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sxdmoonchxld · 3 years

Text

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room. Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face.

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function.

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over.

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time.

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice.

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name.

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye.

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!"

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place.

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you.

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you.

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm.

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it.

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you.

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist.

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care.

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage.

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more.

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips.

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward.

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans.

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples.

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking.

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook?

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst.

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls.

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt.

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach.

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper.

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

"Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants.

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch.

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror.

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story.

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.'

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock.

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust.

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook. You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix.

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts oneshot #bts smut reactions #bts #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts college au #jungkook college au #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #ao3 #jungkook x reader

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thatpoppinat · 3 years

Text

When The World Knows (Pt 1)

pt 2

It's been a while since Marinette has had time to herself. Thankfully, this isn't due to her responsibilities as Ladybug.

In fact, Hawkmoth seemed to be losing whatever motivation he once had for terrorizing Paris, and akumas were becoming scarce. This could have also meant that he was planning something big, but if Marinette was being 100% honest with you, Hawkmoth was becoming the least of her concerns.

Was her growing fame something she should be concerned about? She couldn’t tell you.

_____________

It all started on accident, if you were to ask Marinette. She had just went to visit her uncle Jagged while he was making music for an upcoming show that was being produced. After spending some time with him, he eventually introduced her to Hugo Morris, the director of "Autodale; a noir-esque dystopian show that is ‘the next being thing’”.

Hugo had apparently aided in the release of multiple blockbuster and popular shows. Marinette had no doubt that this one would be well received by the public, just by seeing the detailed sets being created all around her.

Almost jokingly, Jagged had encouraged Marinette to audition for the lead role as Aubrey; the Exceptional Girl. After all; Marinette matched the director's description of her very well, apparently.

She was given the script, and she auditioned. She didn't expect to get the role.

And somehow - miraculously - she did. Two days after her audition, she received a callback.

Marinette, after receiving the email, promptly had a seizure. She didn't think she was that good. But apparently, the producer saw something in her.

When she came in the week after to meet the rest of the cast, Marinette could only think about how big the production was, or worry if whether or not she was gonna screw something up with her world renowned clumsiness. She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng after all.

Speaking of her being her, the thought of being on the big screen made her head spin. In the past, she always thought that if she were to ever work in a film production, she would have been on the design team. Designing clothes was her dream after all.

But she guessed the saying was true: "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." She was brought back in, she met the rest of the cast, and they were given scripts to read over and have decently memorized by the end of the month.

To only add to the workload, Marinette was still a school student. She hadn't even told her classmates about this.

… Her classmates, the people who didn't even bother to question if Lila was telling the truth; who didn't even care if Marinette's feelings were hurt; the people who didn't even hesitate to isolate her and bully her 'for Lila's sake', even after all she had done for them. And Adrien, who knew what they were doing to her, but chose to keep him mouth shut.

It was safe to say, that after all they'd done, they were merely classmates. Forced acquaintances, if you will.

After a few seconds of thought, Marinette decided not to tell them. She didn't want them to ruin this for her.

She'd have to tell Principal Damocles and Mrs. Bustier, however. If this production was as big as the cast was saying it was, she'd clearly be missing a lot of class.

And, after months of working with fellow actors, memorizing scripts, helping make props, doing schoolwork online, and keeping her nosy classmates from finding out, she could safely say that was the case.

_________________

Speaking of classmates.

When she was needed for the production of "Autodale" , Marinette rarely ever saw them. Being the lead role in a long production show would mess up your schedule one way or another. When she did go into that class, it was filled with people constantly going up to her new, lonely seat in the back and asking were she had been.

Instead of answering them, she simply shrugged and told them it wasn't their business. This got on their nerves to no end. At one point, Lila was spreading rumors and lies about how she saw Marinette hanging out with some older men (Marinette had to practically nail herself to the seat as she heard Lila "whisper" it to her loyal followers).

But Mrs. Bustier quickly shot that down and told the class that she knew where she "disappeared to", that it was a safe environment, and that per request of Marinette and her parents, the class wasn't allowed to know. Mrs. Bustier then scolded Lila about telling people things that could lead to trouble, with no proof anyway.

Lila then recovered by spilling crocodile tears and saying that she was only trying to help her dear friend Mari.

Well, at least Ms. Bustier wasn’t a wallflower anymore.

It was then classmates started to question Lila, not completely doubting her, though. Which made Marinette want to pull her hair out.

Marinette didn't end up doing that. After all, she had something to look forward too!

A sneak peek of Autodale was being broadcasted during an award show after school. Marinette couldn't wait! Marinette and the rest of the cast had gotten to see it early, and they were impressed with the craftsmanship.

_________

The next day, Autodale was all anyone would talk about at school.

And of course, Lila had to be apart of it.

"It took them a long time to make the animation that phenomenal. The team poured their hearts and souls into this project. Oh, Hugo is such a good director. He's really nice in real life, too! But, I think that may just be because he has a huge crush on me.

“Oh! yeah, I know the secret main actress. She's just secretive and only wants to reveal herself to the public after the episodes are released on Netflix. We're basically besties- sorry Alya! Aww! Of course Alya, I can try to get you an interview with her after the show is released. She might be busy, being the lead role in an anticipated TV and all, but I'll try my best! No problem!"

Oh the irony. She would've laughed.

But she was focused with what she said prior to claiming their supposed "friendship".

Did Lila know that Morris was a forty year old man and that she had just basically accused him of being a pedophile. That detail probably didn't matter to her. Lila probably would have said it anyway.

Marinette clenched her fists. Lila could spread all of the lies she wanted (she decided it wasn't worth it after seeing how gullible and unyielding her classmates were), but the fact that she was basically claiming how one of her father figures, with a wife whom he was deeply in love with, was a cheating, flirty pedophile made her blood boil.

It must've shown on her face. In a split second, Lila faces her, hiding a small smirk, then loudly proclaimed to her her:

"Aww! There's no need to be jealous Marinette! I might be able to get her to meet you! But, from what I've told her about you, I don't think she'll want to." Lila shook her head, as if she was pitying her. The class threw sneers her way.

Adrien winced, but, once again, did nothing, then looked away.

Marinette took a deep breath.

"No, no. That's fine," she smiled.

Then, with a stroke of luck, she was saved by the bell.

Thank the Gods for lunch period, she thought.

___________

She headed to the locker room. Once they were alone, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot.

"Are you okay?" Tikki frowned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Marinette insisted. "I just feel like talking to Carlos."

Carlos was one of the many actors and actresses she met on the set. Carlos played Macro, Aubrey's main love interest. He was funny, understanding, and would listen to her rants of frustration. All in all, they had a great relationship with each other.

Not a romantic one, mind you.

Carlos was gay.

She dialed his number, and he almost immediately responded. She put him on speaker.

"Hey Marshmallow!" Carlos exclaimed

"Hello, rainbow fish."

"Let me guess. Lila?" he questioned.

She sighed, "Yeah. You know me too well."

"So, what she do this time?"

"She essentially called Hugo a pedophile."

"...What?" He practically hissed.

"Yep. Said she knew the old man and claimed he had a crush on her."

"That lying two-faced fox." he sneered.

"She also said she knew the secret lead, that they were practically besties, and then straight up looked at me and proclaimed to everyone that the lead didn't like me."

“Wow. And they actually believed her?

"They always have been. And Adrien did nothing, again." Tikki handed her one of her cookies. She was missing lunch time.

"Seriously, that Agreste boy needs to grow a pair! I'm starting to think he just doesn't care."

Marinette said nothing. She could practically hear him rubbing his temples.

"*sigh* Don't worry Marinette. With the pilot episode being released next Tuesday, they'll learn the truth and regret treating you like trash. Everyone will finally know that Lila has been spewing bullshit since she arrived."

"I really hope so. I'm not sure how long I can take this."

"Girl, I'm telling you! Transfer schools! It's obvious that they're the type to suck up to influential people. Once they find out you're the secret lead, and MDC, they're gonna clam up to you so fast for clout it's not even funny."

THAT was another thing she hardly told anyone. A couple of weeks ago, she opened a commission website called MDCDesigns.

To help her out - and because they believed her clothes were to die for - , Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale began to wear her designs more often. It wasn't long until the Style Queen herself read a review, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't tearing a brand to shreds.

In fact, she actually seemed to like her designs.

"They have potential, I'll admit. Certainly about average. Marvelous designs. " Style Queen said in her review. "If they keep this up, they'll certainly have a spot in the industry." She turned to the cameras. "Also, if you're watching this MDC, know that if we ever meet, I'd like a cream colored faux fur scarf."

Her website practically crashed due to the insane amount of commissions she had received that night. Ever since then, people have been dying to know who this mysterious designer was. She wondered if opening the shop was a good decision: not because of her career, mind you, but her health.

Regardless, she was planning to reveal herself after the pilot episode was aired on HBO (not Netflix Lila. If your gonna lie about something, at least research it beforehand)in an interview -with proof, as many people have claimed to be MDC since then.

She sat there in thought, when she was done thinking she responded.

"That... that sounds like a good idea. Well, the Earth doesn't revolve around me! How is your trip going yo-"

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and a door being slammed closed.

She froze.

"What was that??!"

She’d had Carlos on speaker the entire time.

Someone had been watching her.

And the person must've heard everything they said.

_____________________

Hi!

So, this is my first project, and I’m not sure I wanna continue writing it. If you wanna adopt it, I don’t mind. Positive criticism is welcome! Reblog if you want idc rn.

