticed Yoongi’s name under the credits. Why the hell is he still working at the café? Shouldn’t he be off writing the next big hit? Wasting talent, really.

On the page, three names appear. The singer, then the rapper. Then final name you don’t recognize and assume to be the producer. He doesn’t have an artist page yet, no image or real name revealed on the website. “You’re DJ ALEX?”

Yoongi shakes to life at the sound of your voice. He lunges out, almost breaks the knob as he forces the volume to zero. “No. I’m not.” The words feel strange in the sudden silence. Uncomfortable.

“...But this is the same song, isn’t it? ‘We Don’t Talk Together’?”

“It used to be.” He whirls towards you. “Look, you heard something I wrote. I ate the food. You can get out now. I have work to do.”

You don’t move from the bed, knowing you’re pissing him off by the tensing of his jaw. “What do you mean? Who’s this Alex guy then?”

“Just drop it.”

“Yoongi, what happened?” You push him despite the way his hands have curled into fists. “There’s no way this is a coincidence because—"

“Tch! You want to know so badly? Fine! He stole it from me, alright?” His piercing glare forces goosebumps on your skin. “We wrote it together. He took the original and deleted my copy and passed the song off as his own. Now he’s the one getting all the record deals while I can’t write shit and stuck making coffee with an annoying ass coworker. Happy? Good enough of an explanation for you?”

You shake your head. “You just let him take it?!”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Yoongi’s voice is dangerously guttural, as if on the verge of breaking altogether. “He blocked me. Dodged me when I went to see him. Before I knew it, he was signing contracts and the song was being produced.” Yoongi sets his fists back on the table with not much strength at all, as if he’s just so exhausted of it all. “It was half a goddamn year ago. It’s too late now.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re standing. “No, no, you can’t just let it go like this!” Not when it puts that look into his eyes. “You can fight it! You can, uhh, report him or show some proof that you wrote it together or something!” When he doesn’t respond, you step towards him, intending to put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon Yoongi, you’re better than this!”

He knocks your hand away as he surges to his feet too. “Shut up. Just shut. Up.” He rounds on you, fury’s fire back in his eyes, worse than you’ve ever seen it since hurt is what stokes the flames to blazing. “You don’t know anything about me. You think just because we fucked once you have some insight into who I am or what I should do?”

His words hit you like bullets as you stagger back but the bed prevents you from moving too far, caging you in. “Yoongi, no, that’s not—”

“Or what? Are you gonna tell me you came here today because you missed my cock that much?”

Thoughts seem to fly clear out of your mind at the dip in his voice. Your heart thuds in your ears as Yoongi takes a step. Then another. Breaking every boundary of personal space until his lips are aside your ear. Breath curves around your lobe, coming hot, much too hot as he growls, “didn’t get enough in that pretty little pussy of yours, did you?”

“I... Uh...”

“That’s why you’re running your mouth, huh?” He captures your bottom lip, tracing it with a calloused thumb. “When you should be choking on my cock instead.” Yoongi pulls back enough for you to see how his mouth curls into that damn smirk, and you remember. God, you remember how he stole what he wanted from your body and left you stuffed full of his pleasure. But this time, there’s a desperation behind his words that was absent before. As if right now, he’s the one that needs you despite the lewdness rolling off his tongue.

So you drop to your knees.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, then narrow with deep pleasure as he thumbs your cheek with more tenderness than you would have expected. That thought is shattered when he harshly tugs your chin up, forces you to stare into the gaze that you can only find predatory. His other hand works the waistband of his sweats, tugging it down to spring his stiff cock so violently it smacks you in the face. “Open wide, baby,” he snarls, the word not sweet but condescending, the way he enunciates the syllables.

You let your mouth unhinge, but you don’t move to engulf his dick in your heat. Instead, you drag your gaze across the few beads of pre-cum are already gathered on the tip, just waiting to be slathered all over the smooth head by your fingers. He groans when you curl your hand on his shaft, bucking his hips into your touch whether he wants to or not. He can’t control himself when you pressure his frenulum, squeezing to coax another moan from him. You love that you can drive him this wild with need, put that look on his face as if he’s seeing the bright lights of heaven behind those half-closed eyelids.

But he’s not about to let you take control.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” He shoves his hips forward, sliding himself between your parted lips and onto your awaiting tongue. You taste the saltiness of arousal leaking from his swollen cock, swiping along the head to gather every last drop of sin. He stiffens even more under your touch and the slippery texture of your agile tongue; you take it all in stride, swirling saliva around while your fingers use the excess spit to work his shaft.

“Unh, your tongue feels so damn good.” Yoongi moans like his stresses are melting away with every lick you slather across his taut skin. You trace the fat vein running along the side, carving the curves into memory. Which spots make him shiver, which ones make him moan. “Fuck, almost as good as that tight cunt of yours.” Said cunt gives a pulse of wanton need and you have to squeeze your walls around air, feeling so damn empty when you know how full you could be.

Without a single regard to your wants, he continues to urge his hips forward, mercilessly plunging in thick inches of dick until the head prods at the back of your throat. You’re trying your best to breathe through your nose but he makes that impossible when he tests your gag reflex with two brutal thrusts. Only after does he bring himself back, let you suck in much-needed oxygen before you’re bobbing your head again to his groans.

Yoongi seems torn between squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them trained on you, mired to the sight of your lips stretched and wrapped so obscenely around his cock. “How much of me can you take with that filthy mouth?” It’s a challenge he issues despite his tense, sweaty thighs and the unassailable glaze in his eyes that says he’s closer to the end than he’d like to admit.

“All of it,” you say as best you can with your mouth stuffed full. You’re not afraid of him, of any attempts he’s made to scare you off. You prove so by supressing your instincts and easing him into the slick of your throat. You push on despite the protests of your body, spurred by the painful fist in your hair that keeps you speared on him. His fine pubic hair tickles your nose, smelling like soap and his natural musk that is somehow more intoxicating than it should be. You’re so close; if you strained, you could give his crotch a sloppy French kiss.

“Then take it.”

You choke when he fucks in the last few inches, forcing his bulging cock down your throat. He pulls back only to repeat the action, earning himself a fresh gag. He seems to love that lewd squelch, imprinting it in his mind along with the tears coalescing at the corners of your eyes. Spit flies everywhere as he rocks his hips like a machine made solely for this purpose, abusing your aching mouth but even that turns you on. You don’t think you’ve never been this aroused by sucking a dick but Yoongi just has that effect on you, for better or worse.

You can barely hold onto his skinny thighs as the muscles ripple beneath your grasp in name of erratic, orgasm-seeking thrusts. They make him occasionally jerk his dick but if he grazes your teeth, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps pumping like a madman, getting himself off on how you take him so well – his good girl. Your jaw aches from his girth but you don’t dare pull away; not when he’s slamming into you like you’re the only thing in his world that matters right here, right now.

Now Yoongi’s the one choking when you lift your hand, cupping the sensitive skin of his balls. His lust-drenched eyes have flown open with surprise. Then he’s grinning, impressed with your eagerness. “Just like that—god—yeah, use your tongue, fuck…!” His moans are becoming increasingly broken, interrupted by gasps when you work your throat in tandem with fingers. “I’m gonna cum down your throat, baby,” he promises. “You better drink every fucking drop.”

You suck him harder as agreement, slurping with noisy abandon as if there’s nothing you want more than his seed coating your throat. Messy spit bubbles beside your lips but there’s no stopping you, not when his knees are buckling and he’s moaning your name in a hoarse voice that should be illegal.

“C-Cummin...!” Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish the word. Two hands on the back of your head force you all the way down. His shaft pulses and the first shot of cream hits your throat, followed by several hot strands that you automatically swallow down. He’s still gasping when he pulls back, tip profusely spilling the last remnants of bliss onto the tongue you leave exposed for his viewing pleasure. Then you gulp it down while you hold his heated stare.

With something like a growl, Yoongi yanks you up off the floor, crashing his mouth on yours to tangle your rather-numbed tongue with his own. One hand is still arrested in your hair but the other finds your waist, dragging you close to his body as he brutally sucks, bruises your bottom lip. You let yourself believe he needs to feel you, that he wants you even while his cock softens and carnal lust slips away.

“Y-Yoongi,” is the only thing you can exhale when he finally lets you go. The kisses only add to the arousal pooling between your thighs, demanding attention. But Yoongi makes no moves to take care of your need.

Instead, he wipes his lips of spit with the back of his hand. “Damn. That mouth of yours is something else.” He’s still panting, clearly having left most of his sanity on your tongue.

“I know.” You’re the one smirking now, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Looking around, you find a tissue and use it to clean yourself off. Yoongi does the same, and for a moment, it all just feels normal between you two.

“Thanks. That really cleared my head.” It only takes Yoongi a minute to get his pants back on. Then he’s planted himself in his chair again. Wait. Is that it? Your smile twists, droops into a frown as you watch him pull up the complicated software with all the soundbites back onto his screen, typing away as if inspiration has struck.

“Yo—”

“Looks like you’re not the worst coworker after all.”

…Right. How could you have forgotten? That word sends you crashing down into reality like an icy bath. You stare at the side of his face, focused squarely on his screen as if you’re nothing more than a houseplant. Not even giving you the title of fuck buddy, or friends with benefits. But, then again, you’re not friends in the first place.

“You can stay if you want, but I have to keep working on this.” That just sounds like an afterthought, a consolation prize that’s more bitter than the taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth.

