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myherowritings · 3 years

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PART 6. FUCK THE RICH, STEAL THEIR CANDY

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji...ew, some judgmental rich people, just a little bit of sexual tension and suggestive content to prep for the next part ;3

A/N. gala time omg let’s gooooo writing this made me 100% ready to fight rich ppl fjhjkgf and want to give shouto all the kisses ;p i hope you enjoy and tysm for reading!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

The only thing you hoped for this past week was for Shouto not to regret the events that happened in the dressing room. (Or, more precisely, the events that didn’t happen because of an interruption but you both had very much wanted to happen at the time.)

(Or so you hoped he did. It seemed like he did…)

You groaned, burrowing your face in your pillows after flopping back onto your bed after a shower. Why was this so confusing?

It wasn’t like Shouto was ignoring you or pretending nothing happened, but he’s just been so busy with work neither of you had time to sit down and really talk. You briefly got to see him for his daily morning coffee runs but you didn’t want to accidentally ruin what little time throughout the work week the two of you had by bringing it up. And now it was the weekend, which would have been the perfect time to talk about it, if not for the fact Shouto was picking you up to get ready at his place and then head to a super fancy gala in less than an hour!

With a charity ball full of strangers you had to prepare for, you supposed your potential romance could take the back seat for a little while longer.

At least the fruity little candies would be there waiting for you.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Shouto telling you he was less than 20 minutes away from your place. Within the last few minutes, you double checked you had the necessities, like your makeup and clothes and hair supplies and shoes and possibly every ‘getting ready’ product you could think of under the sun, all ready to go. Your dress was already hanging in Shouto’s house, ready for you to change into.

Apparently, there wasn’t a moment left to spare since you soon got a call with him telling you he had just arrived. Taking deep breaths, you walked out your door, lugging your bag of belongings in tow.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Shouto greeted as you settled into his car. He smiled as you reached over to give him a quick side hug. He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Nervous about tonight?”

You tried to calm the tapping your fingers were doing against the inside of the car door. “Is it obvious?”

“Not really,” he assured. “Regardless, you shouldn’t worry. You’ll be an amazing date and we don’t even need to stay the whole time if you would rather not.”

Amazing date date? Or amazing fake date?

Would it be too forward of you to ask? (Not that anything could’ve been more forward than Shouto pinning you against a wall and almost kissing you just a few days ago.)

“You’re right, it’ll be fine!” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “After all, you’ll be there.”

A smile. “Hm.”

It didn’t take very long for you to get from your place to his seeing as he lived relatively close to his work and therefore yours. He parked in front of a luxury high-rise apartment that was characterized by glass windows and angled architecture. It looked like something straight out of Portfolio Magazine.

“All those ‘Japan’s Youngest CEO Bachelor’ tabloids are starting to make sense now,” you said with a teasing whistle, following Shouto into the building after being greeted by the security guards and receptionist.

He held his hand out to you and you placed yours in his palm as he led you to the VIP elevator that brought you all the way up to the top floor. His hand gave yours a soft squeeze when he noticed your gaze darting around the area nervously.

When the elevator doors opened, your eyes widened as you took in the ceramic floor tiles, the spotless walls, floor-to-ceiling mirror columns, and the natural light pouring in through the bare, glass windows. “Whoa— This looks like a wealthy bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one.”

Letting go of your hand, Shouto offered to take your bag of belongings and brought it to a room for you to get ready in. “Do you...not like it?”

“Oh, that’s not it at all!” You shook your head earnestly. “This place is so beautiful! And a little cold.”

Both literally and metaphorically.

His penthouse was elegant and sleek, with tasteful decor that probably cost more than a month’s salary for you. But it seemed a little...empty. Not like a home.

Apparently, Shouto agreed.

“I live here because it’s close to work. But it’s a little unwelcoming,” he admitted wryly. “Not something I ever really settled into. Though my mother and sister did try to help decorate.”

You looked at the finely chosen contemporary paintings displayed on some of the walls. “They have good eyes.”

Shouto nodded but appeared to be in pensive thought. “If I were to ever settle down with a family, it wouldn’t be here. But this is what’s most suitable for now.”

Running your fingers against the cold glass windows, you peered down into the city in an attempt to calm your fluttering heart having just learned Shouto valued having a family in the future. Something in you just liked hearing he one day wanted to settle down with someone. You bit your lower lip to stop a hopeful smile from spreading.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great husband and father when the day comes,” you said quietly, still gazing out the window to avoid looking into his eyes. “But, um, anyway— I should start getting ready now! Don’t want us to be late for tonight.”

His hand that was reaching out to hold you suddenly dropped to his side as he stepped away at your words. “Of course.”

You silently cursed yourself under your breath, wishing you had waited a few moments to talk so you could’ve seen what he was going to do. Would he have tried to kiss you again? You hoped that was the case, but it was too late to know for sure now.

“You can get ready in here,” said Shouto, opening the door to what looked like a guest bedroom, your dress hanging on an armoire inside. “There’s your dress. And the bathroom is right there if you need it.”

“Thank you, Shouto.” You resisted the urge to plop right on the huge bed and jump on it while he was in the room. “I’ll try to be quick!”

“No need to rush; we have time.” He checked the watch on his wrist before turning to you. “I’ll be in the shower for a bit but if you need anything just let me know.”

In the shower? While you were under the same roof? Your stomach did funny flips at the thought.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” you said playfully, glancing over at the dress. You’d need his assistance sooner or later buttoning the dress up, but there was sadly no time for funny business if you wanted to make it to the gala in a timely manner.

When Shouto left the room to take a shower, you began getting ready yourself. You did your hair and makeup in a way that made you feel confident and happy, and by the time you were done about two hours had passed. All you had left was to change into the dress and throw on some fancy shoes and you’d be set with time to spare.

You were just wondering if Shouto was almost ready when you heard a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil. Or angel. He was much too sweet to be the devil, after all.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked, voice muffled from the outside of the wall.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah! Just putting on the dress now.”

There was a shuffle outside then a pause. Then, “Did you want any help?”

“Yes, please.” You slipped into your outfit and pulled the front over your chest. The fabric was light against your body, making it feel almost ethereal.

After a while, Shouto cautiously opened the door to the room and you turned to catch sight of him. He was dressed up in a fitted black suit with silky red trimmings and a tie that matched the color of your dress. His hair was combed back and to the side, pulled out of his face and giving you a clear view of his forehead. That was one pretty forehead.

All in all, he looked as handsome as ever, but with some extra pizzazz.

“You look great,” you both said at the same time.

There was a beat of silence, then you both laughed.

“I’m only half in my dress and I’m sure I look a bit unruly, but thank you,” you giggled as Shouto walked over to grasp at the fastens on the back of your gown.

He shook his head. “You look beautiful like you always do. The dress just helps compliment it even more.”

His words brought warmth to your cheeks and you were glad you were faced away from him so he couldn’t see your all too pleased expression. “Smooth talker much?”

“Not flattery. Just the truth.”

Your smile grew even wider. “Hm.”

Shouto nimbly fastened the buttons on your back, cold fingertips lightly grazing your skin in ways that sent shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes and hoped that was only a phrase and that he couldn’t actually tell how much your body was affected from such a simple touch by sensing shivers in your spine.

You held your breath as he travelled up your back, skin sparking against skin. Time seemed to slow down as he closed the last few buttons.

“Finished,” he said quietly, though his hands didn’t move from their position on you.

Turning around, you caught his palms in yours, lightly stroking his knuckles with your thumb. Shouto looked down at your hands joined together then back at you.

You murmured, “Thanks for your assistance.”

The tips of your noses were almost brushing together as you stared up at him. If either one of you were to lean forward a few centimeters more, your lips would be touching. Just like in the fitting room last weekend.

And just like in the fitting room, Shouto’s hands encircled your waist and toyed with the buttons on your dress while you tugged at his color.

But just like in the fitting room, there was an interruption mere seconds before the kiss. It’s just that, this time, the interruption was from you.

“Wait! I have makeup on!” you cried, pulling away in despite the dissatisfaction you knew the both of you were feeling. “If we kiss it might get messed up and I’ll have to redo it and then we’ll be late to the gala.”

He made deep a sound of frustration. “Fuck the gala.”

You wanted to. In this very moment, you would much rather ditch the gala and fuck something else, but you had to remain somewhat rational. “But we made a commitment to show up, didn’t we?”

Shouto looked down like he had just been chided. “We did.”

“Plus… The candy!”

He blinked before a grin took over his face. He chuckled, “Of course. Can’t forget the greatest candy heist of the year.”

“Exactly!”

His smile was amused but his hands rested intimately on your hips. “Besides, you put in effort to get ready for tonight, it’d be a disservice to keep you from showing it off.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment as you let out a laugh. “Flatterer,” you accused, though your tone had no bite to it. Instead, it was teasing as you brought your palm up to cup his jaw. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to be late, hmm?”

“Mm.”

“But first—” You planted a kiss on his cheek, giving him just a small hint of what could come later that night. When you pulled away, there was a lipstick mark in the shape of your lips where his jawline met his cheek an you smiled, satisfied with your work.

His grip on you tightened as his gaze turned hooded. “If I’m a flatterer, you’re being a tease.”

“Sounds like a good combination to me.”

— ✩ —

Oddly enough, the Naruhata Charity Gala was going quite well.

The food was yummy, there were cute places for you and Shouto to sneak off and take obnoxious selfies, and—most importantly—there were bowls of free candies scattered throughout the entire premise.

A whole building was rented out for the charity ball to be held and the venue even had an outdoor pool and with complimentary champagne (not that anyone was exactly prepared to take a dip in the middle of the night, but the only thing that mattered to the guests was that you could).

Both of you were having fun.

You met some of Shouto’s friends, got complimented by the DJ for your...enthusiastic dance skills on the dance floor, and, for most of the night, Shouto was successful in avoiding making conversation with his father.

Things were going well. Until they weren’t.

You and Shouto were standing in a hallway just outside the main ballroom, exchanging jokes and talking about how many crabcakes a person could fit in their mouth. Totally business as usual, until you heard a group of people whispering only mere feet away from you.

“Are you sure that’s them?” a woman in a red dress whispered—and you used that term rather subjectively since the whisper could be heard by practically half the room—as she glanced at you.

Seeing their gazes, you froze in your spot. Shouto must have heard them to since his brows furrowed as he held you closer to him, protectively.

“And you really heard them, right? Mr. Todoroki has a… You know…”

Another girl who you recognized as another customer from the dress store the other day nodded her head. “Yes, I overheard it with my own two ears when I was getting my outfit. That’s Mr. Todoroki and his sugar baby!”

You almost choked on your crabcake.

Shouto rubbed circles into your back. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said sheepishly, trying not to draw even more attention to yourself than there already was. On the plus side, at least more people would notice how hot you look in this dress with your hair and makeup done. (Though it might be for the wrong reasons…)

You vaguely recalled teasing Shouto about looking like a sugar daddy, and he joked back. But you didn’t think anyone would want to gossip enough to overhear a joke and spread it around as a rumor!

The group began chattering some more and seemed to gain a crowd. You even saw a large figure you recognized as Todoroki Enji walking towards you.

“I’m going to have to clear things up, aren’t I?”

Shouto shook his head, a frown present on his face. But you knew his displeasure wasn’t directed at you. “You don’t need to pay attention to this nonsense. People can think what they want.”

“It’s okay! I don’t want to ruin your reputation with the media when I was initially here to help it get better. Besides, they don’t seem to be doing it maliciously. They’re just curious.”

He looked at you, but before he could think of the words to say, you walked over to the group of gossiping partygoers.

You tapped on the shoulder of the one you saw at the store. “Hi! Excuse me…” All eyes turned to you and you tried not to shrink down. “I, ah, I know what you overheard that day at the dress retailers, but I just wanted to clear it up and say it was a joke! Funny right? Well, maybe not so funny to you guys, but it was just an inside joke between me and Shouto.” You laughed, growing nervous at the lack of response. “You see, I’m not actually his sugar—”

Just then, a booming voice interrupted, “Shouto! What are you thinking, son?”

You almost jumped at the sound and turned towards the direction of your date. As you whirled around, you made eye contact with him. Shouto had a furious expression on his face, but when his gaze met yours he tried giving you a comforting smile. Seeing his distress, you immediately made your way back to him.

“A nice woman to boost your media image,” Enji whispered, trying to lead his son to a less crowded area, probably so no one else would overhear or spread more rumors. “That’s all I asked for. Not a…a…you know!”

Was it a criterion that rich people must not know how to whisper? you asked yourself. Either, one, no one was actually trying to whisper, or two, they could not control their volume very well.

“Actually,” you spoke up from behind him. When Enji turned to look at you, you gave him a wave before walking over to Shouto’s side. “I’m not his sugar baby. But even if I were, what’s it to you?”

There was a hush of silence that settled around the room and you almost had to laugh at how comical it was.

“As long as it’s an agreement between two consenting adults, there’s nothing wrong with it,” you said, hoping it didn’t just go in one of his ears and out the other. “You could think of it as like a business deal, but...with more of a relationship aspect.”

Enji’s face turned a shade of red. “That’s not the sort of people someone with Shouto’s upbringing should hang around with. I don’t know how you were raised, but—”

“Stop it, father.” Shouto’s voice was angry as he clenched his jaw. But his arm was wrapped around your waist. You gently squeezed his hand with yours. “You don’t get to make assumptions about Y/N without ever even talking to them.”

“Shouto,” he said in a warning tone when he noticed more and more people were paying attention to them. This didn’t exactly seem like the attention he wanted. “We can talk about this later.”

Shouto frowned. “There’s nothing to talk about. All you have to do is say sorry to Y/N and then we can leave.” He turned around to the crowd trying to pretend they weren’t listening in. “And everyone else, you can stop eavesdropping.”

They look startled at the forward confrontation and you stifled a giggle, leaning into your date with a smile.

He gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before murmuring under his breath, “Everyone attending a charity gala just to brag about how generous they are but then turning around to judge everyone who might not be in the same circle as them? How shameless.”

Although it seemed like he was whispering it, your hypothesis that rich people really didn’t know how to whisper was right, since it was loud enough for the whole room to hear. Not that you or Shouto seemed to mind.

“You know, if you’re not going to apologize to Y/N, there’s no reason we should stay any longer,” he told his dad as a stiff goodbye.

You nodded in agreement before taking a handful of candy from a nearby bowl. “Well, now there’s no reason to stay.”

Spinning on your heel, the two of you headed for the exit, somehow not caring but all too aware of the eyes on you at the same time. Before reaching the door, Shouto grabbed two bowls of candy in the reception area and walked out the door with it, everyone too stunned to say anything about it. You walked into the parking lot smothering fits of laughter the whole way, still in disbelief about the events that had just occurred.

“For you,” said Shouto as the two of you reached his car, still carrying the candy in his arms.

You choked out a laugh at the audacity of it all. He even took the bowls? The candies were free for the guests, but you weren’t so sure the bowls were. “I… Thanks, Shouto. I’m never going to run out of these candies now!”

“Hm,” was the approving noise he made.

When you both got into his car, he looked at you before turning the engine on. Now that the adrenaline had passed, he had a much more solemn expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding apologetic, “I’m really sorry about my dad. And about the gossip. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t too bad, and none of it was your fault! Besides,” you said, giving his hand on the gear shift a squeeze. After pulling out of the parking spot, he let go of the stick and interlocked his fingers with yours. “I had the best date ever to make up for it.”

“I have to disagree with that because I think I was the one with the best date.” Shouto smiled playfully, squeezing your hand in his.

“Agree to disagree, then.”

He chuckled and you grinned. Tonight was going great until the last hour’s mishap, and while it was uncomfortable and disheartening to hear gossip about you from people who were supposed to be sophisticated, grown adults, you weren’t lying when you told Shouto he was enough to make up for all that bullshit. You were grateful for him standing up for you and basically saying fuck rich people and charity galas in front of them all.

Oh, and for getting you enough candy to last you at least a few months, of course.

He really was the best date ever.

As Shouto signaled to get out of the structure, he asked, “Now, should I take you back to your home or…?”

You shook your head, already knowing where he was going with this (and very much liking it). “Hmm,” you drawled, pretending to think about it. “How about we go back to your place to finally finish what we started?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

In all honesty, you were quite surprised yourself that you asked. But, damn, would you be glad you did.

a/n: woOO EAT THE RICH STEAL THEIR CANDY STEAL THEIR BOWLS HGFJKS, i’m already so in love with shouto but i have fallen in love with one (1) rich boy even more :3

what to expect in the next part:

yes. it’s time for u know what ;)

y/n and shouto finally……high five <3

jkjk

THE NEXT PART IS THE FINAL PART AND YOU WILL SEE WHY THIS SERIES OVERALL HAD TO BE 18+ KSKKFG

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adorehs · 4 years

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undercover

Hello! Welcome to a very chaotic story.. I really cannot accurately describe all that happens. Heavy influences from Quantico which I have been watching and the American Assassin series which I have began reading.

For @majorharry‘s #majorharry20k with the following prompts: “Should–should we kiss?” (6) and “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” (30)

Summary: FBI!Harry and Y/N work together to solve a crime and romance ensues. Enemies to lovers if you squint. (6k words)

Warnings: violence, smut (unprotected), mentions of death, use of alcohol, there is a lot happening

The gun felt cool against your skin which juxtaposed your body which was coated in a light layer of sweat. You were hyper aware of its presence under your dress, along with the wig on your head and the colored contacts you wore, making you feel entirely uncomfortable for the simple assignment you were given.

You sat in the backseat of a government SUV, eyeing the dashboard monitor at the front of the car. It’s view showed multiple angles of the casino you and your partner Harry were headed to. You watched as various members were let in under what seemed to be a heavily guarded building.

You glanced to your right to see Harry reading over his new persona, mouthing certain phrases to himself as he folded the alias card into a black handkerchief, tucking it into his suit pocket.

The two of you and your analyst Mitch were briefed on the mission a few hours earlier. There was a man and a woman, siblings, who were believed to have bombed a casino in London earlier that week. Now, you and a team were set to find and detain both siblings, along with disarming the bomb before it is too late.

“Bellagio’s guest list for nights like this is pretty exclusive but they recently had some people added so we should be able to get by just fine but play off me if need be,” Harry spoke with a gruff voice, adjusting his collar to ensure his communication device was hidden properly.

You defensively shifted towards Harry, “I know my alias,” you stopped to wrap your radio harness tighter around the wire of your bra to hide it’s bulk, adjusting the receiver in your ear you continued, “I was supposed to use it last mission but I didn’t need to.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Okay, no need to get defensive.”

You look at him one last time before eyeing the camera footage at the font of the car again. You see a skip in the footage and scoot forward in your chair, “How do you rewind this?”

Mitch meets your eyes in the rear view mirror, “You have to call back to the cyber ops, we can’t do it from here.”

You nod, testing to see if your comm was working before asking the same question, prompting the security team on your case to rewind the footage. “There!” you point out, asking them to go back and pause it again, “There’s a cut,” you decide after seeing a frame by frame replay.

“No camera has him after that. It can’t be a blind spot, he just disappeared,” Harry agrees.

“Someone was probably waiting in a blind spot to take him,” Mitch informs, “They're five to ten feet, there is enough room.”

Having the camera back in current time, you watch as a cab pulls through one screen and stops before it reaches the next camera's sight, “So do you think that's them? Picking up whoever that was?” you ask, looking at Harry.

He sighs heavily, “Probably,” he hesitated. He didn’t want to have to follow the cab, “We can call someone to trace the cab though, right? So we still make sure shits good at the casino,” he replied.

Mitch slows to a stop as he approaches a stop sign, “Ask them to get their license number from another camera and find out who drives that cab,” he suggests, “Then whoever follows them can see what's going on.”

You nod, relaying the information to the analyst team assisting you all on the case. Your eyes follow the monitor as you watch the cab leave the building with an excessive roar of their engine. A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, “Why was that so loud? Wouldn’t that draw more attention to themselves?”

Harry sucked his teeth as he racked his brain for a logical answer, “It would,” he agreed, “Maybe it’s to derive our attention.”

You shrug lightly, “That could be it. We definitely need to get more people out here just in case, though,” you agree.

“It could go both ways,” Mitch reminds you, “They could be a step ahead, knowing how we think, and really be escaping and we would be too naive to realize.”

“This is so confusing,” you whine, “Why can’t they just pull a stunt we already know.”

Harry’s lips tug upward into a smirk, “We don’t have to know what they’re planning, we just need enough people to be ready no matter what,” he reminds you.

You open your mouth to reply but a noise in your earpiece stops you. “They’re headed south on Las Vegas Freeway,” someone comments, “Be ready to follow through once they stop.”

You and Harry approach Bellagio, arms linked. It wasn’t the original plan, but Mitch said it would be easier to go in together rather than to be seen leaving the same car fifteen minutes apart in a crowded area.

You both approach the bouncer, Harry giving the buff man his alias, “Oliver Irvine,” he speaks casually. The bouncer's gaze moves to you with an unimpressed gaze, “Maggie Greene, but also my plus one,” Harry speaks again. The man glances at the door and back at you with a grunt. You sigh softly, leaning closer to Harry while also shrugging your arm up to make your breasts look more pronounced, “We know the Russell’s,” you mention the siblings. You watch in amusement as his eyes widen slightly, panic visible on his face.

The bouncer’s face scrunches up in confusion, “We’re visiting from London,” Harry helps him remember your names.

He clears his throat, “Of course, I remember them mentioning Irvine now,” he nods at Harry. You bite your lip softly in attempts to keep yourself from laughing, “Head in,” he sidesteps and you wink at him whispering a soft thank you, making him smile slightly like a schoolboy.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and you let go of Harry’s arm. You make a beeline for the bar and immediately ask for a pale ale. The bartender eyes you up and down before returning slightly after with your beer. You thank him softly and look around the club, sucking your teeth with distaste at the bitter substance. You hate beer but you need to encompass Maggie Greene and Maggie likes beer.

You spot a man looking at you and you smile at him, giving him permission to come up to you. He approaches you with a smirk, “Hey, I’m Rob.”

You twist the hair from your wig around your finger carefully and you lean forward giving him a face full of cleavage, “Nice to meet you Rob, I’m Maggie.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You look down at your full beer and lift it slightly so he sees before laughing at him, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

He laughed back and with a stutter replies, “Yeah, I figured,” he paused. Looking at your eyes, you silently hope he can’t tell they’re not your natural color because of the dim lit building. “Sorry, I just don’t know how I haven’t seen you here before, I come here every few nights,” he explains.

You perk up at that, he probably knows someone, you think to yourself. “No, I’m new, I came with my boyfriend.”

He nods with his head down and a chuckle, clearly disappointed, “And who’s that?”

“Oliver,” you say simply, pointing at Harry who is talking to a guy towards the back of the crowd, “How come you’re here so often,” you counter.

“The owner is a friend of a friend,” he smiles, lifting his hand to meet yours. He takes the drink out of your hand and sets it down on the bar before speaking, “They’re coming later today, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“Oh cool!” you feign enthusiasm. You're beginning to regret speaking to him. The more you talk, the faster he seems to go. “Who are they? Oliver was telling me about some of the regulars he met last time,” you trail off in hopes of getting something.

“My friend? Her name’s Jazzy. Jazzy Russells,” he tells you, “Heard of ‘er?”

You shake your head lightly trying to suppress a smile, “No, but I’d love to meet her,” you send him a lipstick sweet smile. You pick up your beer with a slight tilt towards your body spilling it along the hem of your dress “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “I need to freshen up. Would you mind holding my drink?” you ask with no intent of drinking anymore.

He smiles at you and nods, allowing you to rush to find a secluded area. You find a nook next to the bathroom where an occasional straggler looks near. You put your phone up to your ear so it looks more natural and press the button on your comm to speak directly to your team.

“A found a guy who said he’s meeting Jazmyn later today,” you speak in a hushed voice, “Said he’d introduce me,” you tell them.

“Great,” you hear on the other end, “Can you get Styles in with you?” they ask.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay. Styles meet Y/L/N and devise a plan,” they conclude.

You nod slightly in confirmation, texting Harry to meet you near the women's room.

When he arrives in a haste, he has a light lipstick stain on the apple of his cheek and smells strongly of a woman’s perfume- his own scent masked heavily. “Jesus, Harry, did ya smother her?” you ask, licking your thumb and attempting to smudge the lipstick off before deciding it’s no use. You sigh, “Go wipe it off in the bathroom, you look ridiculous.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, “Why’d ya do that?” he asks, using his handkerchief to wife off the lipstick and your spit, making sure to keep his alias card hidden.

“Because I told that creep I was talking to that you were my boyfriend so he wouldn’t try anything,” you whisper harshly as you see a woman approaching the bathroom.

His lips upturned forming a smirk, “I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t like you, you just need an in,” you remind him. “Seems like I’m the only one doing any work of value,” you complain, “By the way, that perfume? Doesn’t suit you.”

Harry groaned, “I ran into a drunk girl on my way here, she threw herself on me and kissed my cheek to get some guy away from her,” he explains.

You shake your head with a bitter laugh, “Whatever. Just know, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

Harry looks at you intensely before breaking out into a grin, “Awww, Y/N, no need to get jealous. I promise I won't let anyone kiss me tonight if that’s what you want,” he teases.

You look at him unimpressed, “No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t blow our cover. What are we going to say when I show up with you to meet Jazmyn and you smell like another woman but I claim you’re my boyfriend?”

“Relax, I’m a professional,” Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall next to him.

You scoff, “Doesn’t seem like it,” you mumble.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, fed up with you, “What’s the plan?” he asks.

“So I was thinking,” you pause when you hear Harry grumble an oh great, “I was thinking when we meet Jazmyn we get her a bit drunk,” you shrug. You knew she wouldn’t just reveal anything to you. Especially sober. You meet his eyes, “Then you take her up to her room to take a nap or something? Or back to wherever she says she’s staying,” you shrug, “And from there you take her wherever you can that’s alone and you interrogate her.”

Harry nods, “Okay and Justin? He’s gonna be out all night we can’t just get one of them.”

“Well, if he does end up coming I’ll just flirt or something and get him alone. If he doesn’t, you have to get Jazmyn to tell you where he is or whatever.”

He hums, “Okay so when Jazmyn comes, we have to get her drunk then I take her back? That's it? That simple?” Harry was skeptical. He had done enough work in this field to know that simple plans are never executed to perfection.

“That simple.”

Getting Jazmyn drunk was proven harder than you both thought. First, you asked if you could buy her a drink since she just arrived but she insisted she plays better when sober. Then, Harry tried to hand her a drink while she was approaching a game of craps but she knocked it out of his hand onto some random man’s suit who was none the pleased. He sighed an insincere apology to the man as you suppressed a laugh. Harry then immediately found you to keep from drawing attention to himself.

Safe to say the plan was not going well.

On top of that, Oliver, the man you had met earlier, would not leave you alone and insisted on buying you drinks. You took them carefully and set them on a random surface when he looked away, but the inconvenience it gave you was not taken lightly.

You both were on the edge of giving up when Mitch told you through your earpiece that they had gotten Justin, Jazmyn’s brother, and he wasn’t talking. He kept saying his sister has it under control.

Harry looked at you briefly before walking off to find Jazmyn in a rush. He found her playing the same game of craps he left her at and she had just finished betting a push on her opponent when Harry whisked her away.

“Hey,” he breathed on her, voice steady.

“Hi,” she giggled back. Harry smiled, maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He watches as her opponent rolls a perfect twelve and she cheers quietly at her neutral state. “Think I’ve gained four hundred,” she speaks quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.”

“I make good bets,” she shrugs with a smile. Her hand finds his, intertwining them together, and Harry watches as her face falls. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Jazymn asks.

Harry smiles fondly and points to the bar, “She’s getting me a drink, ya want one?”

She huffs out a breath in frustration, “Sure,” making Harry smile.

You approach not a minute later with an old fashioned in hand and Harry transfers it to Jazmyn’s. She smiles at you and asks how your night has been.

You glance at Harry and back at Jazmyn, “It’s been pretty good, love getting tipsy,” you shrug. You lean into her, “I always find someone when I get him drunk,” you whisper with a wink.

Jazmyn’s eyes widened slightly, “And today?”

“Workin’ on it,” you shrug, “Why?”

She looks at you and sighs in frustration, “No particular reason.”

You smile to yourself. She’s interested in one of you, you just have to figure out who. “So, Jazzy, are you in a relationship?” you ask her a bit louder then intended.

She shakes her head sadly, “No, haven’t liked someone in a while.”

You purse your lips and nod slightly, “Well I’m sure we can find you someone here, come on!” you enthuse, “There are hundreds here.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had my eye on someone since they’ve walked in,” she starts, “But it turns out they have a boyfriend,” she looks you in the eye.

You mask your surprise with a soft smile, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind- they don’t have to tell anyone,” you whisper.

Harry looks your way with a nod. His face is hardened and his jaw is clenched. He looks upset but you couldn’t put your finger on what. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Harry paused, gesturing to the drink he sacrificed for Jazmyn. You nod in response, watching him walk off.

“They really don’t have to tell anyone?” Jazmyn asks once Harry is out of earshot.

You watch her carefully. For a moment you forget she’s a wanted criminal- a ruthless murderer. In a vulnerable moment, you almost forget that you are supposed to be trapping her.

“Maggie?” she asks. You look at her confused for a moment before remembering where you are and what you are doing.

“Don’t have to tell anyone,” you confirm with a sweet smile.

She smiles back, showing all her teeth. “When shall we go?” she asks.

“A bit forward are we?” you ask, taking the drink out of her hand and taking a long sip, keeping your eyes locked with hers. She shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as you hand the drink back and slightly push the glass up to her lips for her to follow your lead and take a sip as well. “Don’t wanna get to know me? Buy me a drink?” you continue your teasing.

She looks you up and down, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly unimpressed but wholly not surprised, “Is that so?”

“You like hard liquor, you hate your boyfriend but he gives good dick, your game of preference is poker but you’re bad at bluffing,” Jazmyn trails off, her finger playfully tapping on her chin, “Oh, and you’re hot. I know what I need to know, now let's go?”

You chuckle at her eagerness, “Not all right but I’ll give you props. Not bad.” You begin looking around for Harry, who you find looking at you with an emotionless expression from across the room. “I’ll go get my room key and we can head up,” you wink.

You meet Harry’s gaze and keep it as you make your way across the casino to meet him. “I got her,” you tell him, “I need a key card.”

He nods and scrambles to find one he was given during the briefing, “Third floor, good job agent Y/L/N.”

You fake a gasp as you grab onto the card, “That’s a new one… a compliment?”

“I won’t say it again,” Harry shrugs, watching as you turn on your comm.

“I got her to go back with me. We’re meeting in the hotel room. What now?” you speak to your team.

“Y/L/N, bring her up to the room. We have it equipped with just about everything you’d need. Interrogate her if you can. If she won’t break just detain her and bring her back to us. Styles, you go follow in after ten minutes to help with whatever method is needed.”

You both murmur your agreements and Harry sees you off.

You meet Jazmyn back where you left her but this time she has two large men with her. You smile at both of them before leading the four of you to the elevator, “So you’re an important woman?” you ask.

“Very important. But don’t worry, they’re just here to keep me safe,” she replies, gesturing at the two men’s gun holsters.

You nod, selecting the third floor and waiting patiently as the elevator slowly moved up to the second and finally the third floor.

“Do they have to come in with us?” you ask innocently, hoping you don’t have to blow your cover so soon.

“Is that a deal breaker?” she asks sadly.

“Yeah.. not one for being watched,” you shiver in discomfort. She nods and tells them to wait outside your room and to not let anyone in. They nod obediently and you unlock the door, letting both you and Jazmyn into the large room.

She shuts the door quickly, nearly pouncing on you as you stand by the bed. Her lips meet yours briefly as you pull back in shock. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, turning around and heading towards the mini bar.

She sighs in frustration, “No, that’s okay. Just want you,” she pauses as she watches you bend down to get a drink.

You rise again, holding a bottle of wine. “You sure?” you confirm. She nods in reassurance and you shrug, “Okay, I’m gonna get a glass. Make yourself at home,” you gesture towards the bed.

You leave her and close the bathroom door. You hastily whisper that you are taking your comm off and to contact you through Harry and you detach the harness and tear off the earpiece. You return with a plastic cup, pouring red wine into the cup.

You take a sip, eyeing Jazmyn and you smile at her. You walk towards her slowly, watching as she straightens her posture at your presence. You smile at her intimidation and hold her chin with your forefinger and thumb. “What am I gonna do with you?” you tsk.

She smiles, “Kiss me.”

You set down your cup and lift her chin to meet your height. “No,” you whispered, “Let me please you.”

You were officially worried. It had only been about five minutes. Harry wouldn’t be here soon enough and you really didn’t want to have to do anything with Jazmyn.

“Okay,” she bit her lip, raising her dress without a second thought.

You hid your fear with a sultry smile- helping her lay down on the bed and kneeling down onto the floor. You began kissing up her legs, her hands reaching your wig. You pulled away abruptly in fear but it was too late. Your wig had come off.

“What the fuck?” Jazmyn asks softly. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “Who are you?” she sneers.

You stand immediately but you’re stopped by Jazmyn grabbing at the necklace you wore around your neck. The braid your hair was put in falls onto your back and she yanks it with her other hand, making you groan.

You growl, launching yourself at Jazmyn. “You bitch!” you scream, unhooking the necklace and using the chain to wrap her arms into a makeshift hold as she thrashes in your hold. You use all the momentum you can gather by a simple step forward and thrust her onto the ground using all your body weight.

You step on her hand with a heel but she sweeps your other leg out from beneath you with a swift kick. You fall onto your back and she untangles herself from your necklace, throwing it to the ground as you instantaneously try to stand up before she can reach any weapon.

You reach under your dress and grab the gun you held under tight with your stockings and you quickly point the gun at her. “Don’t fucking move,” you sneer.

“Shoot me,” she replies with a matching tone.

You lower the gun to her leg and attempt to shoot- but nothing happens. The gun wasn’t loaded. Your eyes widen in disbelief and she lets out a deep chuckle and stands for herself. “Good one, Maggie,” she mocks.

You hear a thud from the door and both of you glance at where the noise derived from. “Harry,” you whisper and Jazmyn lets out a “Fuck.”

You sigh in relief as you see Harry’s large figure make its way through the door, assertively pointing the gun at Jazmyn’s leg just as you did before. She chuckles, “Bet it isn't loaded either.”

Harry smiles in response, “Yeah, I bet.” He shoots her. She falls immediately, surrendering to the ground with a tight grasp on her thigh, as Harry speaks into the comm, “Rowland, wipe the cameras and get up here.”

You walk slowly towards Jazmyn, kicking her in the chest with your arms crossed, watching her head hit the carpet of the hotel room.

“What took you so long?” you asked Harry as you turned slowly, making sure to keep your heel on Jazmyn’s chest.

“Had to take out the guards,” he pants lightly, recovering from an adrenaline rush, “Why?”

“Took your sweet ass time, huh?” you ask, watching him roll his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy with me- you didn’t even go through with the mission. She almost got you and you had a gun,” Harry accesses.

“My gun wasn’t loaded!” you yell out of frustration, releasing the cylinder and removing the magazine. “No cartilage,” you show him.

“How the fuck did you not think to check if the gun was loaded?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Why would I check? When have you ever picked up an unloaded gun?” you defend yourself, your voice raising to match his volume.

“I check every time regardless!”

“I was never given a reason to!”

“You should know to! Come on! You were trained for months on this shit at the same academy I was!” Harry yells, “Do better, it’s your fucking job to work a gun.”