Also, seriously, Check out the series "Autodale” created by Dead Sound on youtube. It can be a little dark, but I think most people can handle it! It’s amazing!

This is also kinda based off of the tumblr fanfic “After The Week Off”. Huge thanks to princesslenaakaladykittuna for the link.

____________________

Anyways, have a nice day!

#lila salt #au #MDC #miraculous #class salt #ml #mlb #ml au #WTWK

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thescarletwitchsapprentice · 3 years

Text

Sweaters, Snowballs, Cocoa, and Kisses (Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: (Y/N) doesn’t like extreme temperature, but Wanda really wants to play in the snow, so do the other Avengers. Along with that, Christmas is coming up. Basically a fluff fic with a small amount of angst.

Request: Not this. I’ve got one, but it’s angsty. I need fluff.

Warnings: Meltdown/shutdown, fluff, a small dash of angst, Christmas, some Hallmark-y sappiness.

Word Count: 2823

Note: Some wintertime fluff in May. Why not? And Pietro and Vision are alive because I say so.

You hate winter.

It’s always so cold and it makes you shiver even thinking about it. All of that cold snow, hypothermia, frostbite, not to mention the slippery ice. You’re so scared you’re gonna fall and break a bone. You’d much rather admire its frosty beauty from within, sipping hot cocoa and wearing comfy pajamas, cuddling up with a loved one, watching old Disney or holiday films.

Your crush, Wanda on the other hand, LOVES winter. And you love her. But shy little ole you hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. Every time you try, or even think about trying, you feel the butterflies of love all a-fluttery in your tummy. Your cheeks turn into red roses. (Not literally, of course. That’d be EXTREMELY concerning) You feel yourself stumbling over your words, even in your mind. Not to mention you get weak at the knees. Social skills aren’t exactly your strong suit as it is, so this extra layer is just....it makes you feel embarrassed.

And no one can blame you. Wanda caught your eye immediately when you first joined the team. She has such a softness about her, even if she seems slightly aloof at times. You’ve heard her playing guitar and singing while passing her room at the compound, and your heart just about stops whenever you do. She has the voice of an angel. Her laugh is made of sunshine and rainbows. Her voice as soft as a marshmallow pillow. So much more inviting than even the beautiful, but biting, winter wind.

Not to mention; Wanda loves wearing fluffy sweaters in December. They always look so soft and warm and.....how you long to just snuggle up against her on a couch by the fire in comfy pajamas and fluffy slippers while watching a cute holiday film or an old Disney film. Maybe even give her a cute little peck on the cheek. But shy little ole you chickens out all the time.

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

And then one winter day, there are no missions. No training. Nothing.

You’re using your light powers, one of your powers, to decorate the place with Steve and Bucky when Peter bursts in with snow clothes for the whole team.

“Guys!” he exclaims excitedly. “It’s so beautiful outside. We should go out and play!”

As much as you hate the winter, his enthusiasm is contagious. Wanda looks up from her book.

“I love that idea,” she smiles. “Pietro and I used to play in the park whenever it was safe to go out in the winter.”

Her brother zooms inside, startling Peter.

“I heard my name?”

“I was just mentioning how we used to play in that park in Sokovia in the winter,” she says. “Remember? Mama and papa would make sure it was safe before taking us. Even if it was for only a few minutes, it was always so fun.”

“And that one time I hit you square in the face with a snowball?”

“I got your TV night pick after that,” she giggles.

Your mind begins to wander as Wanda and Pietro talk a bit more about winter in Sokovia. You think about just how beautiful, how adorable, how dreamy, how......perfect Wanda is. You’re so distracted that you almost don’t notice Bucky stumbling on the ladder. Luckily Pietro rushes over to stop him from falling.

“Steve, (Y/N), you two need to be more careful.”

“You’re one to talk about careful, Needy for Speedy,” you joke.

All of a sudden, you hear that cute little giggle. You look to see Wanda smiling at you. Immediately you go weak at the knees and your cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. Even your nose is red.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, Rudolph,” “Need for Speedy” jokes back at you, smirking as he sets Bucky down.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks as she enters dressed in casual attire.

“It’s so beautiful outside,” Peter says as he finishes reorganizing the clothing that Pietro startled out of his hands. “I was thinking we should have a snow day! You know? Go outside and play!”

“That sounds kinda cool,” Nat shrugs. “I’m down.”

“Count me in,” Bucky adds.

“I mean, it can’t be colder than the ice I was frozen in,” Steve shrugs.

“I’ll go too,” Pietro agrees.

“I talked to Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Clint, and Thor,” Peter tells the rest of you. “And they said they’d be up for it as well. Vision told me he’ll hang back. What about you, (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” you exclaim. “I’m....I’m not a fan of winter.”

“Ah c’mon, kid,” Steve says. “We won’t be out for too long.”

“It’s just....well, I’m sensitive to the really cold and really hot and I’m scared of slipping on the ice,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s okay. I can stay back with Vision.”

“I don’t want you to miss out, though,” Peter tells you. “You’re part of the team. I mean, Vision is too, but I don’t know how he reacts to the snow, so I’m okay with him staying behind if it means he stays safe.”

“When we come back, we could have a movie night and hot cocoa,” Wanda suggests. “One of the best parts of winter is warming up after being out in the cold. If you want, you can hold onto my arm if you’re scared of slipping when we’re walking to the park, (Y/N). And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

You didn’t think your face could glow any redder. You thought wrong. Wanda actually said your name. To you. And she’s offering to help you.

“I, uh....” you stammer. “Wanda, you....you really don’t....you shouldn’t waste....”

“I want to,” she insists kindly. “You seem really sweet.”

Oh Lordy Lordy-Lord....you feel like you’re about to faint. The butterflies are extra fluttery today. Why is an angel like her wasting her time on someone like you? You have no clue.

“I-I mean, if....if you’re sure....” you stammer on.

“Of course,” she smiles. “It’s like Peter said. You’re part of the team as well, and I don’t want you to miss out either.”

You nod.

Maybe a little too much.

“Okay, that’s enough, Bobbly McBobble-Head,” Pietro jokes with a knowing smirk. “Let’s get ready.”

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

Soon enough, you’re all bundled up and on your way to a park just a small walk from the compound. Despite Wanda supporting you, well actually because of Wanda supporting you, you still feel like you’re slipping because you’re so weak at the knees. This leads to you apologizing to her every few seconds.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N),” she tells you gently.

How is she so patient? How is so sweet? How is she so compassionate and understanding? So many questions like this plague your mind as you slip to the park. When you arrive, everyone else is getting right to playing. Nat, Steve, Pietro, and Bucky are all in an intense snowball fight. Tony and Peter are building a snowman together. Clint and Bruce are sliding down the hill on sleds.

“I think I’m going to make some snow angels,” Wanda muses.

“But you’re an angel already.”

The phrase somehow slips out of your mouth and into her ear. Her face turns red and she giggles, her nose scrunching up.

“I was right. You are sweet, (Y/N).”

You’re like a snowman in summer, about to melt at any moment. Wanda helps you get onto solid and steady ground before heading off to make snow angels. For several moments, you just stand there. Here you are, out in the cold, because an angel of a woman wants to make sure you’re included in the team. The thought is just.....surreal.

You end up kind of just walking and standing around for a while. You’re extremely worried about how you’re going to react to the snow if you sit in it, let alone lay down in it. You end up kind of just drifting off into a walking daydream; one day, you want to work up the courage to admit your feelings to her. You’re worried about being rejected, but at the same time, you don’t want to lose that chance. There’s always a chance that she might have feelings for you as well. There’s always a chance.

“Yeah,” you say to yourself. “There’s always a cha--”

THWACK!

A stinging burst of cold hits you square in the face and brings you out of your thoughts. You find your vision obscured by snow. Immediately you go into a panic. Your chest tightens up and your breathing becomes shallow and rapid, your heart beating wildly. Tears well up in your eyes. Instinctively you drop to the ground and begin to rock as you hear footsteps rush over.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” you hear Bucky exclaim. “I swear I didn’t mean to hit you.”

You wince and make a small squeak as he tries to put his hand on your shoulder.

I wanna go back, I wanna go back, I wanna go back.

“Back up,” you hear Nat tell them. “Give them some space.”

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat as you rock.

Then you remember.

“And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

“Wanda!” you cry out, your tears almost freezing to your face. “Wanda!”

In moments she’s at your side.

“It’s going to be okay, (Y/N),” she tells you gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

You finally brush the snow off your face, but the experience has still left you feeling panicky.

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat.

“We can go back to the compound,” Wanda assures you. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

You blink out the snow that remains in your eyes and reach a hand out to Wanda. She gently takes it and helps you up.

“(Y/N), I-” Bucky begins.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the time,” Clint says. “They’re clearly overwhelmed.”

Wanda leads you out of the park, trying to make sure you two get back as quickly and safely as possible.

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

The two of you arrive and take the elevator. Wanda helps you out of your snow clothes.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asks you.

“Cocoa, cocoa, cocoa,” you repeat as you take off your snowpants.

“I’ll get started on it,” Wanda tells you.

Once the snow clothes are off, you head to your room and throw off your clothes, changing into warm pajamas and fluffy slippers. You impulsively rub your arms to get the heat back in them, and you place a warm wash cloth on your face, the tears still rolling down your face.

You flop onto your bed and let the silence and warmth cover you. It’s not too hot, but it’s definitely not freezing-cold. That’s when the realization hits you. Wanda Maximoff, your crush, walked you back to the compound and is doing what she can to help you through your sensory overload. And now it’s just you and her in the compound.