You’re already moving towards the bag you left near the door. “No thanks.” You pull the strap onto your shoulder, twisting the icy doorknob. “Bye, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t even look back.

To set the record straight – you are not a coward. You are a rational adult making rational decisions that fit into your adult schedule. Begging Namjoon to switch shifts with you for the next month is just part of your regular plans, in no way influenced by the mixed, confusing, dizzying feelings that pop their heads up like groundhogs every time Yoongi crosses into your line of sight. Or your thoughts. Or really in any way whatsoever.

Okay... Maybe you’re a little bit of a coward.

But you can’t seem to help it. He’s too distracting, now that you’ve had a second taste of his poison. A poison that, instead of stealing your life, seems to have claimed your rationality as victim instead. You experienced the consequences of this robbery for the first time on Friday morning, when Yoongi showed up on time (shocker!) for his shift. Instead of being absolutely delighted, all you could think about was that he should have slept in a bit more because of the bruised bags beneath his eyes.

Friday was the first time you’d seen him at all since that visit to his apartment four days prior. Namjoon and Hoseok had taken Yoongi’s shifts throughout the rest of the week, you assumed to give Yoongi time to finish his song. You couldn’t muster up the courage to ask Yoongi about the piece; it felt like you were prying into a world that he wanted you to stay firmly out of. You still don’t understand why you’re so interested in the first place, when you should be hating him.

The rest of that shift had been a hodgepodge of awkwardness, what with the flinching every time Yoongi brushed past your arm reaching for the syrup, then the weird high-pitched tone your voice went to when he addressed you. By the time you left work on Friday, you were determined never to repeat that again.

So here you are. Today. Monday night. Except this time, you’re not spending it knelt on a musty apartment floor, swallowing Yoongi’s anger. That’s probably a good thing, you tell yourself. You need the time and the space to sort out your own emotions. To think about why the hell you keep replaying the sadness in his eyes, then corrupting that image with the coldness of his back in that chair and—

“Hellooo? Anybody home?”

A hand abruptly appears in front of your face and you jolt back to reality, whipping your gaze to find Hoseok grinning brightly at you. “There we go. I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

“Oops, sorry Hobi. I just spaced out. What did you say?”

“I said that I’m leaving soon, silly.” Hoseok leans against the counter, playful curiosity in his expression. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“...Nothing important.”

“Well, guess I can’t blame you. All the downtime will do that to ya. And you’re staying for the next month?”

“That’s the plan.” A customer approaches the bar, bringing you their empty plate. “Thanks, have a good night!”

Hoseok chuckles. “I thought you had night classes. Don’t tell me you dropped out of college to avoid working with Yoongi.”

The plate you were holding clatters as you drop it, smack the porcelain against the counter. “W-Why would I want to avoid working with Yoongi?” How did he know? Oh god, did Yoongi tell him what happened?

“Because he’s always late?”

“Oh! Oh. Right. Yeah. Well, no, no, it’s not because of him…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest, yet you have no choice but to plow on. “I’m just taking an online course this term. So why not take an easier shift because I have the time, you know?” To be fair, you were planning on taking the course anyway. It was just a matter of physically going into class or not.

“Makes sense.” Hoseok grins. “And I’ll always be on time.”

“Yup. I can always count on you, Hobi.”

He stares at his watch, watching the second hand tick the seconds away. “Aaaand I’m off. You’ll have to count on me next time because I have a hot date!”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Hope it goes well!”

Hoseok is out like a whirlwind in the matter of minutes. Left alone in the shop, you run a hand through your hair, surveying the little café. One customer taps furiously away on their laptop. Another devours what remains of their quiche. A third jots down notes while they parse through War and Peace. You’re expecting no one else tonight, certainly not Yoongi to come bursting in like he had the last time you had a night shift. You’d better get started on cleaning.

As you wipe down the counters, remove the leftover food from the display case, the customers leave one by one. You hum a song beneath your breath, distracting yourself from any errant thoughts of a certain person that might be wanting to poke their head through. You’re not having any of that. Not today.

Time speeds by, and soon you only have thirty minutes left to go. You’re now alone in the shop, working quickly enough to ensure you’ll be finished right as your shift ends and not a second more.

Then the door chime goes off. Your head snaps up, and for a moment, for an infuriating moment, you hope it’s Yoongi.

Instead, another familiar face appears, that same, smooth, self-assured smile painted across his lips. Jiwon. This time dressed in a fitted suit, one that makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot. Still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Still not Yoongi.

“Hi. Hi!” You correct yourself, realizing you should sound less disappointed. “Welcome.”

“Hi.” His easy smile widens as he approaches the counter, devastating with those melting chocolate eyes. “Wishing I was someone else?” He asks with a laugh as he pulls out his wallet.

Oops. Your face must have given you away earlier. “No! Of course not.” You force on a grin to match his, wiping your damp hands on your apron.

“Good. Because I was hoping for you. That you’d be working tonight.”

“Oh...” Your face automatically heats up. There’s no way he’s flirting with you, right? Him, who is so far out of your league you’re not even playing the same game. “I don’t normally work night shifts.”

“I noticed.”

“I. Um. Ahem.” You clear your throat out of sheer nerves. “What, uh, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee this time, please.”

“Got it. Go ahead and tap.”

When you hand over the hot cup, Jiwon takes it leisurely. This time, there’s no denying how he lets his fingers graze past yours for that extra half-second, how his eyes hold yours with something unfathomable and exciting.

“I’m working every weeknight for the next month!” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, not even knowing what the hell you’re hoping for. Shooting your shot with this incredibly good-looking man. Making a fool of yourself, apparently. “So, uh, yeah.”

To your great relief, Jiwon nods his head. He raises his coffee like a toast. “Then I’ll see you soon. Goodnight.” The way his voice lilts around and teases the parting word remains in your mind through the rest of your shift and even after when you get home, still thinking about how he’d smiled at you like a promise.

Maybe forgetting Min Yoongi won’t be so hard after all.

The weeks come and go. Before you know it, half the month has sped by, and you’re having more fun than you ever could have expected at work. You haven’t seen hide nor hair of Yoongi, working so well with Hoseok and a newly hired college kid Jungkook that you’ve barely had the time to think about him. Sure, it’s a bit odd not to have someone to bicker with every shift, but that’s more than made up for by the presence of Jiwon.

True to his word, Jiwon comes in practically every night, with that same casual smile that makes your heart unfairly quicken and flipflop. He always asks about your day, listening intently as you rattle on about what mundane thing has occurred like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Still, he hasn’t asked for your number in all this time, nor has he offered much information about himself. So, tonight, you’ve decided, after two weeks of this flirtation, you’re going to ask him on a proper date. Tonight is Friday night, one of the busier nights. So, to compensate, you’ll be closing together with Jungkook.

With that in mind, it’s no wonder that you walk though the doors of the café feeling nervous but excited. You love working with Jungkook though, and know he’ll dispel your nerves before too long with one of those wildly hilarious stories of his various exploits. The door chimes tinkle behind you as you take note that the place is rather busy. Gross. Then you sweep your eyes to the counter, expecting to see Jungkook’s bright smile.

It’s not Jungkook handing over a green tea Frappuccino, stacked high with whip cream to a young woman. It’s Yoongi.

“Yoongi?!” You exclaim, voice carrying across the café.

He turns his head, finds your surprised eyes. “That’s me.” His voice is as dry as ever, but he’s looking better than he did two weeks ago. Much better. You try to ignore the squeeze of your heart at the casual mess of his bangs, the falsely sweet smile that still lingers on his lips from interaction with the customer.

Just a coworker, you remind yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s gaze follows you as you move behind the counter. “Working.”

“Well, gee, I can see that. But you never work the night shift. You hate it.” He had said very vehemently so before, when you suggested he switch shifts if he couldn’t wake up in the morning.

“Yeah, well...” The floor suddenly becomes quite fascinating to him. “It’s just this once.”

Hoseok appears out of nowhere, his jacket already on. He swings his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nah, he doesn’t hate it! I heard him begging Jungkook to switch shifts with him a few days ago.”

“Hoseok, shut up,” Yoongi spits, spinning around pointedly to face the customer approaching the counter.

You giggle as Hoseok rolls his eyes quite dramatically behind Yoongi’s back. “You’re on your way out, Hobi?”

“Yup. Just you and Yoongi tonight.”

You nod, licking your dry lips. “Okay, got it. Have a good night!”

Yoongi may not be Jungkook, but that doesn’t mean that your plans have changed. You’re asking Jiwon out. You’re moving on from the unaddressed, oddly in-between relationship you and Yoongi have, and you’re hopefully going to have a date by the end of the night. You slip an apron on, determination in your veins.

Whatever downtime you usually have on Friday night (that you were worried would give you time to be pensive about Jiwon’s impending arrival) soon becomes a long-lost dream as the customers just start pouring in. It seems there’s a big event at the theatre across the street, causing an enormous boom in caffeine and snack needs that keep you and Yoongi on your toes, a fact which Yoongi looks especially irritated by. That might be because he looks like he has something to say to you every time you have a minute of break; but he can’t get out anything substantial past a ‘hey’ before he’s drowned out by another group of people.

It’s hours before the crowd finally dies down, leaving the shop sparse and you exhausted. As glad as you are for the break, it also means you have to face whatever Yoongi wants to say. You can’t fathom what he could possibly want, but it looks like he’s about to tell you as he turns in your direction.

“Hey.”

You take a sip of your water. “Hi.”