Your eyes meet his, “Don’t tell me to fucking do better,” you beg.

Just as Harry was about to reply, the door opens again, this time revealing Mitch. “You guys good in here?” He asks, immediately heading over to you and leaning down to tie Jazmyn’s hands together.

You remove your foot from Jazmyn’s chest and kick her onto her stomach making her groan in pain, “Fine,” you reply shortly.

“We’ll be down there later,” Harry nods as Mitch hoists Jazmyn up, leaning her body weight onto his. Her head falls down, chin hitting her chest at the lack of blood and energy in her body.

“I’m leaving now to get her back,” he gestures towards Jazmyn with his head, “I’ll send a car, though,” he speaks over his shoulder as he walks out of the room.

You sigh in relief of Jazmyn finally being off your hands. You walk over to the bed to sit down when something catches your eye. The necklace. You kneel down to take a hold of it, dragging it towards you on the ground, watching as the necklace falls into two separate chains.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “She fucking broke it.”

Harry's eyes widened, “So what, she broke your necklace. Big deal, you can get another one,” he shrugs dismissively.

You shake your head no, looking for the two rings you keep on the now broken chain. “No, fuck I need that,” you cry out.

Harry looks at you before asking again, “What's the big deal?”

Your eyes water slightly as you look at him, “They’re my ex-husbands.”

Harry sighs heavily and lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sorry.”

“Fuck’s right,” you chuckle, eyes closing in a prayer as you spot the rings that had fallen beneath the bed. You reach under the bed, retrieving the two rings, placing both onto your hand- yours on your ring finger and your ex-husband- Ryan’s- on your thumb.

“Why’d you keep the rings?” He finally asks.

You shrug, admiring the gems on the rings. You had just recently cleaned them in hopes of preserving their life, as they tend to get dirty and battered sitting on your neck during long missions. “He died on the field,” you swallowed harshly. You had been forced to talk about this multiple times with a psychologist during your preliminary training but it didn’t prove any easier as time went on. “Keep ‘em for luck. He’s the reason I got into this.”

He nods, “That’s nice.”

You let out a sigh and look at him, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I wish I could forget.”

He watches you carefully as you stand up and retrieve your hardly touched wine from earlier. You drink what was left in your glass with a single gulp. “How can I help you forget,” Harry speaks after a long pause.

You look at him and with a longing glance you tell him, “The alcohol helps.”

“How can I help?” he asks again.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve done enough.”

“I think I could help if you’d let me,” he persists.

“And if I don't let you?” you ask, confused. Every assignment you had with Harry he had been nothing but cold. He spoke when spoken to. He paid no mind to you except when it came time to critique your performance. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to care now, when you already had a foundation of hatred thick on the surface.

“I’ll find a way myself,” he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try,” you scoff. You had no reason to believe he had spent every mission analyzing you- how you reacted, how you spoke, how you moved. The way you went about your work was inspected to the motive and you had no idea.

Harry watched as you turned once more to the minibar, looking for a stronger alcohol. The mission was over and you were officially off the clock. You felt no guilt or shame and there was nobody in your ear telling you otherwise.

He watched as you turned with a mini bottle of crown royal and a can of sprite. “Come on now,” he said, approaching you with his arm out. “Hand over the bottle. No need to drink that much tonight,” he tells.

You defensively shift so your body is shielding the bottles, “Let me do what I want, I’m not working anymore” you argue, “What does it matter to you anyway, you hate me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry sighs, “I don’t hate you.”

You look him in the eye before concluding he’s telling the truth. Slowly, you set the drinks down onto the small table beside you, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I think you’re pretty good,” he shrugs.

“Today is the first time you’ve ever said anything kind about my work in this field. Every other mission we’ve been on, you’ve told me where I could’ve been better,” you start, glaring at him with an accusatory expression. “Anyway, what gives you that right? You’ve only been here for six more months then me.”

“Because why be good when you could be great? I might have only been here for six more months then you but my position was higher six months ago then yours is now,” he reminds you. “I work smart. You work more. That’s not good in this field. You have to be quick on your feet.”

You scoff and turn around from him, “Okay so how does that prove you don’t hate me?”

“I want you to be the best. I think you could be.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole because you think you can fix my performance? Cool.”

Harry lets out a sigh of frustration. You’re never going to understand how he cares for you and he knows that, yet he refuses to outright say it. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” you argue back. He was getting on your nerves.

“I’ve also implied that,” Harry pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to confess to this now, but as you said, you’re off the clock. “I’ve implied that I think you’re attractive. Why can’t you notice that?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Stop playing with me. I know you haven’t implied that.”

“I have,” he nods, moving closer to where you are standing, “Like when I tell you I won’t let anyone kiss me but you? I mean it.”

You turn and look at him, “Should–should we kiss?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. Gently, unlike what you would assume, his hand finds your chin and tilts your head towards his before aligning your lips into unity. He shifts you with a grunt to a free wall and pushes you up against it with a thud. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you let out an elicit moan at the new sensation.

Your hands found their way beneath his dress shirt and crawled at his happy trail. Harry steps back to discard the clothes on his torso and he watches as you drop the slim straps of your dress down your arms, unhooking your bra, allowing your breasts to fall free.

His mouth finds its way to your hardened nipple and he flicked one, then the other, between his teeth and eventually he moved his fingers to help the dress past your hips. You moan softly as his mouth works at a steady pace, making your nipples sensitive and erect in their own capacity.

His mouth left your breast, leaving sloppy kisses down your body. Your hands find their way to his hair as your head knocks back in pure ecstasy. You squirm at the feeling of his lips on your hips and feel his fingers claw at your panties.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. He looks up, nodding at you in confirmation of what he is about to do. You hastily nodded back and watched as he rids your panties and holds your hand softly as you step out of the clothing that had accumulated at your feet.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he sponged kisses back up to your mouth, biting gently on your bottom lip. Your hands find their way to Harry’s slacks, working quickly to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down along with his briefs.

Finally, you take in the sight of the naked man in front of you. You involuntarily let out a gasp and Harry chuckles softly before he pressed his body close to yours again. His lips find yours and his erect cock presses into your stomach as your arms find their way into Harry’s hair.

You held him close to you, tugging him even closer when he tried to step away. That was all the invitation he needed to help hoist you up off the ground. Your legs legs around his waist and he keeps you steady with an arm under your ass, the other in your hair.

You kissed his shoulder repeatedly as he carried you onto the mattress, setting you down fully onto his lap. His hand left your hair to find his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up the tip with your wet entrance.

With short huffs of air out of swollen lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing for a loud, erotic moan to leave his lips as your hips meet. He falls further back into the bed, stretches a leg out to prolong the feeling of warmth as you slowly start to move up and down on his shaft, releasing an immense amount of pleasure into both of your bodies.

He tugged your hair back, giving his access to your neck and jaw and he sucks harshly as you quicken your pace on his member, pressing down deliberately in an attempt to feel him everywhere.

Trying to keep your clit rubbing on his pelvis resulted in a series of hot and short breaths being released within the next few minutes. The pressure against his body was unbearable and you had never felt so full before in your life.

“I can’t,” you pant out, not slowing down your movements. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time so stopping seemed out of the question. You pushed deeper, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, before quickly moving against his shaft for the second time.

“Me neither,” he replies, just as dazed as you. He groans aloud as you squeeze against his cock, causing it to throb in preparation of its release. He tries to pull out but you push him down further into the mattress.

“I’m on the pill,” you barely get out before you come, shivering at the sensation. Harry followed shortly thereafter. He sighs in pleasure, helping you off his cock and into your lap before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you desperately.

You watch as he leans back, admiring your body. Your nipples were still erect from pleasure and your breathing was unsteady, short huffs attempting to bring you back to a normal state. There were accidental red marks adorning your neck and a hickey beginning to form on the underside of your chin, “Sorry,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb over the marks he left.

You laugh lightly, “It’s okay,” before rolling over onto your side. Harry stands up slowly, making his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel to help clean you up before he lays back down with you.

“So,” he starts, “We should talk about this…”

#majorharry20k #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles au

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flourgirl · 3 years

Text

Hooked On A Feeling

Pairing: Peter Parker x telepath!Reader

Summary: When another competitor at the quiz bowl championships confronts you about using your telepathic powers to cheat your way to victory, you immediately recognize him as Spiderman.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Fluffy flirting and one sorta-curse word.

A/N: This was originally going to be the first part of a series, but my friend and I thought this ended on a good note after I wasn’t feeling it. Enjoy! :-)

“If you would open up your heart Drop your weapons, drop your guard Just a little trust is all it takes” -Give a Little, Maggie Rogers

You had twenty minutes until the final round of the competition and excused yourself from your team’s mini celebration to go get a drink from the vending machine in the hallway.

“Hey, wait,” you heard a voice call out to you. You turned to see a guy from the team that you had just beat walking towards you. “I know what you’re up to.”

You had to admit, he was really cute, even if he didn’t know which woodwind plays the glissando at the beginning of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’. But this was nothing like your daydreams of how he’d introduce himself. You didn’t have to read his mind to tell that he was pissed off.

“And what is it that I’m up to? Thinking about what drink to buy?” you said, playing dumb, even though you knew exactly why he was walking towards you.

“You’re a telepath,” he whispered, leaning against the vending machine. It only took you a few seconds to realize who the boy standing next to you actually was and how he knew about your secret.

“Okay, you got me,” you laughed, twisting open the bottle of lemonade that he definitely did not see you pay for. “And you’re Spiderman. But I have to admit, you’re not at all what I expected.”

“And, uh… what did you expect?” Peter was flustered. Sure, you could read his mind and find out who he was, but had you actually been thinking about who was behind the mask this entire time?

“You look taller in the photos,” you shrugged, despite the fact that he could still easily look straight over your head without a problem. It was just fun to tease him.

He felt his cheeks turning pinker by the second. “Well, you don’t look like a cheater, so I guess we’re even.”

“I’m not cheating, Peter,” you replied nonchalantly, taking another sip of your drink.

He hadn’t even told you his name, but he liked the way it sounded coming from you. Peter’s eyes looked down at your lips, quickly darting back up before you could notice, but based on his thoughts, you had a few good guesses about what had just distracted him.

“Don’t lie to me. I could tell that you were reading my mind, and every time I went to hit the buzzer, you were always one step ahead of me,” Peter reasoned, becoming increasingly frustrated knowing that you could read every thought that was going on in his head right now. “I… I have spidey-senses.”

Your eyebrow cocked up, and you smiled at the silly phrase he had just used.

“Spidey-senses?” you questioned, making his eyes widen over the sudden realization that it sounded like a five-year-old had coined the nickname he had given to his powers. It was all getting to be a bit too much for him.

“Look, could you please stop for a minute? I feel like I can’t breathe with you inside my head, alright?” he snapped, startling you a little bit.

You had never met someone who knew about your powers, and so you never had to deal with the consequences of invading their privacy. To be honest, it never even crossed your mind just how upsetting it must be to have someone know exactly what you’re thinking all the time.

Neither of you said anything or even looked at each other until he had finally calmed back down, feeling that your unwanted presence was no longer poking and prodding around his brain.

“So, uh, do you go to that school,” he started, “I can’t remember what it’s called, but Wanda was telling me about it and how she almost got sent there when she was little, and—”

“I don’t go to Xavier’s,” you cut him off, and he suddenly realized just how much he was rambling to a complete stranger. “Nobody even knows that I’m a telepath. Well, except you.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, looking around the room. “But could you please just quit it with the cheating? Even though you guys already beat us, I think the next team that you play should be given a fair fight.”

You were a little disappointed that he already didn’t trust you, but you couldn’t blame him. You had been reading his mind, just not to do what he thought you were doing.

“I promise I’m not cheating,” you restated, looking into his brown eyes that you were just now noticing had little flecks of green in them.

“Well, can you tell me what you were doing, then?” he asked. He really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, especially since you had already stopped using your powers once you realized just how much it bothered him.

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster, and so could Peter. Were you going to let him think that you were a liar or tell him the embarrassing reason as to why you were reading his mind? You decided that the latter was the better choice.

“I think you’re cute,” you blurted out, suddenly aware of how hot your face felt. “And I was, well… I was reading your mind to see if you felt the same way about me.”

That wasn’t what Peter was expecting you to say at all, and he immediately felt really bad for even thinking that you were using your powers to somehow rig the competition.

“Oh.” His voice got quieter. “And what did you find out?”

You stepped closer to him, now knowing that Peter Parker smelled like clean laundry fresh out of the dryer, and you liked that a lot.

“That you think I’m pretty, and you really like how the color of my sweater looks against my skin.” Even without your powers, you could tell that he was nervous.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, so you’re going to have to tell me,” you admitted, closing the space between you. “Or, you can just show me.”

Peter wasn’t the kind of guy to go around kissing girls he had just met, or even flirting with them for that matter, but he found himself drawn to you for some reason that he couldn’t quite place. And before he knew it, he was leaning down to kiss you.

You didn’t know how long it had been before his hand left your waist and you were getting down from your tiptoes, coming out of your daze.

“Was that okay?” Peter asked, waiting for you to say something to break the silence.

“Huh,” you sighed, bringing your fingertips to touch where his lips had just been. “So that’s what that feels like.”

It took Peter a few seconds to realize what you meant. It was your first kiss.

“Y/N!” you heard your team captain call. You looked to see her peeking out of the auditorium doors, gesturing for you to hurry up. “Come on, you’ve got like, one minute before we start!”

“Sorry, Parker. I’ve gotta go,” you said, pushing a lock of his hair back into place. “But who knows, maybe you can help me celebrate my team winning tonight.”

He watched in awe as you ran back into the auditorium, your shiny hair swishing behind you. Y/N, Peter thought to himself. He could get used to saying that.

“What the hell, Y/N?” your best friend, Beatrice, whispered as you took your seat next to her. “We’ve been talking about your perfect first kiss ever since we were 12, and now Sam tells me she saw you kissing some random guy in the hallway?”

“He’s not random,” you told her, smoothing your hair down from where Peter’s hands had messed it up. “I know him. Well, I sort of know him.”

“I have no idea what that means,” she complained, rolling her eyes. You knew you’d have a lot of explaining to do on the walk back to the hotel.

You shushed her, the host announcing that the questions were about to begin. You saw Peter slip back into the room, and watched as he sat down with what you could only guess were his classmates in the second row.

Most of them were wearing bright yellow blazers, but one guy had on a sweatshirt that had ‘Midtown School of Science and Technology’ printed around an atom across the front of it.

It wasn’t long before the match was over and your team was gathered in a circle to have yet another celebratory chant. You managed to slip away from the huddle to walk over to Peter.

“That was amazing! You’re amazing,” he told you, effortlessly picking you up and twirling you around. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you thought to yourself.

He set you down gently on the floor, his brown eyes practically glowing with excitement. It felt like the two of you had known each other for much longer than you actually had.

“Thanks,” you muttered, staring down at your shoes. You had just remembered that tomorrow morning, you’d be leaving New York City to get on a plane back to your hometown in the middle of nowhere. Peter’s smile faded at the sudden shift of your mood.

“Go on a date with me tonight,” he said, making you look back up at him in surprise. You noticed that he had the lightest smattering of freckles across his nose.

“Wow,” you started, not really knowing how to react. “Who would’ve thought that today I’d be winning the national quiz bowl championships AND getting offered a free tour of New York City from the Spiderman?”

“Come on, don’t tease me. Just say yes,” he insisted, pouting. “I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”

“Fine, I’ll go out with you,” you happily agreed, making his puppy dog eyes disappear. “Meet me at the front of the Marriott on Albany Street at 6.”

“Ok, cool, awesome. Uh, I’ll see you at six,” he said, grinning from ear to ear as you walked back towards your group.

You glanced back to see him silently celebrating to himself, and you decided to let yourself use your powers just this once to tell him, “I saw that.”

Peter immediately stopped his little victory dance to look at you smiling at him from across the room, and he gave you an awkward wave before leaving to catch up with his classmates.

You smiled brightly as a local news reporter snapped a group picture of your team, knowing that you had just scored a date with the cutest guy on the planet.

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

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.5 |Brittana

A/N - Hey friends! Homecoming is finally upon us - brace yourselves, it's the longest chapter yet. Big thank you to everyone that's sending in those lovely messages, it's very much appreciated! So much so that I've already got a jump on writing chapter 6. Thank you all for reading and I hope this chapter jingles your bells.

To my fellow Steeler Nation, 11-0 baby!!! (Even if that last game was so horrible🤦🏽‍♀️ )

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Homecoming is finally here and Santana is a bag of nerves.

She’s trying her hardest to keep her cool and do the things she normally would in preparation for the night, but nothing’s able to distract her. It’s actually embarrassing how nervous she feels and she’s so relived that Quinn isn’t around to point it out, Lord knows that girl would get such a kick out of it.

Santana’s nearly done applying the finishing touches to her make up when Maribel knocks at her bedroom door. She lowers her mascara wand and calls out for her to come in while she turns down the music.

“Oh mija,” Maribel coos as she takes in the sight of her daughter all glammed up in her usual choice of color. She brings her hand to cover her heart as a smile stretches across her face, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks mami,” Santana mumbles a bit bashfully.

Maribel reaches out to fix a whisp of Santana’s waves that’s gone out of place, “You know I use to curl my hair just like that when I was your age.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I did all this?” Santana jokes, “I would’ve opted to go straight.”

Maribel gives her a knowing look and Santana can’t decide if she wants to laugh or hide her face in her hands. She’s already a nervous wreck, but thankfully her mom doesn’t linger too long on her phrasing.

“Hey, your mother was hot back in the day,” Maribel warns playfully, “Who do you think you get your good looks from? Papi?”

“True,” Santana giggles.

“How come you and Quinn didn’t get ready here?” Maribel mentions, “You always do.”

Santana shrugs, “We decided to change things up this time. Her mom was getting jealous you always got to see Quinn first.”

“I see,” Maribel nods, “Well, who did you decide on taking? You never told me.”

Santana bites her lip as she turns away to find her purse She was hoping to avoid the questions until after the dance, but she should’ve known better. Still, she tries to be vague about it all.

“I’m going with someone on the football team like always,” Santana says dismissively hoping that’ll be the end of that.

“It’s not that Puckerman boy, is it?” Maribel warns as Santana comes to sit at the edge of her bed to put on her heels, “Your father hates him.”

“No, it’s not him,” Santana answers easily, too easily that she doesn’t catch the slip-up before it happens, “She’s new to the school.”

Santana freezes as panic starts to settle into her bones. She’s not sure what to expect from Maribel so she just stares wide-eyed at fumbling with the straps. The seconds that tick by feel like hours but then Maribel finally says something.

“Brittany,” Maribel says softly, “That’s her name, right? You said she was new to school the other week.”

Santana takes a peek over at Maribel to find that she doesn’t look angry. She’s just looking at Santana in that soft way moms do when they see their kid struggling with something.

It makes Santana want to cry for some reason; out of relief or out of guilt? She’s not sure.

“Yeah, I – I’m just…” Santana starts stammering for an excuse, “She was going to go alone a – and she…we thought that it would be okay because I’m a– “

“Santana,” Maribel coos as comes to sit next to Santana. She wraps an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, “You don’t have to explain.”

Santana just nods; the lump in her throat too big to get any words around. Her sexuality is still that thing no one talks about – mostly because of her father – but she’s always terrified of alluding to it too. Maribel makes her feel like it’s a little okay though as she just rubs at Santana’s shoulder until she feels the tension slowly start to ease.

“Wait,” Maribel turns to look at her, “You said she’s on the team?”

“Yeah.”

Maribel gives her a sideways smirk, “Now that you have to explain.”

Santana feels herself smiling too, “She’s the new quarterback. She’s actually really good too.”

“Is she now?” Maribel’s brows shoot up as her smile widens, “That’s amazing! Will she come to pick you up?”

Santana’s smile falters, “No. I – I didn’t know if Papi was going to be here.”

Maribel matches Santana’s frown but nods, “I understand.”

Santana gives her an apologetic smile but Maribel just leans over and kisses her temple.

“Well, I’d like to meet her one of these days,” Maribel says kindly, “If she’s dating my daughter the same rules still apply. Girl or boy, they have to come introduce themselves.”

Santana’s eyes bug out, “Oh, no. We’re not – that’s not a thing. We’re just…we’re friends.”

Suddenly Santana’s phone begins to ring loudly, making the pair of them jump at its interruption. Santana scrambles to catch the call, relieved to see the name on the screen.

“Oh thank God. Sorry Mami, Quinn’s calling,” Santana says, “Could be a fashion emergency.”

Maribel only nods as she gets up to leave the room. Once the door closes behind her, Santana answers the call but she doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Quinn’s hitting her with 21 questions.

“Have you asked yet?” Quinn says in greeting.

Santana rolls her eyes, “Asked who what?”

“You know who and what.”

“Ugh. No,” Santana says firmly, “No, I haven’t.”

“What’s the hold up? Are you really waiting until the very last minute?” Quinn groans. Santana can practically hear the girl pacing now, “It’s almost 7, Santana.”

“I don’t know if I will ask, okay?” Santana tells her firmly, “I haven’t decided yet. This is all very, very new to me and I’m scared as shit so just chill the hell out, Fabray.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line but it isn’t out of angry frustration. It’s sympathetic and full of understanding.

“Okay. Well, we’ll be there if you change your mind. I think you should come, maybe it won’t be so scary if you’re with your friends, you know?”

Santana nods even though Quinn can’t see her, “Yeah. Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the place,” Quinn tells her before they’re saying goodbye.

Santana tries to settle her nerves again and looks to the long mirror set up at the corner of her room. She knows Quinn means well – she always does – but right now Santana just needs to focus on getting her head right. She tries remember all the little mantras she use to tell herself to get pumped up.

It worries her when they don’t really have the usual desired effect.

But then she thinks about Brittany and how that’s who she’ll be spending most of her time with tonight and that seems to do a better job of easing her nerves before she has to leave.

When Santana arrives at Brittany’s house, she realizes she actually hasn’t done this before – the whole picking up a date thing. Usually the guys pick her up at hers and Hector grills them while Santana finishes getting ready upstairs. It’s all very traditional – no surprise there.

But this? This is new territory and like she told Quinn – it’s kind of scary.

She sucks in a deep breath though and goes to ring the doorbell. She can hear Brittany’s little brother yell out something before Whitney’s opening the door.

“Oh Santana!” Whitney sighs dramatically, “Look at you, you’re gorgeous! Come in, come in.”

Again, Santana blushes at the motherly tone. Whitney has this way of making her feel kind of shy and at-home all at once and it’s kind of nice.

“Thanks Mrs. Pierce,” Santana answers bashfully as she wanders in to awkwardly stand in the foyer.

Pete is just sitting on the end of the stairs staring up at her in awe. It makes Santana giggle.

“Hey Pete,” She waves.

Pete’s cheeks bunch in a familiar way as he straightens to sit taller, “Hi.”

Santana takes note of the blue and yellow jersey he’s wearing with the number 12 on his chest and smiles, “Nice jersey.”

He looks down at it and his smile grows even bigger, “Thanks! It’s my sister’s from a long time ago. She let me have it. Wanna see the back?”

Santana smirks at his enthusiasm, “Sure!”

He jumps up and does a quick spin, “See? It has Pierce on it and look at the sleeve! It’s a dolphin. That’s Danny the Dolphin, he went to our old school.”

“That’s very cool,” Santana compliments, “I love those colors.”

“You do?” Pete’s jaw drops, “Blue is my favorite color. It’s Brittany’s too!”

“No way,” Santana looks just as surprised.

Pete jumps up to sit on the edge of the coach right next to where Santana stands, “What your favorite color?”

Santana taps at her chin, “I think it might be red.”

“I thought so,” Pete replies, “You wore red the last time you were here and now you’re wearing red again.”

Santana just chuckles at this kid’s amazing memory.

“Britt, come on now!” Whitney calls up the stairs, “Santana’s here.”

“Sorry! I’m coming,” Santana hears Brittany reply followed by quick steps that turn into heavy thuds as the blonde hurries down the stairs.

Santana steps forward, “Oh, there’s no rush – “ but the rest of her words stop in their tracks as she catches sight of Brittany for the first time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting Brittany to wear – her outfits at school were always pretty eccentric yet tasteful – but this tops all of them.

“Oh,” Is all that Santana manages to get out.

Brittany’s baby blue tulle skirt adds the usual playfulness to her outfit while the fitted white blazer and dress shirt class it up. Santana finds herself smiling at the black bowtie around her neck; only Brittany could pull off such a combo.

Santana’s too busy staring that she doesn’t notice Brittany doing the same exact thing.

Whitney’s laugh breaks up the silence, “Both of you girls are stunning!”

“Yeah,” Pete nods and looks to Santana, “You’re really pretty.”

“Agreed,” Brittany adds as she finally comes down the last couple of steps and closes the distance to Santana, “Sorry I made you wait. I couldn’t figure out how to tie this thing. It took me like three tries. Does it look weird?”

She waves at her bowtie and Santana chuckles.

“It looks great,” Santana goes to give it a straighten before she realizes what she’s done and quickly pulls away, “Uh don’t worry about the wait, there’s no rush.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles then looks around shyly, “So, do you wanna…”

“Oh! Yeah,” Santana straightens, “We can go.”

“Hold on,” Whitney stops them both as she fetches a couple of small boxes, “I’ve got a little something for you both.”

“Mom,” Brittany sighs out of embarrassment, “I told you not to get those.”

“Hush Britt, they’re just daisies,” Whitney jokes, “You can’t go to a dance without accessories.”

Brittany begins to blush as she looks to Santana and whispers, “We can take them off in the car if you want.”

Santana gets the reluctance. Corsages are something dates get for each other, it’s not really a thing friends do. Or maybe it is and Santana just hasn’t ever experience it? But seeing Brittany clam up about it has Santana smiling – at least she isn’t the only one nervous about this whole arrangement.

Santana gives her a look, “Don’t be mean. She’s got a point and I do love to accessorize.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, but relents as Whitney passes her a couple of corsage boxes.

“Hey Pete, will you help a girl out?” Santana asks sweetly as she takes one of the boxes and crouches down to Pete’s level. He’s eager to come over and carefully slides the corsage on Santana’s wrist with her guidance.

“Like that?” He asks.

She admires his work and gives him a high five, “Nice job.”

Whitney smiles at the two and glances to Brittany who’s still looking reluctantly at her own corsage. Before Whitney can offer to help though, Santana beats her to it.

“Come on. Give it here,” Santana instructs playfully, “I’ll do yours.”

Santana isn’t sure where all this confidence is coming from, but she isn’t going to complain about it now – especially when she doesn’t know how long it’ll last. It’s kind of nice having the upper hand for once. It’s rare that she sees Brittany waver, but this sort of embarrassment brought on by her mom is relatable and…kind of cute.

So Santana makes quick work of getting Brittany’s corsage onto her wrist. She’s aware of how her fingertips brush against the soft inside of Brittany’s wrist – it’s probably the first time they’ve really touched. She’s surprised neither of them flinches from it.

“Thanks,” Brittany mumbles once her corsage is secure.

“Sure,” Santana nods and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “So ready to go now?”

“Yup!”

“Wait!” Whitney stops them again.

Brittany instantly pouts, “Mom, please.”

“What? Let’s get some pictures,” Whitney says, “Let me see your phone, Britt.”

That’s when Santana’s confidence streak runs out.

Pictures get posted on the internet and once something is on the internet it’s there forever and does she want this on the internet forever? She’s overacting; she can feel it but there’s that nagging fear at the back of her mind that forces its way to the forefront. She’s been burned before and she’s still recovering from that.

“Wait,” Santana pauses just as Brittany’s handing over her phone. She’s trying to figure out a realistic excuse without making Brittany feel like she’s ashamed to be pictured with her or something like that, but she falls short.

It’s just…too intimate for her liking.

“Oh honey,” Whitney says softly, “We don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. You both just look so beautiful.”

It’s those simple words that banish Santana’s fear for a moment. It’s the kindness and the consideration that Santana’s not use to and it has her relaxing just a little.

“Yeah,” Brittany agrees with a gentle smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

Santana shakes her head and tries to box up the rest of that terrifying feeling.

At some point she has to stop letting it win. At some point she has to take back the power. Maybe her confidence streak was spurred on by the being there at the Pierce’s and the safe space that they unknowingly created? Maybe she can practice taking back her power here?

“No,” Santana says, “We can. I just…can you hold off on posting them anywhere?”

“Oh yeah,” Brittany nods, “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Santana says softly.

“Alright you two,” Whitney shoos them together, “Say cheese!”

Pictures don’t take up too much time; in fact, Whitney only snapped a few before Brittany was reaching for the phone.

“She gets camera-happy,” Brittany had told Santana, “I’m saving us both from the blurry pictures and unflattering angles.”

Now they’re in Santana’s car pulling out of Brittany’s driveway. Santana had given Brittany free reign on music choice, so Brittany’s busy scrolling through songs on Santana’s in-dash unit. Now that it’s just them, Santana starts to feel a little nervous again.

Really, she’s caught in between feeling giddy for going with Brittany to Homecoming and feeling guilty that she’s hiding her true self when Brittany’s been so confident and accepting. Santana finds herself wishing she could be like her.

Maybe one day?

“Oh, I love this song!” Brittany cheers as she starts to play something upbeat.

Santana smiles her way even though Brittany doesn’t see it. She remembers what Quinn said about Brittany being a good person to have around – how she’d be a good influence on her – and that has Santana testing the boundaries of her comfort zone again.

“So,” Santana says with a glance in Brittany’s direction.

“So…” Brittany prompts with a chuckle.

“Have you eaten already?”

“Like dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Brittany ponders, “No, I guess not.”

“Well…did you want to?”

She can feel Brittany’s eyes on her, but she focuses on the road instead.

“Quinn and Mike invited us to meet with them if we wanted,” Santana explains shyly, “I forgot to bring it up before. It was a last minute thing. I just wasn’t sure if it was something you might want to do.”

“No, I’m totally down!” Brittany beams, “I mean, if you want to.”

“Uhh, yeah. I think it could be cool,” Santana admits for the first time since Quinn mentioned it last night.

“Awesome,” Brittany grins her way, “Where are we meeting them?”

“Breadstix? Really?” Santana deadpans instead of a greeting when she approaches Quinn.

Brittany rushes over to compliment Mike’s snazzy suit. He and Quinn had been waiting outside of the restaurant for Santana and Brittany to arrive.

“Uhm, you love this place,” Quinn replies but barely hides her smirk.

“Exactly,” Santana says, “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist coming here. This is a trap.”

Quinn just rolls her eyes, “You ever think that this is the only damn restaurant in Lima that isn’t infested with rats?”

“Oh gross,” Santana crinkles her nose, “I don’t want to think about that before I have my ‘Stix.”

“Okay then, stop complaining,” Quinn jokes before lowering her voice, “Glad you changed your mind.”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Santana warns quietly, “I’m barely holding it together.”

Quinn just pats her shoulder, “It’ll be fine, Santana.”

“Let’s hope so,” She says as they start to walk over to Mike and Brittany.

“You two look cute by the way,” Quinn whispers quickly.

Santana can’t even say anything witty in reply. She kind of agrees with her best friend for once.

Despite Breadstix being a popular meeting place before and after any McKinley event, the four of them are able to snag a well-hidden booth towards the back and avoid getting spotted by anyone they know. It’s strange how easy it all felt once Santana wasn’t so focused on the fear of someone seeing them together.

She slipped into the booth next to Quinn while Mike and Brittany slid into the one on the opposite side respectively. Santana thought it was a good move sitting next to Quinn instead, but she clearly didn’t think it through because now she’s directly in front of Brittany and it’s kind of hard not to stare when she’s right there.

She still can’t get over how pretty Brittany looks with her hair done up and just that tiny bit more make up on. She doesn’t think Brittany’s the type that really needs to apply much, but man…when she does, she’s stunning.

Santana also finds pretty quickly that Quinn was kind of right about it not being so scary if she’s out with her friends. It’s a weird thought, but she kind of feels safe with them like this. She can actually imagine the four of them doing this again and that thought makes her smile.

Once they order their food, they fall easily into conversation and Santana begins to give in to having a good time. In fact, it might’ve been one of the best times she’s had in awhile.

Usually Santana’s date would bring her here and they’d end up cutting dinner short so that they could make out in his car before the dance. She always hated that part; making out with guys kind of felt like a chore to her so it lost its effect a long time ago, but the messing up of her hair and make up was the annoying part. She learned pretty quickly that if she pinned their hands or told them not to touch it only made them want her more.

Now that was something she could get behind.

It gave her the upper hand and that’s kind of how she established a little reputation for being the dominant one and guys loved that about her. It was like who was man enough to tame Santana Lopez? No one was ever successful obviously because no man ever could.

She lost that power when she was outed though, but things are a lot different for her now in more ways than one.

Even if she is only going with Brittany to Homecoming as a friend, there’s no pressure of having to put out or sacrifice her dinner because she has to go make out with her date. Not that her past dates ever made her do anything, she just did what she needed to in order to solidify her status.

But with Brittany, she doesn’t have to worry about any of that and it’s a fucking relief for a change. Maybe she can actually enjoy the dance for once instead of looking at it like it’s a game that needs to be won? Then again, there’s still the matter of who will win Homecoming King and Queen and that puts things back into perspective for Santana.

She has to win – she has to – especially when there’s so much riding on this for her. It’s not just a crown: it’s her reputation, it’s her image, it’s her popularity. It’s a big fuck you to everyone that has talked shit about her behind her back.

“Santana,” Quinn calls out loudly with the snap of her fingers.

Santana blinks and notices three pairs of eyes staring at her. They all have the same look on their faces – concern, worry, confusion.

“Sorry,” Santana brushes off, “I zoned out.”

“Seriously, you looked like you were in another dimension,” Mike jokes.

Santana forces out a chuckle; she kind of was.

“Mike was just talking about his meeting with Ms. Pillsbury about college application deadlines,” Quinn supplies but there’s still a touch of worry in her brow, “Didn’t you have your meeting already too?”

Santana nods as she nibbles on a breadstick, “Yeah. She got me pretty early on. I swore she’s meant to go in alphabetical order or something? I bet my dad had something to do with it.”

“Right? My dad’s been on my case since Freshman year,” Mike chuckles and then looks to Brittany, “Have you had your meeting?”

Santana looks to Brittany too, suddenly curious about what Brittany’s plans are after graduation. Most of the students here – at least the ones that care about their futures – can’t wait to get out of Lima. She wonders if Brittany thinks the same since she’s new to the area, but she can’t imagine anyone actually wanting to stay here longer than they need to. Brittany doesn’t have to grow up here to feel the same.

“I have, yeah. It’s kind of cool how she’s checking in on everyone,” Brittany says, “With the move and being new, I thought I’d slip through the cracks or something so I did most of my college prep beforehand.”

“Where do you plan on going?” Quinn asks before Santana could.

“I’ve got a few places in mind,” Brittany shrugs as she starts to play with the straw in her drink, “I use to want to go to Florida State because some of my favorite athletes went there but I don’t think I could move that far away from my family now that we live here. I’m hoping to get an offer from Ohio State. If not, Louisville is as far as I’ll go.”

“Makes sense,” Quinn nods, “I’m looking at Yale. The farther from here, the better.”

“That’s a great school,” Brittany notes, “Why so far from home?”

“Most people here can’t wait to get away from their family,” Santana explains. She can see Quinn nod in agreement, but Brittany just shakes her head.

“Not me,” Brittany replies, “I couldn’t imagine being that far from mine.”