Well, it’s actually you two and Vision, but he was staying back anyway.

About half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door.

“(Y/N)? I’ve got your hot cocoa ready.”

It’s Wanda. Your heart is pounding fast and the butterflies have returned. Trying not to get weak at the knees, you wobble over and open the door. There’s Wanda with a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of something. And she’s wearing one of her fluffy sweaters; this one is holiday-red and has a snowflake on the front.

“You okay?” she asks.

You nod.

“Y-yeah.”

Your cheeks turn absolutely rose-red.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It seems like you just get so wobbly around me.”

So she has noticed!

“I....Wanda, I.....I’m....” you stammer.

She smiles kindly.

“How about we go to the lounge and talk?”

You nod again, and the two of you head to the lounge, decked out in holiday decor. Wanda sets the hot cocoa and plate, which you now see is full of Christmas cookies, on the table and sits on the couch. You wobble to a spot next to her and sits down. For a few moments, you say nothing. The butterflies are at maximum flutter by now.

“Just tell her, you blushing idiot!” you think to yourself. “Just tell her that you’re in love with her!”

You gulp.

“W-wanda?” you ask.

“Hm?” she responds curiously.

You try to gather up what to say.

“Um.....I.....I’m.....you.....with.....love.....in.....” you begin, stumbling. “For a.....been...long time.....in love....I’ve.....with you.”

Wanda smiles kindly.

“I know,” she says matter of factly.

This somehow comes as a shock to you.

“How.....?”

“I’m a telepath.”

You mentally facepalm yourself. Of course! How could you forget?

“I think....no, I’m almost certain that I’m in love with you too,” she replies. “I’ve seen you interacting with the others and you’re just so sweet and shy and adorable.”

The color returns to your face with a blush.

“You....you really are? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugs.

“I guess I wanted to hear it be said in your real voice. And I suppose I was a little nervous to approach you.”

“You? Nervous? To approach me?”

Wanda nods.

“Do you want to cuddle with me?” she asks.

You nod, moving in timidly. Thankfully Wanda lets you take your time and you slowly lean in close until your face grazes her sweater. Your head immediately drops on it, beaming. It’s even softer than it looks. Wanda smiles at you as she offers you a blanket, which you graciously accept.

“So....are we, like, a thing?” you ask her.

“Do you want to be?” she asks.

You glance away, feeling shy and nod slightly.

“Yeah....I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.”

“Then we’ll be a couple.”

Your heart is beating wildly, all sorts of happy thoughts flying through your heart and your head. You and Wanda cuddle on the couch for a while when something catches your eye. You look to the ceiling, and right above you and Wanda, is a sprig of mistletoe. She notices and looks up.

“Oh!” she exclaims smiling, her face turning red.

You two look at each other, both of your faces rose-red.

“Oh my.”

You hear Vision’s voice and turn to see him entering with another plate of cookies.

“I’ve heard that mistletoe is used to ward off witches and demons. Also that lovers are to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” you shrug, trying to stay calm.

“Steve told me to hang it there,” Vision admits. “I have to wonder if he knew this would happen.”

Wanda giggles again.

“I imagine he knew something would happen.”

She glances to you.

“Do you....want to?”

Can your face get any redder? Apparently. You nod hesitantly, leaning forward, uncertain of how to approach this. After some blushing and contemplation, you decide to just go for it and give her a sweet peck on the lips. You feel fluttery and on Cloud Nine. Wanda leans in and gently places a kiss on your lips, longer than a peck. You can taste a small scent of frosting, almost as sweet as she is. Slowly she pulls back.

“I love you so much,” she replies softly with a gentle smile.

You turn your face away, but she gently guides it back.

“No need to hide,” she assures you. “I love to see your beautiful face.”

The two of you look at each other for a while.

“I...I love you even more,” you reply.

“No, I love you more,” she giggles, booping your nose.

It twitches like a little bunny rabbit’s in response.

“No, I love you more,” you smile, booping hers in return, and she also twitches it like a little bunny rabbit’s nose.

“No, I love you more.”

“I love you to the ends of the earth.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-hundred.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-thousand!”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-million!”

“I love you to Pluto and back times one-billion!”

“I love you to the ends of the multiverse and beyond!”

This goes on for some time. Sure, it’s sappy, but you love it. You two end up in a fit of giggles and nose-booping before turning on some classic Disney films and cuddling up close. By the time the others return, you and Wanda are falling asleep to The Winnie-the-Pooh Movie with you leaning your head on her sweater and smiling.

The others may know that you and Wanda are a thing. But how you two became a couple? That’s between you and her.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#fluff #avengers fluff #avengers x reader fluff #avengers x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x autistic!reader #wanda maximoff x adhd!reader #wanda maximoff x adhd!autistic!reader #scarlet witch #cute #marvel imagine #cute marvel #avengers cute #so much fluff

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

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Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 4 years

Text

Nev, Max, Help!-Nate Jacobs Oneshot

Requested: Yes

Warnings: aggressiveness and rudeness from Nate and a brief panic attack scene

A/N: The reader is gender neutral since the requester did not specify what they wanted and I did not want to disrespect the storyline from the show. Also, it’s a long one.

For once, Amy Winehouse’s low, melancholy voice did nothing to soothe my nerves as I typed what I was looking for in the designated box. “Love is a Losing Game” was definitely not the best song for the mood but I loved her voice so much; it was like a really messed up security blanket for me. My thumbs shook as I kept typing and quickly deleting my words.

Someone to have fun with.

No, that’ll bring every single creep to my profile.

Someone to watch Netflix with.

Ew, no, they won’t want to go anywhere or do anything.

Someone to discuss Maya Angelou with...

This could go one of two ways: attract a sensitive, nice person or the ultimate softboi who was really just an f-boy in a sensible cardigan.

Okay, Y/N, just add to it.

...and have adventures, great conversations, and watch the best movies.

That seemed broad enough and, potentially, weeded out all the weirdos. Patti Stanger would approve of this. I took such a deep breath that I could feel the oxygen in my feet as I pressed the green check mark. An adorable buffering sign appeared before being quickly replaced by a CONGRATULATIONS, Y/N/N, ON COMPLETING YOUR PROFILE.

The air came out of me slowly, like a balloon, and I tried to make myself relax as I swiped through different matches. One person was too short, the other too tall, another had way too many pictures with reptiles in his profile, and one’s bio simply read: DM and you’ll find out.

Serial killer much?

“That’s part of your problem, Y/N,” Jules had chastised me a few day prior.

“What do you mean by ‘part’?” I’d replied.

“Well, for one, you barely leave the house anymore unless I drag you out,” Jules argued.

“I’m busy,” I’d defended.

“Rewatching Breaking Bad for the eighth time does not count as being busy. Plus, you’re so picky.”

“Am not!”

“You said you’d only do DiCaprio in his Great Gatsby days,” Rue had added.

“Did you see him in that suit?”

Jules then shrugged. “All I’m saying is if you aren’t careful, you will end up all alone.”

“That’s not true, Y/N might get cats.”

That conversation had haunted me since and had driven me to making a dating profile after the required Saturday night family dinner. While my parents and brother were downstairs watching a movie, I was holed up in my room, cringing and regretting accepting any chat requests.

Half an hour on the app caused the images of various male genitalia to be burned into my mind. I would need my brain soaked in holy water for it to be erased. I huffed and kept scrolling, vainly hoping and wishing for a decent guy to pop up on my radar.

Maybe Jules and Rue were wrong. Maybe I had all the right in the world to be picky, I thought harshly to myself.

I dropped my phone on my nightstand and flopped against my pillows as Me and Mr. Jones began playing. I sighed and felt myself being lulled into the comforting abyss Amy created.

Ding!

I jumped out and glared at the source of the noise. Another chat request, another picture to ruin my young brain?

“Be positive, Y/N, this might be good,” I stated as I grabbed the phone.

Tyler wants to chat!

I frowned and opened up the app, only to be met with the most sculpted six-pack I had ever seen. My heart began banging against my chest and my thumbs fumbled for a moment to answer the chat request.

Whoosh.

My stomach dropped as I stared at my first chat to Tyler: Shg.ismtle

I’m. Going. To. Die. Alone.

I quickly typed: Please ignore that, I’m so sorry!

Seconds later, my phone dinged.

Tyler: Really? I thought you were trying to send me a secret code and I liked that we were that cool already.

This was not real, this could not be happening. Tyler had to be a bot, that was why he didn’t show his face in his profile. Bots were supposed to have a hard time recognizing and creating faces, right?

But, on the off chance Tyler was real, it would have been rude to leave the conversation so abruptly?

Y/N: Who knows? Maybe it was a secret code and I’m just testing you.

Tyler: Ok, let me guess what it means.

Tyler: Hi?

Y/N: Haha, you really thought I’d use such a simple code as a first message?

Tyler: It’s my bad for underestimating u. I should have known u were smarter since you read Maya Angelou.

Y/N: U a fan?

Tyler: “You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”

He knows Angelou? He could have Googled a quote though. Still, it’s a good quote to use if he had Googled it.

Y/N: Nice, but, doesn’t get u out of the guessing game.

As Tyler helplessly guessed wrong for several minutes, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I used to think online dating was a last resort or a breeding ground for predators. But, maybe there were decent people looking for something (or someone) meaningful after all.

Tyler: I give up, you’re really good.

Y/N: Thx. But, I can tell you what I meant to say.

Tyler: The suspense is srsly kiilling me.

Y/N: I meant 2 say hey.

Tyler: I guessed that!

Y/N: No, u guessed ‘hi’, there’s a difference.