“Uh…” You say nothing, just stare at him. Yoongi looks decidedly uncomfortable, and you’re starting to worry he’s about to drop that he has an STD or something. “I, err, just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Bringing you food or sucking your dick?

Yoongi sighs, raking his hair back with a hand. “I finished my song because of you.”

“Oh. Oh.” Okay… You can’t deny it; that actually makes you pretty happy. It makes you drop the frown and walls you thought you had to put up around him, replacing it with a genuine smile. “Congrats, Yoongi! When do you hear back about the results?”

“Not for a few weeks. But without you, I think I wouldn’t have entered at all this year. I just couldn’t write anything decent after…” Yoongi cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Look. Even though the song’s still not perfect and I’m still not too happy with it, it’s done. So. Thanks.”

Your heart threatens to pound at the sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Anytime.”

Yoongi coughs, cutting off the moment prematurely. “Anyway, I’m gonna do inventory in the back.” You hate inventory, thinking it a mindless task that you would rather make a hundred lattes than do. You don’t know if Yoongi knows this, but you appreciate him all the same. You’re smiling faintly as you watch him disappear into the backroom.

Seconds later, the front door clatters, chime going off. You look up, customer-service smile already painted on, but it becomes that much wider when you find Jiwon’s friendly face grinning right back at you.

“Jiwon!”

“Hey! Can’t stay long today, but had to stop by for my coffee fix. And to see my favorite barista.” He winks, way too smooth for your health.

You fight the automatic flush of your cheeks. “No problem. Iced macchiato? Skim milk and light ice?”

“Yup. You get me.”

Your hands begin to tremble as you turn to make the drink, thinking about how best to ask him those difficult words. Oh god, you’ve never been good at this, but you’ll be kicking yourself forever if you never try. Do you want to go on a date? Nope. Too direct. Are you free on Saturday? Or maybe you should go with a simple do you like pasta? But what if he doesn’t? Oh gooood.

The drink is finished all too soon. You hand it to him, watching him take a sip. “Mm, you always make the best coffee.” The compliments come too easily to him, you swear.

“Haha, I try my best!” Okay. Now or never. “Oh, um, by the way…”

The door of the backroom swings open, interrupting you. Yoongi’s voice can be clearly heard over the music. “Hey, do you know where th—” He stops. His gaze rakes across the scene, taking in your silly, flustered grin, your faintly flushed cheeks. Then his eyes fall on who you’re talking to. His jaw slackens. “...Hyung?”

a/n: so uh,,, i’m sorry to end it like this again haha. what do you think is up? 👀 inbox is open; let’s chat! also the song i reference is “We Don’t Talk Together” by Heize and Giriboy, produced by Yoongi!

thank you to my beta readers: @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @hoseoksdior, @bigtiddiejoon 💞

and as always, a fat shoutout to my best girl @jeonshome for helping me brainstorm & hyping me up like always when i was struggling. don’t know what i’d do without you!! ♡

want to be on the tag list? the link is in my navi! (or send an ask!)

#btssmutclub #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #coffeehouse au #e2l #college au #enemies to lovers #min yoongi #the early shift #rain writes #enjoy!!! <3

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jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Jaehyun

summary: you can count on me

words: 2.2k+

category: jaehyun x gender neutral reader unless i slipped up, in which pls tell me so i can fix it, coworker au, fake dating au, fluff, jaehyun wears sweaters, pillow fights, mistletoe (but not in the way you’d expect), jaehyun sees reader holding a baby and short circuits, this is the softest thing i’ve ever written and i’m proud of it

warning(s): christmas is explicitly mentioned as opposed to any other holiday, this is based off of a more southern/american style christmas that i’m used to, some drinking but no one gets drunk

When your co-worker, Jaehyun, approaches you a day before winter break, you think little of it. The two of you are the only teachers in the school less than forty years old, so you often hang out together.

You figure he'll wish you a gentle happy holidays in that soft voice of his, and be on his way.

Instead, he looks nervous, wringing his beanie through his fingers. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Two full weeks of no pay, and all of my family has planned a Christmas in the Bahamas without me."

Jaehyun whistles lowly. "That sounds a bit..."

"Sad?" you stuff your books into your box. "Yeah, but it's whatever. I'll find something to do."

"You could come home with me," Jaehyun says. "I mean, my family thought I was bringing a significant other anyway, so it kind of works out."

"Huh?" You glance up at the fellow teacher in his stupid teddy bear cardigan. It makes him look soft and cozy. "What works out?"

"I need you to pretend to be dating me during break."

"Why?" you ask. The only reason you aren't more surprised is the fact that Jaehyun is always using weird anecdotes to get out of things, and you assume this is nothing different.

"Like I said, my parents think I'm bring home a significant other."

"Why don't you just tell them you don't have one?" you ask.

Jaehyun pokes at the miniature globe on your desk. "If I told them that, they'd try to hook me up with one of their picks. Listen, when I lied to them, I didn't think they'd insist I bring my significant other to family functions."

"That's kind of what happens when you're dating someone," you say. "Anyways, so what? I pretend to be dating you, and in return I get free food and board for the holidays?"

"My mom will buy you a present," Jaehyun adds on.

You hand Jaehyun your box of things you have to take home during break. "Here. Carry this to my car, and you have a deal."

(It's only on the way to his parent's house when you realize that you might have to buy all of his family presents, too. When you voice these concerns to Jaehyun, he reaches over the console and pats your knee. "Not to worry. I just put our names on everything.")

Jaehyun's mother's hugs are a lot like Jaehyun's. She squeezes you tightly, as if she's a boa constrictor and you are merely the innocent prey.

Jaehyun doesn't save you either, he just giggles at your disheveled appearance and fixes your hair. "Mom likes hugs."

"Oh, so do you," Mrs. Jung swats at Jaehyun's arm. "Anyways, tell me about the two of you."

"Oh!" You clear your throat and move closer to Jaehyun. You actually have no idea what he's told them about you, and you also didn't make up a cover story, so you're a bit out of luck.

Luckily, Jaehyun lies like a politician. He wraps his arm around your waist and laughs. It's fake, you know, but his mom seems to believe it. "We're at the same school, mom. I've told you about Y/n before."

"Oh! The third grade teacher?" Mrs. Jung finally makes the connection. She turns to you. "He used to gush about you all the time. I never realized you're the one he asked out."

Jaehyun's grip on you tightens just briefly, so you figure Mrs. Jung has said just a bit too much. Still, you have to play into the facade, so you lean into him. "I gushed about him a fair bit, too. And then one night I asked him out, and he said yes."

"Oh, you asked him out?" Mrs. Jung's eyes sparkle with interest. She has the same adorable dimples as her son.

"Only because he was too cowardly to do anything about his massive crush on me."

Jaehyun snorts. "Yeah, right. We both know I'm braver than you."

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed as he steels you with his cocky gaze. "Oh yeah?" You say, eyes drifting down to his lips, curled into an attractive smirk. "Prove it."

You see the moment Jaehyun short circuits. You see it as clear as day, the way he loosens his grip and opens his mouth, but no words come out.

His mom snickers. "I think Y/n is braver, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun can only sulk as he shows you to his room.

Mrs. Jung told you to take a nap to recover from the traveling, since the actually holiday festivities don't begin until everyone arrives tomorrow. Since you and Jaehyun are early, you get the privilege of extra sleep.

Jaehyun eyes his full-sized bed from his college days. His room is now a guest room, since he hasn't lived at home in years. But it's still got traces of him in it, like the baseball trophies from college (you try not to think of Jaehyun in a baseball uniform), or his high school diploma framed over the bathroom door.

You pull back the green-striped sheets. "I am not going to disobey your mom. I'm going to sleep."

"Ditto," Jaehyun says. He heads over to the window and drops the drapes so that the room is coated in darkness despite the afternoon sun still outside. "I'll take the floor."

"Why?" You ask, and you're already burrowed under his covers in your lounge-wear.

Jaehyun's eyes drop to your thin tank top before he looks away. His ears are a suspicious shade of pink. "I mean... wouldn't it be weird to share a bed?"

"Are you going to pull a move on me while I'm trying to sleep?" Your blunt question sends Jaehyun into a fit of coughing, which causes you to laugh out loud.

He glares at you and shuffles over to the other side of his bed. "I hate you."

"You can't hate me; you're my boyfriend," you mock.

Jaehyun tackles you then, covering your body with his own as you giggle in shock. "You're so annoying. I should've taken someone else."

"Right," you fight back, grabbing his arms and pushing him up until he's just straddling your waist, holding onto your hands. "Who would you ask? Meredith, the secretary?"

"Her red hair is pretty sexy," Jaehyun says as if HES thought about it before."

"She's like, fifty," you laugh.

"Or Taeyong from high school math," Jaehyun says. "He's cute."

"Honestly? Yeah." You let go of his hands and glance up at the ceiling. "If Taeyong had asked me, this entire day would've gone so differently."

"Oh, shut up," Jaehyun grabs his pillow and gently shoves you with it. "You can't even look him in the eyes."

"Neither can you!" You protest, voice muffled beneath his pillow.

"It's not my fault he's cute!"

"It's not my fault either!"

Jaehyun lifts the pillow and raises his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh.

"Are we arguing over Taeyong from high school math?"

"Who doesn't even know we exist?" Jaehyun answers. "Yes, I do believe we are."

"You're heavy," you grunt. You attempt to push Jaehyun off of you, but in seeing your discomfort, it only spurs him to place his full dead weight on top of you.

"Goodnight," he says, voice right beside your ear.