“That’s because you’ve got a cool mom and even cooler little bro,” Mike compliments which instantly lightens the mood.

Santana’s experienced how supportive and kind Brittany’s family is and it makes her wonder how different she would’ve turned out if her family acted similarly. She probably would’ve had a way easier time coming to terms with who she is, that’s for sure!

“Here we are kids! Have at it,” The waitress says as she brings over everyone’s meals. Once the plates are down, the previous conversation is long forgotten and they all focus back on getting excited for the dance.

Once they arrive at McKinley, that feeling of safety and security quickly leaves Santana. Now she’s back to being out in the open – exposed – and it makes her feel just a little more unsettled.

Mike happens to park close by so the four of them regroup and make their way to the entrance together. There’s strength in numbers and Santana tries to remember that as she walks alongside Brittany to the end of the line that’s heading inside. Santana makes sure there’s enough distance between them so their hands don’t accidentally touch or something that would make everything weird but knowing that’s even something she’s being weary of is weird already!

She shakes her head at how she’s already overthinking things when Brittany bumps her with an elbow. The blonde doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head at how Mike’s hand rests at the small of Quinn’s back.

Santana sees and they start to smirk. It’s enough to distract her from the meddling thoughts as they continue to wait in line.

“Oh! There’s Kurt and Mercedes,” Brittany says when she spots her friends walking up from the carpark. She then looks to Santana, “Do you mind if I go say hi really quick?”

Santana quirks her brow, surprised by the fact that Brittany’s even asking. Usually if her date saw someone, they’d just up and go to them.

“Uh yeah,” Santana nods, “Go ahead.”

“Sweet!” Brittany beams, “I’ll be right back.”

Quinn glances over her shoulder to smirk at Santana, “She’s so chivalrous, isn’t she?”

Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn before glancing down at Mike’s hand placement. She smirks when she sees Quinn blush and instantly turn out of his hold to face Santana fully. Mike just looks a little confused but turns around too so that they’re all facing each other now.

“Slow moving line, huh?” Mike comments since the two Co-Captains seem to be having a telepathic conversation.

Before either of them can respond, a booming voice calls out from behind them.

“Sup Chang!” Karofsky says and slaps Mike on the back. Azimio lingers beside him and they both look between Santana and Quinn then back at Mike, “No way you scored both of these pretty ladies.”

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and moves closer to Quinn.

“I’m here with Quinn,” Mike tells them simply, “Santana’s here with Brittany.”

Azimio shakes his head first, “Of course she is. A shame really.”

Santana feels her heart start to pound and her fist tightens, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Means it’s a damn waste,” Azimio laughs as he waves his hand at her, “Hot piece like you had to go and switch teams.”

“I don’t see you two idiots here with dates,” Quinn challenges. It’s enough to give Santana a boost of courage too.

“Unless you’re here together?” Santana adds.

“Fuck no! Rather come alone,” Karofsky retorts and gives Santana a grimace, “That shit isn’t natural.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Santana snaps. She feels her whole body ignite as her blunt nails dig into the palms of her hands. She can’t decide if she feels like ripping his head off or bursting into tears.

“You heard what I said dyke,” Karofsky bites back and the way the last word falls makes Santana’s skin crawl.

“Hey man!” Mike steps in. He stands a little straighter but he still looks like a twig compared to the hulking guys, “That’s enough. Don’t you two have somewhere else you can stand?”

Azimio waves him off while Karofsky just laughs, “What? You in on it too?”

“Sticking around for a show later?” Azimio adds as he pokes at Mike’s chest.

Mike slaps his hand away, “Back off, dude. It’s not like that.”

Azimio doesn’t take too kindly to being challenged and soon he and Mike start to shove at each other.

“What are you gonna do?” Azimio instigates, “Lady Lips isn’t here to back you up. You’re all by yourself.”

That’s when Mike shoves Azimio hard and it has Karofsky and Azimio fired up. They start to egg Mike on even more while Santana and Quinn try desperately to pull him back before it gets any worse.

“Go ahead, let him go!” Azimio challenges, “Let’s see what the Asian’s got.”

Thankfully Coach Beiste sees the commotion and jogs over. She puts herself between the guys and shouts, “What the hell is going on here?”

Azimio and Karofsky settle instantly, “Nothing Coach, just messing around with Mike here.”

Mike’s fuming still but Quinn’s got her hand in his and she’s rubbing at his arm with her free one. Santana just keeps glancing between the guys and Coach Beiste.

This is exactly why she has been so terrified. The people at this school are so damn ignorant and she’s too sensitive about it all to defend herself. She can’t rope Brittany into this, she can’t subject her to the bullshit she has to deal with.

“Well cut it out or you’re not getting in,” She orders, “Now go! End of the line!”

Azimio and Karofsky just huff before moving on. Coach Beiste glances at Mike but he just gives her a nod before she’s heading back to the entrance.

It’s then that Brittany jogs back over with a cheek-bunching grin on her face, completely oblivious to what just happened. It instantly falls though when she notices Mike still relatively frustrated and Quinn trying to console him – even Santana doesn’t realize she still clenching her firsts until Brittany speaks.

“Hey,” Brittany greets softly and looks to Santana, “What’d I miss?”

Santana looks to Mike and she gives only the subtlest shakes of her head. She doesn’t want to get into this tonight. She doesn’t want her drama messing everything up so it’s best to keep Brittany in the dark.

It’s enough that he understands what she’s trying to say without saying so he only looks away.

“Nothing,” Santana smiles and hopes that Brittany doesn’t try questioning it. She nods ahead of them, “Oh look, the line is finally moving.”

Brittany spins just in time to see everyone begin to move forward and that’s the end of that.

Once they enter the gym, the group moves to find an empty table near the rest of the Cheerios and Titans. The lights are dim and there’s enough going on between everyone arriving and the music that Santana’s able to avoid Brittany’s curious stares.

“There they are!” Sam cheers once the group gets close enough. His date – Sugar – is hanging off his arm while she chats excitedly with one of the girls on the squad. He reaches over to bump fists with Mike and Brittany, “You guys look really great! You all do. Santana and Britt, you guys got the whole fire and ice thing going on. It’s so cool!”

Brittany and Santana glance at each other’s outfits – Brittany in blue and white, Santana in red.

They chuckle at the coincidence.

“Thanks Sam,” Santana answers then glances to Sugar who’s finally turned to acknowledge the newcomers, “Hey Sugar.”

“Hey Lopez. Hey Quinn, Mike,” Sugar waves then looks to Brittany and goes to fist bump her similar to Sam, “Sup Britt.”

Brittany just chuckles, “Hey Sugar.”

“Come sit,” Sugar says to them with the wave of her hand, “We saved you seats near us. Sammy? Can you and Mike grab us some punch?”

Santana rolls her eyes at Sugar’s bossiness. It’s nothing new to her; Sugar’s kind of known for being a brat but she’s mostly harmless. She slips you twenties for a multitude of reasons so no one really complains.

Sam just shrugs, “Sure thing.”

When the guys head off, Sugar leans on the table and lowers her voice, “So I heard that Missy Gunderson is in the lead for Homecoming Queen.”

“What?” Quinn gasps like it’s the most scandalous thing she’s ever heard.

Santana just leans back and shakes her head, “No way. That’s bullshit.”

“Who’s your source?” Quinn questions, “JBI?”

“You know I can’t reveal that,” Sugar replies, “Just know that they’re reputable.”

“So not JBI?” Santana jokes.

Brittany watches the whole thing unfold and does her best to keep up. Santana notices and it has her itching to comment on how hard the blonde is concentrating. It also has her itching to tell her she’s kind of cute for it but she catches herself before that slips out.

“It isn’t JBI,” Sugar tells them, “But they always know the juiciest gossip so I trust it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Santana says instead, “Remember the last time you heard something? You were completely off.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Okay so I have like a 95% accuracy rating,” Sugar brushes off.

“Says who?” Santana laughs.

Sugar looks at her like she’s lost it, “People, duh. Who else?”

“I’m not believing a word you say,” Santana continues to laugh, “I don’t even know how you came up with that number, but if anyone’s going to win it’s either me or Quinn.”

Sugar just looks to Brittany, “Who are you voting for?”

Between Santana and Quinn, they know the answer but it’s a little funny seeing Brittany put on the spot like that.

“Uh well,” Brittany chuckles nervously, “I’ve already sworn my allegiance to Santana so…sorry, Quinn.”

Quinn fakes an eye roll, “I’m honestly heartbroken.”

Sugar just shrugs, “I’m just going to vote for myself like always.”

Santana only shakes her head as Mike and Sam return with their drinks.

“We did not think this through,” Mike jokes with Sam as they hand out cups of punch. They’re both extremely cautious of the red liquid sloshing around but manage not to spill a drop.

“I’ll go up again to grab ours,” Sam offers, “I think I saw some snacks over there too.”

“Thanks guys,” Brittany says before she’s offering to clink her cup with Santana’s.

A small smile tugs at Santana’s lips as she obliges.

“Cheers,” They say in unison before they take a sip.

This is why she decided to come with Brittany; this carefree feeling she emits is something Santana only hopes that she can absorb by just being around her. It seems to be working so far and she instantly feels much lighter than earlier.

“Hey, there’s Kurt!” Brittany cheers a moment later as her kicker takes the stage with some others she recognizes from the Glee Club. Her call out was loud enough for him to hear so he smiles shyly her way.

To Santana’s surprise, no one at the table starts to boo.

That’s usually what the Titans would do when one of their own does something like sing on stage in front of the whole school, but now that Brittany’s Team Captain a lot has changed. Santana eyes the team and none of them say a word – they just watch the performance quietly. She even sees Puck bobbing his head and again she’s surprised that no one’s calling him out for it either.

Maybe Brittany really is changing things around here?

When Kurt finishes his song, Brittany rises and starts to clap. She’s the only one at first, but then Mike and Sam join her along with the rest of the Titans then the entire room is clapping.

Santana just looks to Quinn to see if she’s seeing this too. They’re both pretty shocked.

“Go Kurt!” Brittany hollers then starts to pump her fist in the air.

Kurt just blushes through his thanks and scurries off the stage as Rachel comes out next. The Titans settle back down but Santana’s just staring at Brittany like she can’t believe her eyes.

“What?” Brittany chuckles.

Santana averts her gaze, “I – I’ve never seen the Titans cheer for someone that’s in the Glee Club. That’s like…unheard of. Making fun of them is a core belief.”

“Well not anymore. At least, not for the Titans,” Brittany says simply, “Kurt’s apart of this team and my guys know how I feel about being supportive of him.”

“Wow,” Santana lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “There’s no way that would fly on the Cheerios.”

“Why not?” Brittany asks. Her tone isn’t challenging, she’s just genuinely curious and it makes Santana’s smile falter. “Aren’t you and Quinn Co-Captains? Don’t you have the power to change the culture of your squad if you want?”

Santana and Quinn exchange a look, because it’s not something they’ve ever thought of before. Coach Sylvester makes it hard to do anything different since she’s been coaching the Cheerios from the beginning of time. The culture isn’t something created by the squad or the captains, it was created by her.

“No one on our squad is in the Glee Club,” Quinn comments but it doesn’t exactly answer Brittany’s questions.

“Maybe that’s because they never felt comfortable enough to join?” Brittany suggests, “Maybe that’s something you two can change before you graduate? Something positive to leave behind rather than the same hurtful cycle.”

Santana softens, suddenly feeling a little guilty.

She can admit that she hasn’t always been the nicest and she can try to make an excuse for it but really…there isn’t one. There are certain expectations she has to honor because of her social status, but the same kind of expectations are applied to Brittany too whether she knows it or not.

The only difference is that Brittany doesn’t let those expectations define her. She has no problem breaking tradition if that tradition sucks.

“And that’s why you’re gonna win!” Sam says proudly and goes to high five Brittany.

Brittany just gives him a playful eye roll before meeting him in the middle.

A while later, the Co-Captains and quarterback make their way over to cast their votes. The music is loud and upbeat; Quinn’s leading the way along the backside of the dancefloor with Santana and Brittany following side by side behind her.

Santana doesn’t miss the longing stares Brittany sends towards the crowd. She looks like she’s seconds away from running off to join them and it makes Santana chuckle.

“You know, you can go out there if you want.”

Brittany looks away to find Santana smirking, “Are you going to come with?”

“I don’t dance,” Santana tells her. She hears Quinn huff from in front of her and she can just picture Quinn’s hazel eyes rolling at her answer.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Brittany jokes with her brow quirked, “I’ve seen the Cheerios’ routines. You dance.”

Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany’s teasing tone, “That’s not dancing.”

“Okay then,” Brittany laughs, “Show me what is.”

Santana’s eyes go wide at the challenge and it feels like her heart skips a beat too. Brittany’s giving her that famous mega-watt smile and Santana’s finding herself wavering the longer she stares. Of course she dances, but it’s different if she agrees to dance with Brittany.

Brittany’s her date and they’d definitely turn a few heads if they were to go out on the dancefloor together. She’s not sure if she wants that kind of attention though.

But…Brittany’s also her friend and friends dance together all the time. It’s like the perfect loophole and that’s kind of their thing now, right? Skirting the lines between what Santana will allow and what she’s too afraid to try.

She feels like she’s at a crossroads and has both the devil and angel on her shoulders whispering away. One’s telling her there’s nothing to worry about while the other says she’s crazy if she thinks anyone’s going to make this easy for her.

Really, she just wants both of them to shut up already.

Meanwhile, Brittany’s still patiently waiting for a response so Santana just goes with her gut instinct – which happens to be a complete flirt apparently.

“I’m not sure you can handle that, Pierce,” Santana says.

Brittany just chuckles again, “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

Quinn looks over her shoulder and gives Santana an impressed nod. Santana doesn’t let it get to her head though as they come to the polling booth where Coach Sylvester sits at small table staring everyone down.

“Hey Coach!” Quinn greets.

“Q, Sandbags,” Coach Sylvester gives them a nod before glancing at Brittany, “I don’t have a name for you yet.”

“It’s Brittany,” Brittany supplies.

“Don’t care,” Coach Sylvester shrugs, “You ladies here to vote?”

“Yes Coach,” Santana and Quinn answer almost robotically. Brittany just nods.

“Alright then. Single file, I want eyes on each of you,” Coach instructs, “There isn’t going to be any funny business this year. Not on my watch!”

Quinn, Santana and Brittany do as they’re told and fall in line.

“What does she mean by funny business?” Brittany whispers to Santana while they wait their turn.

“Last year some idiot stuffed the ballot box with write-in votes for Butt-Muncher McGee,” Santana answers, “It was a whole ordeal.”

“Pretty sure that was Puck,” Quinn adds.

Santana nods, “Probably.”

Coach Sylvester then beckons for Quinn to step up so that she can hand her a ballot before directing her into the booth. When the Coach looks back at the remaining girls, her eyes cut to Brittany.

“You,” She points out, “Lady Titan.”

Brittany stands taller, “Yes Coach?”

The Coach’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to analyze the quarterback.

“I saw that no-handed cartwheel you landed at the Pep Rally yesterday,” Coach informs her, “Your execution needs some work.”

Santana glances up at Brittany but she continues to stand as stoic as ever.

“Thank you for the feedback,” Brittany says politely just as Quinn exits the booth.

“If you were on the Cheerios I could turn you into a champion,” Coach replies then looks to Santana, “Come and grab your ballot, Lopez.”

Santana nods and does as she’s told again but she much rather stand and watch whatever’s going down between the Coach and Brittany.

Once inside, she sets her ballot down on the counter and reaches for the pen. It’s weird; she has never really given too much thought when it comes to voting. She just checks off her name and whatever Titan is up for King without a second thought purely because she never cared about who became King just as long as she was Queen.

This time though, the only Titan there is Brittany.

Seeing the blonde’s name diagonally from her own makes her feel…fluttery inside for all sorts of reasons – reasons that she doesn’t want to unpack at the moment. Most of the time these things are just popularity contests, but for once Santana sees someone on the ballot that actually deserves to win.

And God, she’s really hoping that this isn’t some elaborate prank.

She wants to believe Quinn and Sam so bad, but a part of her can’t shake the fact that the students of McKinley have a history of being assholes. If it ended up taking a turn of the worse, Santana doesn’t know what she’d do…maybe trying kicking everyone’s ass?

She’s not sure how far she’d get though.

“What do you say, Blondie?” Santana hears the Coach ask, “Being a Cheerio is quite the privilege…”

Santana’s brows rise at the offer.

It’s rare that Coach approaches anyone so Santana quickly checks off her boxes: a vote for herself and a vote for Brittany. When she slips the ballot into the box and exits, she finds Brittany smiling politely at Coach Sylvester once again.

“Cheerleading isn’t really my thing,” Brittany tells her as she steps up to take a ballot, “Thanks for the offer though.”

Coach Sylvester grimaces and gives a nod to the booth, “Go.”

“She’s so pissed,” Quinn whispers through her smirk as Santana joins her.

“No one turns her down,” Santana replies, “She doesn’t usually offer spots either.”

“Yeah,” Quinn nods then there’s a pause before her tone turns playful, “So can we talk about how you two were shamelessly flirting earlier? You can’t even deny it because I saw that face you pulled. Are you really not going to dance with her?”

“Oh my God. I’m not doing this,” Santana groans although her cheeks instantly flush. She avoids Quinn’s stares by walking away.

“Santana. Santana!” Quinn calls after her, “Stop walking away from me, we have to wait for Brittany. Santana!”

Santana ends up finding an even better loophole and wanders out onto the dancefloor with Quinn, Sugar and Brittany where they dance together in an awkward little circle. She’s probably the only one that thinks it’s awkward though, everyone else is having a blast. Quinn’s doing her usual sway from side to side, Sugar looks like she’s being electrocuted and Brittany’s…just perfect.

Seriously, the way she moves is so fluid and she actually has some rhythm. It’s hard for Santana to keep her gaze moving. If she lingers too long on Brittany, she’s sure those moves would have her hypnotized. All in all though, she really is having fun dancing with everyone. This night might go down as one of the best she’s had all school year.

“Attention students,” Principal Figgins announces as the song fades, “Will the candidates for King and Queen gather on the stage.”

Suddenly Santana’s weirdly nervous again, not only for her but for Brittany too. When she looks to the blonde by her side, Brittany’s just giving her a lopsided grin.

“Good luck,” She whispers with a soft touch to Santana’s shoulder before she’s making her way to the stage.

Santana gives her a single nod before she glances to Quinn who’s gesturing for her to follow in the opposite direction.

It feels like they’ve done this a million times before but the nerves have never been like this. Usually she stands proud with her chin held up high as she awaits the winners to be announce. Usually she isn’t afraid because when you’re popular there isn’t much to be afraid of; you’re at the top of the food chain, none of them can touch you.

But again, this year is different.

They’ve seen her crack before. They know she has a weakness, everyone knows it aside from Brittany. Still, she does her best to muster all the courage she has and finds her place beside Quinn and Missy.

“I love your dress Santana,” Missy compliments but Santana can tell by her tone that she’s being fake like always. It makes her eyes roll.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Santana quips, “I see we’re recycling last year’s dress.”

Missy’s jaw drops and the fake niceness is gone, “Are you kidding me? I had this flown in from New York. It’s custom made.”

“You should ask for a refund,” Santana smirks; even that little bit of banter has her feeling somewhat normal.

“The votes are in,” Principal Figgins says flatly, “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for where we announce our Homecoming King and also Queen.”

Santana feels her hands go cold and clammy despite the hot spotlights they stand beneath. She swears Figgins is talking even slower than usual and it can’t just be for the dramatic effect.

She chances a glance towards the other end of the stage where Brittany stands between Rick and Scott. Santana thinks Brittany might look a little anxious too, because her usual mega-watt smile isn’t as big and bright.

“Roll the drum, please,” Principal Figgins instructs as he opens the first envelope, “This year’s Homecoming King is…”

Santana finds herself holding her breath at the long pause. She glances to Brittany again then back at the crowd like she’s trying to guess what Figgins is about to say, but their expressions are unreadable.

“Brittany S. Pierce!”

Everyone applauds; the Titans are the loudest – Santana can hear Mike and Sam over all of them – as Brittany steps up to be coronated. Her cheeks are a little pink but her smile is back to being cheek-bunching and bright.

“PIERCE! PIERCE! PIERCE!” Mike and Sam chant in unison while the other Titans pound their fists against the table in perfect rhythm.

“Quiet down,” Principal Figgins tells them but they keep on going for a few more seconds until Brittany’s waving for them to settle down.

Santana’s surprised; not because Brittany won, but because it doesn’t seem to be a prank.

One look at the crowd has Santana’s mind changing. She watches the edges of the stage for anything out of the ordinary like a group of Puck Heads with extra large slushies or Karofsky and Azimio up to no good, but no one is there.

The only ones that look annoyed are Rick and Scott and the guys from the Hockey team, but they always look like that.

“Congratulations, Miss Pierce,” Principal Figgins says as Brittany does a little curtsey before the crowd.

Santana finds herself smiling proudly as Brittany does her best royal wave before the crown is placed upon her head.

“She really did it,” Quinn whispers to Santana.

Santana’s still too surprised to say anything.

Typically, nominees that attend the dance together usually end up winning together as well so to see Brittany win has Santana feeling giddy. It’s a bittersweet feeling though because this is exactly what she wants, but it would also make her the Queen to Brittany’s King and that both excites and terrifies her.

Then she gets to thinking…maybe the prank isn’t on Brittany?

Maybe the prank is on Santana instead?

“And now,” Principal Figgins continues as Brittany takes a step back, “Your McKinley High Homecoming Queen is…”

Santana’s heart is racing. It would make sense; Brittany’s not phased by being nominated King but the whole school knows what it would do to Santana if they made her Queen.

She’d have a total meltdown!

She’s waiting for a vat of pig’s blood to be thrown on her like in Carrie or the cold whiplash of a slushie facial, but then Figgins is announcing the winner and it’s a weird mix of relief and disappointment when she finds that…it isn’t her.

“Quinn Fabray!”

Santana can hear the surprised gasp from her best friend as the crowd erupts. She feels like all eyes are on her, watching and waiting for a reaction. She gets that same feeling she had just before the Pep Rally like the walls are closing in on her and she can’t breathe.

This is it. This is the end of her reign as one of McKinley’s biggest and baddest.

She feels cold fingers wrap around her forearm and it pulls her from her thoughts.

“Santana,” She hears Quinn mumble.

Santana can feel herself smiling but she knows Quinn can see through it. It isn’t genuine because she can feel the tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m – “

“Stop,” Santana tells her even if her ears are ringing. She can just hear the apology forming and she doesn’t want to hear it, “I rather it go to one of us then that stuck-up bitch.”

Missy Gunderson scoffs at them.

“Miss Fabray?” Principal Figgins prompts but the two continue to hang on to each other.

Quinn shakes her head, “It should be you. I voted for you.”

Santana feels her throat tighten, “Don’t worry about me. Go get your crown, Q.”

Quinn nods and puts on her pageant smile as she approaches Figgins.

“Congratulations, Miss Fabray,” Principal Figgins says as the crown is placed upon Quinn’s head.

Santana claps the hardest, but it doesn’t cover up the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“And now, behold the tradition of our Homecoming King and Queen sharing their first dance,” Principal Figgins announces as the Glee Club takes the stage.

The nominees are directed off stage while the students on the dancefloor create a circular opening for Brittany and Quinn. Santana watches longingly as they make their way down the steps.

She joins Mike, Sam and Sugar standing at the front of the opening as the band starts up with the first chords of Miguel’s Pineapple Skies. Artie’s on lead vocals and Santana would be in awe of how good he actually sounds if she were able to focus on anything else but her best friend and her date dancing together.

And maybe Quinn’s right, maybe it should be Santana out there but Santana doesn’t know if she would be brave enough. Quinn obviously has nothing to worry about, no one’s ever questioned her sexuality before.

But if it were Santana there instead? She can just hear the questions now: So Santana really does play for another team?

And if she were to say yes, what would happen? Would she endure the same kind of treatment everyone else who is different endures? Would they make her life a living hell like they did last year?

“It’s so cool Britt won,” Mike says to her while they watch Quinn and Brittany groove to the music, “She’s awesome.”

“Let’s hope that’s the only reason why she won,” Santana mutters without thinking. A part of her is still paranoid that something bigger is going on and she keeps an eye out for anything suspicious.

Mike frowns though, “What do you mean?”

Santana shrugs as she watches Quinn try to twirl Brittany, “You’ve seen how people at this school treat those that are different. Just look at Karofsky and Azimio earlier. How do you know they didn’t do this?”

Mike instantly softens, “Those guys are jerks, Santana, but I promise they have nothing to do with Brittany winning.”

Santana looks up at the sound of him being so certain.

“Everyone on the team agreed that she should win,” Mike explains, “We all voted for her, couldn’t have a Puck Head as King, but it’s more than that. She’s our quarterback.”

Santana’s lips part but she says nothing.

Once again, she let her own insecurities take her on a joyride.

“Plus, you’ve got to admit she’s a pretty cool person,” Mike shrugs as Quinn lets out a laugh at Brittany trying to do the robot, “Maybe she’s starting to change people’s minds about what it means to be different? Maybe they’re starting to see that it’s okay?”

Santana bites her lip. Maybe Boy Chang is on to something?

“Well…they could’ve at least amended her title,” She replies, “Just because she plays football doesn’t mean she wants to be a King. Female quarterbacks can be Queens too.”

“True,” Mike nods, “But she doesn’t look too bothered by it.”

They both continue to watch Brittany and Quinn dance together. At least it’s an upbeat song so they don’t have to do the whole awkward slow dance thing. They both look like they’re having a blast though and Santana finds herself wishing she could be that carefree.

“She really does look beautiful though,” Mike comments dreamily.

“Yeah she does,” Santana whispers with her eyes still on Brittany.

He glances to his side and quickly amends his previous statement, “Quinn, I mean.”

Santana only smiles, “Yeah. She does too.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until Mike’s raising a brow at her and there’s a small smirk starting to grow.

Santana narrows her eyes at him, “Don’t say a word.”

All Mike does is gesture that his lips are sealed before turning away.

Santana really isn’t worried about him. Of all the guys at McKinley, Mike’s probably the most decent one there is so she knows she can trust that he’ll keep her slip-up to himself.

Still, she can’t believe the slip-up happened in the first place.

It’s probably the first time she’s ever voiced her attraction for Brittany out loud and now that she’s said it, it’s harder for her to deny. It also makes it harder for her to watch Brittany dance with Quinn.

Santana recognizes that she’s becoming a little jealous and immediately feels guilty about it. It’s not Quinn’s fault that McKinley chose her, that’s not why she feels jealous. It’s because she’s not the one still struggling to accept a huge part of herself and that makes Santana feel even worse.

She’s just so tired of caring too much about what everyone’s thinking about her.

\\\\\

Shortly after the honorary first dance, Brittany is quickly swept up in people wanting to congratulate her. Kurt is one of the first and he practically launches himself into her arms for a big hug.

“You make a magnificent King, Britt,” He compliments before he pulls away to bow.

Brittany giggles at the display then Mercedes and Tina are congratulating her next. Before she knows it, she’s surrounded by Titans and Cheerios and other students she recognizes from class. She’s polite and thanks them all for their votes – even if she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that so many of them chose her – but she’s quick to notice a particular someone missing from the crowd.

Brittany’s able to dodge the rest of the students as their attention is drawn to Quinn who has pulled Mike to her side. She bumps into Sam and Sugar as she starts to look around.

“Sorry. Have you seen Santana?” Brittany asks, “I saw her standing with Mike just a minute ago.”

Sugar only shrugs, seemingly unbothered or bored, then goes over to talk to Quinn. Sam scratches his head and looks around too.

“Sorry Britt,” He says, “I didn’t even notice. Maybe she’s gone to the bathroom?”

Brittany nods, but she has a funny feeling that Santana won’t be there.

She saw the look on her face when they were on stage, it was like Santana was about to puke up there. Brittany didn’t get it; wasn’t Santana meant to be a pro at this stuff? Could it be stage fright? No, that’s silly. She’s a Cheerio, she performs for crowds all the time so there’s no way she’s terrified of the spotlight.

It has to be something else and that has her worried.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Brittany tells him.

“Sure thing,” Sam smiles before going to join the rest of his friends surrounding Quinn and Mike.

Brittany actually finds Santana rather quickly. She was on her way to check the bathroom when she noticed someone sitting outside in the courtyard. She recognized Santana’s red dress through the foggy glass of the window and slowly made her way out to join her.

What she doesn’t expect to see is the cigarette in her hand; she didn’t think Santana smoked.

They’re still on school property so to see Santana being so open about it kind of shocks Brittany, but at the same time it doesn’t surprise her at all. With Santana’s bad girl reputation, Brittany wouldn’t expect anything less. Whatever makes you look cool, right?

“There you are,” She says in order to make her presence known. She sees Santana flinch and lower the cigarette from view. It makes Brittany chuckle; as if that would be enough to hide the fact that’s she’s out here smoking.

Santana looks over her shoulder as Brittany comes around to sit on the stone bench across from her.

“Hey Pierce.”

Brittany smirks, “You know I have first name, right?”

“I know.”

“And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it.”

Santana matches Brittany’s smirk before taking another drag, “Nice crown.”

Brittany touches it like she forgot it was there then shrugs, “It’s alright. I’ve seen better ones at the party store.”

Santana gives her a wry chuckle before exhaling. Brittany’s quick to pick up on the tension but she can’t determine what’s the matter.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers but her voice cracks. It looks like she didn’t expect it too and quickly averts her gaze and focuses on taking another drag.

Brittany ducks her head and softens her tone, “You sure?”

There’s a deep sigh, “No.”

Santana’s still looking everywhere else but Brittany. The blonde isn’t deterred though; eye contact is spooky especially when you’re feeling vulnerable.

“What’s up?” Brittany asks trying to sound casual.

She doesn’t give an answer for a long time. They just sit in a heavy silence until Santana has to stub out her cigarette. Now that her hands aren’t busy, they wind together in her lap.

“I haven’t been very honest with you,” Santana admits so softly Brittany almost didn’t hear her.

“Okay?”

She has never seen Santana look so small and it has her crossing the short distance between them without even thinking about it just so she can sit closer. She’s not sure what Santana could possibly be lying about, but she’s an understanding person. Whatever’s going on, Brittany just wants to show Santana that she can be a good friend.

Santana takes a shaky breath and twines her fingers so tightly together that her knuckles begin to pale. Brittany so badly wants to reach out and ease them from the harsh grip, but that’s sure to be overstepping some boundary.

“So,” Santana breathes out. Brittany watches her lips part before she laughs dryly at how the words seem to get stuck, “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers encouragingly, “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

It’s then that Santana finally looks up at her and it makes Brittany’s breath hitch. Her brown eyes are tinged red and they flicker between Brittany’s like she’s searching for something there.

Then she’s licking her lips and preparing to speak again.

“So, There’s another shaky breath and an even longer pause then she says, “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Brittany exhales without thinking. She instantly blushes because that’s not what she wanted to say but she’s so surprised that it was all that came out. Santana’s still looking on edge so Brittany quickly gives her a reassuring smile, “Wow. That’s great, Santana.”

Something shifts for the brunette and it’s like a sigh of relief hits her. The stiffness in her shoulders ease and the anguish on her face starts to fade.

“I can see why people struggle with finding the right thing to say,” Brittany jokes in attempt to lighten the mood. Her cheeks feel hot, “I’m sorry, I’ve never been on the other side of this before. I wish I could’ve thought of something cooler to say.”

That seems to ease Santana yet again, even a small smile starts to form.

“But seriously,” Brittany continues as she ducks down to look Santana in the eye, “That’s really awesome, Santana. Thank you for telling me.”

Santana’s small smile falters as she shies away from Brittany’s gaze, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” Brittany assures her, “That’s a silly thing to be sorry about. You should tell people whenever you feel comfortable enough. This is about you.”

Santana bites her lip, “I guess I’m not use to that as an option.”

That makes Brittany wonder, but she doesn’t go for a deeper dive.

“Well I appreciate you telling me. It’s a brave thing to do.”

“Brave?” Santana scoffs, “I just wanted to tell you before someone else did.”

So others know? Brittany wonders.

“Well even then,” Brittany replies instead, “I’d still wait for you to tell me yourself. I’d never want to assume, not about something like this. I know how it feels and it kind of sucks.”

Santana looks up at her through her long lashes, “So you are…? Am I allowed to ask?”

Brittany chuckles at how unsure Santana is – it’s a little adorable – but she quiets down and gives her a nod, “I’m bisexual.”

“Okay,” Santana nods too, “I’m…I’m sorry if that was insensitive. I don’t really have much experience when it comes to this as you can probably tell. I’m not friends with anyone else who’s…you know.”

“Gay?” Brittany supplies easily. She softens when she sees how the word makes Santana tense, “You can say it, it’s not a dirty word unless you make it one.”

Santana smiles at that, “I think I’m still trying to get use to saying it out loud. Shit, I’m still trying to get use to saying it in my head.”

“I get it,” Brittany chuckles, “I’m sure the people at this school don’t make it easy for you to be yourself, huh?”

Santana sighs, “Something like that. You’re probably the last to know.”

“Okay,” Brittany goes to bump her shoulder with Santana’s playfully, “You don’t have to rub it in. I know my gaydar isn’t the best.”

Santana chuckles and it makes Brittany feel a little accomplished, but the feeling fades when Santana gets swept up in a deep thought.

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to this?” Brittany asks hesitantly.

“Because there is,” Santana answers, “But I don’t want to get into it tonight.”

Brittany respects that, “Is that why you’re out here?”

Santana shrugs, “Kind of.”

“Okay,” Brittany says and goes to straighten up. She opts for a lighter tone, “Well, we don’t have to talk about it then. We can just sit out here if you want? Talk about how cute Mike and Quinn are together?”

Santana glances her way with a quirked brow, “Did you see how they were holding hands earlier?”

“Uh, yeah!” Brittany beams, “The sparks were totally flying before I came looking for you.”

Santana chuckles and after a moment she says, “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to ditch you.”

“It’s all good,” Brittany shrugs as she looks up at the dark sky. A couple stars twinkle above and it makes her smile, “It’s kind of nice out here.”

Santana nods and they fall into a long, comfortable silence. Brittany’s fine with it, it’s a nice break from the crowd that was forming around her inside. It’s nice to just sit with someone.

“You know,” Santana starts quietly, “I’m out I guess but sometimes it feels like I’m not. It feels like I’m still that scared little girl hiding in the closet.”

Brittany frowns at the brokenness.

“I’m just so over being afraid all the time,” Santana grumbles, “It sucks pretending to be someone I’m not. It sucks feeling like an embarrassment.”

The last word is what confuses Brittany the most, “An embarrassment?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs and she looks so helpless again, “I just…I wanted to prove to everyone tonight that I still got it you know? So what if last year was shitty for me? I can still rule this place because nothing has changed. I’m still the same person.”

Brittany’s questions are piling up but the way Santana’s voice cracks again grabs her attention.

“I just can’t believe I lost,” Santana croaks and Brittany swears she can see tears in Santana’s eyes, “After all of that, I couldn’t even win a damn crown.”

Brittany frowns at the sound of Santana’s bitter laugh and she’s trying so hard to bat away the tears before Brittany can see them fall. It’s like she can’t let Brittany see her in such a vulnerable state and it breaks her heart.

Brittany doesn’t think before she reaches up to remove the crown from her head.

“Take mine then,” She offers.

Santana goes to argue but her words fall short when Brittany places the crown on Santana’s head instead. She smiles at how it’s a little crooked and a touch too big.