Tyler: C’mon, barely.

For the rest of the night, Tyler and I chatted. He told me that he plays baseball at a school across town and he doesn’t like anyone around there. He liked John Mulaney stand-up, lemon bars, going to the gym, hanging out with his friends, and reading good books. He was an only child and his parents tended to spoil him. I told him about my friends and how I liked being on the swim team at my school as well as the different YouTubers and books I enjoyed. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of talking to him.

On Monday, Jules and Rue were hanging out outside the school as other people either headed to class or relaxed on the lawn. I could not stop my feet from bouncing as I walked up to them.

“...and that is why Sailor Mercury is the most underrated character of the whole show,” Jules affrimed.

Rue seemed halfway interested as her head nodded slowly underneath the hood of her burgundy hoodie. “Cool, all I asked was who’s your favorite but, cool.”

Jules rolled her eyes playfully and straightened up when she saw me. “Hey, Y/N, nice shirt.”

“Thanks.” I wore a sky blue tie dye shirt with ripped jeans and white Converse.

Rue leaned forward and squinted at me. “You’re not wearing black, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, she’s obviously been influenced by me!” Jules teased as she wrapped a slim arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah, you can only hang out with this literal rainbow human so long before she starts influencing your outfit choices.”

We started heading inside, which was really just Jules and me dragging Rue into the building.

“But I don’t wanna be here. It’s so stupid that I have to wait six more months before I can legally decide where I spend my time,” Rue muttered.

“It’s fine, you have us!” Jules insisted.

“Yup!” I agreed.

“Hey, Y/N, Rue, Jules!” Cassie greeted as she sidled up next to me.

We all greeted her.

“Have a good weekend?” Rue asked.

“Yeah, there was this great party that Nick Davis threw. I swear, everyone there was on acid.” Cassie stopped herself and bit her bottom lip. “Sorry---”

Rue shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“How were yours?” Cassie asked as we continued to our lockers.

“Fine,” Jules said.

Rue shrugged in response.

I opened my mouth to reply when my phone beeped and I wrestled it out of my pocket.

Tyler: Is it 2 late 4 a good morning text?

I smiled.

“You’re so cheesy,” I muttered under my breath.

“Who’s that?” Cassie asked, peeking over my shoulder.

I jumped and cradled my phone to my chest like it was my child. “No one.”

Jules pulled open her locker and cocked a bleached eyebrow. “‘No one’ does not cause huge smiles like that!” She jabbed a sparkly-manicured finger at me.

“Yeah, show us,” Rue said. “We are your friends.”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted as I weaved around them.

I pushed myself against my locker and managed to open it with my free hand. Rue was on one side of me and Cassie was on the other.

“Is it a boy?” Cassie sang.

“Or a girl?” Rue questioned.

“It’s none of your business,” I gritted out as I grabbed my necessary books.

As I shuffled the books in my arms, Jules came from behind and slipped my phone away from me. I gasped, whirled around, and watched as Rue tried to look at the phone while Cassie playfully blocked me.

“Guys, this is not cool! This is such a serious invasion of privacy,” I argued as I tried to move around Cassie.

“We’re besties, there’s no such thing as privacy!” Jules retorted.

“Wow, Y/N, these are so----” Jules cut Rue off.

“Adorable!” Jules squealed and turned to face me.

Cassie took the opportunity to glance at my phone and she smiled. “Aw, this Tyler guy sounds so sweet.”

I snatched my phone from Jules. “Well, now you know. Can we please go to class now?”

As the other girls grabbed their things from their lockers, I got out my phone to reply to Tyler.

Y/N: It’s never too late...until noon technically.

Somehow, I started wandering away from the girls until I ran into someone. I tried to jump away, but they grabbed me by the forearms.

“I am so sorry, I should have looked where I was going---” I stopped speaking when I recognized Nate’s direct gaze on me. I was pretty tall but I always felt like he could throw me into the lockers if he wanted to.

“Watch it, Y/N,” he muttered.

“Nate, let go of them,” Maddy chided, her hand resting against one of his arms.

She seemed to have the magic touch because he relaxed and I joined my friends. As the couple continued down the hallway, I couldn’t help but admire them. In a very messed up way, they worked. Kat had told me only a little about what Nate would do whenever Maddy upset him and I felt so bad for her, angry at him, and then conflicted. Nate just had to have that stereotypical amazing all-American look.

“You okay, Y/N?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah, is it weird that I can still feel his eyes on me even when he’s not looking?” I asked.

“No, his need for dominance permeates everyone’s sense of autonomy,” Rue assured.

“Nice,” Jules said.

“And scary accurate,” Cassie added.

Jule looped her arm with mine and steered us in the direction of our first classes. “Anyway, if he tries anything, I’m sure Tyler would gladly kick his butt for you.”

Throughout the day, Tyler and I chatted and I even had to get creative with responding. In English, I kept my head down during quiet reading time and made sure my phone was positioned just right in my lap. During geometry, I told Mrs. Packer that I was having some digestive issues and spent most of the class outside the bathroom, texting Tyler. At lunch, I could barely focus on my friends’ conversation.

“Hello, Earth to Y/N?” Lexi waved her hand in front of my face and I blinked.

“Sorry, I was----”

“Texting her boooyfriiiend,” Jules sang.

“He’s not my boyfriend, we’re just talking.” I started poking at my sandwich. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, nothing, just the fact that I nearly blew up the school during chem,” Cassie said.

“Magnesium chloride isn’t an explosive,” Lexi argued.

“Well, the tube overflowed and everyone was freaking out,” Cassie argued.

“Yeah, because magnesium chloride can have bad side effects,” Lexi continued.

“I wonder what would happen if the school exploded and we weren’t all here? Would they have to give us our diplomas?” I thought outloud.

“Ooh, and I could go to fashion school early!” Jules cheered.

“I’d be happy not coming here anymore,�� Rue admitted.

It was quiet for a moment as we all ate but that quiet was broken when Maddy yelled.

“WHO ARE YOU TEXTING?”

I couldn’t help myself but look. Maddy was standing behind Nate, who was sitting with his teammates at the center table. Bebe and Kat flanked Maddy a little behind. Everyone stared at them. Nate’s jaw tightened.

“Maddy, calm down,” his relaxed, controlled voice nearly echoed in the silent cafeteria.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU’VE BEEN ON YOUR PHONE ALL DAY!” she snapped.

“Maddy---”

“ARE YOU TEXTING OTHER GIRLS?” Maddy shouted.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” Nate asked.

Maddy sighed. “Are you gonna let me see your phone?”

“Maddy, we need to talk.”

“Don’t talk to me again.”

Before Nate could respond, Maddy dumped the contents of her lunch tray over his head and threw the tray aside. Kat and Bebe followed her as she strutted out of the cafeteria amid the shocked gasps.

“I’m gonna go check on her,” Cassie whispered.

We all nodded and she quietly exited the room. As I stared at Nate, the supposed king of the school, drenched in soggy salad and fat-free milk, I wondered why he could never stay broken up with Maddy. Their relationship was not just toxic, it was volatile. Their breakups were always public and outrageous, but they always ended up back together. No one questioned it either. I never understood why people could continue to choose relationship they knew was bad over pursuing something new. I told Tyler as much that night.

Y/N: It’s like those dogs that get killed by electric fences because they keep walking into them.

Tyler: U have a good point, but, that couple’s relationship is more complicated than u think.

Y/N: Probably, but, it doesn’t look that way. They hurt each other a lot.

Tyler: How do u know?

Y/N: Bc I’ve seen it. I don’t mean 2 b judgy, but, I could never be in a relationship like that.

Tyler: Well, I don’t think anyone would b if they knew it would b bad.

Y/N: Good point. But, why would they get back together so much?

Tyler: Idk them, but, it could b bc it’s familiar and it’s what they know.

Y/N: Still, it’s messed up.

Tyler: Yeah, but I don’t wanna talk abt them anymore.

Y/N: K, what do u wanna talk abt?

A few seconds later, Tyler sent me a picture so graphically beautiful that I was convinced I passed out.

The next day, I showed Rue and Jules the picture during break time.

“Holy crap!” Jules took my phone and leaned into it for closer inspection.

“Tyler is packing,” Rue agreed.

Jules slid my phone back to me. “You haven’t replied to him?” “No, and he hasn’t talked to me at all today.”

“He’s probably expecting a reply that’s similar to what he sent,” Rue said.

My face warmed up. “I can’t send him nudes,” I hissed.

“Why not? It’s like the greeting cards of our generation,” Jules stated.

“Really? You’d send your grandparents a greeting card of your naked body?” I replied sarcastically.

“Relax, if you’re uncomfortable, we can help you,” Jules assured.

“We can?” Rue asked.

“We can.” Jules gave her a look and Rue relaxed.

“It’s still weird, but, I guess you guys can come over after school.”

“Sweet! Your mom still bakes cookies for you after school, right?” Jules asked.

I nodded.

“She might stop once she learns her darling favorite older child is sending nudes,” Rue snorted as she spoke.

I recoiled in my seat, taking a second to bask in the sun’s warmth. “Don’t remind me.”

After swim practice, once my teammates left the locker room, I eyed my naked form in the mirror. I had nothing to be ashamed of, really, thanks to all the swimming, but, I just felt weird being naked in front of people. There was something so vulnerable about it, like, being on display in a museum or lying on a cold surgery table. But, online dating was supposed to get me out of my comfort zone and I’d found someone who’d made me feel comfortable enough to do it. With this resolve, I changed into a hoodie and some sweatpants and left the school. It was dusk and I typically walked home after practice since it wasn’t far. Plus, I’d told Jules and Rue to just go to my house after school.