You know he's teasing you, because the two of you are pretty close and it's not weird. Still, you can't help but like the feeling of him being so close to you, even if it isn't as intimate as you'd like.

You sigh; give up. "Goodnight, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's family is wild. His uncle (from England, apparently) brings stories about his weekly bar crawls. He also brings Christmas crackers, and you and Jaehyun steal a few extra when no one is looking, if just to get a few extra goodies.

And so explains the paper crown atop Jaehyun's head, nestled within his chocolate curls.

He looks adorable as always, but more radiantly so, and you wonder if it's his family that brings this out in him, or the mulled wine.

I want to kiss him, you think, and it's not the thought that scares you. He's an attractive man, and it's been bound to cross your every now and again.

What scares you is the thought that comes after. I could fall in love with him.

And you really aren't sure if it's the wine in your own belly, or the disorienting sound of Mrs. Jung's staticky radio, playing a distorted version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

However, Jaehyun has been holding your hand the entire day, absentminded rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It shouldn't make your heart beat faster because it's all a show, but you find yourself playing into the facade, if just to make it last a little longer.

Jaehyun and you are sharing an armchair while the children beg the adults to let them open their gifts already. You've got your head on Jaehyun's chest, and he's covering you with a gaudy reindeer-themed blanket.

It's then when the door opens, and a woman and man walk in, the man holding a baby in his arms.

"Jina!" Jaehyun shouts. "Henry! Erin!" Then he whispers to you. "That's my sister and her husband. And their little baby," he says softly.

Erin is around one or two years old, and she seems in good spirits despite the bow tightly clipped to what little hair she has.

You get up so Jaehyun can hug his sister, and when she sees you, she gives you a hug as well. "You're the Y/n Jaehyun has told me so much about."

Jaehyun's ears go red again, and he ignores Jina's statement in lue of showing her to the presents around the tree. "Thank God you're finally here. I think the kids were going to riot if they couldn't open any presents yet."

Jaehyun settles back down with you, and you remind yourself to ask him why his family seem to already know about you.

But then the kids open whoopee cushions from Uncle Jaehyun, and all is forgotten as they begin to force everyone to sit on top of them.

Jaehyun truly thinks he's going to go insane. In retrospect, perhaps asking the person he's had a year-long crush on to be his fake date wasn't the best idea, but it was his only option.

And now he likes you even more, as you make an effort to get to know his family.

You don't have to, but you're wearing the sweater his mom bought for you, and you've got a stupid paper crown on your head that perfectly matches his.

And when Jaehyun rounds the counter to make some hit chocolate for the two of you, he watches you approach his brother-in-law and ask to hold baby Erin.

And now Jaehyun is truly going crazy, because you've got a baby on your hip and you're dancing to the staticky radio, singing in goofy voices with Jaehyun's younger cousins.

And he knows, knows he's in love with you.

He hopes to God this isn't a one time thing.

Your head feels a bit fuzzy when everyone is sent off to bed.

Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you into his room. "Come on. Anyone who survives a day with my family deserves a prize."

You're not sure where he had hidden it, but Jaehyun grabs a small wrapped box and hands it to you. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," you say, a bit distracted as you open it.

Inside, it's a small charm bracelet. The charm? Mistletoe.

You snort, and pull the bracelet over your wrist. "How subtle, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's ears are red again. "Actually, I was just teaching my kids about mistletoe. The druids believed it had healing properties, and could bring the holder good luck—"

You wrap your arms around Jaehyun's shoulders and lift your hand above his head. You kiss Jaehyun before he's finished talking.

He gasps against your lips in such an innocent way that you have to wonder if he actually didn't mean to give it to you as incentive. Before you can worry, however, he's got his hands bunched in the sweater his mother bought you, and he's pulling you flush against his body.

His lips are soft and warm, and they taste like cinnamon. Every touch he gives you sends a lick of fire across your skin, and it's only when Jaehyun puts his hands beneath your sweater that you realize just how cold his hands are.

You shiver against him. He nips at your lips, smiling at your offended gasp. He moves away, places one kiss atop your forehead, and then presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't give you the mistletoe so you would kiss me, but I'm glad you did."

"Me too," you say, warmth flooding your chest again. "Now, how about you explain to me why your family keeps saying you've talked about me before."

"Actually," Jaehyun moves away from you. "I'm pretty tired, so we should just get to bed."

You tackle him again, laughing with mirth when he catches you and hugs you close to him. "I've liked you for awhile, okay?" he says.

"Now was that so hard to say?" you tease, just before receiving another pillow to your face.

#nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #destwrites

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Better Late Than Never?

I had a few other ideas in the creative queue that I planned to do first but after watching TLC and Smackdown, this one just pushed its way to the front. Kevin is one of my long time favorites and not just because he’s from the place where I live. I seriously think that despite having been Universal Champion, US Champion, and a major player for years, he’s still undervalued by WWE. Aside from his skills in ring, he is one of the Top 10 and possibly Top 5 promos in the world, whether as a heel or babyface. I hope 2021 is the year that he finally gets fully acknowledged.

SO... Here’s a story featuring Kevin that’s about someone seeing just how wonderful he is.

Pairing: Kevin Owens x reader

Word count: 3,627

Content advisory: swearing, references to sexual activity

You definitely need to be more diligent about moisturizing your legs. There’s a fine, powdery finish that lays over your dark skin like a kind of mildew or fungus and you can see a delicate web of white lines where your body cries out for hydration. You run your fingers along your tibia, wiping away the offending dust. It’ll be back in a few minutes but you like the feeling that it’s something that you can get rid of when you choose to. However, unless you plan on rubbing your fingers over your legs constantly, you need to be more diligent about moisturizing.

It’s one of those details that’s become kind of fascinating during the hours you’ve been sitting here, getting a headache from the endless background noise and recycled air of the hospital, consciously stopping yourself from turning into one of those strident Karens who get up in the nurses faces and yell because they want their loved one to take priority over everything else.

‘Loved ones.’

Even thinking the term makes you feel nervous, makes your dry skin shiver. You’re here in this hospital sitting vigil next to the bed of a man who’s been your friend for years, a sometime sparring partner, a frequent travel buddy, and a recent one night stand. But now he is very much a loved one and you wish he’d wake up from his medicated slumber so you could tell him.

“I love you, Kevin Owens.”

There are a lot of visible welts and bruises on his skin. There’s a contusion on his cheek that’s so swollen it looks like someone’s inserted a balloon under his skin, a bruise so dark you can see it through his beard, and various ugly yellow and purple marks all the way down his torso. You know because, after the nurse had left the two of you alone, you lifted up his chintzy medical gown to survey the damage.

You were allowed to do that, you figured. That’s one of the things that couples who loved each other never had to be shy about: showing their ugly parts and imperfections. If he would just wake up, you’d be happy to show him how dry and dusty your skin had gotten. If he’d just wake up.

More concerning than the bruises are the split on his wrist and the bandaged ankle that’s been elevated to reduce the swelling, and the two dislocated ribs. Those are things that can put a wrestler on the shelf for months. You know, because you’re just getting the chance to get back in the ring yourself after you somehow managed to break your ankle in two places at once jumping from the top rope to the floor, a move you’d done a hundred thousand times without incident. You don’t want that for Kevin, not when he’s been on such an upward trajectory lately, not while he’s been so able to remind the powers that be of what an incredible talent he is. That ankle is already held together with Mac-Tac and positive thinking. It would break both your hearts to see him sidelined now.

That’s how a woman in love reacts under these circumstances, you think. When her man is threatened, she becomes dangerously protective. She’d do anything possible and probably a few things that aren’t in order to save the person she’s in love with. And if the bastard would just wake up for a few seconds, you’d say that.

Tenderly, you run your fingernails through the wiry scruff of his beard, careful to avoid touching the bruised skin. You let one finger, your so-called ring finger (that’s never had a ring on it) over the corner of his lips. You consciously choose that finger because the human body exerts the least pressure on it. You want him to wake up but not because you’re poking at him. But you can’t resist touching him a little.

Even when you and Jey had been together, you and Kevin had been affectionate. It was one of the many points of conflict that you’d had with Jey, along with the fact that you swore so much that he was worried about introducing you to his mother, that you were a shit cook, and that your parents’ marriage had made you extremely dubious about the whole concept.

You might consider marrying Kevon Owens, though, because he thought it was funny that you swore, that you had a tendency to drool in your sleep, who thought you were beautiful when you woke up even though you had crusts in your eyes, who was fine with ordering takeout or trying to cook something together that occasionally worked out.

And maybe he would have asked if you hadn’t been so weird about everything. That was on you.

You wouldn’t have described Kevin as one of your closest friends but he was definitely a guy you got along with, dating back to before you’d both signed to WWE. You’d even fought each other a couple of times, the last one being a PWG event where you’d failed to tuck your head up properly taking his signature package piledriver and ended up with a concussion.

He’d apologized every time he saw you for six months, even after you were both in NXT, until you’d finally figured out a way to assuage his guilt about the whole incident.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, big boy,” you’d cooed, “just because I couldn’t handle your package.”

Then that had become a huge joke between you, and everyone assumed it meant that something had happened, that the two of you had done the horizontal mambo and were trying to get over it. You’d almost felt offended because you knew Kevin wasn’t exactly thought of as a hot property. At the same time, there was something about his rough persona, the character of a guy who’d just take what he wanted that made you think of what it would feel like for him to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed and…

Well, the two of you were always just friends. You were both experts at banter and setting the other up for funny lines. And you even found it easy to travel together, which coworkers found pretty remarkable.