“Looks good,” Brittany compliments.

“I – I can’t take this,” Santana says as she reaches up to remove it, “This is yours, you earned it.”

Brittany stops her hand from moving any higher, “I don’t mind giving it away, especially when it means so much more to you.”

Santana’s lips part and twitch to form a smile at how Brittany’s hand lingers atop of hers but then her brows furrow as she pulls away, “I wish it didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Brittany nods, “But in this moment while we’re young and dumb and care about silly things, it does and that’s okay. It isn’t just a crown for you. It’s acceptance.”

Santana looks at her like she’s surprised by what she hears; Brittany is too if she’s being honest.

Santana catches another falling tear with the back of her hand and lets out a embarrassed laugh, “God, this is so stupid. Why do I have to care so much about what everyone thinks of me?”

“One day you won’t,” Brittany assures her as she reaches into her blazer. She finds a couple tissues there and offers them to Santana.

“Thanks,” She whispers behind a watery smile.

Brittany just nods, “I think it’s only natural to care, especially here. Everyone cares way too much about what everyone thinks of them. It would drive anyone a little crazy I think.”

Santana dabs beneath her eyes, “It sucks.”

“Yeah,” Brittany chuckles, “It kind of does.”

“Were you always like this?” Santana wonders while she tries to dry her tears, “So sure of who you are?”

“I was being called a tomboy from when I was like 6,” Brittany jokes lightly, “People have been trying to tell me who I am and fit me into a box my whole life. I wasn’t very sure of myself for a long time.”

“Oh,” Santana frowns.

“I’m not an angry person but it always made me a little mad inside and that stuck with me as I grew up,” Brittany tells her, “I only made it even worse when I started playing sports in school. It felt like everyone was labelling me before I could even explore who I was.”

Santana sighs, “I can relate.”

“I guess after awhile I got tired of being so annoyed by it all,” Brittany says, “People are always going to talk, they’ll always have their own ideas about who you are, and you can’t really change that. What you can do is change how you react to it.”

“Makes sense,” Santana replies.

“Maybe I grew a thicker skin or something or I finally became immune to listening to what everyone else had to say about me,” Brittany continues with a shrug, “I stopped focusing on them and started to focus on me. I embraced all my awesome and once people saw that, they embraced it too. I was being the authentic me and I’ve been told by at least one person here that it’s kind of inspiring.”

Santana smirks at the sound of Brittany trying to joke with her again, “Was it Kurt?”

“Yeah,” Brittany giggles.

Santana just shakes her head as she takes a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry about this,” She says with wave at herself, “I didn’t really anticipate having a whole breakdown at Homecoming. It’s probably not what you signed up for.”

“I signed up for a night out with a friend,” Brittany assures her with a smile, “It’s been good to me so far. What about you? You know, aside from the obvious.”

Santana chuckles, “It’s been good to me too.”

“Sweet,” Brittany beams then leans back to look up at the night sky as they settle into another bout of silence.

Brittany’s just replaying their conversation in her head.

She learned a lot about Santana tonight and maybe the most important thing she learned is that Santana is pretty sensitive at heart. It’s so unlike the persona she puts on at school around everyone else but it makes sense, because that’s the role she feels the most comfortable playing.

It’s no wonder she’s struggling to adapt.

When Brittany glances at Santana, she finds the brunette staring up at the sky too. Her crown still sits perfectly tilted on Santana’s head and it makes Brittany feel all fuzzy and warm inside. She hopes that she’s able to offer Santana some type of comfort whether its her words or by giving away her crown, because Santana doesn’t deserve to feel so horrible about herself.

Brittany hopes that maybe in some small way she has shown Santana that the things she feels are normal and she isn’t alone and if she needs someone Brittany can be that person for her too.

But just for good measure, Brittany adds one last thing.

“None of this is really matters – you know – like in the grand scheme of things,” Brittany mentions and it has Santana looking back at her, “Years from now when everyone’s moved on, no one’s going to remember who won what. It’s all a stupid game with stupid prizes and none of it is going to matter once you graduate. At least that’s how I look at it.”

Santana softens, “You’re kind of a genius, Pierce.”

Brittany doesn’t think anyone’s ever called her that before and the smile she wears shows it.

“Do you want to go back in?” Santana asks awhile later, “We’ve been out here long enough. You probably want to get back in there.”

“Only if you want to,” Brittany shrugs but as soon as she says that she remembers the horde of people still wanting to talk to her. Maybe she would rather run far, far away instead?

“I usually don’t stay the entire time,” Santana tells her.

Brittany quirks a brow and jokes, “Too cool?”

“Maybe,” Santana smirks, “You want to get a coffee instead?”

“A coffee?” Brittany laughs, “It’s nearly 9:30.”

“What?” Santana teases, “Getting close to your bedtime?”

“Maybe,” Brittany quips before rising to her feet, “Is the Lima Bean even open at this time?”

Santana shakes her head, “I know place.”

Brittany just shrugs before holding her hand out to Santana, “Let’s go then before one of us turns into a pumpkin.”

“If it’s only 9:30 I think we’ll be safe,” Santana giggles as she lets Brittany pull her to stand, “I’ll just let Quinn know we’re going first.”

“Okay sure,” Brittany starts to walk towards the door when Santana catches her by the wrist.

“Uh…you might want to wear this so no one thinks I stole it from you in a jealous rage,” Santana says jokingly as she pulls off the crown.

“I think I could take you,” Brittany laughs then bends down a little so that Santana can place the crown back on Brittany’s head. She makes a few adjustments so that it sits just right before tucking a stray hair behind Brittany’s ear.

“Perfect,” Santana compliments as she pulls away.

Brittany only blushes as Santana opens the door for them both.

\\\\\

As soon as Santana told Quinn that she and Brittany were leaving early to get a coffee, she swore Quinn was going to pass out from all the excitement. She ignored all of Quinn’s usual comments in favor of teasing her about Mike and how they’ll be spending their night instead.

That shut Quinn up real quick.

Now they’re at Elliott’s Fairgrounds – a café Santana found halfway through her Sophomore year – and they’re chatting away over a couple of hot chocolates. Aside from some old guy that looks to be asleep in one of the arm chairs near the fireplace and the two baristas behind the counter, they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Woah,” Brittany breathed out when they first entered the small townhouse that had been converted into a cozy café, “This is so much better than the Lima Bean.”

Unlike their competitor, Elliott’s Fair Grounds was a lot more down to earth and gave off such a laid back vibe. The owner – Elliott – prides himself on creating a safe space for all kinds of people and that’s really what drew Santana in. Most of the time the place is filled with students from the local community college busy studying, but on a Saturday night it’s usually empty – just how she liked it.

Brittany’s still wearing her crown and Santana can’t get over how the blonde doesn’t give a single fuck about it. Not that any of the staff here would ever tease her, but Brittany just carries on like usual and Santana kind of loves that about her.

“It’s so cool being in a café at night,” Brittany comments as she swipes her finger through the whipped cream atop her mug, “It’s like an alternate universe or something.”

“Yeah. No one here to bother me,” Santana chuckles before admitting, “The Lima Bean can get a little crowded. I use to come here all the time last year.”

“Why’d you stop?” Brittany asks as she cleans off the tip of her finger.

“Uhh…” Santana swallows dryly and glances at the baristas behind the counter just so she doesn’t stare but it only further reminds her of the answer. She’s already spent so much of their night talking about herself so she opts for something simple, “I guess I’ve just been busy.”

Brittany seems satisfied with the answer, “Well maybe this can be our new thing then? We can like…come here once a week or something?”

Santana smiles at the thought of doing something like this together on a weekly basis.

“Yeah,” She nods, “I can be down with that.”

After the drinks and the conversations, Santana gets Brittany home at a respectable time even though Brittany said she didn’t really have a curfew. Santana was instantly jealous – if she isn’t home by 11 on the dot, her parents would kick her ass.

That had Brittany laughing as they pulled up to the Pierce residence.

“Well you’ve got about 15 minutes left,” Brittany jokes, “Think you’ll make it?”

Santana chuckles, “Totally. I don’t live too far from here.”

“Okay good,” Brittany grins, “I don’t want to be the reason you’re getting into trouble.”

“So considerate,” Santana teases and then they fall into a moment.

Santana recognizes it the second it happens.

They’re alone in her car at the end of their time together at Homecoming, Santana knows what usually happens next from her past experiences. This is where the guy would put his heavy hand on her thigh and lean in for a messy goodnight kiss. Some dates were better kissers than others – for example, Puck even if he’s an ass – and Santana would oblige because that’s what she’s supposed to do.

Girls kiss boys, boys kiss girls.

Only, that’s not always the case because here she is and she’s not sure what to do. Brittany’s her friend but the things she feels in the pit of her stomach aren’t feelings she gets around a friend. She tries to imagine that it’s Quinn in the passenger seat and they’d usually hug before she leaves.

Is she allowed to do that with Brittany? Should she ask? Is that lame as hell? Probably.

“Wow, you are really spinning those gears,” Brittany chuckles which has Santana going beet red in an instant.

“I – I was going to tell you something but I couldn’t remember what it was,” Santana lies.

“Right,” Brittany nods, “Well, text me if you do. I’m going to hug you now because it looks like you need it.”

“Oh,” Santana chuckles at how easy Brittany makes it all seem as the blonde leans over the middle console. Her long arms wrap around Santana in a warm hug and it’s hard for the brunette to keep from humming at how nice it feels.

“Thanks for a great night,” Brittany says softly and her breath tickles Santana’s ear, “Thanks for telling me about you too.”

Santana’s heart feels so full it’s about to burst. Brittany’s probably the best date she’s ever had. No one’s ever shown her this kind of kindness and understanding. She actually doesn’t want this to end so soon now.

“Thanks for listening,” Santana ends up saying in reply as Brittany pulls away.

“Well goodnight, Santana,” Brittany says as she goes for the door. She gives her a soft smile, “Get home safe.”

Santana just nods, “Goodnight.”

It’s not until Santana’s at home getting ready for bed that she notices she hasn’t stopped smiling since. Even as she’s brushing her teeth and she has a mouthful of suds, her grin is still ever so prevalent.

It only grows bigger when she sees her phone light up on her night stand. She walks over to check it while her toothbrush is still hanging out of her mouth. There’s a text from Brittany and she’s quick to open it.

From Brittany – Here’s all of those pics we took earlier. You can do whatever you want with them, I don’t mind. I think we look pretty good, don’t you?

Santana stands there for a moment admiring each and every one of the pictures attached to her text and she can’t help but agree. Brittany’s beautiful and that smile…man, Santana hasn’t seen a prettier one in her whole life. She looks pretty good herself too, but for once she’s not looking too much at herself in these pictures.

They kind of make a good-looking pair in these and maybe she even sets her favorite one as Brittany’s profile picture in her phone but she doubts anyone needs to know about that.

It’ll just be her little secret.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #this is so long wtf LOL

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vulcan-highblood · 4 years

Text

Group Project

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Gen

Summary: Iruka didn't realize that a baby (6-year-old) joining his class was the herald to the end of his pranking days in the Academy. But when their teacher assigns Itachi and Iruka a group project, it becomes clear that Iruka's going to have to learn how to cooperate with the little smarty-pants Uchiha. The only problem is, he's not sure Itachi's willing to cooperate with him.

Read it on AO3

Group Project Sharingan-Stealer Iruka - Part 1

There was a new kid in class, Iruka noted absently as he eased his hand under his desk, pressing a small wad of what looked like chewing gum there, fighting to keep a straight face. At the front of the classroom, Aki-sensei was scribbling on the blackboard and babbling about this… Iruka paused, doing a double take. They were getting a baby in their class!

Okay, not a literal baby, but he might as well be! He was barely half the size of everyone else in the room, with big dark eyes, soft black hair, and chubby baby cheeks. Iruka fought not to laugh - what was this kid doing in their class? They were going to graduate in a few months, why on earth would they be moving this kid into their class now?

“I hope you will all be welcoming to Itachi. We have high hopes for him - for all of you -” here Aki-sensei paused to glare at Iruka, “to pass your upcoming assessment and graduate to Genin-rank.”

Iruka didn’t bother to hide his scowl at that. He’d been held back during the last assessment because of his poor written marks. And his poor practical scores. Also probably because he’d skipped the first half of the test to try and drop water balloons on the ANBU standing outside Hokage Tower. The real trap had actually been trying to corral them into tripping a wire that would send a ink-filled balloon at them from a completely different direction, but, like all the other times he’d tried to pull one over on the ANBU, it hadn’t succeeded.

He had been scolded pretty soundly by two of them, and then frog-marched back to the Academy, only to realize that Aki-sensei hadn’t reminded them about the test the day before, so he hadn’t known to show up on time. Or maybe she had reminded them, and Iruka had slept through it? Anyway, he’d missed most of the graduation exam, and Aki-sensei wasn’t about to let him forget it. Other than harassing him about tests, though, she had precious little to say to him that wasn’t critical and honestly just obnoxious, and Iruka got enough of that at the orphanage, so was it any wonder that he tended to tune her out?

“Hey Iruka,” Mizuki whispered, “check out the new kid. He’s an Uchiha.”

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.” It was hard to miss the fan shape on the kid’s shirt, after all. Did Mizuki really think he was that dumb? He may not be great in school, but he knew the clan crests! At least, the important ones. Mostly. Anyway, Uchiha was an easy crest to recognize because it looked like a fan.

“No, idiot, I mean,” Mizuki shot back with an irritated grimace, “He’s an Uchiha. I heard they’re the ones responsible for… you know.”

“I don’t know,” Iruka replied, frowning. “Responsible for what? They’re the military police, I’m sure they have a lot of responsibilities.”

Mizuki glanced back and forth like he was going to tell Iruka a secret, and then whispered very loudly, “They’re the ones who caused the Kyuubi attack.”

Whispers rippled across the room as eyes turned to land on the new baby in their class. They didn’t have any Uchiha kids in their year, or hadn’t, but Iruka had seen a couple of Uchihas around the academy in some of the lower classes. They didn’t seem like the sort of people to be letting nine-tailed demon foxes loose in the village, but what did Iruka know? The Uchihas mostly stuck to their own compound, except when they were in school, and Iruka couldn’t recall ever meeting one outside of school. He scowled down at the kid. If his family was responsible for that night… Iruka swallowed hard. It had been two years since that night, but sometimes his throat still burned like he’d never stopped screaming.

Slowly, he forced his eyes away from the tiny kid in the front row. What his family had done wasn’t his business, anyway. As long as he didn’t bother Iruka, he didn’t have a problem with the little kid.

Itachi Uchiha was starting to get on Iruka’s nerves. It wasn’t like the kid was

trying

to annoy him necessarily. At least, that didn’t seem to be his intent. But his very existence felt like a splinter stuck under Iruka’s skin that he couldn’t seem to dislodge, setting him on edge. And then,

then

he’d started to actively get a rise out of Iruka. It wasn’t just the way that this

tiny baby child

had waltzed into their classroom and

immediately

risen to the top of the class in test scores, or even the way he managed to

always

master everything in their practical skills work. It wasn’t even the way he was

always

raising his hand in class to answer questions, or

worse,

ask

questions, which would lead Aki-sensei on a tangent when Iruka just wanted to

go outside

and not sit at a desk and listen to a boring teacher blather on about boring rules. No, the thing that made Iruka genuinely irritated was the fact that Itachi kept

ratting him out.

It had started on the very first day. After Mizuki had made his not-so-subtle announcement about the Uchiha clan and their supposed connection to the disaster from two years ago, Itachi had taken a moment to turn and glance back at the rest of the room, his gaze sweeping over the class before frowning at Iruka. Or, more specifically, the ‘gum’ under Iruka’s desk. Then, he raised his hand.

“Yes, Itachi?” Aki-sensei said, pausing mid-lecture. “You have a question?”

“Not exactly,” Itachi answered, his dark eyes drifting back over his shoulder to peer at Iruka. “Are exploding tags allowed in this classroom?”

Iruka was going to strangle him. He’d planned this out to the letter, and now this tiny kid was going to ruin it? He gripped his pencil so hard it almost broke, widening his eyes at the little Uchiha as if to say “don’t you dare,” but the little kid seemed totally unmoved.

“No,” Aki-sensei said, her eyes drifting from Itachi up to where he was staring: Iruka’s desk. “They are not. Iruka?”

Desperately, Iruka tried to salvage the situation, lifting his hands in the air. “Look, I don’t have an exploding tag, my hands are empty-”

“He was sticking it under his desk while you were writing on the chalkboard,” Itachi interrupted. “I saw him hide it under the gum.”

“It’s not an exploding tag!” Iruka barked back, irritated.

“Oh?” Suddenly, Aki-sensei was across the room, standing beside his desk. One of her eyes twitched as she stared down at Iruka, a dangerous gleam in her stare. “And if it’s not an exploding tag, then what is it?”

… he should have seen that one coming. Iruka glared furiously at Itachi, who had already turned around in his seat and didn’t seem to notice the enraged look Iruka was tossing in his direction. If Iruka knew how to radiate a killing intent, he would have, because what was this kid’s deal? It wasn’t like he was going to be personally affected by a little stink-bomb, especially not one as weak as the one Iruka had thrown together this morning by modifying a stolen exploding tag from the training grounds. It was set to go off at a specific trigger, specifically exposure to chakra, which would probably be when Aki-sensei peeled the gum off the desk at the end of class, because he’d used some chakra to stick it right at the edges, and Aki-sensei wasn’t one for finesse, so knowing her, she’d just blast the whole thing with chakra to peel it off, and then… boom! The room would be filled with the smell of rotten eggs. It wouldn’t have bothered anyone else, just smelled up the room and probably also Aki-sensei. To match her stinking personality, because she hated Iruka and never bothered to hide her disdain, so why should anyone care if she smelled as stinky as her attitude?

“...it’s just a stink-tag,” Iruka groused.

Aki-sensei scowled down at him, folding her arms over her chest. “If it’s just a…” she made a small confused face, “…stink-tag…” she shook her head at the unfamiliar phrase before continuing, “then, I suppose you know how to remove it without setting it off?”

Iruka nodded slowly, his mind already spinning as he re-evaluated his options. He fought to keep his expression neutral as an idea occurred to him. Really, Itachi had brought this on himself with his meddling. If he hadn’t said anything, the only person who would have been affected was Aki-sensei and her nasty attitude.

Aki-sensei was watching him with her sharp gaze. “Honestly, Iruka, sometimes I wonder why you even bother coming to class at all,” she snapped, “if all you’re going to do is make trouble, you might as well not be here.”

Iruka agreed, in a general sense. He didn’t want to be in Aki-sensei’s classroom any more than she wanted him there. But he wanted to become a ninja, a great ninja, like his parents, and that meant he had to graduate from Ninja Academy, even if it meant putting up with mean people like Aki-sensei. “Yes, sensei,” was all he said, reaching under his desk and minding his own chakra, making sure to keep it well away from the ‘gum’, peeling the sticky substance away from the desk to reveal the small tag he’d altered that morning. Then, with a smirk, he turned to face the front of the classroom, and shouted, “Hey, Itachi! Catch!” and pushed a tiny bit of his chakra into the tag as he threw it at Itachi’s head. The tag exploded before it reached the kid, really almost as it left Iruka’s hand, but it was the thought that counted, Iruka decided. The odorous smoke trailed across the room, covering mostly Iruka and Aki-sensei, but also quickly filling the entire classroom with a horrible stench.

Despite the urge to gag, Iruka had to admit the tag had worked well. Next time, he’d have to figure out a detonation timer, or distance trigger for it. It worked basically the same as a regular exploding tag, but with less concussive force and more smell, so he was fairly confident he could get it to work. He grinned, even as Aki-sensei grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard, scolding him about whatever. He wasn’t listening. Instead, as their classroom was being evacuated, amidst the coughing, choking, and streaming eyes, Iruka caught Itachi’s cool, dark gaze, and winked at him. The Uchiha looked away. Heh. Score 1: Umino Iruka.

Iruka’s detention after school to air out the classroom and scrub it top-to-bottom was worth it, he decided. Maybe next time Itachi would think twice before selling him out.

…he did not.

~~*~~

In the weeks that followed, Iruka discovered a few new facts about Uchiha Itachi.

Fact one: Itachi was a rules guy.

He didn’t particularly care what the retaliation would be, if he saw Iruka breaking a rule, he would say something and it would suck. Iruka was usually able to get away with a few pranks here and there just because Aki-sensei couldn’t prove it was him, but with Itachi’s eagle-eyes following him everywhere, it seemed like he was getting detentions nonstop. At this point, Aki-sensei had taken to making Iruka stand in the corner of the classroom and stare at the wall for a few hours after every prank. Then she had the audacity to get mad when Iruka would come in the next day without his homework! He was an older kid in the orphanage, he had chores to do, and he was spending detention staring at a wall! Maybe if she let him do his homework instead of standing around doing nothing, he’d actually be able to finish it! Not that he bothered saying as much - she would have just accused him of making excuses.

Another fact about Uchiha Itachi: He was a genius.

It was more than just how good at everything in school he was, he was also good at catching Iruka when Iruka was trying to pull a prank. He was better at that than his teachers, even! In a way, Itachi reminded Iruka of the ANBU around Hokage Tower, able to somehow spot every trap he was setting up and avoiding every piece of it as if it was nothing. Itachi seemed capable of effortlessly noticing, dismantling, and alerting the adults whenever Iruka tried to pull something, and he took it as a personal challenge. Iruka stopped caring so much about pranking Aki-sensei, who at this point had taken to ignoring him all over again. Instead, he started trying to get Itachi.

A lot of the classic pranks didn’t pan out, and Itachi just reported him to Aki-sensei, who had him stand in a corner until after dinnertime, which usually meant he’d get back to the orphanage late and have nothing to eat and still an hour or two of chores before lights-out. So after a few failed attempts, Iruka moved on from that, but he didn’t give up on the idea. As much as it sucked to go without dinner for a night here and there, he had Itachi’s attention, and he felt like maybe this was a prime way to practice his ANBU traps without alerting any actual ANBU to his early attempts. As he took his time coming up with new pranks, part of Iruka even wondered if Itachi might be enjoying himself, too. It was hard to tell.

This tied into fact three about Uchiha Itachi: He reacted to basically everything in a calm, methodical, mild manner.

Since he never seemed to respond to anything, his lack of reaction to the pranks seemed fairly normal to Iruka. Itachi never seemed especially surprised or angry, and he only really smiled when he was talking about his baby brother, Sasuke. But Iruka thought that maybe Itachi enjoyed the challenge of spotting his pranks, of reporting him to Aki-sensei, almost as much as Iruka enjoyed trying to think up new ways to get him. If he didn’t, then why would he keep doing it? Surely it was easier to just let Iruka do what he wanted.

Things continued on in this way for about a month. Iruka would set a trap, Itachi would spot it and report him to Aki-sensei, Aki-sensei would make him stand in the corner, and Iruka wouldn’t turn in his homework the next day. It became almost routine, until Aki-sensei told the class they would be doing a group homework project. Instantly, everyone started trying to grab their friends and pair up - but Aki-sensei cut them off, saying that everyone would be drawing names from a bag, instead. Starting at the front of the room, she had the students pass the bag to the student beside them, writing down the student pairs on the blackboard as they went.

At least, that’s what she did until Itachi fished out the name of his partner and read it aloud. “Umino Iruka.”

Whispers danced across the classroom. A few of the more dedicated students in the front rows whispered variations on “ouch,” and “tough break!” and “glad I’m not you!” to Itachi, who, as usual, didn’t seem to react at all.

Pressing his lips together to keep from yelling at the other kids about how he was glad he wasn’t them, Iruka clenched his fists. He knew he wasn’t a good student. He knew nobody wanted to be paired up with him when it had to do with studying. He knew that. But it still hurt to hear them say it.

Aki-sensei, meanwhile, was standing at the blackboard, her chalk hovering over the spot where she should have been writing Iruka’s name next to Itachi’s, verifying them as homework partners for the project. Instead, she was frowning. “I don’t normally do this,” she said, “But, if you’d like, Itachi, you can pick a different partner.”

Iruka felt his stomach clench. If he’d like? Of course he’d like! No one wanted to be paired up with Iruka for homework, even Mizuki had scooted over to ask someone else to be his partner before Aki-sensei had brought out the name bag. Iruka stared down at his desk, willing his face to stay neutral, not to show emotion. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to work on this project anyway, so it didn’t matter that no one wanted him. They were right not to want him, it’s not like he wanted to work on this project with anyone anyway.

“No,” came Itachi’s soft, measured voice, “I’m fine with Iruka.”

Iruka hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it escaped in a whoosh. His head jumped up and he stared at Itachi, baffled. Why would Itachi agree to work with him if he had another choice? If it hadn’t been Itachi, Iruka was pretty sure that Aki-sensei wouldn’t have offered, but she liked Itachi, and hated Iruka. She looked even more shocked than Iruka, still standing in front of the blackboard, chalk in hand, the space next to Itachi’s name still blank.

“You’re sure,” Aki-sensei said, reluctance clear from her tone of voice.

“I am,” Itachi answered, passing the bag of names to the student to his right. “My partner is Iruka.”

And despite the fact that Iruka couldn’t stand Itachi, he felt a small bloom of something warm in his chest. Itachi hadn’t tossed him aside, even though literally everyone else in the class wouldn’t work with him unless they were forced. But Itachi had not only not been forced to work with Iruka, he’d chosen to work with Iruka even when given the alternative - encouraged to take the alternative!

Iruka, who had up to this moment intended to do nothing on the project, found himself wondering if he could clear up some time after school to work with Itachi. He’d probably miss dinner again, the orphanage was pretty strict about mealtimes. But he wanted to do something to show Itachi that he was glad not to be tossed aside, for once. It felt nice. He knew, intellectually, that Itachi hadn’t specifically requested Iruka, but after two years of being avoided, ignored, and actively rejected by most of his classmates when it came to academics… well, he didn’t want to give Itachi a reason to reject him next time.

Slowly, painfully, Aki-sensei turned and wrote Iruka’s name on the board next to Itachi’s, making a face like she’d taken a big bite of raw lemon, rind and all. Iruka grinned. He’d show her. He and Itachi would make a great team.

~~*~~

“Hey! Itachi!” Iruka called, chasing him down after class let out. “Hey,” he puffed, slowing to a walk, moving more sedately than usual to account for Itachi’s shorter legs. “When do you want to start on that project?”

Itachi blinked, turning to look up at Iruka. “What do you mean?”

Iruka frowned. “The group project. The homework assignment. The one Aki-sensei assigned today?”

A hint of red dusted Itachi’s cheeks, and his eyes dropped away from Iruka’s to gaze ahead. “Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on working with you at all.”

Iruka felt his chest clench sharply at the words, and he froze in place, his feet seeming rooted to the ground. “What?”

Itachi stopped too, turning to look at Iruka with a vaguely baffled expression. “You never do your homework,” he explained slowly, “and I’m perfectly capable of finishing the project on my own. You don’t need to do anything.”

Iruka felt his face growing hot. “Just because I don’t turn in my homework doesn’t mean I can’t do it!” he protested. “This is a group project! I can help!”

Turning, Itachi continued walking. “I have no way of knowing that based on your current record.” He waved a hand dismissively as he continued, “It’s fine, Iruka. I’ll take care of the project, and we’ll both get a good grade for once.”

Iruka gaped at his receding figure, unable to find words amidst the maelstrom of emotions clutching him. All he could do was stand there and watch as Itachi walked off, probably heading home to his mom and his dad and his brother and all of the other things that Iruka didn’t have that Itachi probably took for granted. He didn’t need Itachi’s help to get a good grade for once, he just needed time. Furious, Iruka spun on his heel, stomping toward the orphanage with so much force that his feet were hurting by the time he arrived.

He got there in time for dinner after all, only to find that he wasn’t hungry.

~~*~~

The next morning dawned bright and early, and Iruka was peeved. It was the weekend, and usually he used his free time to dream up a prank or two for the following week, gather supplies, and run a few preliminary tests to make sure everything worked out the way he expected. Instead, as he lay on his lumpy futon in a room too full of kids that nobody wanted, he grappled with the fact that he wanted to do his homework.

He wanted to do it. He wanted to prove to Itachi that he could do it, that just because he didn’t usually do his homework didn’t mean he couldn’t. He had a copy of the instructions, how hard could it be to just do it?

Several hours later, one bout of frustrated tears, an ink-filled water balloon and some angry shouting later, Iruka realized that homework was a lot harder to finish than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have any reference materials! He’d lost library permission for probably the rest of his life after using one of the library books in a prank that had gone vastly underappreciated, so he couldn’t look up any of the information he needed. And he didn’t have the money for notebooks, he always borrowed paper from Aki-sensei when they needed an extra sheet of paper, so he didn’t have any notes from class to look over, either. Even his prank supplies came by way of his sticky fingers, and he had a feeling that if he tried to steal reference books from the bookstore they might not like that, so much.

So, he’d cried a little, filled a water balloon with ink, snuck out, and dropped the ink bomb onto an unsuspecting passer-by on their way into Hokage Tower. Of course, the ANBU on duty weren’t entirely pleased, though one of them did tell the Chunin who’d been entering that he needed to be more aware of his surroundings, if someone like Iruka could surprise him like that. Iruka took a bit of offense at that - he was pretty good at hiding and catching people off guard, the ANBU were just even better at noticing things.

After the angry Chunin had marched off to wash the ink from his hair and the ANBU on Iruka’s left had finally let him stand up instead of holding him folded over at a 90-degree angle to ensure his apology appeared more or less sincere, Iruka turned to leave. He didn’t feel any better, and his homework still wasn’t even close to finished. He dug into his pocket, pulling out the assignment and glaring balefully at it. Maybe he could hide in the back of one of the bigger bookstores and try to read a few books before they kicked him out?

“Hey kid,” said one of the ANBU who had made him apologize to the ink-covered Chunin, “What’cha got there?” The other ANBU elbowed them in the side and hissed something, but it was too low for Iruka to hear.

“...homework,” Iruka answered the first ANBU, ignoring the second. “But I can’t go to the library, and I don’t have any books or paper at the orphanage.”

“What about your textbook?” the ANBU asked, cocking their head to the side in a manner that implied genuine curiosity.

“When I’m in class I just borrow one of the classroom books, but after I… uh…” Iruka shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Anyway, I’m not allowed to take the textbook out of the classrooms anymore.”

The second ANBU snorted at this, and the first ANBU turned to look at them with what Iruka imagined was a withering stare, although the mask did somewhat disrupt the effect. After a moment, the first ANBU turned back to Iruka. “Lemme see what you’ve got to work on,” said the ANBU, extending a hand. They unrolled the assignment, straightening up a little as they read. “Oh, well, you’re in luck, kiddo. This is a group project, so you can probably just share materials with your partner.”

Iruka wanted to sink into the ground. He swallowed hard, willing himself to lift his eyes to meet the dark space behind the bright white ANBU mask. “My partner doesn’t want to work with me,” he said, his face heating as he explained. “He said that, since I never turn in my homework, he’ll just do it all himself. But I don’t want him to do all the work! I can do it! I just wish he’d given me a chance…” Iruka said, trailing off. He swallowed hard, feeling a prickling at his eyes. Oh no, no, he was not going to cry in front of these ANBU.

“Hmm,” said the ANBU, considering the scroll. “I bet if you asked Sandaime-sama, he might let you use some of his reference books.”

Now it was the second ANBU’s turn to stare pointedly at the first. The first ANBU did not seem affected whatsoever by this reaction.

Iruka blinked, considering the suggestion. Usually, he only visited the third Hokage when he was invited over for tea, about once a month. He’d never considered asking for anything else, or stopping by when it wasn’t their monthly tea time. “You think he would let me do my homework up there?” Iruka asked, pointing to Hokage Tower.

The ANBU nodded slowly. “What do you say we head on up together and find out?”

“This is ridiculous,” the second ANBU protested, “I’m sure the Hokage is-”

“Deeply invested in the education of our new generation of shinobi, yes, I agree,” the first ANBU interrupted sharply. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

The second ANBU sighed, and returned to their post at the door. “Fine. You go on up. But for the record? I think this is-”

“Thank you for your opinion,” the first ANBU interrupted again, one hand on Iruka’s shoulder as he guided him through the door. “I’ll be back out shortly.”

The second ANBU huffed, but said nothing more.

Iruka and the ANBU walked in silence for a few moments before Iruka felt compelled to say, “You didn’t have to interrupt ANBU-san back there. I know nobody wants me around.” He forced a grin even as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He glanced up at the ANBU, whose grip on his shoulder had tightened incrementally at the words. “I’m a nuisance. Everybody says it, it’s no secret.”

“You’re a kid,” the ANBU replied, their grip loosening slightly as they continued walking, “All kids are nuisances at one time or another. Nothing to worry about.”

Iruka had a feeling most people would disagree with that assessment, but he liked the thought that maybe it was okay to be a nuisance, at least sometimes. He’d never felt that way before, or at least, no one had ever bothered to say as much to him. “Do you really think the Hokage will let me use his books to finish my homework?”

“I don’t know,” the ANBU said honestly, “but it’s worth asking.”

Iruka nodded, and the two of them continued down the corridor in comfortable silence.

~~*~~

As it turned out, the Hokage was not only willing to let Iruka use his books, he also told him that if he ever needed reference materials, he should go to the Sarutobi residence and request access to the clan library.

“You’re welcome to use those resources any time you need them,” the Hokage told him seriously, “...so long as you don’t draw funny moustaches on all of the pictures in the scrolls,” he added with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Iruka agreed, face heating as he realized the Hokage had heard about how Iruka had ended up with a probably-lifetime ban from the community library. After the two of them looked over Iruka’s assignment together, the Hokage sent him off to the Sarutobi residence with a list of four or five references to find and bring back. “We’ll work together,” he said. “I’ll do my paperwork, and you can do your homework. When we’re done, we can have lunch together.”

Accustomed to a five-finger-discount lunch on the typical weekend, Iruka brightened considerably at the idea of a hot meal. “Great! Thanks!”

“If you wouldn’t mind accompanying Iruka to the Sarutobi compound, ANBU-san?” the Hokage asked, turning to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the ANBU that had brought Iruka up to his office.

The ANBU bowed. “Yes sir.”

Iruka grinned as he followed the ANBU back down the stairs and across the village towards the Sarutobi compound, clenching his fist tight around the assignment. He’d show Itachi! He’d walk into the Academy on Monday with the best homework assignment of the whole class!

~~*~~

When Monday rolled around, Iruka strolled into the classroom like he owned it. Grinning wide, he walked right up to Aki-sensei’s desk and set his assignment beside the small pile of assignments that several other students had dropped off on their way into class.

Aki-sensei glanced down, her nose wrinkling slightly as she looked at Iruka’s submission. “What is this?” she asked, lifting her eyes to stare at Iruka with suspicion.

“My homework,” Iruka replied belligerently.

“But Itachi already submitted your homework,” Aki-sensei said, glancing at the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who was in his usual front row seat, staring at them like Iruka had grown a second head overnight.

“He submitted his version,” Iruka clarified with a grin, feeling almost excited. “This is my version.”

Now Aki-sensei looked downright worried as she picked up his assignment using only the very tips of her fingers. “Is that so?” she sneered. “So if I open this, it will contain your research project, and not, say, a stink bomb?”

Iruka scowled. “No, there’s no stink bomb.”

“Some kind of dead animal?” Aki-sensei prodded.

How uncreative! As if Iruka would do something so obvious. “Of course not,” he scoffed, insulted by the very idea.