The late breeze rippled past me and I dug my hands into my pants’ pockets as I started walking towards the parking lot. There was barely anyone around, except stoners hotboxing their cars, some couples making out, and dance team members and football players getting out of practice.

I kept my head down as I maneuvered around the few cars and people around. It felt like someone could spot what I was about to do once I got home and it was nervewracking. All I had to do was get home, let Jules make me look even better, take these pictures, and never thinking of it again.

“Something on your mind, Y/N?” Nate called.

I froze and snapped my head up to look at him. He was leaning against his truck, looking like a model for Ford in only a tshirt and jeans. Ford should hire him.

“No, not really,” I said.

I started to side step the truck, eyeing the sidewalk that was only a few yards away as though it was a lifeline.

“Get in,” Nate ordered.

I paused and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I see you walking home all the time, let me do you a favor, one athlete to another.” Nate was about halfway in the driver’s seat of the car and all I could do was stare.

“We’ve...never really talked before,” I stated.

“We can talk during the drive.”

I stepped back and my eyes flittered around, like the best decision would hit me in the face. Then, I saw Maddy across the lot. She was standing with a couple of dance team girls, including Cassie. She stared me down as though daring me to do it. I glanced from her to Nate, who started the engine loudly.

I quickly climbed into the passenger’s seat and stared into Maddy’s reflection in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“How do you know where I live?” I asked.

“You forgot that I gave you a ride before?” Nate asked.

“When?”

“After Cassie’s sweet sixteen. You blacked out, your friends were panicking, and I offered to take you home. For some reason, you remembered your address,” Nate recalled.

“Oh, thanks?”

“Sure.”

We pulled up to my house a few minutes later, Lil Wayne bragging about his conquests filling the quiet. I hopped out of the truck and grabbed my bag.

“Thanks for the ride, this one, I mean, I owe you,” I said.

“Yeah, see you around, Y/N.”

I closed the door and headed inside.

“I’m home!” I called.

My mom poked her head out from the kitchen. “Y/N, how was school and practice?”

“Fine.”

“Was that Nate Jacobs outside?”

I hesitated.

How did she know what Nate’s truck looked like? “Yeah, he gave me a ride today.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Rue and Jules are waiting for you in your room. They took the cookies with them.”

I nodded and went to my room. As soon as I walked in, they bombarded me with questions.

“Why did Nate give you a ride?” Rue asked.

“What did you guys talk about?” Jules inquired.

“Don’t you hate him?”

“He’s kind of a dick, but, unfortunately, super good looking.”

“Did Maddy see?”

“Do you think she’s gonna kill you?”

“Guys, I don’t know but I do know that if you do not take amazing pictures of me with no clothes on soon, I will delete my entire profile,” I interrupted.

They both nodded.

“But, we will ask for details later,” Jules insisted.

“Okay, but, please give me a cookie, I’ll need it to get through this.”

Rue extended the plate towards me and I bit into the melty goodness as Jules began doing my makeup. It was simple, only bringing out my best features. I made them both turn around as I undressed. Once I had, Jules encouraged me.

“You look amazing, I would be shocked if he didn’t jizz in his pants,” Jules said.

“Lower your voice, Y/B/N can only play Five Nights at Freddy’s so loud,” I hissed.

Jules held her hands up and Rue direct me to lay on the bed, my phone held up in front of her.

“Okay, look sexy,” Rue said.

I tried to smolder, but, by their expressions, I did not achieve it.

“No, like, pout your lips, like, you just heard that TheOdd1sOut is not uploading for a month,” Jules directed.

“And give the camera bedroom eyes, you know, as though it’s Tyler.”

“Okay.” After a few pictures, I slowly got the hang of it and even started posing a little naturally.

“Oh my gosh, Tyra is shook!” Jules cheered.

“Yeah, these are pretty good if I do say so myself.” Rue handed me my phone and I flipped through the pictures.

She was a talented photogrpaher and I joked that maybe she should go professional.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’d have a nice clientele.”

I laughed as I changed back into my hoodie and sweatpants. “Okay, help me pick one to send.”

Jules took my phone and she and Rue began scrolling.

“No, the lighting’s off in this one,” Jules muttered.

“No, it’s never off in any of these,” Rue argued.

“I’m not shading your talent, I’m just trying to find the best thing for Y/N to send Tyler.”

After a little more bickering, we all agreed on the picture and I sent it to Tyler.

“Should I follow it up with something?” I asked.

“Maybe say ‘Wrong person’? Guys want what other guys want,” Jules suggested.

“Or say ‘Sorry for the late reply’,” Rue added.

“I’ll go with Rue’s, sorry, Jules.”

Jules shrugged.

I sent everything off and my friends and I watched as Tyler typed a response.

Tyler: It was worth the wait ;).

We squealed so loud that my mom yelled for us to keep it down. We apologized as we descended into a fit of giggles. Through it all, I could not help but feel so bouncy and light all over. Was I...falling for this total stranger?

“What do you think he looks like?” Jules asked during lunch later that week.

I shrugged. “It’s different every day, if that makes sense.”

“I guess that’s the nice thing about interacting with someone who doesn’t show their face,” Jules thought outloud.

“How do you see him now?” Lexi asked.

I sighed. “Right now, I think he’s tall, six feet at least. He’s got a mix of blonde and brown hair like a surfer because it’s lightened from all the time he’s spent in the sun. He has green eyes, freckles, and he dresses well.”

“Sounds amazing,” Jules said as she rest her chin in her hand.

Rue nodded slowly. “You’re not nervous or anything?”

“No, this is so cheesy, but, I feel like I know him, you know? He’s so easy to talk to and has so much to say.”

“Y/N’s blushing,” Jules teased. “Do you love him?”

“I really, really, really, like him.”

“Do you think you’ll meet soon?” Lexi asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, neither of us has brought it up.”

“Well, it just matters that you’re comfortable, okay?” Rue said.

“Okay.”

If I was honest, I did not know if I wanted to meet Tyler. I knew that I liked him more than I liked anyone before, but, there was something strange about breaking this wall the internet provided us. It was freer to talk on the internet than it was in person. What if I said something stupid in front of him? What if he thought that I looked different in person? What if he looked different in person?

I managed to keep these thoughts at bay for the rest of the day until I got home. Post-dinner had been officially declared Talk to Tyler Time. None of my family knew what I was doing besides blasting Amy Winehouse in my room for about an hour. My laugh nearly overpowered her high note in “Best Friends, Right?”. I had to blink away my happy tears as I replied to him.

Y/N: That did not happen! Tyler: Yes it did! Do u want 2 c the scar????

Y/N: No, I think I’m good.

I wiped away my tears and settled under the covers. I wondered if his friends would agree that Tyler gets into some weird situations as well. Just as I started typing, Tyler beat me.

Tyler: I want 2 meet u.

The speed that I launched my phone away from me almost shocked me more than the text.

Almost.

My heartbeat thrummed in my ears. This was it, I knew I couldn’t avoid him much longer, but, I felt like I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at my phone like it was the most offensive object in the world. Slowly, I regained mobility and grabbed my phone. I took a deep breath.

“Take a chance, Y/L/N,” I whispered.

Y/N: When and where?

“You’re meeting him tonight?” Jules squealed the next day.

I hushed her as people in the hallway paused to look at us. “Not so loud.” “But this is so exciting. Please let me help you decide what to wear,” Jules pleaded with a pout.

“Sure,” I said.

Jules hugged me. “This is going to be so fun. I won’t go crazy with glitter since this is the first time you’re meeting this guy.”

“Thanks?”

“Do your parents know?” Rue asked.

“No,” I replied as I slowly pulled away from Jules. “They’re coming Senior Night tonight, though. and I’m going to meet him at Mercy Park an hour before it ends.”

“Are you sure you even want to do this? I know that Jules and I tease you about your love life, but, this is risky,” Rue said.

“You weren’t saying that when you were helping me with those pictures the other day,” I shot back.

“That was different. You’re...you’re actually meeting him now and he could be a psychopath or a sociopath or, just, a creepy old guy who likes to look at teenagers!” Rue insisted.

“Rue, relax, everything’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” She turned on her heel and hurried into the bathroom with Jules and I on her tail.

When we entered, Rue was leaning against the wall, panting and staring up at the ceiling. Jules and I approached her slowly as the girls who were in the bathroom quickly filed out.

“Rue, slow down your breathing,” I said slowly.

“I...I can’t. You-you could get hurt or something and-and I would know about it an-and I-I couldn’t live with that!” Tears burst from her eyes as Rue began pacing and Jules and I were close but gave her room.

“Rue, Y/N is going to be okay, we both know what time she’ll be at the park. If anything happens, we’ll know the area she could be in,” Jules assured her.

Rue shook her head and stopped in her tracks. Then, she looked between us helplessly before bowing her head and sobbing. Jules and I carefully hugged her and let her cry.

“I’m sorry that I’m scared and I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt,” Rue mumbled into my shirt.

“It’s okay, I appreciate it. I really want to meet Tyler, though, and, I promise I will let you know if something happens, okay?”

Rue nodded and sniffled.

It took Jules about an hour to make me look amazing. I had no idea my hair could be so fluffy and put together until she was done with it. She used eyeliner to make eyes look bigger and rounder and added sparkly lip gloss to make my lips look plumper. After she contoured and highlighted the best places she deemed that her work was done. My outfit, a fitted forest green long-sleeve shirt and fitted black pants with Jadons, was also approved by her.