Normally, Kevin traveled with Sami, and if Sami wasn’t available, he traveled alone. But he’d come to accept you because he’d realized that any kind of travel put you to sleep almost immediately, which meant that he could have the peace he wanted and you could sleep without the guilt that other travel partners gave you for not doing your share of the driving, or at least being good enough company to keep them awake and alert by being good company.

An announcement sounds, exceptionally loud as they all seem to be, over the internal broadcast system.

“Housekeeping to triage with a wet mop and a bucket!”

You don’t even want to think what that means, but Kevin stirs just the tiniest bit and you’re excited that he might actually be coming out of it. Without even thinking about it, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, close to his lips, like he’s Sleeping Beauty and you’re Prince Charming.

His facial muscles twitch a little but he remains unconscious. You are not Prince Charming.

About a year ago, you’d started dating Jey Uso. He was so incredibly hot to you that you could barely stand to look at him. He’d joked around with you all the time and rather than come up with your usual retorts, you’d been unable to do anything but giggle uncomfortably. Naomi, who was your closest friend at the time, had sworn up and down that the two of you were perfect for each other.

“Everything that I think makes Jey a dick compared to Jimmy to me makes it like he was meant for you,” she’d gushed.

And she was right. After half a dozen times she’d insisted you ride with them (which had forced you to stay awake), made you eat with them, gotten you to hang out with them, you were totally smitten and you had a pretty good notion the sentiment was mutual. One night, the four of you had gone bowling and you and Jey had just spontaneously started making out. Considering it was girls against boys, it had kind of ruined bowling night. No one had cared.

After that, you’d seen Kevin a lot less. You were a couple and you were more or less connected at the hip to another couple. But after eight or nine months things had started to go sour. And then Naomi and Jimmy got sidelined and it became obvious that you and Jey had stayed cool more or less for their benefit.

You’d been the one to end things. He’d been adamant that what you had was worth fighting for, whereas you knew that the two of you were just too different to mesh in the long term. Being funny and being wrestlers wasn’t enough. It had felt unreal that he’d fought so hard to stop you from leaving him when he hadn’t seemed that happy having you with him. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because the good times with him had been some of the happiest of your life. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because sex with him had been amazing. But you’d managed to stand your ground, even though your ground left you pretty lonely.

It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t understand, but once you’d broken up with Jey, things with her became awkward. And you were suddenly on lousy terms with Jimmy, who’d been a pal to you. Other friends were hard to talk to because you’d basically dropped them when you’d hooked up with Jey. But Kevin was happy to welcome you back. The two of you fell into the easy, comic interaction you’d had before and it was the first time in months you’d felt like yourself.

A couple of weeks ago, it had gotten weird. Well, not weird. It had gotten sexual. You and Kevin had been excited about the fact that you both had matches on TLC, the first time you'd been on the same PPV. You’d started with actual champagne, or at least whatever sparkling wine the restaurant had in your price range. Then you’d moved on to real wine for your celebratory dinner. Then there was this amazing cocktail bar that had materialized right across the street from your restaurant and it wasn’t like either of you was tired.

You’d been the one to make the move. You’d had a hunch that at some point, Kevin had developed a crush on you, something that had been put on ice during the time you’d been with Jey, but that had started to thaw in the time the two of you had been back to your old ways. You were two drinks into sampling what the cocktail bar had to offer when you’d dove in, smashing your mouth against his and pressing your tongue into his astonished mouth. The two of you had actually ordered a third round but had barely touched the glasses because you were all over each other, making out like horny teenagers before it occurred to you that you could just go back to your hotel and fuck like you were both so eager to do.

And fuck you had. Everything between the bar and being in the hotel room naked was a blur, aside from the fact that you’d been going at it so heavily in the back seat of the cab that the driver got irritated and threatened to throw you out. You’d had a jubilant time throwing each other from one position to another and it seemed like Kevin had made you cum in every single one of them. And yet nothing had been so satisfying as looking at his face when he finally orgasmed, like every part of him, body and soul, released at once. You’d pretty much passed out together, embracing.

When you saw him the next day at the Performance Center, he’d wrapped his arms around you and tried to kiss you in full view of other NXT and WWE personnel. You’d twisted away from him, unsure of what you wanted to do, but knowing you weren’t comfortable just having some new relationship in your life announced to the world without so much as a conversation.

“Sorry,” Kevin had said, head bowed, “was that not ok?”

“No it wasn’t ok,” you responded tartly. “I never said we were a couple or anything. We fucked. We’re friends and we fucked once. That’s it.”

Kevin nodded but it looked more like his head was bobbling after a hard kick. He’d slunk away and the two of you hadn’t seen much of each other in the days since. You’d wanted to talk to him but it seemed like every time you got close to him, he’d run away or rush to the safety of a group of male friends.

At first, you’d told yourself that you just wanted to tell him that you wanted things to go back to normal, but as you thought about things going back to normal, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Then, on the Friday night before TLC, looking at him as he staggered to the ring and declared to Roman Reigns that he’d take the WWE Universal Title or die trying, you’d realized that you were in love with him. You’d rushed to find him afterward but somehow, he’d eluded your grasp. But the thought remained at the front of your mind: you were completely in love with Kevin Owens.

It had pained you seeing the beating that he took at the hands of Roman and Jey. In theory, Jey was attacking Kevin to ensure that Roman, the head of his tribe, won. In reality, you knew that Jey was dishing out extra punishment because he believed that you’d broken up with him for Kevin. Ok, you had to admit that maybe he’d picked up on something you hadn’t. But it killed you seeing Kevin suffer because of it.

After the match, Kevin had once again eluded you, but that Friday, when he was helped away from his match, bleeding and bitter, you’d been waiting at the top of the ramp. You’d tagged along as they’d laid him onto the stretcher and attached an oxygen mask because they weren’t sure he was breathing properly on his own. And when the EMTs had asked if you were his significant other, you’d immediately nodded and jumped into the ambulance. Kevin had just enough time to look confused about your presence before the IV full of painkillers did its work and he slipped into blissful oblivion.

They’d kept him medicated while they did various scans and scopes to evaluate the extent of the damage he’d suffered. And so, hours later, you were still perched at his side, waiting for him to come around. The doctor had insisted that he was better off asleep since that allowed him to rest and heal. You nodded in understanding, even as you imagined yourself shutting the IV drop off so that you could wake him up and let him know what you were feeling.

You’d memorized every crack in the institutional-standard paint, every scratch on the tile floor, every nuance of the voice that periodically crackled over the loudspeaker, but you were determined that you were going to stay in place. You were going to tell Kevin Owens that you loved him the second he woke up and if he recoiled the way that you had when he’d tried to hug you.

After about a hundred and thirty-eight years, his eyelids flutter and his brown eyes open, still glazed with drugs. It takes a couple of minutes before he registers where he is and who you are and what’s happened.

“How bad is it?” he croaks, his throat crackling from dryness.

You pick up the plastic cup of water on the tray next to the bed and push the attached straw to his lips. He obediently sips, his eyes focusing on you as he recovers himself.

“You took a lot of hits. You weren’t really up to the cage match. So it’s not great,” you inform him.

He twists away from the straw and stares at the ceiling.

“I’ll be fine,” he groans, his neck muscles tensing. “I always am.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to be fine for a while. So just drink water and relax.”

“I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t need to feel guilty because your boyfriend fucked me up and fucked me over. You can go home.”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. And I’m not here because of him. I’m here because of you.” You gulp, realizing that your moment has come. “Because I love you.”

Kevin grimaces and his eyes flit towards you but he angles his head away.

He thinks you mean it like a friend, you guess. He doesn’t understand what you’ve just said. You grab his hand and pull yourself closer to him, so that you’re leaning halfway onto the narrow bed with him.

“I love you, Kevin. And I’m sorry I was stupid when you tried to hug me and I’m sorry that I’ve been stupid and haven’t realized it before. But I really love you.”

He doesn’t say anything but he looks at you with an expression of innocence and surprise and he pulls on you a little so that you’re forced to crawl onto the bed with him.

“I’ve been sitting here for about eight hours trying to figure out some wonderful way to say this to you,” you whine. “But now my ass is asleep and my eyes are burning and I can’t think of any other thing to say. I love you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way and I don’t know why I never acted on it. I just need you to understand-”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” he says with a sigh. “You love me. That’s great. I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m the one who thought it meant something when we had sex, remember?”

“Hey,” you retort, placing your hand against his jaw and turning him to face you, “I did too. I just didn’t understand what it meant at first.”

Your lips come together softly and then urgently, until he twists away.

“Ow,” he says, rubbing at his jaw.

“Yeah, you definitely took a hit there.”

“You know, every time I hit Jey, I was thinking of you.”

“You know, everyone thinks you deserve to be the champion, but me most of all.”

Giving him a coquettish smile, you allow your hand to trail down to his thigh, curving towards the inner part. You can immediately feel a twitch from the one part of him that is definitely not injured.

Sliding your hand under the thin fabric of his robe, you take hold of his member, already semi-erect, and begin stroking it, swirling your hand over the head and trailing your finger down the sensitive seam, reveling in the grunts and hums of pleasure this elicits from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

the sharp cry startles both of you enough that you sit up a little. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with wispy grey-brown hair pulled back from her care-worn face, stares furiously at both of you.

“You can’t be doing anything like that,” she says sharply. “And you can’t just go climbing on the bed.”