“Of course not,” Aki-sensei repeated, her eyes narrowed. She didn’t seem particularly convinced. “What did you do to this?” she finally demanded. “Where’s the punchline?”

“There is no punchline,” Iruka said, the sick feeling crawling back into his stomach as more and more students were walking into class, dropping their assignments on the desk, and heading to their seats. What was the big deal with his homework? Why did she have such a problem with it?

“Right,” Aki-sensei scoffed. “Well, I suppose, if there’s no prank, then you won’t mind if I do this,” she said, crushing the paper between her palms before throwing it into the wastepaper bin.

“No!” Iruka cried, taking an involuntary step forward.

“Iruka,” Aki-sensei said sharply, “This was a group project. I will only accept one submission for the assignment. Did you really think I would take yours over Itachi’s?”

Iruka felt like he’d been hollowed out from the inside as he shook his head weakly. Of course not. Nothing he did would ever measure up to Itachi. Why had he even tried?

“Take your seat, Iruka,” Aki-sensei said sharply, “You’re holding up the class.”

Numbly, Iruka shuffled to the back of the classroom, sinking into his chair and staring ahead without really seeing anything. He didn’t fall asleep, but by the time classes were finished for the day he still hadn’t managed to focus long enough to recall a single thing from Aki-sensei’s lecture.

He moved like he was in a fog, slipping his worn school bag over his shoulder and shuffling out the door, barely able to remember to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What was the point? Why should he try at all, if it wasn’t even going to make a difference in the end?

He kept trudging his way across town, and was nearly back to the orphanage when he heard someone calling his name.

“Iruka! Iruka!”

He turned, expecting maybe Mizuki, or Anko, or one of the other orphans who stayed in the orphanage and just wanted some company as they headed in together. Instead, he saw Itachi jogging towards him, holding a crumpled piece of paper. Iruka’s heart sank. Perfect. The last person he wanted to see after today. Why was he here? What was he doing with an old paper, and why was he chasing after Iruka, waving it around like a flag?

“What do you want?” Iruka demanded, hating that he was losing to a kid half his age, half his size, and twice as good as him at literally everything.

“I wanted to apologize,” Itachi answered, not even a little winded from his run. Showoff.

“Apologize for what?” Iruka asked, frowning a little. For being so perfect at everything?

“I underestimated you, Umino Iruka,” Itachi said, his little face drawn into a look so serious that it just ended up looking cute. For a moment, Iruka almost forgot how much he couldn’t stand the kid.

“...how so?” Iruka finally asked, sticking his hands into his pockets and staring down at this nuisance of a kid. Well. Nuisance to Iruka, anyway. He wasn’t surprised that he’d been underestimated, that was pretty much his entire life story at this point.

“This is really good work,” Itachi explained, still with that adorable serious look on his face. He extended the crumpled paper in Iruka’s direction, at which point Iruka finally realized that it wasn’t any old crumpled paper.

It was Iruka’s homework paper. The one he’d slaved over for hours. The one he’d spent almost the entire weekend in the Hokage’s office working on. The homework that Aki-sensei had crumpled up and thrown out without even bothering to look at it. “Give me that!” he snapped, his fingers closing around the paper, tugging it out of Itachi’s grasp.

The kid let it go without a fuss. “It’s really excellent work,” he said. “If you submitted work like that every day, you could probably be near the top of the class.”

“If I had time to submit work like that, maybe,” Iruka snapped back. “Some of us don’t have that luxury.” he jerked his head in the direction of the orphanage. “I have to go feed some kids and clean the bathrooms now, so…”

Itachi tilted his head, a confused look crossing his features. “You feed kids? Are they your siblings?”

Iruka laughed at that. “Nah, but they don’t have anyone else to feed them,” he answered, thinking of little Nanako with the big brown eyes and frizzy black hair who hated vegetables, of Haru, who should be able to eat on his own now but still made a huge mess when he did, and even … Naruto … the living embodiment of his parents’ killer. It was awkward, sometimes, being that close to the vessel of a monster, but he was still a kid. It was weird, but Iruka didn’t mind it, not the way some people did.

“Oh,” Itachi looked surprised. “I feed my brother, sometimes. When mom and dad aren’t home.”

Iruka considered Itachi. “Sasuke, right? Your little brother?”

An actual smile bloomed across Itachi’s face at that. “Yeah,” he said. “Sasuke.”

“Cool,” Iruka said awkwardly, crumpling the homework assignment back into a ball and shoving it into his pocket. “Well, I’m going to go… feed. Kids.”

“Okay,” Itachi said, nodding. “Oh, and Iruka?” he added, just before Iruka turned to walk away.

“Yeah?” Iruka asked, feeling his shoulders stiffen almost involuntarily. “What?”

“Next time we have a group project…” Itachi’s gaze wandered, resting on the orphanage, the trees, the sky, anything but Iruka, “Maybe we could work together?”

Iruka felt something inside him melt at that, the tension he’d been carrying all day finally loosening as he felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Sure,” he said cautiously. “Thanks.”

Itachi nodded once to acknowledge he’d heard before turning around and gliding away, most likely heading for the Uchiha compound.

Iruka watched him go, not quite sure how to feel. Relieved that Itachi had acknowledged his effort? Frustrated that he hadn’t trusted him to do the work in the first place? Annoyed that Itachi was the one who got to decide whether or not they’d work together on a group project in the future? With a sigh, he decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. He had bathrooms to clean and toddlers to feed. Whatever else was going on in his life, he could worry about it later.

As he turned to face the orphanage, he frowned, considering the new homework Aki-Sensei had assigned today, crumpled up in his school bag. Maybe, after dinner, after his chores, he would head over to the Sarutobi library for an hour or two and see if he could at least get some of it finished by nightfall. Sure, it might be lights-out by the time he got back to the orphanage, but Iruka had gotten pretty good at sneaking past wards, and he was pretty sure he’d have no problem sneaking back into the orphanage after lights-out.

That decided, Iruka grinned and marched up the front steps of the orphanage. This time, it wasn’t a group project, so Aki-sensei would have to accept his assignment. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he handed it in.

#umino iruka #uchiha itachi #iruka fic #sharingan stealer iruka #itachi fic

11 notes · View notes

faejilly · 5 years

Note

malec and 19 please uwu

19: cuddling while someone’s sick

uh, this went somewhere a little sideways, and then kept GROWING, because #MerMay does that to me? Also apparently I am terrible at sick!fic because this is really not that. Feel free to drop another prompt if you’d prefer I attempt that next time, nonny.

Magnus is surprised, the first time he’s in Alec’s rooms at the Institute, to discover he has a private bathroom with an actual tub. Not only that, it’s clearly a custom tub, deep and long enough to fit all 6′3″ of Alec’s impressive height without overflowing around his (equally impressive) shoulders.

He’s also got three different types of bath salts lined up on the ledge against the wall, none of them scented with much of anything, in Magnus’ opinion, but still. They’re there.

He stands and blinks for a moment, then spins right around to find Alec and ask if he’d like to join him for a bath.

They haven’t christened Alec’s suite yet, might as well start with the bathroom. He’s pretty sure Alec will enjoy that plan.

***

Alec has stretch-marks on his hips and thighs; not surprising, considering the probability of teenage growth-spurts, but they’re heavy enough Magnus can feel them beneath his fingertips when he runs his hands down Alec’s legs, and sensitive enough Alec’s breath catches every single time he does it.

They’re thickest on the inside of his thighs, so every time Magnus might manage to start to wonder about them, about the way Alec’s back twists, pushing him into Magnus’ touch even as he looks like he wants to pull away, Magnus gets distracted by the way Alec’s eyes close, lashes heavy against his cheeks, the lift of Alec’s hips and the heat beneath his skin.

They both enjoy what always happens next.

***

Magnus likes the tub, and never really stops to think about it. Alec likes baths. And showers. Whenever he is particularly stressed, whenever the current crisis has finally broken, or paused enough that they can risk a break, Alec will stand in the shower ‘til the water’s tepid, and even then it sometimes takes two or three tries to pull him free and make him eat dinner and stagger off to bed.

Alec likes rain, even the cold sharp-edged storms they get in the fall. He never seems to mind water dripping down his collar. He tilts his head back and blinks into sudden summer showers, and has a ridiculous collection of tides and storms and waterfall pictures for wallpaper on his screens in his office, and occasionally he’ll let his fingertips rest gently on the images before he puts his work away.

Alec likes taking Madzie to the aquarium every single time she asks, and seems to enjoy it as much as she does every single time. (Magnus and Catarina no longer go with them. There are only so many times Magnus can listen to the same educational dolphin show in his lifetime, and he’s pretty sure he passed it months ago.)

The only stories Jace and Isabelle share of Alec sneaking away from the Institute when they were young involve the beach, even if it was the middle of winter and no one in their right mind would enjoy the breeze off the North Atlantic.

Those are the only stories anyone seems to have of Alec behaving remotely like a child at all. His entire rebellion, sneaking away to a beach to watch the sunrise.

Well, until Magnus, at least.

Magnus is Alec’s exception to every rule.

Magnus enjoys that.

***

Magnus doesn’t put it together until Alec spends a little too long in the Southwest, helping to coordinate a round-up of baby basilisks who’d been let loose thanks to a truly incompetent breeding ring the High Warlock of Mexico City had discovered. Alec staggers out of his return portal with fever-bright cheeks, the rest of him looking oddly pale for someone who’d presumably been half-cooked in the desert, croaks out the word bath, dropping bits of gear in a trail before he literally collapses into the tub a bare instant after Magnus summoned water to fill it. If he’d been a half a second faster he probably would have broken something from the impact with the porcelain, but he doesn’t seem to care. He sighs, and lets his head fall under the surface, still wearing his undershirt, which shifts around, trying to billow free, then falling back to stick to his skin.

Magnus blinks.

Alec doesn’t lift his head for a very long time.

When he does he just blinks up at Magnus, reaching an arm out and whining, a sound which should not at all be adorable, but undeniably is.

Magnus strips, and slides carefully into the water, adjusting until he’s leaning against the back and Alec is curled up on his chest. They don’t talk, Alec slowly relaxing until he’s half asleep, and Magnus carefully slips a warming spell into the water twice before he finishes rotating the conclusions he’s just reached around and around in his head.

He can’t quite make them fit.

Well.

It fits entirely too well, Maryse’s paranoia and the bath salts Magnus has never actually seen Alec use, the way he reacts to water, to the lack of it. The stretch-marks that aren’t quite normal.

But he’d tell Magnus something like that, wouldn’t he? Especially after all the things Magnus has told him, things he’d never thought he could tell anyone…

Alec shifts in Magnus’ arms, turning his head to nuzzle against Magnus’ chest. Not properly awake, but more than he was a minute ago.

“I know something that helps me relax when I feel ill.” Magnus has to hold tight control of himself so he doesn’t tense, so his hands don’t clench, so his voice doesn’t waver. “Would you like me to add some of your bath salts?”

Alec jerks, and Magnus doesn’t think it’s just because he’s startled by Magnus’ voice. He lifts his head and stares at Magnus. His mouth opens, and Magnus can see his throat working, but not a sound comes out.

“Is that a no, darling?” Magnus is not entirely sure if he’s angry or hurt or confused, and he doesn’t think he can stand it. Enough slips through to make that last word more vicious than he’d intended, but he can’t completely regret it when Alec flinches, because if he wasn’t sure before, he is now. Alec is hiding something from him.

He pushes, and Alec lets him, and he pulls himself out of the tub, water splashing everywhere and his eyes burning and he wants to break something, everything.

He’s not quite steady on his feet on the tile when Alec’s hand wraps around his wrist, the grip a shade too tight. Magnus yanks as he turns, trying to free himself, but he can’t, he doesn’t even know if he really wants to, and Alec’s fingers burn into Magnus’ skin. Magnus looks at him; Alec’s mouth is open and his other hand is pressed to his throat and he’s staring, staring, eyes so wide and impossibly dark and…

“Do I smell brine?”

Alec’s whole body sags with something that looks like relief, his hand slips off Magnus’ arm and he manages half a nod before he seems to lock up again.

Despite his best intentions, Magnus lets the pinpricks of curiosity make their way past the ache in his chest, and he ducks down to look Alec right in the eyes, close enough Magnus’ breath makes the drops of water on Alec’s face shiver.

“Sea magic?”

Alec doesn’t move, but there’s something in his eyes.

“Sea curse?”

Alec blinks just once, slow and deliberate.

“You literally can’t say anything right now, can you?”

There’s no answer at all, not even another blink, which is more than answer enough. But Alec does manage to stare sideways towards the row of bath salts, and Magnus’ throat feels too tight to breathe through.

If he’s read Alec’s expression wrong? This could have terrible consequences. Sea curses are strong, and never fade, never will, until the tides themselves cease moving.

But Magnus trusts Alec.

Alec trusts him too, Magnus knows. He knows.

He should have known.

Magnus swallows the burn in the back of his throat, and carefully flicks his fingers to knock the smallest container of bath salts over, letting them spill into the tub.

Alec’s back arches and he splashes back under water and the flash of magic across Magnus’ senses is blinding, for all it’s not literally visible.

When he can see again, he’s staring at someone who is even less human than most warlocks, and yet clearly still Alexander. Magnus reaches out, until his fingertips just brush against the familiar line of Alec’s jaw. His skin feels thicker somehow, cooler, more taut against his bones. His nose and ears are less pronounced, but the cheekbones are the same, and the shape of his eyes, though the pupil is wider and the whites are now a cloudy grey.

And his eyelashes are gone.

“You have no hair.”

Alec’s eyes widen, and then his mouth drops open and his shoulders shift and the gills on the sides of his neck flutter, and Magnus tilts his head to watch. There’s the faintest breathy tremble in the air, and very familiar crinkles surrounding Alec’s eyes.

The extra interior eyelid coming half-way in from the sides of his eyes is less familiar, but still lovely, the skin practically opalescent, and so thin as to almost be transparent.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Alec nods this time, exaggerated and emphatic.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot of questions, and maybe that was not the right place to start but you have rather a lot of hair that I’m quite fond of when you’re uh. Human?” Magnus wrinkles his nose. That sounds oddly dismissive of this lovely merman in front of him, as if it’s lesser rather than different, but he’s not sure how else to phrase it. “Not that you aren’t still gorgeous.”

Alec ducks his head as if uncomfortable with the compliment, and Magnus realizes some of his odd inability to see his own beauty is probably because half the time it’s not human beauty at all.

“Can I see?” Magnus asks, gesturing backwards with a flick of his fingers.

Alec lifts his chin, the start of a smile caught in the edges of his still expressive lips, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and he slides backwards in the tub.

He also lifts his tail and slaps it over the edge of the tub, splattering water across Magnus’ face.

Magnus sputters, and Alec’s smile widens, clearly delighted and, if Magnus isn’t mistaken, relieved by Magnus’ reaction.

Magnus smiles back, and Alec blinks slowly, his two sets of eyelids clearly visible again, and Magnus thinks that, if he could, Alec might very well be blushing. There is something shy in the tilt of his shoulders, in the shifting of his hands.

Which is as good a place as any to start. Magnus looks at his hands. Three fingers instead of four, a longer thumb, webbed and claw-tipped. The webs between his fingers are the same shimmery silver as his eyelids, the claws short and blunt and black. The shape of Alec’s body is different, his shoulders not as broad, his stomach not as trim, the muscles of his torso longer and leaner beneath the shift of scattered scales.

The scales thicken over his hips, right in line with the stretch-marks, and his tail is entirely covered in them, shining silver and matte black stripes, the wide fin at the end silver with black trim.

“You’re so beautiful, Alexander.” Alec smiles again, small and soft and pleased. “May I kiss you?”

Alec’s eyes widen, clearly surprised, but he nods and leans forward, and Magnus moves in. It’s a small kiss, a slight brush of lips, soft and cool, but as always with Alexander, it’s more than enough to make Magnus’ chest warm with joy.

They smile at each other for a lingering moment, no sound in the room except a few more drips of water from their assorted splashings in and out of the tub.

“Do we have to wait until you’ve turned all Nephilim-y again to talk?”

Alec nods again, lifting his chin, his hand resting over the base of his neck in order to show off the line of his throat.

Magnus hums, wondering if his skin tastes different now. He sees that same flutter of gills like Alec’s laughing, and it takes him a moment to realize that Alec was trying to show him something specific.

The lack of an Adam’s Apple. “No larynx?”

Alec lifts a hand and does an up and down tilt, sort-of.

“Not the right kind of voicebox? Your mouth and tongue are probably the wrong shape too, aren’t they.”

Alec nods this time.

“So you can make noise?”

Alec wobbles his hand again, and ducks his head under the water. His mouth is closed, but he’s clearly doing something because Magnus can feel it through the tub, a hum against his arm where he’s leaning on the edge, and there’s an odd echo in his ears that he can only half hear, that reminds him of whale song only lighter and sweeter. There’s a tug somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, but before Magnus can wonder about it Alec lifts up, shaking his head, a finger pressed to his lips.

Magnus is not entirely sure if that means only in the water or if there’s something dangerous about that tug he’d felt, something like a literal siren’s song. And for all he’d love to spend the next month getting to know merman-Alec, he also really needs some answers.

“How do we get your voice back?”

Alec points at the towel, then flops gracelessly sideways to unplug the tub’s drain. Magnus snorts something that’s half-a-laugh, grabs a towel and tosses it over Alec’s head, and heads out to the bedroom to find some clothes.

Eventually they’re both dry (with legs) and in pajamas and snuggled up in bed with summoned tea so they neither of them have to leave the room.

“Thank you for figuring it out.” Alec’s tea is tucked right up against his chest so he can inhale the last lingering wafts of steam. His other hand is tangled with Magnus’, his fingers still holding tight as if he can’t yet believe it, as if he can’t stand the idea of ever letting go. “I hated not being able to say anything, I’m so sorry.”

“But there’s no trouble now?” Magnus rubs his thumb against Alec’s knuckle. They’re both speaking quietly, as if even here, alone in the bedroom, it’s too risky for more.

“The Curse only prevents us from talking to anyone who doesn’t already know.”

“Us? Do Jace and Isabelle know?”

Alec, surprisingly, shakes his head. “Jace knows there’s something, I think he can feel something through the bond when I change, but he hasn’t figured it out and I can’t tell him, I can’t even tell him that there’s something I can’t tell him? So he ignores it. It’s possible the Curse influences him a little too, just enough that he can’t manage to really think about it, or ask the right questions.”

Magnus frowns and pushes further back against the headboard so it’s easier to look sideways at Alec’s face. “That’s both nasty and comprehensive.”

“It is, isn’t it. I don’t know if you’ll be able to say anything about it to anyone or not, even in the hypothetical.” Alec sighs. “Mom’s the us. She’s.” Alec gestures down at his legs, and Magnus can’t help but wonder what Maryse’s tail looks like. Can’t help but wonder how much her hidden heritage had to do with how desperate she was to join the Circle, if she was trying to drive it out of herself even more than the poor Downworlders she attacked. Magnus shakes his head. That’s for another time.

“The mer blood is in the Trueblood line,” Alec says. “But it doesn’t manifest for everyone, so Izzy and Max…”

“Don’t change, so they don’t know, so you can’t tell them.” Magnus finishes the sentence for him.

Alec nods. “Mom’s brother didn’t have it, or her dad, but her Grandfather did. Suppose we’re really lucky he lived long enough to explain it to her.”

“Does Robert know?”

“I never quite had the nerve to ask my mother that. I don’t think he does, though. You had to put it together, and I don’t. I don’t think it would have occurred to him to think that much about what makes Mom tick.”

Magnus squeezes Alec’s hand and shakes his head. There’s nothing that will make that better, especially since Magnus thinks Alec’s probably right. "Tell me about the curse.“

“When Adam Trueblood Ascended, he wouldn’t let his wife Mara attempt it. Which wasn’t that unusual at the time, women weren’t usually considered as potential soldiers, and as long as one parent was Nephilim their children would be too, so no one really cared. In fact, some people preferred it, considering the success rate, but either way, it was noted in the family history.”

Magnus feels a twist of something queasy in his gut. He has a sneaking suspicion this is not a pretty story. “But he had more reason than usual.”

“He didn’t know what it’d do to give the Cup to a mermaid. Especially one without her Heart.”

“Oh demons, that’s horrifying.” Magnus has to close is eyes for a breath. He knows what that is, a mer’s Heart isn’t actually their heart, it’s a scale. The scale. He doesn’t know how to tell which; the question had always simply been an academic one, as he didn’t know there were still mermaids around anywhere. Plus it’s not as if he’d want to steal someone’s magical heart. It works like a selkie’s skin; without it they’re never whole, and they can’t return to themselves, trapped forever in a human skin.

Hearts are also used in a lot of dark magic. There’s an old myth that eating a mermaid’s heart grants immortality, and more than a few people had attempted to find some truth to that, back when mer were common, either magically or literally, with both the physical heart and the Heart-scale.

Alec makes a half-choked noise of agreement. “Their children thought so too, when they figured it out, but.”

Magnus definitely doesn’t want to know. “But?”

“When they tried to steal the Heart back to return it to their mother, Adam destroyed it.”

Magnus closes his eyes, but it doesn’t help. “What happened to Mara?”

“We’re not sure.” Alec’s hand slips free, his body shifts, and Magnus can hear the faint tink of Alec’s mug tapping against his table before his arms are back, settling around Magnus to keep him close. “There are a couple different theories. It might have killed her instantly, or her magic went wild and eventually she poured so much out she died, or perhaps she killed herself with it on purpose. The worst version is that it turned her feral, and her own children had to kill her.”

Magnus wraps himself around Alec as much as he can, pressed against his side, clinging to his chest. It’s horrifying on her behalf, of course, but Magnus can’t help but be much more afraid of such a thing happening to Alexander.

Alec kisses the top of Magnus’ head, and Magnus squeezes a little tighter before he manages to relax his grip a bit.

“Her children returned Mara to the sea. It was the only thing they thought they could do for her.”

Alec’s silent for a moment. Magnus waits. He’ll wait forever for Alec to find the words he needs, especially for this.

Especially after he almost didn’t wait, almost didn’t trust his Alexander.

“When sky meets sea, neither breathesblood covers the land between

too much, too soon, too little, too late

Neither will ever be home again

Trueblood’s children share Mara’s fatecaught between

love and lies, hope and rageVoiceless, Heartless

They will never have a home again”

There was a lilt to Alec’s voice that Magnus had never heard before. Not just the studied edge of recitation, not just the rhythm of the words themselves, but the lift of tides, the weight of grief.

“The day after their mother died, after they returned her to the sea, Mara’s children woke up changed, with the sound of the ocean in their dreams.”

“And some of you still do.”

“And some of us still do,” Alec agrees. “Beyond that, we’ve lost most of the details. The first time we’re in saltwater we change, but after that it’s usually something we have control over, unless we’re very tired or have been away from water for too long.”

“That’s why today you couldn’t stop it.”

“Thankfully.” Alec kisses the top of Magnus’ head again, and Magnus turns to tuck his smile against Alec’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I almost didn’t listen. I know you better than to think—”

“That I’d hide a gigantic personal secret from you?” Alec huffs out a breath, heavy enough Magnus can feel his hair move. “I couldn’t help it, but to be fair to yourself, you weren’t wrong.”

“You’ll have to tell me how much the books get wrong about the mer.”

Alec sighed. “Won’t be able to, I’m afraid.”

Magnus pulled back just far enough to look into Alec’s face. “Really?”

“Voiceless, Heartless.” Alec taps his chest, right above his heart. “I can feel the sea in here, can feel the tug towards other mer when I’m in the ocean, but I don’t know where they are, or how to find them. Even if I could, I couldn’t ask them anything, couldn’t tell them why I don’t know what I am.”

Oh. Magnus’ mouth moves, but he can’t quite make a sound.

“I can feel the magic in me, but I can’t touch it.”

Magnus shudders, tries to imagine growing up with his father’s fire in his veins and no way to use it, no way to balance out the fear of the first time he saw his own true eyes with the singing of magic in his soul. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“Not your fault.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. Never claimed it was.

“But thank you.” Alec’s hands are as warm as usual again as he cups Magnus’ jaw and pulls him in for a gentle kiss. “I’m so glad you know.”

Magnus hums, half appreciation, half agreement. “You’ll have to take me swimming some day, see if we can figure any of it out.”

Alec stills, eyes gone wide. “You think we can?”

“I doubt any of the other Trueblood children had a Warlock with a vested interest in teaching them magical theory.”

Alec’s startled expression softens into a warm smile. “I’m sure they didn’t. Poor them.”

Magnus grins back. “It’s always been assumed that the mer were closer to Seelie than Warlock in terms of magic and bloodlines, but no one knows for sure. Besides, a lot of the, hmm. Mechanics are similar, and I know a bit about how the Seelie do things.”

“Worth a try.” Alec kisses him again, leaning in even as he’s speaking, as if he can’t control himself, can’t stop himself, wouldn’t want to even if he could. “Plus, any excuse for a beach vacation?”

Magnus attempts to feign an innocent expression. “Would I need an excuse for a beach vacation?”

Alec snorts. “I suppose not.”

Whatever he was about to say next disappears into a gigantic yawn, and Magnus swallows a snicker. “Come on then, we’ll figure out logistics tomorrow.”

Alec hums in agreement, and tugs on Magnus’ shoulders until they’re both lying down properly, Alec’s head resting on Magnus’ chest much like he was in the tub. “M'so glad to be home.”

Magnus kisses the top of his head, and smiles into his hair. “So am I.”

#mermay #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #jilly writes #my sh fic #Anonymous #jilly answers #when more than was lost has been found

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alma-berry · 5 years

Text

Kit’s secret fire message #8

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

vjewfa sxvjish qk hqw awfvy cjgrj

(luminous)

Kit was arrested mid motion, his black duffle bag hung limply on his left shoulder, half open. He didn’t even notice the three pairs of socks that fell from it, nor his favorite grey shirt which was threatening to follow.

The fire message felt odd between his trembling fingers, like a foreign object, like he never in his life held a piece of paper.

Kit looked at the neatly written letters as if they were holding the answers to every single question he ever asked.. That might as well be true, he thought, if he was right in believing the message was sent by.. Ty.

Ty, just his name sent shivers down his spine, and the memory of the silver of his eyes, crackling with the reflection of the campfire near lake lynn, made Kit’s knees buckle. He dropped his bag on the floor and sent for the wall near him, steadying his legs and his heartbeat.

It’s been over a month since Ty answered Kit’s goodbye with a single “Don’t”, and Kit didn’t know how to respond to it.

The third drawer of his desk was littered with dozens of crumpled letters, heaps of poems that never felt like the right thing to say. On his defense, he never wanted to say the right thing - he just wanted to say what he felt.

Kit went from one emotion to the next in the blink of an eye; the utmost joy of knowing Ty didn’t want him to stay away filled him for a solid week until he realized how unfair it was. He exposed every single beat of his heart, presented it to Ty in the hope he will answer his feelings, or just answer at all.. and all he had to say was “Don’t”?

Then again, Ty never used five words, let alone a full sentence, when he could use one. Kit knew that, and it wasn’t fair of him to expect Ty, who he knew didn’t feel the same about him, to give away his feelings (or the lack of them) after Kit had left him the way he did.

But still, he needed more. When he finally had enough of trying to phrase himself correctly and sent his last poem, tear stricken and drenched in sweat, he fell to his bed and knew that whatever Ty answered, if he even did, Kit had given every last drop of emotion he had in him.

That night was the coldest he could ever remember, as cold as the blinking eye of a demon.

Kit stared at the six words, if they could even be described as words, and wondered what they meant. Was it a joke? No, he thought. Ty wouldn’t do that. Perhaps it was a test. A code. Yes, Kit’s heart leaped. It must be a code. And Ty had given him the clue to decipher it. luminous.

Kit remembered that day in the Los Angeles institute’s library, when they were planning a trip to the shadow market to try and collect ingredients for the spell that was supposed to bring Livvy back. A familiar ache settled itself in Kit’s chest, the same ache that bore Livvy’s name, her mischievous smile, her deep ocean blue-green eyes.

“Ah, Watson,” said Ty. “You may not yourself be luminous, but you are an extraordinary conductor of light.”

Kit’s lips rose just a little as he remembered the words of his own Sherlock.

Not my Sherlock, he started to scolded himself, before he paused. Sherlock. That’s the key.

Kit grabbed the fire message, ran out of the room and headed towards the library, where the only computer, used mostly by him, was installed.

As he made his way through the narrow corridors he heard Jem’s soft voice calling after him.

“Kit? Are you getting ready? The portal will be opening soon”.

Right. Portal. The usual trip to the London institute.

“Yeah I’m almost ready, just need to look something up first” he called and entered the brightly lit room.

The library of the Carstairs manor in Devon was one of Kit’s favorite rooms. There was a feel to it that spoke of endless possibilities, of knowledge Kit could choose to acquire, and not forced to.

He learned, in his time with Jem and Tessa, that his knowledge of the shadow world wasn’t as basic as he thought.. but nevertheless, he wanted to know more. He wanted with all his might to understand these people, these Shadowhunters that he was now supposed to be one of. He wanted to be.

He was scared, at first, that the fact that he is not living with active shadowhunters would mean his training and education will be less than what they could have been, if he lived in a regular institute, or with a regular shadowhunters family. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Both of his adoptive parents probably knew more about shadowhunters history than any living, active shadowhunter there is. And Jem, as it turned out, was a great warrior. You didn’t think he’d be one, being 150 years old and all, but he was.. and besides, he had Jace.

Kit grinned, thinking about his cousin always made him want to be better. After he skipped the phase in which he was terrified by every little thing Jace had asked him to do (like jump off a tree with nothing to catch him) and actually started doing it, he found that his very annoying distant relative was.. actually a solid tutor.

Kit became better at being a shadowhunter than he ever thought he could be, and he knew that it was thanks to his family.

He did have to go every once in a while to the London institute, though. There were tests he had to take if he wanted the clave to recognize him as an active shadowhunter. That was the reason they were headed there right now.

Kit clicked franticly on the computer’s power button, willing it to start faster. As soon as it did, he opened the browser and searched for the only name that made sense - Arthur Conan Doyle.

He knew the code to decipher Ty’s message must be something to do with the author of his favorite books, so he wrote down every significant and insignificant detail he could find on a stranded piece of paper that he found at the near desk, just as Jem entered the room.

Kit hastily pocketed the two pieces of paper and turned to face him.

“I know, I know. Let me just get my bag..”

Jem looked at him suspiciously but with clear fondness in his eyes. “Just hurry up, Kit.. the portal will open any minute now.. and you know how Evelyn gets when you’re late”, he smirked.

Kit loved it when Jem smirked, it was so out of character for him.

“Yeah yeah, she’ll make me eat some of Bridget’s porridge”, he mumbled, the taste of the sticky goo still fresh in his memory.

“I wonder when did she got so bad at cooking. She was pretty good when I was young” Jem mused out loud.

The truth was, Bridget always gave Kit the creeps. And the fact that she was probably the most ancient thing in that institute didn’t help to improve her image, nor her cooking, as it happened.

“Where’s Tessa and Min? I want to say goodbye before we leave..” Kit stared around him, a bit disappointed that his favorite little monster didn’t come to see him out.

“Tessa just gotten her to sleep, she was running around all morning, trying to skin Church alive”.

Kit burst out laughing “That’s my girl. Plus, he could use the exercise. He wasn’t this lumpy back in LA…”

Kit felt the air catching at his throat as the flood of unwanted memories washed over him.

The beach, Ty’s beautiful fingers against the cat’s grey fur, and Kit’s clenched heart.

Jem eyed him knowingly and patted on his back. “You’re right, son. We shall buy some low fat tuna for him before we return”.

The shimmering lines of the portal had formed in front of them, and without look back, they walked through it.

—

“It is highly rude of you, you know” Jessamine declared.

“hmm? What is?” Kit answered absentmindedly.

“You hardly come to visit me anymore, and now that you have, you pay me no attention! As if I’m not even there!”

Kit have her his most dazzling smile “Well, you are a ghost, you know…”

Jessamine exclaimed as if terribly insulted. “Exactly! I’m.. bored! There’s no one here to talk to!” Kit’s grin widened, “Jessy, even if every occupant of this institute could see you, they still wouldn’t be much of a conversationalists” Jessy eyed him with disdain “As I said - rude. What is it that you’re doing, anyway?”

Kit was sprawled on the floor of the London institute’s library, scribbling simultaneously on five pieces of paper.

“I’m trying to decipher a code” he said with a troubled look.

“A code? Shadowhunters write in codes now?” She sighed “I’m far too old for these sort of things”.

Kit’s laugh felt forced even to his own ears “Not all shadowhunters.. just this one. And I’m not sure I’m making much of a progress with it anyway. I’ve read my fair share of detective novels, mind you.. and I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to crack this..”

Jessamine leaned over him, no- through him, to examine the fire message, and Kit felt as if his insides were suddenly soaked with icy water.

“Hey! Who's the rude one now?” Jessamine gave him a pointed look that made her delicate features resemble Evelyn’s.

“It looks rather complicated. In my days we would just lock our secrets in a safe and be done with it. Why do you modern people have to complicate everything?”

She really did look like Evelyn now, Kit thought, as the meaning of Jessamine’s words dawned on him. Lock their secrets.. Lock.

Kit knew locks, he knew them very well, in fact. He could pick most locks in under thirty seconds, even the complicated ones, those with a code combination. And all of a sudden, Kit knew exactly what he should do.

“It’s like a combination lock! I just need to move the letters backwards alphabetically according to the numbers on the key!”

Kit’s heart was racing, he had it! He was sure of it.

“The key? It’s a piece of paper, Christopher, not a safe, if you hadn’t noticed”

Kit’s hands were trembling and he felt as if his heart was stuck in the middle of his throat.

“A key to crack the code, Jessy. Look, he sent me a clue. Luminous. It’s from Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes was written by Arthur Conan Doyle. Now, it has to be a number. I have his date of birth, death, when Sherlock was first published.. It can even be the birth date of Sherlock himself but that one is inconclusive. He wouldn’t have used something that is not a solid fact. Right?”

He looked up at Jessamine, who stared at him as if every word he just said was in mandarin. Kit knew a little mandarin, but not enough to make a whole speech. “Nevermind, I’ll try the date of birth”.

Jessamine gave him a long, peculiar look and said “Hurry up, Kit. Jem, Evelyn and miss Mendoza are nearly done with their meeting. If you wish to know what young mr. Blackthorn had written, you must hurry”.

Kit stared at her, completely astonished.

“How.. how do you know I was talking about Ty?” Jessamine gave him a wry smile and started towards the door, “I may not know much about locks or codes, Christopher, but I know about broken hearts,” her voice was soft, and Kit felt it like a faint whisper against his skin, “...and I know you”.

For a few moments, Kit just sat there. His head felt like a beehive of thoughts, bombarding one another with fears anger, confusion and excitement, until one thought became coherent - I can solve Ty’s message.

He slowly places the heavy parchment in front of him, the torn paper with Conan Doyle’s information already in his hand. He began with copying Ty’s message, and under each letter he wrote the numbers of Conan Doyle’s date of birth, again and again, until every letter had its own number. Then he started counting the letters backwards, according to the number underneath it.

V became T, J became H, and so he continued until the first word was completed- Theres.

Kit’s heart was pounding so hard that all sounds around him were momentarily muted. He didn’t hear the scratching noise his pen made on the paper or the soft tapping of the rain on the milky white windows.

He continued to the next word; S became an N, X - O, V - T, J - H, I - I, S - N, H - G.

Nothing. There’s nothing.