“Tell me everything later!” she insisted.

Rue couldn’t join us since she had “prior commitments” but I texted her that I would let her know when I head to the park and when I leave. My nerves didn’t let me focus on the soccer game my parents insisted I joined them and my brother at. I couldn’t care less that the forward on one team got a yellow card or that the goalie on the other team made illegal blocks. I was practically buzzing with excitement and fear so much that I had to give my pretzel to Y/B/N. Finally, the third quarter arrived and I told my parents that I would meet them at home since I’d promised Lexi that I would help her with some homework.

Lexi wouldn’t mind being used for a lie this one time; it was an emergency.

I tried to practice some calming deep breaths as I walked over to the park. The dark night sky provided a little bit of comfort to my walk. I wondered how different Tyler would look from the picture in my mind. I wondered if he thought I would look any different. Maybe (hopefully) it wouldn’t matter to either of us.

Finally, I reached the park. It was empty, save for the oak trees scattered throughout the lush green scenery that seemed mysterious under the mooonlight. A few benches and wooden tables were around as well, but, Tyler and I had agreed to meet at the fountain which was further in the park. The breathing exercises had to have helped because I felt much more relaxed and I hoped that everything would go all right.

When I got to the fountain, there was a tall person facing it. All I could make out were dark clothes and broad shoulders. I took another deep breath and kept walking.

“This is a nice spot, you have good taste,” I commented.

“I could say the same for you.” I stopped in my tracks as Nate slowly turned to face me. His face was unreadable but his eyes stayed on me.

“What? Wh-where’s Tyler?” I asked, my voice already hoarse.

Nate glanced down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

I shook my head. “No.” My vision got blurry but I could tell that Nate was looking up at me now.

“Just let me explain,” he requested softly.

He took a step towards me and I took two steps back .

“I don’t wanna hear it. This....this is some sick joke to you or something?”

“No, never, Y/N, just listen to me.”

“I don’t want to!” The tears rolled down my cheeks and I swiped at them so hard that I thought I scratched myself. At least I could feel something because my heart felt numb. “You catfished me!”

“I just wanted to talk to you, I really do like you, Y/N. Tyler and I are the same, just different names,” Nate insisted, coming closer.

For some reason, I didn’t move. I didn’t know if it was from emotional exhaustion or stress, but, I let him approach me. I kept shaking my head.

“No,” I hiccuped.

“I wanted to meet you tonight because I was tired of lying. I want to figure this, us, out,” Nate said.

I sniffed. “Us?”

At that moment, I could actually see his face and Nate seemed so hopeful. There was a slight smile on his lips and his eyes seemed light for once. Maybe he wanted there to be an “us”. Maybe, despite all logic, he wanted to talk to me seriously and could not do it offline because of his reputation. Maybe, he was over the on-again-off-again situation with Maddy. Maybe, this was my chance, our chance.

I wiped my face again, mentally cringing at how upset Jules would be for my ruining her masterpiece.

“Yeah, us.” Nate stepped closer to me, gently wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me into his chest.

Gradually, my muscles relaxed and I relished in the feeling of his strong upper body and his warmth. Then, I began to feel pressure on my waist and gasped as it intensified.

“Nate, you’re...squeezing...too hard,” I rasped out.

And he started laughing, no, cackling. As he laughed, his grip tightened and I continued gasping and clawing at everything I could.

“Nate...stop!”

But he kept laughing and squeezing. When he finally released me, I looked up and saw nothing behind his eyes. Everything in me told me to run, but, I knew he could have easily caught up to me.

“I really thought you were smarter than that, Y/N. C’mon, you couldn’t honestly think that I would do all this to be with you,” he sneered.

“So why do it then?” I asked, my voice so small that I could have kicked myself for it.

Nate sighed and folded his arms. “Because you made it so easy and, to ask for a favor.”

“What? That makes no sense,” I argued. “I told you I owed you one that day you gave me a ride!”

“Yeah, well, I needed to make sure that you were available when I needed you.”

“Whatever, screw you,” I hissed as I pivoted on my heel.

“Too late for you, you’re already screwed.” Nate pulled out a folder from inside his jacket pocket. “Remember those special pictures you sent to Tyler? Well, they count as distribution of child pornography, which has a hefty fine and sentence.”

My mouth opened and closed several times before I faced him and responded. “But...but you held them, doesn’t that count towards possession? And, you’re extorting me!”

Nate glowered at me and stormed over. “Heresay, no solid evidence for your case. Plus, I’m a Jacobs, so, who are you kidding?”

I felt so sick to my stomach that I could have thrown up, fainted, or cried at that moment. This was not real, this could not be real.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Like I said, just be available when I need you.”

“Fine.”

“Sorry, what was that?” He gripped my chin his hand and forced me to look up at him.

“Okay,” I said softly.

“Hmm.” His eyes scanned my face before he released me. “And if I ever hear you judging my relationship with Maddy again, these pictures are going to be the least of your concern.”

I nodded weakly, regretting every single thing I ever told him. Nate Jacobs was truly the devil. He wandered off into the night like a centurion leaving a victorious battle. It seemed like he always won.

I managed not to start crying until I was on the empty sidewalk. No, I sobbed so bad that my throat went dry.

How could I have been so stupid? I should have known it was him that day Maddy yelled at him for texting all day.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

My sobs continued as I grabbed my phone and texted Rue.

Y/N: U were right.

#euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine

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fantasyfan · 3 years

Text

Coming Out: Nico di Angelo Oneshot

Summary: Nico summons Bianca to talk to her, and ends up spilling a lot more than he intended to. Characters: Nico and Bianca di Angelo, Hades Slightly angsty

(I apologize in advance if I get any Italian wrong, or put the words in the wrong place. I only used two words, but Google Translate was used for both of them.) There also might be some italics missing, since I copy pasted from Google Docs, so apologies and if you think an italic is needed, reply to the post or smthn and I’ll add it.

Without further ado, here it is!

12-year-old Nico sat on his bed, head in his hands. The Labyrinth was gone, and the battle was over, gone and over like all the praise he received.

For once, Nico had been a part of the camp; he’d sat around the campfire, eaten and laughed, having fun.

But all it took was a week for the excitement to die down, and the other campers became wary of him.

He was only 12, for Gods’ sake! Why were they so scared? Sure, he was a son of Hades, but Percy was a son of Poseidon (and older than himself, Nico might add), yet they all gushed over him.

This annoyed Nico to no end, so eventually, he found his way to his father’s palace, back to his old room. The one Hades had offered him after he ran away from Camp Half-Blood.

The room was hardly touched. Nico had only spent a few days here before running off, trying to find a way to bring his sister back.

Of course he’d been convinced to let her rest at peace. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to talk to her.

“Bianca,” he greeted softly, reaching out to touch her before drawing his hand back, reminding himself he couldn’t.

“Nico,” Bianca smiled, brushing ghostly lips over his forehead. “Mio fratello.”

Nico closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, trying to imagine that Bianca was really here with him, in a physical body instead of a ghostly one.

Sighing, he sat back down on the bed. Bianca was here, able to talk to him at least. He couldn’t resurrect her, so speaking to her was the next best option.

His mind subconsciously piece things together and he had a horrible thought. Panic shot through him as he jumped up and tried to grab Bianca by her shoulders, hands falling right through her image.

Gritting his teeth, Nico crammed his hands into his pockets and instead fixed Bianca with the most serious gaze he could muster.

“Are you going to reincarnate?” Though they were hidden from sight, deep in his jean pockets, Nico’s hands were clenched tightly into fists, knuckles white. In his head, he said a prayer to the Gods who screwed up his life so badly, hoping with all his might that his sister would say no.

“Oh Nico,” Bianca began, looking at him regretfully, eyes filled with sadness.

That was all the answer he needed. Trying to control his panic and the tears threatening to form, Nico clenched his hands even tighter. Nails cut into skin, and the son of Hades could feel blood seeping out from underneath his fingers. Even worse than that was the fact that even Nico himself could feel the absolute fear radiating off him.

If Bianca reincarnated, then he would fully, truly, lose her. She was his only family, and Nico felt tears pricking his eyes at the thought of being completely alone.

“Don’t.” It was all he said, biting his lip to try and keep the tears from escaping.

Bianca stared at him in surprise, and Nico realized what he just said probably sounded like to his sister.

Reminding himself that no matter what he wanted, it was his sister’s (regretfully ended, now ghost) life, and he couldn’t guilt her into staying in Elysium forever, just so he could be happy.

“Don’t answer my question,” Nico whispered, voice cracking.

It was what he meant, when he said ‘Don’t’ but certainly not what he wanted. “Don’t tell me, Bianca. Not now, and not before you go.”

Breathing sharply, his nails were now digging even deeper into the wounds they had inflicted. The pain was the tipping point for the tears that had been gathering in his eyes, and he began to cry, biting his tongue in a fruitless attempt to hold them back.

Gasping as he unclenched his fists, Nico drew his hands out of his pockets. There were four cuts on his right palm, each around the size of a fingernail. Identical wounds were on his left hand, and Nico bit his lip, watching as blood slowly seeped out, crimson red against his pale skin.

“Nico!” Bianca frowned, biting her lip in concern as she reached out for his injuries before realizing she couldn’t help.

That gesture hurt even more than his palms, and Nico clenched his teeth to keep his silent tears at that volume.

Trying to still his desperately shaking hands, Nico pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside were squares of ambrosia and bottles of nectar that Hades had put for him, and Nico silently thanked his father.