Face burning, you slide back into your chair.

“Now sir,” she says, haughtily turning her attention solely to Kevin and averting her gaze from the visible bulge under the thin bed sheet, “how would you describe your pain?”

“Painful,” Kevin quips, making you giggle a little.

“On a scale of one to ten,” she snaps.

“I’m a professional wrestler, so I’d say five was a normal day. Let’s call this a seven and a half.”

“So would you like the doctor to increase your dose of painkillers?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I’d like the doctor to say it’s ok for my girlfriend to curl up in bed with me and take care of me.”

You smile broadly the second you hear him call you his girlfriend.

The nurse rolls her eyes and walks away but as she does, both of you notice her covering her mouth to conceal how hard she’s laughing. Without even thinking, you clasp hands and as you watch her leave the room, you turn to look at each other.

“You mean it?” you ask him.

“Mean what?”

“That I’m your girlfriend.”

“Is there something else you wanna be?”

“I just want to be the woman you’re in love with and the one who you want to come home to.”

“Well that’s a given.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I hit a bruise.”

You let your lips trail over to his eyebrow and press a kiss there.

“Ow.”

“I didn’t notice the cut,” you gush apologetically.

He squeezes your hand and smiles at you, full of his incredible warmth, even though it’s tempered by the drugs he’s receiving.

“Well I love you,” he sighs. “And don’t you worry. I’m about a half a CC of this juice from dragging you onto this bed and having my way with you.”

You wind your hand and arm around his, so that you can pull him close enough for a kiss.

“I hope they up your medication,” you murmur, “just so that I can make you relax while I show you everything I want to do to you.”

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #kevin owens fanfiction #kevin owens imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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heart-eye-harrington · 4 years

Text

shooting stars never shine for me

Summary: When stuck in the elevator and Dustin can’t sleep he asks you, Robin, and Steve to tell him stories. Steve may let a bit too much slip. Luckily for him, you’re a deep sleeper.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of fear

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you’re doing well! I hope you enjoy this! ♡

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

If this were a normal night, you’d have the windows of your room thrown open to let as much of the cool night air in as possible. Cricket chirps would mesh with whatever was playing on the small radio in the corner. You’d have just gotten out of a warm shower and scrubbed away any lingering sticky ice cream from your shift. Whatever thin oversized t-shirt you’d grabbed would hang loosely as you got ready for bed. Maybe don one of the sweatshirts Steve leaned you after leaving a cold closing shift. You’d be comfortable and content.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a normal night.

The concrete walls of the elevator shaft seem to suffocate you with their solidarity. Sitting top the elevator gave you a bit of relief from the tightness created by the shelves of boxes. Up here you could watch the elevator cables that twisted like lifeless vines growing into the unknown. You imagined them to be beanstalks, reaching into the clouds to a place of wonder and hope. Even is it was a castle inhabited by giants, at least you would know what kind of danger lied ahead.

The longer you stared into the void above, the more restless you felt. Once comforting sounds like Erica’s snores or Robin’s newest plan echo against the cement and drag you further into the abyss. Each passing hour sews the seeds of discomfort deeper under your skin.

Pushing yourself from your thoughts and spot on the cool metal, you start pacing. Each step brings small creeks from under your feet, adding another white noise to the humming of the fluorescent lights. You keep moving as if the cog in your head won’t turn unless the rest of you is also in motion.

Steve and Robin watch your pacing from their respective spots. Robin’s crisscrossed legs allow her to more easily trace the drawings on her shoes with the tip of her finger. Steve rests his head on the bent knee he’s holding to his chest, making sure you don’t trip over his extended leg.

Every so often your gaze wanders over to Steve, only to find him already looking at you. He sends a comforting smile, blanketing you with warmth like the worn cotton sheet waiting for you on your bed. It’s familiar and soft.

“Son of a bitch”

Three sets of eyes snap to the source of the sound. A yellow and green hat sat atop a head of messy curls pops into view from inside the elevator. Dustin groans again as he tries to pull himself up. Seeing as you’re closest to the trap door, you’re the first to his aid. Steve’s just a second too slow, standing behind you ready to jump into action in case he was needed. Dustin didn’t need much of a pull, just a hand to hold, one you’re eager to give. He quickly joins the three of you, finding a spot to sit next to Robin. You and Steve squat across from the pair.

“What’s up bud? Can’t sleep?” concern is evident in your words, causing the corner of Steve’s lips to tug up. The size of your heart could be measured in small movements like this. You show your unconditional love through not only action and your time, but also your words. It comforts Dustin as well, his shoulders visibly relax. He plays with the laces of his sneakers for a beat before answering.

“I think I did for a bit, but couldn’t stay asleep. I don’t know how Erica does it. She’s snoring so loud.” you all laugh and nod, the briefest flash of normalcy before you’re all plunged back in the rough seas of reality. The once calm waves seemed to turn into a raging storm, swallowing anything foolish enough to get close. The feeling of dread nearly drowns you, but Dustin brought a lifeboat.

“If you could be anyone else, who would you be?” his question seems to be pulled from a daydream, his tone soft and sincere. The question grabs on to your heart and gives it a gentle tug. You know what he really means.

He’s asking for a distraction, for the illusion of a different scenario. Maybe you’re all sharing a booth at the diner or at a bonfire swapping fantastical stories, like at camp. His maturity and intellect often make you forget that he’s still a kid. Hell, you’re all kids. Kids who’re trapped in a secret Russian elevator, unsure and questioning what’s to come. You can’t give him an answer, you can give him a distraction.

The three musketeers, a nickname you lovingly gave you and your coworkers, are called to action. Though not as fully equipped as you’d like, ice cream scoopers in your red canvas holsters instead of swords, there’s a different way to fight your way out of this. Hope.

You stir a bit, taking a moment to reach through the filing cabinet in your mind to find the hidden answer. It had been a while since you answered the question of “what you wanna be when you grow up?” with childlike innocence. You remembered your classmates’ answers; a princess, Spider-Man, a unicorn, James Bond, a mermaid like Ariel.

“I’d be a poet. Not like someone you’d read about in English class, I’d have magic. I’d actually be good with words for once, and anything I said would be beautiful. I’d share my heart and confess the things I yearn, write in verse, and all that cool stuff. It would be filled with jokes and wit, all timed perfectly. My stories would be so wonderful I could throw them into the night sky. The stars and moon could tell my tales”

Your words hang in the air, replacing the fear with happy contemplation. The story you weaved playing out in everyone’s minds. One part sticks out to Steve, lodging itself in his mind. I’d share my heart and confess the things I yearn. Before he can dwell on your words that tumble through his mind, Robin begins to speak.

“I’d be a Viking. I’d sail away, see the world. I’d feel the wind, taste the salty sea air. Plus, how badass would it be to storm some beaches?” she chuckles at her vision. Robin cocks her head to glance at Dustin. There’s a gleam in his eyes, a flicker of hope.

“You’d probably smell like fish.” his eyes crinkle with his small poke in her airtight plan.

“A small sacrifice for a daring life” a content smirk plays her lips. Content, Dustin’s gaze falls to Steve. He shifts under the boy’s watch, realizing he’s gonna have to come up with something too. He thinks for a moment, then it comes to him.

“I guess I’d be a hero. Have a sword and some cool armor. Go on quests, ride a horse.” he shrugs, hoping that would be enough. Of course, it’s not for the ever-curious boy.

“What would your horse’s name be?” Dustin stares expectantly

“I don’t know, I didn’t think that much into it” Steve’s brows knit.

“This is your wildest dream and you don’t have a name for your noble steed?” Steve doesn’t realize how close you were till he can feel the small vibrations of your laughter.

“Alright, alright. My steed-” he emphasizes the word with a laugh and extended hands, “-would be named Rocky. Ya’know, like the boxer. ” Groans and laughter fill the air.

Hours of stress finally start to melt away with the swapped stories. The mental exhaustion finally catches up to you, and you feel your lids get heavier. Steve’s voice and body heat lure you deeper in with a sense of safety, an invitation to rest. Before you have a chance to fight it, sleep pulls you in. Your head rests against Steve’s shoulder, quiet snores pass through your barely parted lips.

Steve’s eyes fall and meet Robin’s. She gestures for him to keep talking, to keep telling a story. When she’s faced with a quizzical look, she realizes she’s gonna have to coax him on. Tell us about a quest you’d go on she mouthes, feeding him a line.

“Uh-um, I’d be a hero who helps people. I’d be fearless, bravely running into danger to protect others. I’d use my sword to defeat the monsters. I’d have cool advisors who are wiser than me, like uh, maybe a wizard or a certain Viking.” Robin and Dustin laugh at his words, though Dustin’s is much weaker, as sleep begins to soften him. He rests his head beside Robin’s lap and nods for Steve to continue.

“On one of my quests, I’d hear of a treasure in a tower. Of course, I need to check it out. I console my trusty Viking friend and prepare Rocky. I ride through fields and swamps and forests before finding the dungeon. I’d climb the tower and find the most unexpected treasure. It’s a princess, with the most enchanting smile, the biggest heart, and cunning wit. I’d try to carry her away, but she’d be too stubborn and insist on walking on their own.”

You shift more of your weight onto him as rest pulls you deeper in. He wraps an arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder, savoring the innocent closeness. Steve looks up to see Dustin’s eye almost fully closed. Whatever he’s doing, it’s working

“We’d make our way out of the tower. Standing guard would be a beast, and I’d somehow conquer it. We’d hop upon Rocky and ride off into safety. I’d get the girl. I’d take a breath, and I’d remove my helmet. We’d stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do. She’d start talking first, cause I’m never good with words. We’d speak of love, maybe share a kiss. I’d have a hero’s ending, a perfect happy ending.”