Kit’s heart sank. He feared what he would find next. There’s nothing I can say to you? There’s nothing I want from you? There’s nothing between us? But none of those options fit the number of the letters left to decipher, and he felt too anxious to guess any longer.

He took a deep breath and continued. He didn’t pause as the letters formed themselves into a full sentence, didn’t dare to read until the whole sentence was written in front of him, black on white. And if there was any doubt left in Kit’s heart that it was Ty’s message, it had vanished completely.

There’s nothing if you aren’t there

#kit herondale #Ty Blackthorn #kitty #kitty blackdale #blackdale #kit x ty #tiberius blackthorn #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #jem carstairs #jessamine lovelace #kitty fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #kit's secret fire message

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

Chaos Theory

Part Ten

(Finale. I scheduled this whole series so the final part would go up on Halloween. This fic is my spooky special! Hope you guys have enjoyed reading as much as I’ve had fun writing <3)

"I hate this guy so much,” Marvin muttered. “He gives us no information, then makes us climb stairs.”

He also tried to kill us, JJ added.

“Well, that’s a given.”

Chase didn’t participate in the banter. He was too busy making sure Schneep was getting up the staircase well enough. A difficult job, when his friend kept stumbling and tripping over the steps. Chase was going to make sure nothing happened to him. Because god, he’d spent the last few hours terrified and grieving and he wasn’t going to let that repeat ever again.

“Huh. There’s a door. The last staircase didn’t have a door.” Marvin stepped aside so the others could see the metal door blocking their way to the third floor.

Chase frowned. “That looks...ominous. But, well, we have to open it, so do it already.”

Marvin nodded, grabbed the handle, and with a heave he pushed the door open. The four staggered into the room beyond.

A voice rang out. “Welcome, everyone, to the final challenge!”

The room was brightly-lit, studio lights shining into every shadowy corner. Cameras were set up around the walls, and the walls themselves were lined with screens. A few were linked to the cameras in the room, but many showed areas around the city, including the exteriors and interiors of all the buildings that the group had visited during the course of this twisted game.

“Guys!” A voice shouted, followed by a clattering rattle.

Part of the room was blocked off, a wire mesh reaching from floor-to-ceiling, caging off a corner. Inside the blocked-off section was Jackie, fingers poking through the mesh holes as he shook it.

“Jackie!” Marvin shouted, distressed.

What happened? JJ asked.

“What happened was this fucking coward decided to shoot me with a dart and I passed out,” Jackie said, scowling. “But nevermind about that. Are you okay? Wait...wait, Henrik?!”

“Surprise, he’s alive!” Chase said, smiling despite the situation. Schneep managed to focus on Jackie and give a small wave.

“Oh my god.” Jackie shook his head, grabbing his hair with his hands. “Oh my god,” he repeated with a breathy laugh and a smile. But that relief faded to confusion. “How, though? I-I saw—”

“What you saw was no more than a clever—and expensive—ruse,” a voice said. “Believe it or not, finding really good fake bodies is pretty difficult. Especially if you’re not going to explain what you’re using them for.”

Everyone’s attention turned towards the source of the voice. On the opposite wall, an especially large screen was mounted on the wall, displaying a blank red image. Underneath the screen was what looked like a makeshift control panel, a desk with all sorts of electronic, technical devices, wires running from consoles of buttons and disappearing into the walls. In front of the control station was a simple swivel desk chair. And sitting in the chair was a man wearing a mask.

“Oh my god, it’s him,” Chase gaped, unconsciously shifting his body so he was in between the man—the gamemaster—and Schneep.

“Oh great! I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Marvin’s eyes flared bright green.

“Whoa, hey, before you go any further, let me explain why you’re not going to want to do that.” The gamemaster picked up a device from the table, one resembling a remote control. “Now, you should notice how you four are standing on tile, but the floor beneath your friend Jackieboy’s feet is made of metal. Do you see that small box near the ceiling? That’s wired up to deliver 6 amps of electricity through that area. Which may not sound like a lot, but—” He laughed. “—is actually definitely enough to kill a human being. And that’s going to go off in, oh...let’s see, how long is it until your time’s up for the game?” A timer popped up on the screen behind him, showing 22 minutes, counting downward. “Oh yeah, that long! Unless I deactivate it with the code that I keep stored inside my head and nowhere else.”

Marvin’s eyes dimmed back to their normal blue. He looked the gamemaster over. He didn’t look like anything special. Wasn’t taller or heavier than average. His hair was ordinary brown, and wild like someone had messed it up in a fit of rage. He wore a black jacket, blue jeans, and a black t-shirt with that symbol—red skull inside a circle divided in four parts—on the chest. But then there was that mask. That red mask with that white smile, and black eyes that you could feel staring at you. Not to mention how this guy apparently planned out everything. “Fuck you,” Marvin growled, but he made no further move.

But there has to be a way to get Jackie out of here! JJ signed. Is there some way to get that code?

“There has to be,” Chase said. He looked at the gamemaster. “Look, there’s gotta be a way for us to win this, right? You wouldn’t put us in an impossible situation! That would kinda defeat the purpose of this being a game.”

“You’re right!” The gamemaster twirled the remote like a baton. “You guys have gotten farther than anyone’s gotten in a long time, but can you go all the way? Why don’t you all take a seat? I bet you’re getting tired of carrying your doctor friend around, and I can tell you that’s not going to wear off for a while.”

Schneep had the presence of mind to flip the gamemaster off.

“Second time tonight, that’s a new record.” The gamemaster leaned back in his chair. “Alright. Here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to ask you four riddles. You can work together to solve them. If you get them all right before time runs out, then you win! If you don’t get them all before the time limit, then that current’s going to set off. And if you give me a wrong answer at any point, you get a warning shock. Alright?”

Chase had never before wanted to shoot anyone so badly. He looked around at the others.

“Guys, we’re not really in a position to negotiate,” Jackie said. He was surprisingly calm, for being told his life depended on getting the right answers on a riddle quiz.

“Negotiate with my flaming—ugh, fine,” Marvin grumbled. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs. “Might as well get comfortable.”

I suppose we have to, JJ sighed.

“Yeah.” Chase looked back at the gamemaster. “Okay, we’re ready for your riddles.”

“Great!” The gamemaster clapped his hands once, then stopped halfway before clapping again. “Here, first one’s a freebie. What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?”

Oh that one! JJ signed. I know that one.

“It’s like, the stages of life, isn’t it?” Jackie asked, biting his thumbnail. “Baby, then adult, then an old person with a cane.”

“Technically kids walk on two legs, too,” Marvin pointed out. “And teenagers.”

“It’s simplified,” the gamemaster said. “But anyway, you got that one right! Good job, point for you.” He pressed a button on the control station, and a green checkmark appeared on the screen beneath the timer. “Now, second riddle. Listen carefully to the words: Can you answer this? If there’s a room with seven people, then you walk in and murder four, how many people are in the room?”

There was silence for a moment. Then Marvin spoke, “Five, right? Cause you’ll stay in the room, the four dead bodies will stay in there too, but the three people would probably run away.”

“Are we counting dead bodies as people?” Chase asked.

I think we would, that would make the riddle more difficult at first glance, JJ added.

“Yeah, so five?” Jackie asked.

“Five. The answer is five,” Chase said.

“Oh, I’m sorry ‘bout that.” The gamemaster pressed a button on the remote.

Jackie suddenly shrieked, jumping and stumbling back. “Sh-shit,” he stammered. “That—that—I wasn’t expecting—”

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Chase asked, half-reaching towards the mesh wall before realizing it might shock him too.

“I-I-I’m fine,” Jackie said, shaking his head. “I just...that felt...weird.”

“Do we not count the bodies, then?” Marvin asked, pulling his fingers nervously.

“I mean, I guess we don’t?” Chase guessed. “But I don’t want to get it wrong agai—ow! Schneep, did you poke me?”

Schneep had. “Words...” he said. “Listen...listen to the...word...ing.” Even that small phrase had taken a lot of effort to push through whatever haze of drug was in his system, and his head immediately fell forward. Chase staggered a bit as Schneep leaned more weight on him.

“Listen to the wording?” Marvin frowned. “The riddle was ‘if there’s a room with seven people, then you walk in and murder four, how many people are in the room?’ What could you hear in the wording there?”

JJ’s eyes widened. No, that wasn’t all! he signed hurriedly. There was a first question. He asked, ‘can you answer this?’ It’s a yes or no question!

Chase’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you bitch. Alright, then. Yes, we can answer that question.”

“There you go!” Another checkmark appeared on the screen behind the gamemaster.. “Doing pretty good for time. Now, this one’s a simple format of a riddle, pretty standard. Now...what belongs to you, but other people use it more than you?”

“My fucking...YouTube videos, I dunno,” Chase mumbled. He laughed suddenly. “What about ‘my life’!? That’s totally the answer, guys.”

“Chase, please, don’t fall apart now,” Jackie said softly. “We can do this. We have plenty of time left.”

“My...breath when I’m giving CPR,” Marvin mumbled, rubbing his head.

JJ frowned. I don’t think it’s anything that specific.

“Well, obviously, we’re just throwing things out there right now,” Jackie said. “Gets you warmed up.”

“What, you weren’t warmed up by my last four sets of puzzles?” The gamemaster sounded slightly offended. He shook his head.” Well, that was three wrong answers in a row.”

Chase’s eyes widened. “Wait, no, those don’t—”

Jackie screamed, falling to the floor. A few loose blue sparks danced around the mesh. Once it was over, he lay on the floor, panting. JJ dropped to the floor beside him and started asking if he was alright. Chase would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t concerned he’d drop Schneep. Marvin, meanwhile, shot to his feet. “Those clearly weren’t serious attempts, you fuckwad!” he shouted.

“But they were attempts!” The gamemaster laughed. “And any attempt is a good one. Unless, of course, it’s wrong.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’m seriously going to kill you once this is over,” Marvin said in a low voice. “You better hope you can run fast enough.”

“Kill the body all you want, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” The gamemaster’s tone shifted suddenly, becoming dangerously serious. Then it returned to normal. “But hey, you still don’t have the answer. How much time do you have left again?”

JJ suddenly looked up, and made a simple sign. It was like a flick; he touched his index and middle finger to his forehead, then twisted his wrist until his fingers were facing in front of his face.

“‘Name’?” Marvin repeated, confused.

“Oh, wait, that’s the answer!” Chase said excitedly. “Your name! It’s yours, but you don’t really use it except to sign papers, other people use it for you all the time.”

“Oh, very good.” The gamemaster sounded impressed. Another check mark appeared on screen. “And now...your final challenge.” He stood up, and recited:

“Only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet I easily fly. Present in sun, but not in rain. Doing no harm, and feeling no pain. What am I?”

“Ah fuck, it’s a multiple clue one, I hate these,” Marvin mumbled. “What’s present in the sun but not in rain? Like a—”

“Don’t say anything!” Chase shrieked. “Any answer counts!”

Well, he can’t understand sign, JJ said, suddenly grinning. What if we talked so he couldn’t know if we were guessing or not?

Marvin’s eyes widened, and he smiled as well. I like the way you think, he signed. His hands were slower than JJ’s, but somehow elegant. I was thinking some kind of insect or animal.

Jackie slowly stood up, shaking off the effects of the shock and processing the conversation. No, that wouldn’t make sense for the color and size clues, he signed. His movements were slower and bigger, but they got the point across. What animal comes in different sizes but just one color?

Besides, animals feel pain, JJ added.

So now we know it’s an inanimate object! Marvin argued. That’s a start.

“...You know, I feel like you’re plotting,” the gamemaster suddenly said. “Maybe I should...stop that.” He took out the remote again.

Marvin’s head whipped toward him. “No—!”

Too late. Jackie screamed again, falling against the mesh wall this time, muscles spasming. For a moment, his mouth opened and closed silently, and then his breathing resumed.

“Okay, we’re gonna have to...figure this out on our own,” Marvin said, stunned.

They all fell silent. JJ knelt by Jackie, checking on him again. Marvin scrunched his eyes closed, pushing his hands against them and swaying as he thought. Chase, for his part, sank to the floor. Schneep leaned against his side, a few mumbled words escaping as he tried to figure out the riddle too. But Chase could only watch the timer count down.

Was it going to end here? There were worse places for it. But still, if it was going to end, he didn’t want it to be here. There were cameras recording, this sick gamemaster would probably get some amusement from it, and everything was brightly lit. There wasn’t even a shadow to hide in—

Chase stopped. Wait a minute...he glanced over to Jackie, who didn’t look too good, still slightly trembling from the last shock. If he was wrong, then...he looked back at the timer. And he took a deep breath. “It’s a shadow,” he said.

The others looked at him.

“The answer, it’s a shadow,” Chase repeated. “It’s always black, but it changes shape depending on what’s making it. It’s stuck on the ground. You need the sun to make one. And it’s not alive, so it can’t do harm or feel pain.”

Silence. And then, the gamemaster began laughing. “Well, done, Mr. Chase Brody!” He began clapping. “Well, guess you’re better at this than your name would have you think.”

“Gee, thanks,” Chase said dryly.

“You’re welcome!” The gamemaster typed something out on the remote’s keypad. The timer on the screen stopped, three and a half minutes left. There was a slight buzz, and a previously unnoticeable door in the mesh wall swung open. Instantly JJ darted inside, lifting Jackie up and half-dragging him out.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.” The gamemaster dropped the remote. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t finish this game. A lot of people watch just because they want them to fail, but I think it’s a lot more interesting when someone wins. I applaud you. All of you.”

“I’m sorry, ‘people watch’?” Chase repeated. He looked at the cameras around the room.

“Of course. You don’t think I go to all this effort and then just don’t show off?” The gamemaster chuckled. “Besides, I need funds for this. And the easiest way to do that is to make people pay to see it.”

Jackie suddenly burst into laughter. “You’re a Dark Web vlogger,” he giggled. “I-I’m not surprised.”

“I am not a vlogger, I just make games for people to enjoy. There’s a difference.”

“Can we shut up about this?!” Marvin turned to the gamemaster, approaching him before stopping halfway. “What’s going to save you now, huh?!” His eyes turned green.

“Nothing, really.” The gamemaster shrugged. “But you won’t. Not because you’re a good person, but because...do you really want the others to see you do something like that?”

Marvin stiffened, looking over his shoulder at the others. They were all staring at him. “Fuck,” he muttered. He turned back to the gamemaster. “You, sir, are an absolute dickface of a DM. You stalk us for two years at least, and you expect to just get away with it! You may walk out of here now, but will you in the future?”

“That’s a good question. I mean, some people are always up for a sequel, aren’t they?” The gamemaster tilted his head. “And for the record, I’ve been following you for three years.”

“Why?!” Jackie suddenly blurted out.

“Well...I was actually originally interested in your friend Jack.” He laughed at the shock on their faces. “Oh yeah. Those interesting little moments in his videos, October three years ago? I thought that was his own little ARG he was setting up, and I’m not one to turn that down. But then I realized, it’s no augmented reality...for you it’s just reality.” He paused. “It’s...interesting, how many people attached to YouTube find themselves staring into an evil that wears their own face. Whether that’s a pair of demon twins hunting the souls of your listeners, a rogue virus that’s copied your face—or mask, in that case—or a twisted entity made out of the dark twisted souls of a pair of siblings you wronged in your past life. It’s almost like something about the platform attracts the supernatural and unexplained...” He shrugged. “But that’s just a theory.”

Jackie got to his feet. “So...you expect us to just let you walk out of here?”

“Actually, I expect you to walk out of here and leave me alone. And, well, if you won’t, I do have this.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. “Can’t hurt to be safe.”

JJ shook his head. You’re mad.

“Oh hey! I know that one!” He imitated the sign. “I should really learn more of that, or maybe ASL. That could be useful. But that’s for the future.”

Chase narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to leave us alone after this?”

The mask’s smile seemed to widen. “What do you think?”

Silence.

“Well, now.” The gamemaster sat back down in his chair once again, taking the safety off the gun. “I think you know the way out, don’t you?”

And with nothing else to do, and a feeling of unsatisfaction, they left.

— — — — —

“We can’t seriously just let that guy go!” Marvin said the moment they were out of the building. “He could come after us at any moment!”

“Marvin, yes, I agree,” Jackie said tiredly. “He’s a danger to us and to other innocents. But it’s nearly 6:30 in the morning. None of us have slept. Schneep’s still fucking...I dunno, half-unconscious, and I’m feeling pretty shitty myself. We can’t do anything right now.”

Marvin actually stomped his foot. “Fine. Yes. But it sucks!”

It does, JJ agreed. Honestly, as soon as we are able, we should go after him.

Jackie bit his lip. “That’s gonna be tough...I’ll bet you anything this guy’s good at covering his tracks. Maybe I could do some hacking, try to find whatever Dark Web website he’s posting these...games on. But I don’t know.”

“Guys, please, not now,” Chase said dully. “I...I want to go home.”

Jackie sighed, then gave a small, exhausted smile. “Yeah, me too. We should also maybe return the stolen car.”

“We can do that tomorrow, now let’s go the fuck to sleep,” Marvin said, climbing into the passenger seat of said stolen car.

Jackie laughed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

JJ, Jackie, and Schneep ended up in the back of the car, with Jackie sandwiched in the middle. Chase was still driving, turning on the car and setting off through roads that were starting to fill up with early morning traffic. The sky overhead was a dark blue, no longer black.

Jackie wrapped an arm around Schneep in a one-handed hug, pulling him close. He was really here. He saw him die, but he was really here. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he muttered, blinking back hot tears. Schneep laughed under his breath, mumbling something about how he would try not to.

They had no way of knowing if this was over. Jackie was tired, burnt out from a night of adrenaline.

But they were all here. They were all okay. His friends were going to be okay.

Jackie sighed, closed his eyes, and it only took a few seconds for him to drift off.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jackieboy man #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #chaostheoryfic

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years

Text

A View To A Winchester (Part 3)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count: 2,664