Pouring the golden liquid over his hands, Nico could feel cuts slowly closing, and the physical pain was soon gone with the injuries.

Emotional hurt was harder to fix, and usually couldn’t be resolved with Gods’ food. That didn’t mean Nico wouldn’t try though, so he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took careful sips of the golden liquid.

Pulling some ambrosia out as well, he slowly ate it, restricting himself so he didn’t accidentally burn up from consuming too much of the Gods’ food.

By the time Nico was done, the yellow square was gone, as was about half the bottle of nectar. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked back at his sister, who had patiently waited while her brother silently sobbed while taking swigs of nectar and bites of ambrosia.

She was sitting on the bed next to him, handout of pure spite and anger, he cursed that Bianca was able to touch the bed but not him.

Using the (now) healed palm of his hand to brush away stray tears, Nico cleared his throat.

“Bianca, since um, you’re not, uh, not,” his voice cracked and he stumbled over his words, but Nico forged on. “Since you’re not going to be here much longer, I figured I might as well make the most out of this time.”

Before Bianca could say something to comfort him, Nico blurted it out. “I’m gay.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his sister’s face, and she reached out as if to touch his face, cup it with her hands like she used to.

“It’s okay, mio fratello.” She moved closer to him, and Nico could swear he felt her breath by his ear. “I am too,” Bianca breathed.

Nico managed to somehow choke on nothing, beginning to gasp and wheeze as he clawed at his throat. Vigorously coughing, he stared at his sister in shock as he pounded his chest, trying to get air in.

Bianca nearly burst out in raucous laughter, but with a lot of struggling, she managed to keep it to a few quiet giggles.

When he was finally able to speak, Nico simply choked out, “You are?” before blushing so hard he looked like he was still choking.

“Yes, Nico, I am.” Binaca smiled, though looked slightly concerned at his reddening face and so pointed to the bottle of nectar on the drawer.

Nico took a sip of the drink, letting the cool liquid run down his tortured throat, which hurt like hell from his (concerningly long) coughing fit.

Bianca snarkily pointed to the closet while her brother drank, smirking. “Do you want to try this the proper way?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

Nico rolled his eyes but complied, chuckling as he slipped into the closet. He stayed there for a good minute before bursting out, wearing a colourful pride shirt with many accessories.

“I’m gay, Gods dammit!” he screeched, looking like a rainbow in the cemetery, with his messy black hair and pale skin.

Bianca burst out laughing at the thought, proudly watching her brother as ghostly tears (Ghosts can cry. Who knew?) threatened to trickle down her cheeks.

“I’m not going to ask where you got those things,” she smiled, pretending to brush an unruly curl from his forehead. The two of them ignored the fact that the hair stayed right where it was when her hand passed straight through it.

“Nico, go show Hades. Tell him.” Nico’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open like a fish’s. Bianca smiled again, her brother’s facial features hilarious. “Nico, I’m serious though. Come on, before your courage wanes.”

“Why should I tell him?” Nico asked, scoffing as he turned away. The two had been chatting for a few minutes about all the troubles of being gay when Bianca ruined the mood by demanding he tell their father.

“Nico.” His sister’s voice forced him to look at her, straight into translucent eyes. “I’m not your only family. When I’m gone, you still have Hades.” She chose not to add the part about how Camp Half-Blood could be his family too, if he let them get closer. One step at a time.

“Hades,” Nico snarled, putting as much venom as he could in the name, “killed our mother. Hades put us in this situation.”

He knew that neither of those were true, but said them anyway; truthfully, he was just scared, finding excuses so he wouldn’t have to tell his father.

“Nico,” Bianca sighed quietly. Eyebrows raising for a second as she began to fade, Bianca quickly understood what was happening.“You’ve summoned me for far too long already, I have to go.” Nico let out a strangled sound, restraining himself from reaching out to try and keep her here with him, because he knew it would be useless.

“It was lovely talking to you again, and I’m sure that Father will say the same when you tell him.” Nico’s lips thinned and he frowned, and Bianca knew that look well. “Please, for me, mio fratello?” She asked, voice barely audible as she faded away, back in Elysium.

Nico could never resist it when his sister spoke in Italian. It would only be used when she was expressing extreme admiration or happiness, which was why he absolutely melted when Bianca called him ‘mio fratello.’

That was also why he was tugging on a jacket to cover his pride shirt, buttons, pins, and bracelets as he went to find Hades.

Besides, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t grant his sister’s last, true, dying wish? Nico felt like Bianca had been waiting for him to summon her one last time before choosing to be reborn. To let them have one more conversation before she was truly gone.

Pushing that thought away, Nico wandered the halls of Hades’ vast palace, looking in every room for the God himself.

“Father?” Nico finally picked the right room, opening the door to find Hades in a chair, reading a book.

“Yes?” He didn’t even bother to look up from whatever he was reading, and that slightly deflated Nico’s already waning confidence.

“I have something to tell you.” Anxiously shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, Nico awaited his father’s response.

Eyebrows raising by a fraction, Hades raised a hand, beckoning his son into the room. Nervously shuffling in, Nico stood a good meter away from the God of the Underworld, afraid.

Not that the distance would do much since, well, Hades was the God of the Underworld.

“Do continue,” his father drawled, idly flipping a page as he spoke.

“It’s kind of a serious confession,” Nico mumbled, almost visibly shaking from having to restrain himself from turning tail and running, as well as the feeling of absolute terror bubbling in his stomach.

Still not bothering to look up, Hades rolled two fingers, gesturing for him to continue.

“I’m...g-ga-” Nico stuttered, already feeling his face heat up. It took him a good minute to compose himself and finish his short sentence, during which Hades hardly blinked an eye at the awkwardness. “I’m gay,” he finally managed to choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

Immediately, Nico began to panic. His dad was the literal God of the Underworld, so even if he died, then he could still be sent to the Fields of Punishment. Afterall, who cared about the small Italian boy enough to argue with a God?

Bianca cares, he reminded himself. But she’s dead, you idiot! She’s a ghost, and going to be reborn soon. If you go to the Field of Punishment, what will she be able to do?

Panic overwhelmed him, and Nico was on the verge of hyperventilating. Until his father spoke and somehow calmed every nerve in his body.

“Okay.” That was it. One syllable to assure Nico that everything was alright. His breathing slowed, but he wasn’t so easily convinced that Hades was okay with him being gay.

“Father, I don’t think you heard me properly. Perhaps you were distracted with reading? I said I was gay.” Unzipping his jacket, Nico let it fall to the floor and made wild gestures at his clothes and accessories.

“Nico, I heard you fine. What’s your confession?” Hades’ eyes flicked up but he hardly seemed surprised at the rainbow wear, going back to read his book right after looking.

“I…” Nico stared in disbelief. Was Hades just dismissing his coming out as if it were a regular occurrence? Dismissing the fact that he was gay as though it hadn’t been something that Nico had fought tooth and nail to keep secret?

“Nico?” The God prompted, flipping another page.

“That’s it. That was the confession,” Nico whispered. “I’m gay. That’s the confession.” For the first time in their (admittedly short) conversation, Hades properly looked up from his book, frowning at Nico.

“That’s your confession?”

The boy silently nodded, looking at his feet. “Well, I...I thought you’d be mad or something.”

“Mad at the fact you’re gay.” Hades (somehow) looked Nico in the eyes (even though he was staring at the floor as though it were the most interesting thing in the world) for confirmation, and he nodded again.

Sighing, Hades closed his book and stood, gently placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not and won’t be mad.”

“Really?” NIco gasped, looking up at him with shining eyes.

“Of course,” Hades scoffed. “There’s no way you can be more gay than Apollo, and he’s been my nephew for thousands of years.” He paused for a second before summoning a chair. “That reminds me. You are long overdue for a Greek Mythology review if you think that I, a Greek God, would have a problem with a gay son.”

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cursed-or-not · 4 years

Text

The first time that it happens, Dean calls it a coincidence.

It’s a happy one, a fitting one, but still a coincidence. Whatever he attributes it to, though, he is certain he didn’t imagine it.

He knows for a fact that before the movie, it had been raining. He’s not sure exactly when it stopped because he had been too focused on the warmth of Cas’s body on the couch next to him to pay attention to the pattering of rain. But when they emerge together, Dean laughing at Cas’ attempt to sound like a cowboy, the sun beams back.

The next time, it takes more convincing. It seems too convenient, too welltimed to attribute it to coincidence. But he does anyway.

They are in Wisconsin in December for a phantom hitchhiker, and the wind steals their breath as they approach the graveyard. Dean walks between Cas and Sam (who had the foresight to wear gloves and a winter coat), and he is sure that his nose and hands are frost bitten. He barely has time to grumble the complaint out loud before he feels Cas’ hand in his, warm and gentle.

Dean doesn’t pull away, barely even flinches, but he still needs to steel himself before he tightens his grip. They don’t look at eachother, but Dean feels their shoulders brush, and he realizes that the wind has stopped howling. In its stead, snowflakes fall lightly, swirling lazily around, and the cold doesn’t bother him so much anymore.

After the third time, Dean swallows his pride and confides in Sam. His stomach is a mess of knots and his heart pounds in his chest as he asks Sam if they can talk, but Sam laughs his anxiety back at him and turns it to giddiness.

They’ve left the midwestern cold far behind them this time in favor of southwestern sun. There’s a skinwalker in New Mexico, and there’s also a heatwave. The latter poses much more of a problem, and after stumbling through mountain paths in search of a rabid dog for the better part of 24 hours, Dean feels almost feverish from the sun. They had split up to cover more ground (his idea), and he isn’t looking forward to the trek back to the impala.