Robin grins ear to ear, internally freaking out over Steve’s subconscious confession. Every tiny detail about this dream princess were traits in the sleeping figure curled into his side. Despite her own joyous feelings, she finds a sad expression etched into Steve’s features. He’s absently mindedly rubbing your arm, seeming lost in thought.

“Hey, Harrington” she whisper-screams to him, careful not to wake you or Dustin.

“It’s not for me.” sadness drips from every word.

“What?”

“A perfect happy ending, it’s not for me” His eyes are wide, tears threatening to break his strong facade. Robin had never seen him like this, and it was jarring.

“I was a real douchebag. You remember what I was like, I know you do. And I know she does too.” He loosens his grip on you for a moment. Your nose crinkles at the loss, which is permission enough for him to tightly pull you into him.

“I’m no hero. I don’t deserve the girl and the happy ending they bring with.”

“Steve, look at me.” Robin’s words are stern even in their hushed state, and it’s enough to pull his eyes from you to her.

“You were a douchebag, I’ll give you that, but you’re so much more. We all see it. Now, that’s as mushy as I’m gonna get. Now stop moping and maybe next time confess your feelings when she’s awake.” and with that, she quiets stands and makes her way into the elevator, leaving Steve to watch over the two left sleeping atop.

There isn’t even a minute of silence before Steve hears a faint noise. He looks to find Dustin slowly sitting up, groaning as if trying to shake just enough sleep out of him to stand. He’s successful and makes his way to Steve’s side where you’re not asleep. Dustin plops himself down, obviously still groggy.

“You’re a hero to me.” His words were soft, but the meaning behind them seemed to scream to Steve. He realized he saw himself through rose-colored glasses that had been punched in. The broken glass made things disfigured. He saw only the jagged and broken, the pain and hurt. He saw the King of Hawkins High who’d do anything to keep his crown.

Maybe that wasn’t true.

Maybe it was time to take the broken lenses and make them into a kaleidoscope. A new way to look at himself. To look to the light and see something beautiful. He could look to the future and be full of hope. He’d still have room to grow, but don’t we all? If he was good enough for Dustin and the rest of the kids, maybe he was good enough for you.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fic

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pauls0n-p0rn · 4 years

Note

Mina being jealous of reader talking to another woman after she's the one who broke things off, please?

Dude when I tell you it has taken me nearly a full shift to write this 😩 I’m loving all your requests and I appreciate them as always. My sleep deprived state literally threw this together because I wanted to post something. I really hope you enjoy it and I’ll be honest I haven’t proof read it. Feedback is always welcome, wether it be good or bad, I’m still learning and can’t thank you guys enough.

Possession.

Wilhemina Venable was not one to show emotion, whether that be in public or when the two of you were in private, but watching another one of her coworkers flirt with you at your bosses party stirred a fire inside her that even she couldn’t explain.

It had been exactly three weeks since Mina cut off whatever it was you both had going on. You had invited her over for a date night, although Mina insisted it wasn’t that, and were having a heavy make out session on your couch, you didn’t mean to say it but in your slightly tipsy state you had muttered the words that made her freeze on the spot. “I love you, Mina,” and just like that she had jumped off the couch and left you alone in your home, half naked and heartbroken.

She still hadn’t found the courage to come over and talk to you, to apologise, to ramble about how stupid she was for leaving you and that she did in fact love you back. She had too much pride to wear her heart on her sleeve like that, all she could do now was watch as that bitch Alison from marketing laughed with you and touched your bicep. She could feel her face going red, her knuckles turning white from gripping her cane so tight. No one should be allowed to touch you like that, only her.

You looked across the room and saw the woman who broke your heart standing there glaring at the two of you. To everyone else in the room Venable probably looked the same as she always did, but you knew her. You could tell by the tightness of her jaw and the vein pulsing in her neck that she was beyond angry. But she had no right to be, she broke up with you! Plus you weren’t doing anything wrong, sure you weren’t pushing Alison away but you weren’t welcoming it either. Alison spoke again which pulled you out of your train of thought. “Y/N did you hear me?”

“Sorry, no. What were you saying?”

She laughed again, “I said do you wanna go somewhere a little more private?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t want to go anywhere with her. You wanted to walk up to Mina and kiss her and beg for her to take you back, but she didn’t want you and she made that very clear by ignoring you these past weeks. You nodded and took Alison’s hand as she walked you towards the closed off office area, you turned around to see if Mina was watching you and caught a hurt look on your face, you nearly let go of Alison’s hand and changed your mind. But you didn’t.

You walked into the dimly lit area and took a look around, there was no one there but the two of you, an awkward atmosphere hung in the air, you were about to tell her this was a mistake and you weren’t interested until she practically jumped on you, pushing you against a desk forcing her lips on yours. You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but her lips weren’t as soft as Mina’s. She didn’t have the same lavender smell as hers, her hands didn’t find that perfect spot on your hips like hers did.

You gently pushed her off you before explaining “Ali I’m really sorry, I just-“

“What the fuck do you both think you’re doing?!” A voice bellowed from the doorway. It was Wilhemina, and she was far from happy.

“Do you really think this is appropriate? Fooling in here like a bunch of school girls? Alison, get out of my sight. I need a word with Y/N alone.” Alison went to lean in to give you a kiss on the cheek until the bang of Venable’s cane on the floor forced her to jump back. She quickly scurried out of the room and left you both to it.

You wanted the ground to swallow you up, you felt like a child who had just been caught messing with her mother’s makeup. You opened your mouth to speak but no words would come out, glancing up at Mina you saw the tears in her eyes and your heart began to break.

“Really Y/N? Do you have any respect for me at all?! Running off with the first woman who shows you an ounce of attention. Are you really that desperate?” She scoffed.

“Excuse me?! Who do you think you are? YOU ended things between us, you’re the one who called it off! You’re the one who wouldn’t return my calls, you wouldn’t look at me. You treat me like absolute shit! You left me on my couch heartbroken all because you’re too fucking scared to admit your feelings for me.” Venable literally took a step back at your outburst, she opened her mouth to speak again but you interrupted her. “I’ve done nothing but be respectful to you. I kept quiet about our relationship, I worshiped the ground you walked on. I turned a blind eye when I saw all these women flirt with you at events while we were together. I fucking loved you with every ounce of my being and it still wasn’t enough for you. I love you. I love you so much it hurts, and yeah I shouldn’t of given Alison the time of day but where were you?! Hiding away from your feelings like you always do. I can’t win! You don’t want to be with me but you don’t want me to be with anyone else. How is that fair?!” Tears were falling down your face, you were embarrassed to let you see you like this but you didn’t care anymore.

“Y/N.. baby.” She lightly tilted your chin so you were making eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’ve never had with someone what I have with you, and it fucking scares me. I shouldn’t of let it get in the middle of us. I-“

“Don’t say it unless you mean it, Mina. My heart can’t take it.”

She gently backed you into the desk and kissed you greedily. Hands making their way into your hair to pull you closer than you thought was possible. You both pulled away breathless.

“I love you too.” She smiled. “But if you ever, ever, give anyone that attention again other than me,” she yanked your head back as you moaned, “You’ll regret it.”

#american horror story #sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson x reader #oh god #this is so shit #probably the worst i’ve written #but please enjoy

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

prompt #5: hallmark-esque returning to hometown after years [ao3]

Jenna Cameron had no intention of seeing Liz Ortecho again.

They’d met in a college town in 2010‒Jenna was on leave and Liz was stressed over finals and they were both looking for a distraction. They’d talked for too many hours in a bar that didn’t say anything about their underaged patrons and had stumbled out a little drunk and a little handsy. They hooked up in Liz’s dorm and Jenna stayed the night. They ate breakfast together, talked, laughed, spoke vaguely about staying in touch, hooked up one more time before Jenna had to get ready. She had a plane to catch.

They didn’t stay in touch. There were too many reasons that they couldn’t, too many life things. Jenna was focused on taking care of her sister and hating the men she was surrounded by. When she finally got out of the military, she bounced around for a while to find somewhere that felt right and she ended up landing in a small town called Roswell, New Mexico.

Her coworkers were nice and the townspeople weren’t bad if you ignored most of them. It was fine, for now. She could have fun hooking up with the broad shouldered deputy and she had the time to teach herself how to knit half a sock that was too big for any living human and she finished a book for the first time in nearly a decade. It was fine for now. It was like she was waiting for the reason she felt this was a good stopping point, waiting for something to happen that would make it make sense.

And then she saw Liz Ortecho.

“License and registration?”

“Oh, this is bullshit. It’s the middle of the night and there is no reason for this unless you’re searching for a goddamn murderer that might be running, so, tell me, are you? Do you think I have a murderer in my car, hidden under a blanket in the backseat? Are you going to search? Or do you just see someone who isn’t white as a sheet and think‒”

“Liz?” Jenna asked. Liz froze as she blinked with the light in her eyes, so Jenna turned the flashlight to face the ground.

She didn’t actually expect Liz to remember her. Hell, she hadn’t expected to remember Liz. There was no reason for her to remember a one night stand, regardless of how charming she was. Jenna thought of her more often than she should when she knew she would never see her again. But here she was, somehow in the same small town eight years after they’d met.