Section Warnings: mild language, getting fluffy up in here, Dean being adorable, Dean eating

~~~~~

Dean appeared to be playing hide and seek again with Julie. She’d gone out to the patio five minutes after she heard the mower engine cut off. A half-hearted search around the house showed no sign of Mr. Winchester. But, there was ample evidence of a very well mowed and attended lawn. Her nose twitched at the scent of freshly cut grass. She went to retrieve the food and dining necessities from inside the house. It took her two trips and there was still no trace of the hunky individual. Not even in his own yard, stowing away the mower, which is where she figured she’d spot him.

The sliding door closing whipped her focus to the house. Her mom waltzed out toward the patio. Julie crinkled her lids at the purse resting in the crook of her elbow. “What are you doing? You aren’t going to pay him, too, are you?”

“I’m going to the store for a couple hours.”

Julie shook her head. “What?”

“I’ll be back. Most of the stuff is already put away in the kitchen. You can manage these few dishes.” She smiled. “Dean knocked on the front door while you were out here getting things ready. He said he’d be about ten minutes. Was going to wash up. For dinner. I told him I’d let you know.” A mischievous grin lined her mouth now. She grabbed her phone out of the purse’s side pocket and stared at the screen. “It’s 3:30 now. I’ll be back around 6:00. That should give you enough time.”

Who are you and what have you done with my mother? “Enough time for what?”

Brigida giggled. “Just have a nice time.” She leaned closer. “When I brought Wes and Samuel their pasta, I told them you and Dean were having a meal together. Samuel said he’d keep Wes out of your way.”

That explained why Wes hadn’t come out to say hi. “Oh, Ma. You got the neighbors in on whatever this is, too?” Julie cringed. “They’ll be spying through their windows.”

“Sometimes it’s fun to be the one others are staring at, Giulia. Give them something to talk about.” She patted her daughter’s cheek. “Have fun.”

Julie dropped into the wicker chair and watched her mother stride with pride toward her car in the driveway.

Is this really happening? She focused on her breathing as Brigida backed down the drive. Dean Winchester is washing up. Her mouth dried up again.

And, with that thought, she heard his voice. “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” She turned to his yard, where he stood leaning against the chain link fence.

He cleaned up well and fast. His damp hair was not quite as fluffy, but still spiky. He was in a fresh pair of jeans, blue plaid, grey shirt and a pair of sneakers. The smile widened as he waited for Julie’s response. Laugh lines appeared and a pair of heart-stopping dimples made him even more charming. How is that even possible?

“N-No. Not too long.”

He nodded then stared at the fence for a few seconds. Some inner debate seemed to be going on in his head. He tilted up to look at Julie. “Would you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Feeling a little lazy to walk all the way around.” He hopped up, locking his arms on the top of the five foot fence, then proceeded to swing his body over it. It wasn’t the most graceful landing, but it was still rather impressive. He wiped his hands along his denim covered thighs and sighed. “Getting too old for that.” He made a beeline to the empty chair and sat down across from Julie. “I really appreciate you and your mom going to all this trouble.”

“Least we could do. Mom did most of the work.” She lifted the tray cover and revealed the bowls of pasta and meatballs.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh, man.”

Julie smiled at the eagerness on his face. She got lost in the perfection again and then remembered her manners. She lifted up from her seat and put his bowl in front of his place setting. Then did the same with hers. A quick deposit of the tray and its cover found her back in her seat. “I do have some dessert I made last night, if you’re still hungry after all this food.”

He shot his gaze up to lock with hers. “Pie?” The seriousness in his voice caused her core to pulse. And, she finally got the chance to inspect the color of his eyes. They were the most interesting, mercurial shade of green she’d ever seen.

“Uh, no. Apple cobbler.”

“Whew.” He shook his head. “I was going to have to marry you if you said pie.” Dean gave her a wink and grabbed a fork. He straightened in his seat and held the utensil upright - a soldier manning his weapon, readying at the front lines of a battle.

Julie laughed. “Pie’s the clincher, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” He emphasized the short phrase in a sinful, sexy tone. His eyebrows raised, hopeful. “I’m starving.”

Julie motioned to his bowl. “Please. Go ahead and start.”

He grinned and stabbed at one of the large meatballs, biting into it with abandon. Julie held back another giggle as the sauce dripped down his chin. The moan that escaped his throat halted any feelings of amusement and stirred up want. Were his slow, methodical chews and utter bliss displayed on his face intentionally trying to elicit another feeling of hunger from her? Julie watched the entire show, realizing before it was too late that her eyes had widened on instinct. He gulped and finally wiped the dribbles off his face with a napkin. His Adam’s apple bobbed with some additional swallows. “Phew.” He sighed. “Hell. That’s… your mom made these?”

Julie nodded.

He shook his head. “She’s a national treasure.” Dean took his time again to savor the flavors of his next bite. When he came up for air, he asked, “How are you not the size of a linebacker with a mom that cooks like this?” The look on his face held no malice, but genuine wonder.

Julie focused on her bowl for a few seconds. “I was a chubby kid. I still love food. It’s taken decades to learn and practice moderation. The struggle is real. If mom lived with me full time, the temptation to eat would be too great.” Her mouth dipped into a slight frown, surprised at herself and the intimate confession.

Dean shoveled some of the penne into his mouth next, hunched over his bowl. “Yeah. Food’s awesome.”

She sat in silence, taking in the situation. A weird energy, a co-mingling of their polarizing personalities circling the table, had her unsteady, unsure. This Dean teetered between ladykiller to adolescent within seconds. How much was an act and how much was real? It certainly was turning into an unpredictable afternoon.

The fork scooted pasta like a pushbroom in Julie’s bowl.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Dean asked.

Julie raised an eyebrow. Is that a trick question?

“The whole food thing?” He shook his head and straightened in the seat. “I can get a little carried away.”

She glanced down and noted his empty bowl. How the hell did he eat that fast? “When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

A tiny, wistful smile crooked up the side of his mouth. Eyes popped open when he spotted the Italian bread on another plate. He snagged a slice and mopped up the remaining sauce. “Over a year. Friend back in South Dakota. She’s a good cook, too.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Nope.” He stuffed the bread in his mouth. His whole face got it in on the chewing action. This lasted for some seconds.

Nice avoidance tactic.

“How about you? I know you just moved here and your mom is back in the city. Did you grow up in Wilmington?”

Julie nodded, occupying her mouth with a forkful of pasta. Two can play at that game, Mr. Winchester.

He seemed to pick up on the dueling defenses. He whipped out a cocky grin that relinquished her of any weapons left in her arsenal. She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze away from his. The slow lean back by Dean caused the wicker of his chair to strain and creak. When she looked up, he stared her down with an unwavering focus. His broad shoulders increased his amount of personal space and took up more of Julie’s. “What’s the story with your mom and the fumigation?”

He’s trying to find some neutral territory. Julie cleared her throat. “My mom takes a lot of pride in keeping her house clean and tidy, inside and out. The owners of the row home next to her had left their property unattended and unkempt for so long... I’d hear about it every time I called. Bug and rodent problem had gotten to an unacceptable level about six months back. Complaints by neighbors, including mom, eventually earned a visit by code enforcement officers. Mom thinks the owner had died and the property was never claimed by any relatives. All of that led to a quick sheriff sale. Now, the new owners are doing what needs to be done to remedy the situation. And, if they were going to fumigate the home for pests, they told mom, it would be in her best interest to do the same. Or, she might have some new critters sharing her space.”

“How bad was it at her house? Bugs?”

“I was paying a pest service to do monthly treatments. My mom has a pretty high tolerance level when it comes to roughing it. But, thank goodness the other neighbors joined together to complain. Us doing it wasn’t enough.” Julie smiled. “She gets frustrated when she can’t take care of something herself.”

He smiled. “I kind of got that vibe.”

Let’s give this another try. “I’ve noticed you don’t have a set work schedule. Gone for a couple of days or even weeks at a time. What do you do for a living?”

His brow wrinkled with a raise of both eyebrows. “You’ve been paying attention to my comings and goings?” His expression was stern, unmoving.

“N-no. I haven’t.” Shit. “The view from my office looks right over into…” Abort. Abort. Her lips clamped shut.

He grinned. “Oh, so you’ve been spying on me? Hm, I’m getting a little rusty in my old age, I guess. I usually have a great sense of when I’m being watched.” A shrug. “But, maybe that’s because you don’t seem like you’d be a threat.” One brow raised this time. “Should I be worried?”

Julie shook her head. “You must flirt for a living.”

He laughed. “Only when my job requires it.”

She gulped and took a stab at some forwardness. “Are you on the job now?”

He shook his head. A hard stare at her lips ended with a lick of his own. “Nope.”

Breathe, Jules. “Good. Should I bring out some dessert?”

His demeanor shifted and he turned rigid. “As much as I’d enjoy that, I probably shouldn’t.”

“Oh.” Julie smiled. “Watching your figure?”

“I just need to get going.” He stood up.

“Oh.” The word fell out of her mouth, flat, defeated. She got up with haste and grabbed the tray to clean up. “Sure. Sorry.”

He was already stacking the bowls and corralling utensils. “No. I apologize. But, I really appreciated this. Thanks.”

Julie nodded and threw everything on the tray.

“Let me get the door for you.”

“You don’t have to.” She made a beeline for the house, desperate to escape, up the stone path to the concrete landing.

Dean double-timed his steps to get to the door before she did. Damn, he’s fast. His arm locked in front of her, hand resting on the door handle. “Really, Julie, thank you. I’m happy to take care of your lawn whenever I’m doing mine.” His soft smile reached to his eyes. Even the crinkles around his eyes are sexy. How is that even fair? “Free of charge. No food necessary.”

Her lips tightened and she managed a nod. She realized he wasn’t going to open the door until she said something. She replied, “If you have time, when you’re around. That’d be great. Thanks.”

He nodded, looking pleased with himself and pulled on the handle. She stepped up and in, placing the tray on the coffee table. She expected him to have disappeared when she turned back to the door. Instead, his frame took up most of the open doorway and he leaned in slightly. His gaze darted around the living room in a somewhat nosy fashion. He likes to spy, too.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke when his stare fell back on Julie. “You and your mom seem like good people.” He shrugged. “I don’t have much experience with the neighbor stuff. Or, normal stuff in general.”

Her arms folded over her chest in a defensive posture. Gorgeous or not, the seesaw behavior was exhausting and making Julie edgy. She pointed behind him. “Letting bugs in.”

“Oh.” He pointed to the living room. “Can I come in for a second?”

Hot or not, letting a veritable stranger into her house wasn’t a Julie move. “No offense, Dean. But, we just met.” She motioned for him to scoot. His brows lifted in surprise, but he obliged and shuffled backward. She met him on the concrete walkway, closed the door, and waited.

The atmosphere was heavy and thick with awkwardness. He rubbed a hand on his thigh, only solidifying how very easy on the eyes he was. “It’s just… I’ve pieced together you’re going through a not so great time, relationship-wise.”

She thrummed fingers on her forearm. “My mother probably spelled it out for you. I don’t think any piecing of facts was necessary.”

He shook his head. “Well, she didn’t tell me everything. But, I do know if you had a guy that took care of you the way he should… I wouldn’t be enjoying your company and having a great meal that your mother cooked.”

She felt her eyes crinkle. Not in any way as sexy as his crinkles. “I’m sorry if we came across as desperate for a man’s help.”

A hand raised in defense and he tilted his head back. “Whoa, whoa. I’m thinking I’m the one that came across as desperate back there.” The hand dropped down in a slow and purposeful wave, as if he was on a game show presenting a grand prize. “Sweetheart, the last thing I see when I look at you is desperation.”

Her mouth shut at his compliment.

“Like I said, you seem like a great woman. And, maybe I can learn some neighborly tips from you. When I’m around.” He grinned.

“Okay.” She smiled. “Give me a minute? I have one more tip to share with you.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she had turned to dash into the house.

I raised you better, Giulia.

She returned quick as she could with a covered paper plate. Dean’s mouth turned up in a smile. God, I so could get used to seeing that smile on a regular basis. “Some apple cobbler.” She clarified.

“Awesome.” He licked his lips looking down at the plate she held. He offered her his cell phone, already open to a new contact page. “Should get your number. You know, in case something happens in the neighborhood.” The attempt at an innocent smile was downright comical.

She grinned as they exchanged items. “Good idea.” Her finger tapped info into the screen and then handed the phone back.

He slid the phone into his front jean pocket. “Thank you.” The plate tipped in his hand. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“I hope so. You’ll have to let me know how much.”

“Will do. Have a good night, Julie.”

“You too, Dean.”

Part 4

Series Page

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spnfanficpond #dean x ofc #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic series

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edyacouky · 5 years

Text

DC Comics JayRoy Wedding (3/6)

(Can be read on AO3)

Some day after Dick and Kory’s wedding, Jason got an intervention.

Lying about a job, his family and friends make him seat on living room and don’t let him go until Jason really heard that he was deeply loved.

Jason tried crack some joke or making excuse to go when thing were going embarrassing, but despite his best effort he finish by crying in front of everyone.

“That’s ok Jaybird. Roy said while hugging him

-We’re here. Alfred said taking his hand. Everything will be fine.”

Fuck! Jason feeling so miserable and ashamed. Why everyone is here making him cry? Like hell he want cry before Baby Brat or Batman!

For the first time since a long time, he feels hope, that maybe he is not alone after all.

From now on, at least one person take five minute per week to talk with him, drink a coffee or anything else that wasn’t related to his work.

Jason prefers the visit of Alfred and Roy.

Alfred always makes wonderful tea, talking about literature, theatre and they cook together.

Roy proposes him some solution, like a psychologist Batmanproof, but most of the time he just listen when Jason needed to talk and rambling when Jason doesn’t want.

They didn’t restart a romantic relationship neither a sexual one.

They never talk about that, their feelings or what they want. They still love each other deeply but they were so afraid about loose this little peace they succeed to gain. What if they try and everything they win is despair and loneliness?

So they keep what they feel for themself. For the misfortune of those around them.

~*~

This status quo stays like that for almost two years. Then suddenly, one night, Jade reappears in Roy’s life. With a little girl. With their daughter.

This night Roy learns that he has a three years old daughter Lian. When Jade discovers her pregnancy, she decided keep the baby without telling with Roy, not wants him in her life. She succeed raise Lian till now but her job become more dangerous every day and her enemies will be more than happy use Lian against her. She came to Roy because she can’t protect Lian alone anymore.

“Are you for real? Roy exclaimed almost making Lian cry. You have my child for almost three years. You never tell a word to me, despite our short encounters. Now you want give her to me to kill some people and when you will finish it you will take her back.”

Jade hugs Lian harder with a sad face.

“I know now I can’t have her back. You will ever be a part of her life now and you have friend to make sure of that. If I try, Lian and I will be fugitive for the rest of our life.

-The rest of your life.

-Will you help me or not?

-I will help Lian. No way I let her die, especially by your fault.”

Then Jade disappears as suddenly as she appears. Letting Roy and Lian alone.

Totally alone.

Without any clue how take care of a kid!

What Roy is supposed to do?

Lian, in his arms, start cry and Roy freak out.

What is he supposed to do now?

One hour later, more or less, Jason enters in Roy apartment with take out.

“Sorry I’m late. But I meet Bruce, and since he goes to the psy too, he is … well … I pass you the detail …”

He stops and didn’t know how to react when he see Roy crying in his living room, with a kid in his arms crying too.

“Ok but you, you have to give me details here. What’s going on? Did … did you kidnap a kid?

-Jay … Jay … help … I am freaking out …

-Yeah. I can see that. You should stop cry if you want this kid be calm.

-I can’t!

-Ok so give them to me. I will hold them till you calm down, ok?

-Her. She is Lian.

-Ok. Can you let me hold Lian?”

Roy hesitated. Not because he doesn’t trust Jason, but because it feels wrong. It isn’t the same thing as abandon her? Is he already a terrible father?

“Roy, you need to calm down.”

Slowly Jason take Lian in his arms like he was afraid Roy could attack him in any moment. When she is secure against him, he looks seeing if she is hurt or ill. Fortunately, it seems she is fine, even clean, but she still crying and put her tiny hand in her mouth.

“When did she eat last time?

-Oh God! I don’t know I should know this kind of things!”

Right. Roy was useless for now.

“Look, I am going find something to eat for her and you, breath, ok?

-Yeah … Breath … Ok …”

Jason didn’t have search too long, in a bag he didn’t know was food for little kid. They all seat in the kitchen. Jason feed Lian while Roy eaten to calm down.

“Are you feeling better? Ask Jason after a moment

-Yeah … sorry for that.

-Don’t need to apologies. But I need information here.

-You’re right.”

Roy takes a deep breath and tells Jason what happen before he came. Jade, Lian being his daughter he didn’t know about and now he have to take care.

“Understand you panic like this. Jason finally said. Not sure I could stay cool if something like this happen to me.

-Don't believe you. Look at you. She is calm in your arms and you knew she was hungry. I am the worst.

-Ok ... no, it is not true. I just had to take care of some kind when I lived with my mom. You will see tomorrow you will be calmer and an excellent father. Don't worry.”

~*~

Jason was wrong. Tomorrow, Roy was as panicked as yesterday.

He can't help himself but search every five minute how parenting on internet and answer he find stressed him more than anything else. He was also worried by Lian's silence. He was pretty sure he heard his little girl talk to her mom. And she didn't seem crying the loss of her mother. Maybe she didn't trust Roy enough for that. He didn't blame her. He didn't really trust himself after all.

Fortunately, Jason stay with them without a world needed. By being here, he helped Roy learned being a father and he seems understand quite well how Lian must feel with all the change of situation.

Slowly but surely, Lian open up and start talking without anyone can stop her. She even starts to really like her daddy and Jay-Jay.

“She called me Daddy. Roy cried to Jason after Lian was asleep

-I told you, you will be a good father.

-And you are a good friend. Roy smiled

-And the cool uncle I hope.

-Cool uncle will not make sure she eats all her vegetable.” Roy thinks but said nothing

Neither of them discuss about what happen between them. Too afraid of how thinks could go after THE discussion.

They are not in a sexual relationship. Roy doesn’t think they are in romantic one either, despite what everyone tells him.

If they start live together it is because it is more practical.

Roy need help to take care of Lian and keep doing his vigilante stuff.

If they sleep in the same bed it is because Jason will not still sleep on the couch forever and they don't have time find a house bigger. Their job and Lian keep them busy enough.

If only people could stop assuming things and keep their noses out of their business.

~*~

When the invitation for Kate Kane and Renee Montoya’s wedding arrives at their home, they blushing. They send one invitation for three of them. The way they write like Roy was Jason’s husband and Lian his daughter.

“Dear Jason and Roy Harper and their daughter Lian,

Katherine Kane and Renee Montoya invite you to join them celebrating their weeding their marriage on …”

Fuck they could not look at each other's eyes so much they were puzzled.

“A wedding! Lian exclaim ecstatic. I will wear a princess’s dress, right?

-I don’t know Pumpkin. Roy kidding. Do you have a princess’s dress?”

Lian’s eyes widened comically as she gaps. Without a word, she goes see what kind dress she has.

Roy and Jason laugh. Jason put the invitation on their fridge.

“I suppose I will tell them we come.

-Unless you want disappointed Lian.

-I woulndn’t dare.”

Jason slowly passed the tip of his finger under the phrase “Jason and Roy Harper and their daughter Lian” with a smile. It is stupid how happy it makes him. He hopes Roy doesn’t see him do it. But he does.

Roy looks at him with a fond look. But before they can say anything, Lian yells:

“Daddy! Daddy!

-I am coming Pumpkin. What’s going on?

-I don’t have any princess’s dress! Lian said sitting on the floor surrounded by the half dozen dresses that had been offered to Lian

-Are you sure about that? It seems like you have one or two.

-No Daddy! They aren’t good for a weeding!

-It is that so.”

Lian nods with wet eyes. Some weeks ago, Roy would panic but now he recognize when she tries making him whatever she wants.

“I hope you realize that capricious girls not the right to new dresses.

-I am not capricious. Lian affirm with a pout

-Is that so?

-Promise.

-Look, here the deal. If you stay the little angel you can be, then when Jason and I will go buy our costume, we will see to buy you a dress, ok?”

Lian sighs loudly as she collapses on the floor.

“Do we have a deal?

-Yeah. She groans unhappy

-Ok, start by putting away your dresses, please.

-Ok.”

As if she were the most unhappy girl, she began to put them away. She kept staring at her father with a depressed look.

“Thank you.” Roy just said before coming back to the living room

Jason was reading on the couch and asks when Roy seat beside him:

“Do we have to buy a new dress?

-Only if she well behaved.

-There is progress. Jason mocks him

-Like half she has is not a gift from you.

-Never say I was better.”

They laugh together and Roy can’t help himself but think that it would be just perfect if he could kiss him.

~*~

The weeding day, Lian was so proud and joyful in her new green dress that cost much more than a simple disguise. Roy and Jason know they can’t keep doing that and swear it was the last time. They will stop spoil Lian as much after this day.

“Miss Lian, Alfred said when seeing her, I am afraid I can’t let you come.

-What? Why? Lian panic

-You are too beautiful in your dress, you will shade the brides.”

Lian smiles so wildly that she must hurt her cheeks.

“What do we say, Lian?

-Thank you!

-You’re welcome. Misters, you are very elegant. New costume?

-Thank you Alfie.

-Yeah, last one were damaging in a last job at Roma.

-Roma? That it's romantic.”

Roy and Jason blush furiously at that but before they can defend themselves, Lian was compliment by more family member.

Luckily, there weren’t more jokes about their relationship. The discussion was about everyone’s dress, some news and the wedding.

They were starting to sit down when Kate's father approached Jason and Roy.

“Sorry to bother you but Renee’s little cousin who was to be the carrier alliance is sick. Can Lian replace her?

-Well, I don’t know. Roy said. Lian, do you want do it?

-I have walk in front of everybody?

-Yes.

-I do it! I do it!”

Happily, Lian takes Jacob’s hand and follows him without a look to Roy and Jason.

“I hope she will be sadder when she will go to college.” Roy said making Jason laugh

The ceremony was long but beautiful and seeing their little girl so happy makes everything better. And it was so funny the way she commands Bruce, Kate’s best man, to carry her when she was tired of standing but did not want to leave "the front of the stage", and the way he obeying her.

Sometimes Jason forgets how good Bruce is with kids. It is nice have a reminder.

~*~

In front of the synagogue, while they wait to Kate and Renee, newly married, to go out, Jason try take back Lian to Bruce.

“It is ok. Bruce said. She doesn’t bother me.”

The way Selina smiles make Jason feel like he doesn’t have an important information.

“Let him be. Roy said and this smile Jason know what it means

-You realize there is no way I will catch the bouquet this time?

-Why not? Never twice without thrice. And there are two bouquets.

-You seem eager he catches the bouquet. Dick said. Something you want to say?”

Applause succeeds Kate and Renee arrives and they didn’t answer.

Jason cross his arms and look pointy Roy, like to affirm it will not happen this time. Roy still smile at him while filming him with his phone.

“Roy, you’re being ridicu …!”

God damn his reflex, he catches one of the bouquet without difficulty just by seeing it by the corner of the eye.

“Oh come on!”

At the same moment, Stephanie exclaims with glee when she catches the second bouquet.

“Well Bruce, Selina said amused, it seems like one way or another you will have a wedding to pay soon.

-It would not bother me.” Bruce assured with a smile looking at Jason and Stephanie

Stephanie seems embarrassed even if she seems deeply pleased hear that. Jason smile but he doesn’t believe he will marry one day.

~*~

The reception was grandiose and everyone has a good time. Jason too, especially when he compare to the last reception he goes.

Lian stay bravely up until nine pm. She wanted still dancing with Cass but she yawn more and more.

“Tired. Cass said to her

-No I am not. Lian retort but her eyes were closing more and more

-Yes.

-Maybe a little.” Lian finally admit when she can’t stop yawn

Cass takes Lian by the hand and guide her to Jason who was the closer.

“Are you tired, Princess? He asks her taking her in his arms

-Papa.” Lian whimper pitifully

Everybody freeze around them. Everybody, less Jason, chuckles and laughs.

“What? Lian ask worry she did something bad

-Nothing sweetheart. Jason said his face furiously red. I will put you in bed, ok?

-Ok … But I am not tired …

-Sure things.”

Jason ignores question about when Roy and him will get marry and go to the children’s room.

After put her down to bed, he is not surprise seeing he is not alone. He will just prefer it will be Roy and not Dick.

“So, Dick said when the door was closed, are you sure you have nothing to tell us?

-I don’t know. Have you nothing to tell us? I hope you realize we can see that Kory doesn’t drink a drop of alcohol.”

Dick blush at that.

“It has been only a few weeks we know, and we don’t know if the pregnancy will end well so …

-Yeah, I understand. I will keep my mouth shut up.

-Thanks. You, on the other hand, it has been for two years. What the hell are you waiting for?

-Look, if we have something to tell you, we will tell you, ok?

-Fine. Dick groans. You are insupportable both of you.

-Dick, Jason call him as his big brother coming back to their family, I hope you realize that Selina didn’t drink a drop of alcohol.

-What? No. You kidding me, right? Wait. No. Damian will not be happy about that.

-Who know? Bruce and you give him two futures Robin for when he will be Batman, after all.”

The two brother laugh quietly before coming back to the main room.

Roy comes to them.

“Lian is alright? Roy asks

-Yeah. She was just tired.

-Why Tim tells me go see you as soon as possible?”

In his table, Tim raises his glass to them with a large smile.

“I'll leave you to it. Dick sings song

-Something is wrong? Roy asks when they were alone

-No. Nothing is wrong. It is just … Well … Lian call me Papa.

-Oh.

-Yeah.”

They stay silent a long moment, before Roy anxious asks:

“Did it bother you?

-Not at all.

-Really?

-Yeah. I would like officially live with both of you, being her parent, being your …

-I would like being your boyfriend too.

-Yeah?

-Yeah.”

Despite their past, they kiss timidly, clumsily. Almost like that was their first time.

“Finally!” They heard someone yells before a thunder of applause.

Fuck, their family and friend are too embarrassing.

#dc comics #jayroy #brulina #dickory #katerenee #fanfic #weeding #jason todd #roy harper #lian harper #jade nguyen #bruce wayne #Selina Kyle #dick grayson #kory anders #kate kane #renee montoya

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marauder--harder · 5 years

Text

Operation: Assimilation- A Sirius Black Imagine (Part 6 of Mission: Improbable)

A/N: this took a long time. i’d say my life has been hectic but i feel like that description no longer covers it. i promise nothing on when the next will be out (sadly). hope you enjoy this, though. i love y’all endlessly.

Word Count: 6,583.

By the time that you were both settled in your room, it had been just about the time for lunch. Sirius, in his typical fashion, decided to make it the top priority to find nourishment for you both in this small town. He claimed that one could not plot the demise of Voldemort’s rebellion on an empty stomach.

Thus, you found yourself walking down the stairs of the quaint bed and breakfast, ready to find a small cafe to get some lunch for the two of you. Yet, when the sweet old lady who ran the B&B called out to you, you couldn’t help but glare lightly at Sirius. You knew that she had looked at him with a strange sort of interest when you both arrived and you had a feeling you knew what you were in for.

“Where are you two youngin’s off too, if I may ask?”

Sirius smiled at the old woman, much to your mild annoyance and sauntered over. “We were actually getting a bit peckish and were wondering if you had any suggestions on where to get a nice lunch? We’ve been on the road for a while and I’m afraid she didn’t pack enough snacks.”

The white haired woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled happily at Sirius. You were used to the swooning looks that many women would give him in pubs and local markets, but you have yet to see the way he affected the elderly. It seemed his charm was no match for anyone, regardless of age.

“Oh, well, if you both are hungry then I’m sure I can mix up some lunch for you in just a few minutes time. What were you hungry for?”

Sirius’ deep, rumbling laugh filled the otherwise quiet house as he shook his head. “Nonsense, ma’am; we couldn’t impose on you like that. A simple suggestion would do more than enough.”

“Nobody’s turned down my cooking yet, boy; and I’d hate for you to go thin on me. All that prettiness going to waste away if your company isn’t feeding you proper.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes as you leaned on the counter. She was quick on her feet for an old woman, you’d give her that. Yet, the way you could tell she was doting on Sirius made heat prickle on the back of your neck uncomfortably. “Trust me, with the amount he can pack away, he won’t go hungry for a long time, Mrs. Hughes.”

“Oi!” Sirius remarked in mock offense. “Are you calling me fat?”

You simply grinned and batted your eyelashes in false innocence. “Me? Never. I’m just saying that she shouldn’t have to be put out of her way and clear out her whole fridge out in one full sweep.”

“That’s harsh, love. Truly harsh.”

Turning your attention to the woman who was now looking at you with a fond smile, you cleared your throat. “We mean no ill intent, Mrs. Hughes, but I think that I’d like to look around in town too while we’re out today. Perhaps I could help you cook dinner tonight and we could all eat together, if you’ll have us?”

Laughing lightly, Mrs. Hughes waved her frail hand in dismissal. “I was only joshing, sweetheart. Of course, I’d love to have you for supper. Is roast okay with you both? Do you like pie?”

At the sound of food, Sirius’ eyes sparked with interest. “Sounds delicious. Should we be back around five o’clock to help?”

“That sounds lovely, dear. Allen’s Cafe has a lovely spread for lunch and the best cuppa in town, if I do say so myself. It would be perfect for a cold day like today.”

“Sounds lovely! We’ll see you soon, then?” you added with a smile. As much as the old woman was clearly loving the charming Black, you could tell that she was also sweet and a bit lonely in this house all by herself.

“Of course; now run along! You’ve got a whole town to explore!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes,” Sirius said gratefully and took her frail hand in his before giving it a small kiss.

The woman actually blushed at that, clearly surprised by the prim and proper ways of someone so young. “Anytime, dearie. Now hop to it; I’ve got a pie to start!”

Sirius laughed along with Mrs. Hughes before taking your wrist and pulling you along towards the door. You yelped in surprise at the eagerness of your partner and muttered a quick, “Merlin, slow down, Pads!” before you reached for your jacket by the door. With a final yank to the front door, the two of you set off in the direction of the cafe recommended to you. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hughes started off in the direction of her kitchen with a small smile on her face.

“Ah, to be young and in love.”

When the two of you reached the cafe, both of your stomachs were rumbling loudly in hunger. It was a rather short walk to Allen’s Cafe, but Sirius was right before: you hadn’t packed nearly enough to hold you both over until you got to the muggle village. Once it was in sight, Sirius made a beeline for the door, opening it in one large swing before stopping and holding it open for you with a small smile and a gallant bow.

“Kissing old women’s hands, holding doors—Merlin, Padfoot, are you actually a gentleman?” you asked with a laugh.

“Etiquette was drilled into me at a young age, love. ‘Went to many pureblood balls and had to know how to ‘uphold the family honor and not be a complete disgrace to the noble and most ancient house of Black.’ This included knowing proper table manners, learning three forms of ballroom dance, and other gentlemanly things.”

You blinked in surprise, strangely shocked to hear that most of his pureblood upbringing had stuck with him after all of these years. Staring at him with an open mouth, he merely laughed at your obvious shock. “You never fail to surprise me, Sirius,” you finally said with a small smile.

“Is that a good thing?”

Walking by him, you patted his cheek lightly with a growing grin. “Has been so far; we’ll see if you keep it up.”

Sirius ignored the stuttering of his chest as he followed you into the small restaurant, focusing more on the absolutely beautiful look of mischief in your eyes. He had yet to see that type of spark within you and suppressed a low thrill of excitement at the thought. Merlin, if he wasn’t falling for you already.

The two of you fell into easy conversation throughout your lunch, asking the waitress about some of the best things to do around town and which shops should be first on your list to hit. You seemed to play the muggle role well, until Sirius realized that this must truly come naturally to you because of your upbringing. You were rather hip to all of the newest trends and phrases; something that Sirius was admittedly a bit jealous of. The way you led the conversation with the waitress about your favorite shops and fashion trends as of late had him feeling just a bit out of place.

However, you seemed to ease off the easy flowing conversation the moment Sirius became a bit overwhelmed; a feat that took him by surprise. You smiled and told her that you’d have to take her up on her suggestions, thanking her for your warm welcome as the two of you had stopped on through. The waitress merely smiled and gave you a wink, telling you that you were welcome in the cafe at any time. Sirius also noticed the way your cheeks turned the prettiest shade of flushed at the waitress’ flirting and quickly ducked into your meal.

“I didn’t know you swung that way,” he chuckled lowly, brow arched in teasing question despite the twinge of jealousy he felt in his chest.

Your eyes widened for a brief moment before you cleared your throat and licked your lips nervously. “I didn’t think she was flirting with me. I thought she was just being nice.”

“You think her saying that you’d, and I quote, “rock the shit out of some hot pants” is being nice? Sounds to me like she was hitting on you, darlin’.”

“Well—I mean—Oh, just shut it,” you huffed, stabbing your potatoes with more gusto.

Sirius barked a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it. “Alright; although, I do say that I will have to agree with her on those hot pants. You’d look brilliant in them.”

“I said shut it,” you reprimanded further, face turning an almost hilarious shade of red.

The rest of your meal was eaten in relative silence, apart from the odd comment here and there. When you both had finished and paid, you headed out back onto the street. Headed for the direction that led back to your bed and breakfast, you were stopped by Sirius grabbing at your wrist.

“What are you doing?” you asked with furrowed brows.

“I thought you wanted to go window shopping,” he supplied with a shrug and tugged you in the direction of the small downtown area that held an array of shops.

You tried pulling yourself from Sirius’ grip with a huff of laughter but he held on fast. “Sirius, I was just trying to make conversation—you know, try to fit in? We don’t really have to go walk the town.”

Sirius looked over at the couple of people that were glancing over at the two of you curiously, pointing at your sign of struggle in getting out of his grasp. Smiling confidently at them, he quickly released his grip on your wrist to slide his hand into your palm and interlaced your fingers. You were about to protest when you looked up to see his radiant smile and piercing eyes looking back at you with such a soft fondness that you immediately stilled. Only when Sirius’ thumb brushed gently alongside the back of your hand did you slowly start to smile back at him.

“Shopping would be a good way to get a better scope of the town. While you try on clothes, I can watch the other shoppers and vice versa. We will insert ourselves better into town, get the locals familiar with our faces so they’ll trust us. It’ll be good to spend an hour or two over there, yeah?”

Blinking once, then twice, you shook yourself from your thoughts and glanced down at your joined hands in confusion. The feeling of Sirius’ thumb brushing against your hand had you suppressing a shiver, much to your alarm. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel content as the two of you began walking hand in hand down the street. It was unfamiliar territory, even if you knew that it was most likely for show for the locals. Sirius’ hand was warm, unlike the cold fingertips of your own and you squeezed it a bit tighter in hopes of drawing more warmth from the man beside you.

The two of you window shopped for a long while, chatting lowly. Sirius had often pointed to some muggle contraption, asking what it was or why people needed it. His favorite thing was a walkman. Sirius stared at it for a long while trying to figure out the way it worked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his eyes lit up when you pressed the play button. His astonishment was evident and his smile contagious.

Eventually, you made your way into more clothing shops along the downtown strip. It was full of bright colors and prints. As you looked around, you felt content in a way you hadn’t when shopping in the wizarding world. Coming from a muggle home, you never quite got used to the difference in wizarding fashion, finding it much too stiff and extravagant. In your excitement you had taken Sirius’ hand in yours and tugged him along to a rack of clothes. Sirius smiled at your obvious joy and noted the way you looked so natural here. You were in your element, despite having been in the wizarding world for most of the past seven years.

As you looked through each item on the rack, Sirius’s own eyes wandered over the store. His eyes flitted over each of the workers and the one other patron in the shop. He quickly assessed that they were not a threat and continued his scan of the room. Sirius’ hands began to wander, casually browsing through the racks of clothes himself before smiling and pulling out a lovely navy wrap dress.

“Take a look at this; you might like—” Sirius stopped as he turned and noticed the piece of clothing you were holding up to him with a broad smile.

You laughed at his slightly surprised face and rolled your eyes. “You don’t know me as well as you thought, do you?”

Sirius’ eyes took in the dark denim of the overalls in your hands and shook his head with a huff of laughter, himself. “I suppose not, then.”

Your hand reached out to still him as he moved to put it back. “Wait…” you paused, trying not to look too embarrassed. “I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.”

“The duality of a woman, yeah?”

You tried your hardest to ignore the small heat you felt settling on your cheeks. “Something like that.”

From shop to shop, you both went. Even with your main focus being on the other shoppers, you found yourself having a lot of fun with Sirius. He was charming and funny and had a surprisingly good taste in just about everything he chose for you and him. You chose to exclude the pair of ridiculous looking bell bottom jeans he had tried on earlier that made you laugh hysterically. Part of you figured he did so just to make you laugh, anyhow.

About an hour and a few select purchases later, you finally allowed yourself to rest for a minute. Leaning against the wall outside the men’s fitting room, you sighed heavily. Sirius was inside, trying on a few jackets and muggle shirts he picked out and you were on wizard watch. Your eyes scanned the room, settling on each person for a few moments, trying to discern if they were a muggle or not. Most of the people thus far had been obviously muggle. You never could tell just exactly what made someone look so different from a wizard but after living in that world for years, you could spot most wizards from ten meters away.

Your eyes widened, however, as you took in a burly frame stalking towards you unknowingly. Immediately, you recognized the man. More than a wizard, he was at the meeting you had spied on earlier that month. Tall, bald, and much larger than you, you remembered the spike of fear that hit your chest when he sent that blasting curse at you.

Your heart began to pound as you glanced from left to right, trying to find a spot to effectively hide from the Death Eater quickly approaching. That meeting held quite a few of Voldemort’s followers and when you were caught, the whole crowd’s eyes were drawn to you. You had thought that you were quick enough that he hadn’t caught a glimpse of your face, but also knew that you didn’t get the luxury of taking that risk. If you were to be recognized then it would be disastrous for you and the town you were currently trying to save. The Death Eater would probably burn the whole town to the ground just to ensure complete destruction.

Just as the Death Eater was within view of the hall leading to the fitting rooms, you looked to Sirius’ room and quickly whipped the curtain back before stepping in. Wide eyes met yours, your hand quickly reaching out to cover his mouth before he could speak. Sirius’ piercing gaze bore into you, body rigid when he saw the panic reflected in your own gaze. You mouthed the words “Death Eater” quietly before glancing back towards the now closed curtain.

The two of you stood there for a few minutes, silent and waiting with bated breath. Eventually, however, a chipper lilt of a voice caused you both to jump in surprise. “Everything fitting okay in there, sir?” the saleswoman asked from the other side of the curtain.

Sirius’ hand slowly grabbed hold of your wrist, bringing it away from his mouth so he could respond. “Yeah, everything’s alright.”

“Do you need an opinion on one of our products by any chance? I’ve been told I’ve got a good eye for the way things look,” she giggled flirtatiously and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Her comment somehow entranced your mind to trail down Sirius’ form, looking at the muggle wardrobe he chose for himself only to find his broad chest very bare. Your eyes raked over his pale skin, focusing on the way his collarbones dipped alluringly and the definition of his muscles that gave way to a light trail of hair leading past the low waistband of his jeans. Sucking in a ragged breath, your mouth snapped shut and you forced your eyes to focus anywhere but Sirius’ body.

A devilish smirk grew on Sirius’ face as he watched you openly stare at him. Something deep within him pulled at the obvious attraction you had towards his bare torso and he fought against the low, teasing chuckle that wanted to tumble past his lips. “I think I’m set, actually. I’ve already approved this look.” He noticed the way your eyes snapped back to his face in surprised embarrassment, a steady blush already travelling up your neck. Sirius couldn’t help the huff of amused laughter before he added, “I’ll let you know if I need anything else, love; thanks.”

You didn’t hear the saleswoman’s reply as Sirius’ hand slowly trailed from your wrist down your arm, to your elbow before dropping to his side. A ringing grew in your ears as his gaze lingered on you, heating your body in ways you hadn’t felt in quite some time. You couldn’t help but stare openly back at Sirius, licking your dry lips as he grinned wider.

“D’ya think he’s gone by now?” Sirius whispered and your brain scrambled to interpret the words he spoke, instead wanting to focus on the beautiful way his lips moved. Merlin, was Sirius always this beautiful? How had you, in all your years of knowing him, not realize just how gorgeous the man in front of you was?

“Huh?” you questioned dumbly, eyes flicking to his lips a few times before settling on his own amused gaze.

“The Death Eater?”

Eyes widened in realization and you quickly turned to peek out from behind the curtain. You looked back and forth a few times, only to see all but one changing room open. Turning back around, you nodded at him and jerked your head for him to take a look himself.

While Sirius was peeking out to watch for the Death Eater, you had attempted to rein yourself in some. The way you had reacted to Sirius was very dangerous territory and you willed yourself not to go there again. You recognized that he was handsome; you had done so since your time at Hogwarts. Yet, you had not yet truly realized how much he had grown since his youth. Seeing him shirtless had, needless to say, caught you very much so by surprise.

“He’s still in his changing room,” he whispered, turning his back to the curtain to look at you. “I think we should get out of here, go watch him from across the street. We need to keep low, but I want eyes on him.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you said, “Yeah, I want eyes on you too—him!” You quickly turned to grab Sirius’ shirt that was strewn across the small chair in the corner of the cubicle and threw it at him. “Hurry up then; I’ll meet you there.”

Sirius watched as you peeked your head out once last time before slipping out of the fitting room, toward the exit. Staring at the spot you left from, he waited for a few moments to collect his thoughts before putting on the rest of his clothes.

The way you were looking at him clouded his mind in a thick fog of desire. His body heated at the thought of your eyes raking over him, lips parted in slight surprise. Perhaps you weren’t as unaffected by him as he had thought. A coil formed low in his stomach and Sirius took in a deep breath to will it away. There was no time to dwell on the looks you were giving him; he’d have to deal with it once this was all over.

Sirius quickly got dressed and met you across the street at a small coffee shop. You were sitting in the shade at one of the tables outside, obscured from the sun’s warm rays. It shielded you slightly from the eyes of people across the street. You were smart and stealthy and when your eyes met Sirius, he couldn’t help but notice the warm flush that had settled on your cheeks.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” you asked teasingly, eyes flitting back towards the shop every so often.

“View’s pretty good from here; maybe I should.”

Your eyes rolled skyward and despite your efforts, Sirius noted the way the corner of your mouth twisted upwards. “We’re here on assignment, Pads. Best you remember that.”

Your words were sharp but obviously held no malice as you moved to pull his chair closer to yours. Patting the seat, you waited for Sirius to sit before scooting your chair even further to him. Sirius watched with amused confusion as you settled into his side before taking his arm and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Gives us a better view without looking obvious,” you mumbled quietly but Sirius was too busy trying to still his suddenly rapidly beating heart. Grunting an affirmative, he took in a deep breath to gain control over himself. He knew he was attracted to you but his nerves were something new to him.

The two of you sat in amicable silence for a while, watching across the street for any sign of the Death Eater. Soon enough, he emerged and looked around the street a couple times before hastily making his way around the corner.

Trying to be innocuous as possible seemed rather difficult when you both sprung into action to catch where he had gone. Leaving a few notes on the table, you grabbed your bags and quickly hurried after the Death Eater. Sirius made it around the corner first without the added weight of the shopping bags in his arms. When you turned the corner, however, you were quickly yanked back against the wall.

Looking up, you saw Sirius standing next to you with wide eyes. Silently, he jerked his head in the direction of the alley behind the stores and you nodded in understanding.

“He see you?” you whispered.

Sirius merely shook his head before slowly pushing off the wall to continue around the corner. You followed him silently, bags swishing against one another softly as you walked. By the time you had turned the corner though, you heard a familiar crack and the alley was empty. Sirius looked around before cursing lowly and slammed his hand against the side of the large skip in aggravation.

“Bastard must have apparated away.”

Taking a tentative step towards him, you fought the urge to soothe the crease that had formed between his brows and the hard set in his jaw. “You think he knows we’re here?”

“I don’t think so,” he sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “Did he see you in the fitting room?”

“No, I ducked in before he could see me.”

“We were fairly hidden at the coffee shop. He probably got what he needed and left.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip in worry, you felt a pit grow in your stomach. “Question is: what d’you think he needed?”

“I don’t know but we need to find out.”

You nodded before glancing at your watch. “We have a few hours before sunset; maybe we can go canvassing and try to find him?”

Sirius frown grew as he scowled. “It may raise suspicion that we are suddenly asking questions. We’ll wait until tomorrow to find him. Now that we know who he is, we can’t just back him into a corner.”

“Trust me, I know. Still have the bruise to prove it.”

Sirius brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you. “He’s the one who sent you through a wall?”

You nodded in affirmation, hand subconsciously coming up to rub at the spot on your shoulder. It had stopped hurting mostly a few days prior but it was still a bit sore and yellowed as it tried to heal. “Yeah; I just hope he’s dim enough not to remember my face.”

“Pretty faces are hard to forget,” Sirius chirped half-heartedly, trying to break the obvious anxiety that was growing.

Huffing out a breath of laughter, you smirked weakly before gasping in alarm. “Mrs. Hughes! Oh, Sirius we’re so late!!”

Sirius’ own eyes widened and he quickly grabbed your hand as he made a dash towards the direction of Mrs. Hughes bed and breakfast. You found yourself struggling to keep up with his long strides and stumbled for a moment before righting yourself.

Mrs. Hughes startled when you burst through the door, both out of breath and flushed from the cold wind. You quickly set your bags down and hung your coat, calling out a hasty apology.

“I’m so sorry we were late, Mrs. Hughes; we must have lost track of time!”

The old woman merely laughed and waved her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense, the pie is being set to cool as we speak so I’d say you’re right on time.”

“I should’ve at least helped, though,” you sighed, walking over to sit at the table that was set for three already. “You’ve gone and made a feast!”

“I heard that there was a hungry lad joining us,” she winked at Sirius.

The sound of Sirius’ barking laugh set a warmth in your stomach and you quickly dampened the thought, brushing it off as a hunger due to the delicious looking food in front of you.

“It looks delicious, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Edith,” she smiled warmly.

Sirius mirrored her warm grin and sat down across from you. “Well, Edith, I think you may have outdone yourself.”

“Keep sweet talking me boy and I’m going to have to consider putting up a fight with your sweetheart to keep you,” she winked.

The pink that touched Sirius’ cheeks made you furrow your brow in amused confusion. It wasn’t like Sirius to get flushed often. You made a note to ask him about it later and turned your attention to your host who was calling your name.

“I’m sorry, pardon?”

“I asked if you had a good time in town today?” she asked again with a raised brow.

It was your turn to look embarrassed as you dug into your food. You were too busy staring at Sirius to notice she had started talking to you and you were caught for it. “Oh, yes! We had a lovely time; it was brilliant to finally be able to shop like I used to.”

“Don’t get out much back home?”

“No, not really. I can’t remember the last time I went shopping, actually. I probably rotate the same five outfits every week. It was nice to finally have a bit of variety in my wardrobe.”

“I think your wardrobe is nice,” Sirius mumbled lowly and your eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, well…” you paused, unsure of whether his compliment was really meant for you to hear.

“You have to say that, dearie, but women like to have a bit more to choose from. Heavens knows I loved to shop when I was your age! I was up to my neck in shoes, it was quite ridiculous now that I think about it.”

“I’ve never been too keen on shopping but I like to splurge every now and then and buy myself a few things. Besides, I think I needed a new dress; my old one is all tattered after so long. I should probably throw it out.”

“The yellow sundress?” Sirius found himself asking before he could stop himself.

You blinked once, then twice. “Uh, yeah.”

“Don’t bin it; you look beautiful in it… It’s pretty.”

“Oh,” you stated rather dumbly, feeling a heat prickle at the tips of your ears. “Thank you.”

Neither of you said anything after that and the table fell strangely silent. Tucking yourself back into your meal, you tried not to read too much into the sincerity in Sirius’ eyes or the way your stomach fluttered when he called you beautiful. You were partners; that was all.

“So,” Mrs. Hughes started after a few minutes of silence. “How did the two of you meet?”

Sirius was the one to answer, smiling charmingly. “We met in boarding school, but didn’t really know each other well until we started working together a few months ago.”

“Ah, well as I say, everything happens for a reason. The universe is tricky like that.”

You furrowed your brows as she winked at Sirius and laughed to herself. What an odd thing to say. Glancing back at Sirius, your eyes met and he smiled at you sheepishly, as if apologizing for whatever the old woman was insinuating.

Your eyes widened as it hit you and you swallowed audibly. “Oh! No, um… Mrs. Hughes, we’re not together; we’re just…” Sirius’ eyes meet yours once again and you find your mouth twisting into a half smirk. “Well, I suppose we’re friends.”

Sirius’ own lips curled into a shy smile and ducked his head into his plate of food. This was a side of Sirius you were definitely not used to seeing. He was actually looking… bashful?

Mrs. Hughes only laughed louder at your clarification. “There is nowhere you can be that is not where you’re meant to be, dearie.”

Your brows knit together, trying to understand what she meant. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I quite understand what you mean.”

“I’m saying that the universe acts in strange ways; and what’s meant to be will always find a way.”

“Sort of like fate?”

“Precisely like it,” she smiled.

Sirius’ own laughter broke you of your thoughts, however, and he turned towards the old woman at his right. “Well, the universe might want to be more obvious in whatever it wants to tell me. I’m told I’m a bit oblivious at times.”

The old lady reached out and rested her wrinkled hand against Sirius’ gently. She suddenly looked much more serious than she had before. In a weird way she had reminded you of your old headmaster. She was bright and quick on her feet despite her old age, and you could tell that she had many years of wisdom under her belt. “When the time is right, Sirius; you will know. Time is still very much on your side.”

Bewildered eyes met one another, thoughts of a relationship far from your minds. Regardless of her tones of romance, you both couldn’t help but feel a bit sobered by her words of advice. This war was still raging, only picking up steam with each passing day and you knew that time may not be on your side for long.

Mrs. Hughes chuckle brought both of you from your trances when she asked, “Okay, now who wants some pie?”

After the three of you finished eating, you insisted that Mrs. Hughes relax while the two of you cleaned up. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at you two with a fondness in her eye.

“I haven’t had people to wash up after dinner in quite some time. Thank you for choosing this small town to stay in, dearie.”

Your heart melted in your chest and glanced to Sirius to see him equally touched. “Of course, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you for opening up your home to us; we couldn’t be more grateful.”

Once upstairs, you and Sirius set off to clean up the mess of the kitchen post feast.

“Think you can manage to clean this up the muggle way, Pads?”

Scoffing gently, Sirius pushed up his sleeves after filling up the sink. “Please, Minnie used to watch as James and I cleaned the trophy case back in Hogwarts after she caught onto our cleaning charms. I think I can handle a dinner’s worth of dishes.”

“My apologies then,” you chuckled, grabbing the towel to start drying the dishes. “Seems like you’ve got this under control.”

The two of you easily settled into a system of washing and drying, laughing occasionally as Sirius mumbled complaints about how tedious muggle technology is. A small sound floated around the room as you began humming to yourself as you put away Mrs. Hughes dishes. Sirius stilled for a moment, trying to place the tune you were lightly singing. “Are you singing ABBA?” he asked with a quirked brow.

“Maybe,” you replied with pink cheeks. “Got a problem with it?”

“No, no problem. Just didn’t think you were one to listen to disco.”

“One, it isn’t just disco, it’s pop too. And two, didn’t I hear you obsessing over ‘Dancing Queen’ in the common room back at Hogwarts a time or two?”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed, mouth betraying him as its corner pulled upward in a hidden smile. “It was catchy.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not a fan, Sirius. Lies don’t become you,” you laughed as you bumped his hip with yours.

The motion had him stumbling to the right a step and he stared at you in pleasant surprise as you continued to sing. A witty comeback died on his now dry lips, instead staring at the way you swayed carefully to the melody you had dancing about your head. You were surprisingly lovely to listen to, only slightly pitchy at times but mostly light and airy in the way your voice carried you through the lyrics.

Sirius all but ignored the running water as he refilled the sink, instead zoning out and listening to your rendition of ABBA’s ‘The Name of the Game.’ The lyrics of the song had him glancing over at you too many times to count, wondering if there was any meaning behind your song of choice.

Feeling eyes boring into your back, you turned and grinned at Sirius as you continued. “Your smile, and the sound of your voice; and the way you see through me. Got a feeling, you give me no choice,” your singing was cut short by your uproarious laughter. Sirius’ brows knit in confusion and it was only then that he noticed the dampness of his shirt.

He cursed lowly as he tried desperately to turn off the tap that was now hidden under a mountain of suds and bubbles. Pulling his hand from the faucet, he shook off as much of the soap as he could and took a step back.

“D’you know where she keeps her extra towels?” he asked sheepishly, pulling another round of laughter from you.

“Maybe I should have washed, and you dried,” you giggled, and Sirius could feel his ears burning. Merlin, you were going to be the end of him, that’s for sure.

“Oi, not funny!” he pouted. “You were the one that distracted me…”

Eyes widened in wary alarm as you heard him trail off, grin growing on his handsome face. Before you knew it, you were squealing in a poor attempt of fleeing, soap caught in your hair, on your cheeks and soaking your clothes. Sirius looked something similar; hair slicked back with sudsy water, sopping shirt sticking to his chest and a smear of bubbles resting across his face.

The room was filled with your quieting giggles and both of your soft pants as you tried to recover from the obvious exertion in your haste of a water fight.

“I think Mrs. Hughes would have a heart attack if she saw the state of her kitchen right now,” Sirius breathed, sending a shiver down your spine as he spoke lowly near your ear.

You cleared your throat, finally noticing the water spilled around the sink and on the floor. Pulling away from his hold, you smiled guiltily up at him. “Yeah, I should probably go find some spare towels.”

“I’ll go,” he said with a sweet smile. “Besides, you’re much better at muggle things than I am. You can finish the last few dishes while I go. I think I saw a linen cabinet in the hall.”

“Okay.”

You watched Sirius head off in the direction of the hall and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. In the past few weeks of getting to know Sirius, you had seen more and more of the genuinely happy boy you caught glimpses of back in school. His laugh was infectious, his antics hilarious and childlike. You marveled at the beauty that was a carefree Sirius. Just a few days ago he was riddled with worry that seemed all consuming. It was nice to see him allowing himself even a few moments of peace and you were glad you had a part in it.

You only noticed his return when you heard the thud of a few bath towels hit the kitchen counter. Turning towards him, he met you with a broad smile and towel wrapped head. Your hands reached out and around him for a towel before he grasped your wrist gently in his own hand.

“Let me.” His soft command had you rendered immobile, only able to stare up at him with a small smile twinkling in your eyes.

Sirius took his time in drying you off. Touches were reverent and tender, never rushed. You tried your hardest not to blush at the way he softly guided your chin in his hand to reach your temple with the towel. He had rendered you speechless with the sudden affection swimming beneath the surface of the room—a prospect you tried not to overthink as you continued to stare at him.

Perhaps it was just you adding intimacy to the moment.

Soon enough, Sirius deemed you suitably dry and handed you the slightly damp towel. “Let’s get the rest of this cleaned up and then head on off to bed, yeah?”

You merely nodded in response, not certain you could trust your voice to be steady. Towels moved across the counters and floor, desperately trying to mop up the mess you made in another woman’s home. When you were finished, you carried the towels upstairs quietly and discarded them in the hamper closest to your room.

“Goodnight Sirius,” you called out to him in a whisper.

He turned, looking back at you with the same sort of kindness that had your heart pounding earlier. You couldn’t have imagined that twice now, could you? Nevertheless, the moment didn’t last long as you heard him return a quiet, “g’night, love,” before heading into his room for the night.

Tag List: (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

@obscurilicious // @mgc-its-easy-as-123 // @whompingwillowy // @mischief-siriusly-managed // @marauderskeeper // @emi-loser // @bxckybxrnxs // @amelya5567 // @thisismysecrethappyplace // @dude-whatawave // @the-apple-princess // @fantasticchaoticwho // @i-padfootblack-things // @cutie-bug // @sly-vixen-up2nogood // @hufflepeople // @marveliskindacool // @clockworkherondale // @dreamgirl8704 //

#sirius x reader #mission: improbable #sirius black imagine #marauders imagine #harry potter imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius imagine

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fresh-outta-jams · 5 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 2

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: When your soulmate tattoo finally appears, an address, you figure it can’t hurt to send a letter, right? Warnings: A few swears. Soulmate fluff. Word Count: 2.5k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

“Dear (Y/N),

Cross my heart, your letter writing gets better and better with every one you write. Please don’t stop any time soon. I’m sorry to hear my letters to you have been lonely all alone in that mailbox of yours. One of my friends might fix that soon.

Okay, but seriously, Ross and Rachel belonged together, though. Hear me out. I get that Ross isn’t perfect, but he did love her, and he did wait for her, and in the end, she chose him, didn’t she? Case closed. Joey’s a nice guy and all, but he’s not Ross Geller.

For the record, I am not a ‘Christmas starts November 1st’ person, I just want to make sure your present gets to you on time. Speaking of which, you completely avoided my question. What do you want for Christmas?

Also, you mentioned Nanowrimo. I looked it up and found out it’s a writing thing, right? 50,000 words in 30 days? Pretty ambitious, but...I think I might give it a shot.

I’m glad your new K-Pop friends are getting you into BTS. They’re pretty cool. You should check out Spring Day. I think you’d like that one. I guess I didn’t realize how big they were getting over there.

Anyway, happy almost-Halloween. I don’t know what I’m going to be yet. Do you have something picked out?

Can’t wait to hear from you.

-Namjoon”

***

“(Y/N), can you adjust the barn doors on that light? It’s too narrow.”

“Got it.” You nodded and walked over to the tall LED light pointed at the interview subject for your film project. Her name was Lillian, and she was going to answer some questions about how she met her soulmate. For this particular project, you were in charge of the interview, but during set-up, everyone helped with everything.

Your project partner, a sophomore named Jacob, helped Lillian clip the lav to the fabric of her shirt. Once you had the light adjusted and nicely diffused, you picked up your clipboard and read over the questions your group had written a few days before. Ryan, who was in charge of sound, watched the meters on the camera carefully, large black headphones strapped over his ears. The cheap little camcorders the school provided did what they needed to...sort of, but no matter how hard you tried, the white balance was never quite right. You only hoped your professor wouldn’t dock points for it.

A few minutes later, everything was in order: Jacob behind the camera, Ryan holding the shotgun mic, and you, perched on a chair across from Lillian with your sheet of questions.

“Can you tell us a little bit about your soulmate? What’s his name, what’s your connection...”

“My soulmate’s name is Mason.” Lillian’s features softened and she smiled dreamily. “Our connection is a compass tattoo on our wrists. It always leads us right to each other.”

“How did you and Mason meet?”

“It was spring. We were still in college. Exams were right around the corner. The next week, actually. I was with my friends at the library studying when my wrist started to sort of burn. I looked down at my tattoo and the arrow of the compass was spinning around wildly. I wasn’t sure what it meant until I looked up to find this handsome guy staring at me, holding his wrist...”

You continued the questions, evaluating her reactions and throwing in some follow-up questions where you could manage to make sure you got the footage you needed. It was so hard to get interviewees to answer questions the way you needed them to so you could actually use the clips. If they didn’t phrase things a certain way, it was impossible to tell what they were talking about when your vocal clips were edited out.

The entire time, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander the tiniest bit, especially given the topic. It had been a hot minute since you’d heard from Namjoon. You were hoping that when you finally got back to your dorm, there would be a special something waiting for you in the mailbox.

You helped Ryan and Jacob lug your film equipment back to the student rental place in the Communications building and then the three of you grabbed some quick lunch before you were finally, finally able to go back to your dorm building. You felt like your mail key was burning a hole in your pocket.

As soon as you passed through the front doors, you turned to your mailbox and jammed the key inside, turning it and opening the door to find not one, but two envelopes. A grin covered your face as you reached in to retrieve them. They both had the same return address, but the words were written in two very different handwritings. One was Namjoon’s, obviously. The other, you didn’t recognize.

You walked up the stairs to your dorm and walked inside, bidding a quick hello to your roommate before turning on your desk lamp and tearing the first envelope open.

“Dear (Y/N),

Hi. My name is Jimin. I’m Namjoon’s friend. He told me your letters were lonely so I wanted to write. I’m sorry my English is bad.

Bye!

-Jimin”

You chuckled to yourself before opening Namjoon’s and reading over his words carefully. Warmth spread through you from your heart, slowly encompassing your whole body. Oh, Namjoon. The way that boy made you feel with his words alone…

You rolled your sleeves and picked up your pen, mulling over your words for a few seconds before lowering the tip to the fresh sheet of paper in front of you.

***

“Dear Namjoon,

I hope you’re right about my letter-writing getting better, because I’d feel bad for you otherwise, having to read these all the time. Speaking of letter-writing, tell Jimin I really appreciated his letter. It put a smile on my face. And tell him his English is great. And adorable.

Ross Geller...Where does one begin discussing Ross Geller? He may have gotten Rachel in the end, but she ended up having to give up her dream career for him, so was it really worth it? If he really loved her, he would have loved her success in whatever field she chose. Mic drop.

To be completely honest with you, I have no idea what I want for Christmas. Maybe just some laptop stickers or something? I trust your judgement. Here’s a question for you: what do YOU want for Christmas? I’m pretty sure I would be an awful soulmate if I didn’t send you something.

I definitely think you should do Nanowrimo. We can race to 50,000. (I’m gonna beat you, but you can try your best. I won’t make fun of you too much.)

Now, about BTS… I’ve been listening to more of their music lately and DAMN. What talent. Is all K-Pop this good? I guess I need to diversify my tastes a little bit so I don’t get addicted to them. I mean, I’m not really into rap that much, but...damn. For real. Rap line is hot. RM is hot. I think he’s my fave, actually. So far. I’ll stop gushing before I embarrass myself further. (Also, I listened to Spring Day and I really really love it. It’s gorgeous. You’re just going to drag me deeper into this hole, aren’t you?)

I’m not sure what I want to be for Halloween yet. I was thinking maybe Wonder Woman or Scarlet Witch. I’m all about girl power.

Until next we write,

-(Y/N)”

***

“Dear (Y/N),

Jimin was very happy to hear you liked his letter. It made him smile probably the cutest smile I’ve ever seen. The guy is as adorable as his English, I promise.

On the topic of Rachel and Ross, I respect your mic drop, however, this conversation is not over. I just need to watch the show again so I can come up with some counterpoints to your argument.

Are you sure all you want is laptop stickers? I’m literally in Seoul. I could probably get you a BTS album or something. Just saying. That said, I’m not really sure what I want for Christmas either. This is really cheesy and you’re gonna hate me for writing it, but I’m going to anyway. All I want for Christmas...is you. No, but really, I don’t even know. I would be happy with a letter from you, to be honest. Every time there’s one in the mail, it feels like Christmas morning anyway.

I accept your Nanowrimo challenge. Consider yourself beat. I made an account on the website the other day. My username is namjoon94 if you want to add me as a writing buddy.

Also, about BTS...you think RM is hot? Really? Are you sure? I agree that their rap line rocks, but really? RM? Out of all of them? V and Jungkook are really handsome. So is Jin. I’m sorry, I just can’t wrap my head around that.

You should definitely send me a picture from Halloween. You should really just send me a picture in general. I’d like to see your face. I’ll send you one back, I promise.

-Namjoon”

***

Halloween came and went quicker than you would have liked. As per his request, you were sure to take a picture of your costume, which ended up being Wonder Woman after all, and got it developed so you could send him a copy. You didn’t look exactly like yourself, what with the costume and the makeup, but you were still you, and finally putting your face in front of him was a little more nerve-wracking than you would have admitted.

But, fears aside, you stuck the stamp in the corner of the envelope and pushed it through the mail slot to get it started on its long trip to Korea.

***

Namjoon went out to get the mail while he waited for his Keurig to brew his first coffee of the day. His caffeine addiction was becoming a problem, but it wasn’t like it was a new thing for him to down several cups of the bitter drink a day. He doubted he would have the energy required for his busy, busy idol schedule otherwise.

A smile overtook his face when he shuffled through the stack of envelopes to find the one addressed to him in the quirky handwriting of his soulmate. It was thicker than usual, he noted. Maybe there was something inside. His eyes widened when he recalled what he’d requested the last time. A picture.

Coffee long forgotten, Namjoon raced through the kitchen, half-heartedly throwing the rest of the mail at Yoongi, who yelled in response before batting a sleepy hand and deciding the chase wasn’t worth his time. He threw open the door of his studio and sat down at his desk, his long fingers already working at the envelope, its paper worn from its days traveling to get to him.

Finally, he opened it, sliding out the paper carefully. It was folded around something very precious, and if he let himself fall into his clumsy ways and rip it, he would never forgive himself.

When he unfolded the paper, he was surprised to find something other than a picture on top of the little stack of things that had been sent. Instead, there were a few sheets of stickers. Some were colorful, others were smiling animal faces, some were sparkly. Finally, under the stickers was the thing he had been looking forward to. No amount of preparation could have prepared him for the picture of the most beautiful girl in the world dressed up as a pink-haired Wonder Woman, all smiley and happy and buzzed on candy and apple cider.

This was his girl. God, it knocked the wind out of him just thinking about it. This was the girl the universe had picked for him, and she had exceeded all of his expectations. The sight of her lit a longing deep within him. He needed to hold her, and soon.

While he was sitting at the computer, his email binged before he could even delve into the letter she’d sent him. It was an email from NaNoWriMo, and it said: “user (y/n)WritesThingsSometimes has added you as a buddy!” His heart leapt and he clicked on the email, logging onto the site to send one right back.

Namjoon’s eyes lingered on the message for a few more moments, his pink lips curling into a fond smile before he turned his attention on the letter sitting on his desk. “Dear Namjoon,

Sorry it took me so long to send this letter. It just took me a while to work up the courage to send you a picture of me. I was afraid I wouldn’t meet your expectations. I got over it, though, when I realized how good I looked as Wonder Woman. Not to brag, but the pink hair is really working out for me, as you can see. Now it’s your turn to send me a picture. No pressure.

As you can also see, I’ve sent you a variety of fun and funky stickers for your binder. You mentioned you had one where you’re keeping all of my letters, so I figured it might need some spicing up. I fully intend on sending you Christmas stickers when it gets closer, but NOT AS YOUR PRESENT. So, if you could tell me what you want for Christmas, that’d be great. For real, quit dodging the question with your cheesy ass “All I Want for Christmas is You” bullshit. I’m gonna send you a rock for Christmas if you’re not careful.

I accept your challenge to my challenge, but keep in mind that this is my sixth Nanowrimo so you’re definitely going down. I’ve got a rhythm going and a ton of free time, so you can fight me. But like. With your words. I’m definitely going to send you a buddy request, but I’m forgetful so it might be in a few days.

Now, onto the matter of BTS...what is there to not wrap your head around?? RM is hot?? End of story?? It also might help that his name is ALSO Namjoon...maybe that’s just my type. ;)

Also, okay, so this is a weird question, but could I send you my film project on a flash drive so you can tell me if it’s trash or not? I’m pretty sure it’s trash, I’m just not sure how to make it NOT trash. You’re good at giving advice, so maybe you can help me see what I’m missing. It’s also huge for my final grade, but no pressure.

God, my heart is racing just thinking about you opening this letter. You know what I look like now, and for some reason, that makes my anxiety soar through the roof. I just...ugh, I want to know everything about you. What are the little details that make up my Namjoon? That was cringey, I’m so sorry.

Sorry for the rant, hope you put the stickers to good use,

-(Y/N)”

Namjoon sat back against his chair, letting out a content sigh, amused chuckles falling from his soft lips. God, what was he going to do with this girl? Well, for starters, he figured he’d write her back, but only after he taped her picture to the corner of his computer. There. Much better.

Tagged: @ffantasylandd

#kpopwonderlandtag #armyofwriters #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #rm #rm x reader #rm imagine #bts #bts imagine #bts fluff #fluff #soulmate au #namjoon fluff #signed sealed delivered

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danganronpaimagineslol-blog · 5 years

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Danganronpa Imagine | V3 girls getting jealous and their S/O reassuring them (2/2)

A/N: Here’s the second half, thanks for your patience!

Angie, Tsumugi, Tenko, and Himiko x S/O

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: N/A

Requests are closed at the moment!

Angie Yonaga

“Ya-hoo! S/O, over here!” In her usual sing-song voice, Angie called over her S/O.

“Oh, Angie, what’s up? What did you wanna talk about?”

In the morning before school, Angie’s S/O had received a text message from the Ultimate Artist.

6:37 AM: 💖 Angie 💖: gooooooooood morning, s/o! did u sleep well???? i sure did! btw can u meet me after school today??

6:41 AM: You: gm! yeah, i slept fine and of course, cant wait to see you!

6:41 AM: 💖 Angie 💖: nyahaha, im happy to hear it~! bye-onara, see u later!! (✿´‿`)

They had proceeded to be a nervous wreck the entire day, wondering what Angie could possibly be calling them over for. ...Maybe a date? they optimistically considered.

“Well, S/O, Angie has called you here today because Atua is mad and disappointed with you,” she stated as casually as if she were announcing the weather.

Oh.

Despite not even really believing in Atua themself, her S/O still felt the slightest bit offended. “W-what did I do?”

“Nyahahaha, there’s no use playing dumb, for Atua knows all!” Her S/O winced as Angie stared intensely, almost unsettlingly, into their eyes. “But if you really forgot, then Angie supposes it won’t hurt to remind you!”

“Uh, yes, please, er, r-remind me...?”

“To put it simply, you tricked Atua. You promised loyalty and devotion to only His vessel, yet you let yourself be defiled at the hands of another woman!” The artist’s cheerful demeanor didn’t match her words at all.

“I was... defiled?” They frowned.

“Right-o! That short brunette tainted you with her constant hugs and touches!” Angie sounded legitimately concerned before perking up instantly. “It’s quite alright though! If you’re sacrificed soon enough, Atua will purify your soul and welcome you!”

“Angie, wait! Slow down!” Surprisingly enough, the artist did simmer down and allow them time to think. A short brunette that hugs me a lot? ...Ah, I remember now.

“It’s not what you think! That girl, she’s, like, obsessed with me or something. I push her away, yet she always returns. I promise you, I’m not seeing anyone but you, Angie,” her S/O frantically explained, a tad scared for their life.

“Oh, then you won’t have any trouble with her anymore!” she exclaimed with a huge grin. “Atua said that He really liked her blood sacrifice!”

“Wha-?! A-Angie, did you-?!”

“Nyahaha, of course not! Angie’s just joking!” She laughed lightheartedly, and her S/O let a sigh of relief escape their lips. “Besides, Angie remembers her promise to you. Y’know, the one where she can’t make any more sacrifices, no matter how much He wants one?” the artist pouted.

“Y-yes, I remember, and I’m super duper grateful,” her S/O laughed nervously.

“Still... Something must be done about that girl, don’tcha think, S/O?” she wondered. “Anyone who stands between our sacred love must be dealt with! ...So says Atua.”

Her S/O blinked. “Wow, Atua really doesn’t like that girl, huh?”

“He says she gives Him bad vibes,” Angie said with a shrug.

“Angie...” they began slowly, not knowing quite how to phrase their question. “Are you sure that, well, Atua’s really the one who dislikes the girl? Like, it’s not you that’s annoyed with her?”

Before the two had started dating, her S/O had learned that Angie had difficulty differentiating her own emotions from Atua’s. However, at the time, she was convinced all her emotions and actions were because of the god. Despite this, after hanging out with her for several weeks, her S/O was soon to pinpoint some emotions that were definitely Angie’s own: for example, her love for them.

“Nyahaha, who knows? Atua works in mysterious ways!”

Her S/O bit back a grimace. Normally they loved her chipper, eccentric personality, but this really was a serious moment. “Look, let’s try to talk this out before... you do something you regret to that girl.”

“Sounds good!” she agreed.

“So, when the girl gets really touchy with me, it annoys you, right?”

“Right-o!” Angie sang.

Her S/O bit back an amused smile. “Angie, are you... jealous?”

The Ultimate Artist blinked. “Hmm, that’s certainly a plausible verdict! After all, Atua gets very lonely when you don’t play with Him!”

I’ve hit the nail on the head, it seems. “Hey, Angie, if you’re getting jealous, you can just tell me, y’know? No more of this, uh, Atua-being-mad-at-me stuff.”

The artist appeared to think this over but said nothing in response, so her S/O continued.

“I’ll give that girl one final warning to change her ways, alright?” They smiled. “And I want you to know that the day I stop loving you is the day I die.”

“Aww, that’s no good, S/O! There’s still the afterlife to think about!”

“Ah, right.” Her S/O laughed.

“Angie has already secured a nice spot in the afterlife since she’s a platinum disciple, but she worries about you!” She took their hands in her’s. “Angie will pray for you too, so we can be together forever!”

Her S/O softly smiled and squeezed her hands. Even if the Ultimate Artist was a bit weird in expressing her love, her affection for her S/O was nonetheless loud and clear. To let someone like her become jealous of another girl... I must be the worst partner ever, they thought regretfully.

“I love you, Angie. Don’t ever worry about anyone else coming between us, okay? You’re all I need, in this life and the next,” they reassured.

“Angie better be, lest Atua release His wrath upon you!” Despite sounding menacing, her words were full of love. She giggled and jumped on her S/O, squeezing him into a tight hug.

“Atua loves... No, Atua and Angie love you too!”

Tsumugi Shirogane

“Tsumugi, I've noticed you've been scratching at your skin for a while now. do you want some moisturizer or something like that?”

Tsumugi’s S/O didn’t want to bring her reddish skin up for fear of offending her, but they were starting to feel bad for the cosplayer. Scratching and twitching uncomfortably for the past hours or so; it really was a bit concerning. Plus, since she was currently a guest at their home, they felt responsible for making her as comfortable as possible.

“Thanks for offering, but I’ve already tried lotion earlier and this rash didn’t go away,” the Ultimate Cosplayer replied.

Her S/O blinked. A persistent rash all over her body? Sounds oddly similar to cospox... they thought. However, as far as they could tell, despite a slight change in style, Tsumugi didn’t seem to be dressed too similarly to anyone else they knew. However, speaking of which...

“Tsumugi, I’ve noticed that you turned to pastel yellows and pinks, rather than your usual blue uniform. Can I ask why? Oh, not that there’s anything wrong with this new look! You look great!” they added quickly.

“Oh!” The Ultimate Cosplayer seemed unprepared for this question, not to mention a little uncomfortable. “Well, thank you! Yeah, I, uh, just got inspiration from this new anime that aired a while ago. There were, um, lots of pastels, and I thought it would be, er, cool to switch up from being so plain all the time.”

Ah, of course, Tsumugi and her otaku interests. In fact, their shared interest in mainstream and obscure media was what brought them together in the first place. “Oh, cool. What’s the anime? I may have seen it,” her S/O asked.

If Tsumugi wasn’t nervous before, now she truly was. Being who she was, she should’ve been able to pull out any pastel-themed anime out of her brain like it was nothing, but her thoughts were currently a jumbled mess.

“I-I, well, it’s, I f-forget the name... You know, i-it’s, I...?” she sputtered. She began scratching at her skin a bit more.

“Ts-Tsumugi, are you okay? You’re pretty pale and sweating quite a bit; are you sick?” her S/O asked, concerned.

“Y-you know what? Be right back.” Tsumugi suddenly picked up her backpack and trekked into the bathroom, leaving her bewildered S/O behind on the couch.

A few minutes later she reappeared, but this time she was back in her blue uniform, the old pastels nowhere to be found.

“Ah-? Tsumugi, you didn’t need to change! Sorry if my question made you uneasy-”

“No, don’t worry about it, you didn’t do anything.” She sighed.

Tsumugi’s S/O was about to inquire her more, but then they noticed something very odd. Her skin...? It’s no longer red, they realized. No, this can’t just be a coincidence.

They cleared their throat. “Uh, were you, by chance, cosplaying as someone real...?”

Bullseye. A jump and an expression of horror was all the confirmation they needed.

“Tsumugi...” they began, confused.

“I can explain,” she interrupted. Her panicked state had promptly vanished, replaced with a face of solemnness and almost... resent?

“I’ve seen you hanging around that other girl, you know. The one with the frilly pastel outfits,” she said calmly, looking directly at her S/O. “At first, I tried to ignore it. But then she started giving you hugs like it was nothing, and I was... I was just plain terrified she was taking you from me.”

Tsumugi’s S/O’s eyes widened. They opened their mouth to reply, but the cosplayer continued.

“So I took her pastel style and incorporated it into some outfits to wear. I didn’t think it would be enough to trigger my cospox, but I guess really deep down, my body knew that what I was doing wasn’t right.” She laughed softly. “In hindsight, this really was an awful plan. I know that you’re not someone to fall for looks, especially clothing, but I guess I was just... desperate. Desperate for any possible way to keep you.”

“Tsumugi, that girl and I are just friends. Those were platonic hugs, but if they make you uncomfortable, I can stop,” they suggested.

"Oh, no, no, it's fine. I'm just being overdramatic. It's my fault for being so plain possessive," she replied bitterly.

It suddenly clicked in her S/O's mind. This feeling of resent emanating from the cosplayer, it wasn't directed at their friend. She was mad at herself.

Before the cosplayer could utter any more self-deprecating words, they swiftly swooped her into a tight embrace. “You’re not being overdramatic or possessive at all. I’m sorry for not noticing what was going on.”

Tsumugi buried her face into their chest, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “You’re... You’re not mad at me?” She suddenly faced upwards, staring right into her S/O’s eyes. “Y-you should be mad! This is- I’m unforgivable.”

Tsumugi’s S/O comfortingly ran their fingers through her hair. “Of course not I’m not mad. In fact, knowing that you care so much about me, it’s touching.” They laughed softly. “Tsumugi, you can’t control your feelings, so try not to beat yourself up about this, okay?”

“I...” Feeling embarrassed, she retreated back into the safety and comfort of her S/O’s warm chest. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Just promise me that if you’re uncomfortable about anything ever, always feel free to talk to me about it. I won’t ever blame you for anything,” they reassured.

Although muffled, her S/O was able to hear Tsumugi murmur a quiet, “I promise.”

Tenko Chabashira

Tenko and her S/O sat at their usual hangout spot during lunch. Although a few of their friends also hung around them, they tended to only talk to one another. After all, due to a lack of shared classes, lunch and break became their only chances to interact during the school day.

The two made light conversation about nothing in particular, instead focusing mostly on their lunches. However, a few minutes into lunch, another girl came jogging up to Tenko’s S/O, a bit out of breath. This mystery girl had never approached their lunch group before, but no one really minded her presence.

“Oh, S/O...! I was... looking everywhere for you!” She hunched over, breathing heavily.

The Ultimate Aikido Master cocked an eyebrow at her S/O. “Oh, is she your friend?”

“Yeah, she’s in most of my classes, actually,” they replied and turned to face the girl. “Do you need something?”

She straightened up and cleared her throat. “Nothing in particular. Just wanted to hang out with you this lunch!” The girl took their hand in her’s and beamed.

Tenko’s S/O shot a glance at the martial artist and noticed her tensing up. Shaking the girl off their hand with an awkward laugh, they blinked uneasily. “Well, sure, of course you can. But don’t you usually hang out with your own friend group?”

The newcomer took a few steps back, lip trembling. “A-are you asking b-b-because you want me to g-go back to them...?” Her eyes began watering, which caused them to start panicking.

“W-what?! No, that’s not what I-”

“Hahaha, I’m just joking! Chill out, dude!” The girl playfully pinched their cheek, resulting in a barely audible “Tch.” from Tenko.

“Yeah, my friends all just went to the library to study, but I have, like, no homework or upcoming tests, so I decided to not join them,” she explained. “So I ran all over campus trying to find you!” At the last word, the girl lightly tapped them on the nose.

She proceeded to plop down right in between the Tenko and her S/O, much to the Aikido master’s irritation. In fact, Tenko didn’t even bother hiding her face of pure disgust; either the girl didn’t notice or didn’t care.

She continued practically swooning over Tenko’s S/O, resting her head on their shoulder, giving them impromptu hugs, among other things. Right as Tenko felt her temper about to snap, she quickly stood up, looked the girl dead in the eye, and asked her to leave in the most polite way she could muster.

“Sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to leave,” she declared matter-of-factly.

Her S/O and the girl both turned to face her.

“Huh? How come?” the newcomer pouted.

“I have something to discuss with S/O.”

The other girl opened her mouth to protest, but Tenko’s S/O spoke up quickly. “Yeah, I think you should go. Sorry.”

She blinked at them in surprise, looking back and forth between the two people ushering her to leave. Finally, after a few seconds, she packed her things and walked off with a huff.

“...Are you two really just friends? She seemed a bit too friendly to me.” The question sounded more like an accusation.

“What? Of course we’re just friends!” Tenko’s S/O looked a bit offended by even the suggestion. “And I agree, she was really raising some red flags...”

“Then why didn’t you push her away?” she inquired. “You know, tell her that you were uncomfortable?”

“S-sorry, I probably should’ve said something. I just didn’t really wanna be rude.”

Tenko scoffed. “She was the one who was being rude, not respecting your personal space like that!”

Her S/O furrowed their brows in contemplation. Although admittedly not very calm to begin with, they had only ever seen the Ultimate Aikido Master get this fired up around “degenerate males.” Something about the girl had really rubbed Tenko the wrong way.

“...Hey, you know I can take care of myself, right?” her S/O slowly spoke up. After running through a list of possible reasons for her behavior, they felt that maybe her protective instincts had taken control. “If she had gone any farther, I could defend myself just fine.”

“I... That’s not it.” Tenko shook her head.

“Oh. Then, uh, what is it?”

“I know you can protect yourself. I’m not scared of that sort of thing. It, well...” She sighed. “Fine, it bothers me when she acts so buddy-buddy with you.”

Tenko had never been one to hide her emotions, which her S/O was thankful for, especially in situations like this. Communication was never a problem between the two.

“I mean, who does she is? Basically throwing herself on top of you, especially when your girlfriend is less than one foot away?! That’s classic degenerate male behavior!” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

Her S/O laughed as she spouted her catchphrase. “So what you’re telling me is... You’re jealous?”

They were just joking, but the martial artist’s face reddened. “M-me? Jealous?! Jealousy is an emotion for degenerate males that are too possessive over their partners, and as such, I c-can’t possibly be... j-jealous...”

She faltered, realization dawning on her face. So she wasn’t hiding it on purpose. She just... Didn’t know? her S/O thought, amused.

“Haha, hey, Tenko, it’s okay if you’re jealous. Feeling that way doesn’t make you stoop down to a, well, ‘degenerate male’s’ level,” they reassured her.

“So, Master was wrong then?”

He’s wrong about a lot of things, her S/O stopped themself before it slipped out of their mouth. “Well, yeah, you can’t control your feelings. I’m glad you told me about this, really.”

Tenko visibly relaxed, a huge invisible weight taken off her shoulders.

“Hey, next time I come across her, I’ll tell her to stop calm down a bit with all the physical contact. And Tenko, I want you to know that you’re my number one and always will be. I’m... I’m sorry that you had to feel jealous in the first place. You wouldn’t have felt that way if I communicated my feelings more...”

“S/O, don’t blame yourself!” she cheerfully demanded. “If you have time to sulk in regret, you have time to change for the better! That’s what Master always told me! ...Or is that also wrong?” she second-guessed herself.

Her S/O laughed and swept her into a loving embrace. “No, that’s correct,” they said softly in her ear. “I’ll start changing now then... Tenko, I love you. I love your enthusiasm, your pep-talks, sensitive side, everything. You’re the only one for me.”

She almost completely melted in embarrassment right in their arms. “I l-love you too, S/O!” she determinedly declared, hoping the waver in her voice went unnoticed.

A few intimate seconds passed before they reluctantly pulled apart. Tenko fidgeted with her fingers. “I... I kind of feel bad for your classmate. I should go apologize.”

“Oh, ah, right. Haha, I’ll go with you.”

Himiko Yumeno

“S/O, are you ready for some more magic?!” Himiko asked with over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Himiko, that’s the sixth one in a row. Are you sure you’re not tired?” The magician’s mage’s S/O had been invited over to Himiko’s house after school and had since been bombarded by an onslaught of magic displays. Of course, they didn’t mind at all. In fact, they loved seeing Himiko so passionate, but it was a bit out of character. She usually complained about being out of MP after the first or second demonstration.

“Of course not. Today the planets are all aligned so I’m surging with magical power,” she matter-of-factly replied.

“Oh, uh, right.” Her S/O felt that such a phenomenon would’ve definitely made the headlines of hundreds of news networks, but they decided not to comment on it. “Himiko, you know what? We should have a quick break. Even with your boosted MP, a little intermission never hurts, right?”

“Nyeh...” The mage hesitated for a bit but ultimately nodded. “You’re right.”

Her S/O subtly breathed a sigh of relief. Even if Himiko felt as if she could take on the world right now, they still didn’t want her accidentally overexerting herself.

They settled down at the dining room table. The mage had practically deflated after plopping down on a chair, so her S/O found and boiled some tea themself. The two made light conversation, but mostly silently enjoyed each other’s company.

However, the moment they finished their tea, Himiko quickly shot up to her legs, wobbling a bit. “Time to continue the magic show!” she announced.

“Wait, s-slow down!” Her S/O swiftly scooped up the two cups and deposited them in the sink. “Himiko, I know you said that your MP’s all boosted, but are you sure that’s the only reason you’re doing so many demonstrations?” Planetary alignment or not, the mage had never shown so much enthusiasm before. Even when at official performances, she was never this excited.

“N-nyeh? What do you mean?” she stuttered.

“You usually start saying ‘It’s a pain...’ after just one trick,” they pointed out.

“Trick?”

“Er, sorry, I meant after one display of magic. My point still stands though.”

Himiko furrowed her brows in defiance. “I-I told you, the planets are all aligned today, s-so-”

“Himiko,” they chided. “Are you positive that’s the whole truth? I won’t be mad if it’s not.”

“I-I-I-I’m n-not lying! O-o-of c-course it’s...” The mage faltered. “F-fine, that might not the whole reason,” she slowly admitted.

“Oh.” Although her S/O knew something was up, they hadn’t expected Himiko to actually admit it. “So, uh, what is it?”

“It kinda has to do with this other girl,” she murmured. “Y’know, the tall, purple-haired one that’s super good at sports? She’s, like, on the track and swimming team.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that girl. What about her?”

“W-well, I kept on seeing her hang around you. I didn’t really care at first, but then I started noticing her always touching you, like jumping on you or using your lap as a pillow. And you weren’t pushing her away, either,” Himiko sulked.

“I... I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was bothering you. I’ll tell her to knock it off.” Her S/O awkwardly scratched the back of their neck. “But what does this have to do with you performing more magic lately?”

“When I saw how you kept on hanging out with her, it made me start to think that maybe... Maybe you preferred more athletic, energetic girls. You know, instead of people like me.”

“Himiko...”

“So I decided to try harder. I thought that if you were impressed by how hardworking I was, you w-wouldn’t-” She sniffled. “L-leave me for her.”

“H-Himiko, I’ll never leave you! I wouldn’t be dating you if I didn’t love you for who you are!” her S/O frantically reassured her.

“A-are you sure? I know it must be a pain to be in a relationship with me, s-since I don’t do much...”

“I’m positive. You’re all I’ll ever want and all I’ll ever need. Even if you think that your laziness is annoying, that’s what makes you, well, you. And I love all of you.”

Himiko finally let herself sob. She practically tackled her S/O in a hug, who scooped her into their arms bridal-style. Himiko clung to them and buried her face into their chest, blending together a mishmash of phrases.

“I-I’m sorry-” A hiccup. “I l-love you too, and I was just really scared, and I know I should’ve-”

“Shh, it’s okay, Himiko,” they softly consoled the bawling mage. “I know you must be exhausted, so let’s go sleep.”

Although other couples would think the two weird for literally sleeping on dates, Himiko and her S/O found nothing more comforting than cuddling until one or the other fell asleep by their side.

She stretched and yawned in response, shutting her eyes and tightening her squeeze on them.

Her S/O laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

＊ Mod Chiaki

#danganronpa #dangan ronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa blog #danganronpa imagines blog #danganronpa fluff #danganronpa requests #dr imagines #drv3 #drv3 killing harmony #angie yonaga #tsumugi shirogane #tenko chabashira #himiko yumeno #mod chiaki

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