“Jenna?” Liz asked, her eyes widening as recognition set in. Something twisted in her gut at the fact that Liz remembered her. Liz was memorable, sure, but Jenna? She’d never felt memorable a day in her life.

And yet…

“What are you doing here?” Jenna asked at the same time Liz said, “Why the hell are you a cop?”

“I’m, I’m visiting my dad. I grew up here,” Liz said. Jenna almost laughed. Of all the places to feel like a temporary stopping place, of course it would be the hometown of a girl she hadn’t been able to forget even after all these years. “Your turn, since when the hell were you planning to become a cop? I thought you hated the whole military environment, why would you go to the next closest thing?”

And all Jenna could think was she remembered something I didn’t like.

“Life, I guess,” Jenna offered in lieu of childish awe, “It was easy. Something I can do for now.”

“For now,” Liz repeated. It wasn’t a question. Just… for now. Not forever. “So, uh, are-are you gonna search my car or whatever?”

“No, no, you go. Go see your dad,” Jenna said. She couldn’t actually remember if she checked her license and registration. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah, okay, uh, was nice seeing you again,” Liz said, giving a small smile and a nod.

“You too.”

Liz looked forward and put her car back in drive, but she barely moved a centimeter before she slammed on her breaks again and looked over to Jenna with that familiar look in her eye. God, it was familiar. How could something she hadn’t seen in eight years feel so familiar?

“My dad owns the Crashdown,” she stated. Jenna’s eyebrows raised a little.

“That’s where I get breakfast,” she admitted. Liz smiled.

“Then maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You will.”

Liz drove off for real that time and it left Jenna frozen in her place. And it seems, just like it was for the last eight years, her thoughts were consumed with Liz Ortecho. Just, now, it was something within reach.

Because Liz Ortecho had come home and Jenna was, for some reason, already waiting.

Jenna Cameron had never been known for her restraint.

Quite the opposite, actually. She was impulsive and, while she never quite considered herself to have vices, she also never deprived herself. She was never irresponsible or stupid, but she understood humans had only so much time before they died and it was over. Why not chase after things that were good and do risky things that were always worth it?

It was how she ended up at nearly midnight, walking past the Crashdown.

There was no reason for Liz to still be awake and there was no reason for Jenna to be strolling past, but Liz was and Jenna was. She looked through the window and Liz was just dancing, enjoying herself, because what else did pretty girls do if not dance like no one was watching? Wasn’t that a saying for a reason?

It was stupid and entirely built on some memory of kissing soft thighs while Liz giggled through her explanation of chemical compounds, but Jenna found herself knocking on the door with the confidence of a man who had never been told ‘no’ in his life. Liz jumped and turned her head, clearly startled. Jenna just gave her kindest smile. She had no idea what she was going to say to her. ‘How have you been’ sounded too hollow, while ‘I’ve been thinking about you every day for eight years’ felt too full.

“Hi,” Liz said, a soft smile replacing her shock as she unlocked the door, “Funny meeting you here.”

“I felt like we got off on the wrong foot,” Jenna said, “Wasn’t exactly the best way to see you again after all this time.”

“Yeah, officer,” Liz laughed, “Maybe you shouldn’t have checkpoints.”

“They’re routine.”

“They’re pointless,” Liz corrected, still giving her that smile that told Jenna everything she thought about it. Jenna just nodded. She couldn’t disagree.

“But I wouldn’t have known you were back in town, so maybe they aren’t completely pointless,” Jenna said. Liz gave a playful glare up at her.

“We get it, Jenna, you’re charming. This isn’t news,” she said. Jenna laughed, looking around. It looked different at night. Picturesque, almost. Perfect place to be standing across from a girl she’d missed for no reason. “So, can I get you anything?”

“Aren’t you already closed?”

“I can make an exception for you,” Liz offered. Jenna smiled easily, biting the inside of her cheek slightly as she looked at her. She’d somehow, miraculously, gotten more gorgeous since the first time they’d met. She didn’t know that was possible. “I’ll make you a shake, give me a few minutes.”

Liz hopped around to the other side of the counter, stealing glances over at Jenna as if she thought she was going to disappear. She had no intention to as she sat down on a barstool and leaned forward against the counter.

“What have you been up to?” Jenna asked, eager to keep the conversation going. Liz looked up at her a little wistfully.

“I was working on a study, boring biomedical research. It was for regenerative medicine so I could eventually start targeting more chronic illnesses and making them at the very least bearable, but our funding got pulled and I guess it just seemed like a good time to come home,” Liz said, shrugging.

“It’s not boring,” Jenna insisted. Liz smiled just a little. “I may not understand it, but it’s not boring. Besides, my sister does something like that. But I’m sorry your funding got pulled.”

“It’s fine,” Liz said, shrugging her shoulder, “Life happens. Just gotta roll with the punches.”

“Doesn’t make it suck less.”

“That’s true,” Liz laughed, bobbing her head to a song that was playing faintly from the jukebox, “I didn’t know your sister was into science.”

“She’s a genetic engineer,” Jenna filled in. She left out the part where she got in trouble for whistleblowing. That seemed a little too heavy for a second meeting. Still, Liz’s face lit up.

“Seriously? Does she live around here?”

“No, she’s still in the military,” Jenna said. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Well, if she’s ever in town, let me know. I love hearing new perspectives,” she said. Jenna nodded. She didn’t actually know how she’d handle her sister and Liz talking about smart things she didn’t quite understand past a very, very basic level. It might cause too much fondness for her to handle.

“Sounds like you intend to actually stay in touch this time,” Jenna teased. Liz whipped around and pointed a spoon at her, a playful glare on her face.

“You didn’t keep in touch either.”

“I was in the military.”

“All the more reason for you to tell me where to send letters too. I could’ve written really long, obnoxious love letters and sent, like, boudoir pictures to make everyone you worked with jealous,” Liz said. Jenna laughed and leaned into the counter more.

“You could do that now, though I don’t know how that’d fair in a police station.”

“Fuck police stations,” Liz said simply. Jenna rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh. When Liz turned to her again, she gave her a very exaggerated smile as she batted her eyelashes. “Sorry, Officer, forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” Jenna said easily. Liz dissolved into laughter as she finished up the shake and placed it on the counter. “You’re something else.”

“Something good, I hope,” she said. Jenna nodded as she watched Liz push a straw into the drink and push it Jenna’s way.

“Very good.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Liz teased. Jenna took a sip of the shake and nodded her approval. Liz’s smile widened. “I still got it.”

She hopped up a little more and leaned over, her lips closing over the straw that Jenna’s had just been on. Then she looked up through her eyelashes and… She knew exactly what she was doing. Jenna shook her head just a little.

“Yeah,” Liz said, falling back to her feet, “I still got it.”

They stared for a long time. It felt like they were 20 again, back in that shitty college bar and drinking when they shouldn’t. Jenna’s heart picked up speed as if preparing to be tugged upstairs to prove that she’d gotten better in the eight years between them.

“I still can’t believe you’re a cop,” Liz said softly, “Didn’t you want to do something better? I feel like you said you wanted to do something better.”

Jenna shrugged. “I’m 28 and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.”

“That’s fair,” Liz said, “Not many people do.”

“You do.”

“I got lucky.”

They fell into silence again, just staring. The jukebox shifted songs again and a song she couldn’t quite remember the name of started playing. It was nostalgic in a way where the exact memory didn’t come to her, but it just made her feel young.

“I haven’t heard this song in forever,” Jenna said. Liz smiled, but it wasn’t that big, bright one she’d been giving all night. This one was just a bit more bittersweet.

“It was one of my sister’s favorites,” Liz said, tapping the counter, “I pretty much liked anything she liked, so I sort of have this one memorized.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She, uh,” Liz said, eyes drifting around a bit before meeting Jenna’s again, “She died when she was 19. Driving while drunk. Or high, or whatever.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jenna said, empathy pulsing through her. She was already struggling as it was and her sister wasn’t even gone forever. She was just in jail for something fucking stupid. She couldn’t imagine losing her like that.

But Liz just shook her head and smiled. “It’s alright. I’ve had a decade to mourn.”

“Yeah, but grief doesn’t go away,” Jenna said. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say in the moment and it sure as hell wasn’t going to get her laid, but it was honest. She’d lost people and grief never really faded. It just got a little bit easier to manage, a little bit easier to work it into your day to day life.

Liz seemed to know that very well.

She licked her lips, fingertips grazing the counter as she walked back around to the other side. Jenna smiled softly as she hopped into the barstool beside her. Liz nudged her shoulder into hers.

“I used to wonder what would happen if I ever saw you again,” Liz admitted, “I didn’t expect it to be here.”

“Me too,” Jenna agreed, “To both.”

Liz tapped against the counter and then leaned closer against. Jenna took a sip of the shake before turning the straw to Liz. She took a sip and looked up to Jenna, staring for a minute. Jenna was pretty sure she could enjoy Liz staring at her for the rest of her life.

The first time they met, they had been exactly what the other needed. Something light, something new, something fun. Tonight, Jenna was beginning to wonder if they’d met again at the right time to be what the other needed‒a new start when they felt a little lost.

Liz leaned a bit closer and Jenna tilted her head down to match.

“If I kiss you now, am I moving too fast?” Liz asked.

“Technically you’ve been stringing me along for eight years,” Jenna responded. Liz smiled wide and then moved up for a kiss.

And they kissed.

And then there were gunshots.

#camecho #camecho fic #liz ortecho #jenna cameron #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #my fic #my prompts for lesser ships

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