He stumbles across Cas first, and he knows angels probably don’t get overheated, but he’d swear that Cas’ face is flushed from either heat or sunburn. Dean offers a lazy wave, which Cas kindly ignores in favor of walking towards him without letting his eyes leave Dean’s face.

Cas bluntly informs him that his face looks shiny with sweat, but then his voice softens as he adds that Dean has also gained new freckles from the hours outside. Dean thinks that he was right, Cas’ face is definitely redder than usual, his eyes bluer under the unrelenting sun, and his face is definitely closer than before—

When he tells Sam that he kissed Cas, Sam doesn’t even have the grace to act surprised. Dean is secretly glad that he doesn’t have anything to confess that Sam didn’t already know. When he tells him about the gentle rain that started in the aftermath and about the other two times, Sam does seem surprised. He tells him that he’s only ever seen angels change the weather when they’re angry, that it probably takes righteous fury to conjure up that much power. He says that probably, it’s just because Dean wouldn’t notice the weather changing unless it was paired with something notable. An illusory correlation, Sam calls it. Dean’s not convinced.

The last time it happens, Dean is certain.

This time, it’s not long after the previous one. Dean has spent years with Cas dancing over lines he once drew in the sand, and he thinks that they still haven’t quite cleared them all. The drive back from New Mexico felt like a long one, like an important one, but Cas had offered Sam shotgun as soon as it was time to leave, and Dean worries that it’s because Cas knows that otherwise, Dean couldn’t help but have one hand on the steering wheel and Cas’ hand in the other. Even with the seating as it is, Dean can’t help but steal glances in the rear view mirror.

The drive passes quietly.

By the time they’re finally back in Lebanon, back home, Cas is asleep. Dean knows that angels don’t sleep, and he almost has it in him to be worried, but more likely than not, Cas just balled up his trench coat and curled up against the window because Sam had done the same. Dean smiles, because after all these years, Cas still looks to them when he doesn’t know how to act, and Dean supposes that a silent drive after a kiss under the sun would be a situation that leaves Cas uncertain.

Sam stirs beside him, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and before Dean is sure what’s happening, Sam is patting him on the back and walking away into the bunker. Dean thinks he might have said something about luck and waking Cas up, but he can’t be sure.

Somehow, Cas still hasn’t woken up. Dean’s not even sure if he’s actually sleeping, but without giving any further thought to it, he’s closing the driver’s side door and leaning through the back window.

“Cas.”

The angel is alert immediately, and Dean almost feels bad for waking him up. “We’re, uh, we’re back.”

“Home.” Cas nods serenely, expression softening as he looks at Dean.

Dean isn’t sure what expression his own face is making, but it’s somewhere in the vicinity of a smile. He is still leaning in the window, and he knows that he should say something, but he also knows he can’t say what he means. He decides to offer what he can.

“D’you wanna watch a movie?” Dean asks, and it may not be grand, but it’s sincere.

Cas’ smile brightens at it, anyway, like there’s nothing he’d rather have heard or been offered, and Dean steps away to open the door for him as Cas opens his mouth, presumably to say yes to the movie—

“I love you.”

Dean freezes at that, but when he looks at Cas he is so genuine, so earnest, and Dean thinks that maybe it’s not panic that he’s feeling course through his veins, but rather something softer and more hopeful.

It’s been too many goddamn years, and Dean doesn’t have it in him to shove it down anymore, so he does not respond with something dismissive or funny or witty.

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and maybe he can’t quite get the words out, but he has Cas’ hand in his, and at least he can look Cas in the eyes this time. Dean thinks that for now, he can love quietly and still call it love, and that will be enough. Cas is looking at him like he already knows, because he always does, and Dean is doing his best. Offering what he can.

The window is digging into his arm now, but he barely notices, because this time, he’s the one leaning in for a kiss, and when Cas meets him in the middle, Dean does not pull away.

When he finally gets around to moving so Cas can get out of the backseat— Dean opens the car door like a proper gentleman— he has to laugh.

There, in the sky above them, is a rainbow.

#so i wanted to actually write deancas coming to terms instead of like... pining #today im vibing w happy destiel #destiel #deancas #spn fanfic #Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #ngl i was inspired by the Rainbow Pic from misha collins #mine

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thescorpioracer · 3 years

Text

Sen Çal Kapımı 1 - Episode Recap

To be honest, this series of posts is mostly going to be a fashion roast. But DISCLAIMER! I really do love this show and Turkish TV in general, it’s just my preferred mode of media analysis is to pick things apart. 😂And I need everyone to know that I am very pro-women, and believe people should be able to dress how they want and not be judged for it or be looked down upon for it. But oh my god this wardrobe department/costumer needs to be STOPPED. I also have zero credentials to be talking about fashion, but will that stop me?

I’m going to make these posts assuming you’ve watched the show, and just comment on whatever comes up. There will be spoilers. Let’s go!

We start off with a voiceover from Eda Yıldız, an A+ romcom trope. (It wasn’t until my rewatch that I remembered that Eda used to do VOs at random intervals, and I’m kind of glad she stopped tbh.) She is a strong woman who wants to get her education and become a landscape architect/designer. She was all set to do that until- dun dun dun! - Serkan Bolat destroyed everything.

Check out that dart board of a man (and this is the only time we see that photo there). And these outfits are probably the most normal and reasonable clothes she wears in the show. She’s a beautiful young woman, who was a college student, and now works outdoors as a florist. 10/10 outfit.

Of course that transitions us into an epic slomo of Serkan exiting his private jet. He of course begins to berate his assistant on the phone in a way a friend described as reminiscent of The Devil Wears Prada.

@teamnick‘s commentary back when she first started the show.

Serkan returns to his office for the first time in 2 months after working on business deals in London. Chaos ensues: Miranda Priestly is baaaaaaack.

See... here we have some good fashion choices! We meet the girls for the first time, while they try to sneak off to their graduation without making Eda feel bad that she won’t be receiving her diploma. Melek “Melo” is dressed in a sweet dress with a bold, romantic color, which captures her personality perfectly. Ceren, the rich daughter from a family of lawyers, looks a bit more high-fashion. The dress is short but it has long sleeves and no cleavage so it works out to be chic and elegant. Fifi is unapologetically herself with her full-black, punk wardrobe. Eda is again dressed in a pretty, but casual outfit. Nicely put together for her lower-middle-class lifestyle and her job as a florist.

Enter: the plot device to get our protagonists together. Serkan’s face says it all.

We are then introduced to the main couple’s respective cars. Serkan has his 2020 BMW (though the show blocks out the copyrighted branding) while Eda’s beat up SUV is clearly unreliable. What’s that? Another plot device being introduced? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Also, I just noticed this, but for someone as uptight as Serkan, I’m surprised at how fun his suit jacket lining is. If I’m not mistaken the pattern is of a bunch of rainbow fish. #Snazzy, but they seem out of character?

Plot highlights:

Eda learns she can come back to school and finish her final year, but she’s lost her scholarship and will have to pay. She can’t.

Serkan gives his talk at the graduation (?)-- Is his talk just for architecture students? If so, why are Ceren, Fifi, and Melo there? We’ll never know. I know, I know... it’s all for the ~plot~

Eda calls Serkan out in front of everyone for taking away the scholarship that she earned from his company, Art Life. He is confused but unrepentant. She refuses to tell him her name.

She tries to deface his car with lipstick after keying the side (we never hear about the damage to his car after that). He catches her and wants to call the police, so she impulsively handcuffs them together with the plot devices from Selin’s wedding invitation sitting on his passenger seat.

They then have to go to Serkan’s urgent business meeting with an out-of-town client. Eda drives while they’re handcuffed together. Bickering ensues.

What is this? Foreshadowing? Symbolism?? Eda’s last name “Yıldız” is the Turkish word for “star” so... file that away for later.

One of my favorite parts about watching Turkish dramas is the experience of trying to decipher the fan translations. Add to the fact that Turkish only has 1 pronoun *chef’s kiss*

Eda refuses to take the elevator to the 15th floor (we’ll learn about her claustrophobia later). Serkan is equally as stubborn, saying she owes him for screwing up his day. But he has met his match in Eda with regards to stubbornness. They take the stairs.

More highlights:

First instance of fake dating - they need to hide the handcuffs from his client so Eda pretends she’s his girlfriend and a fellow investor.

The girls track Eda’s phone to the hotel and try to find her by asking around the premises.

Eda charms the client into selling his land to Serkan.

We learn that Serkan is allergic to strawberries and has a lot of health anxiety. He’s a very tightly wound person.

Serkan says “Mashallah,” translator hears 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Engin brings way too many people to open the handcuffs and chaos ensues.

I feel like nothing can do justice to the comedy of 58:45 to 1:00:00 with Fifi using a bobby pin as a lock pick. The dramatic editing is 👌🏼

Leyla gets fired for somehow causing this drama??? And she is so happy to leave that stressful workplace omg, we don’t deserve her 🥺

Serkan and Eda go their separate ways, Eda prepared to never see her enemy again, but of course her phone and purse are still in his car so she has to go to his office at Art Life and confront him again.

Serkan has found out that Whoops, Art Life did cancel the study abroad scholarships to cut costs, but his CFO did it without telling him. And Serkan is pissed, but I think mainly about the fact that Eda did have some (SOME) grounds for yelling at him in public.

Leyla then explains the nonsensical reasoning behind her being fired-but-not-fired and still working. (Spoiler alert: she never goes anywhere and she is my favorite side character to this day).

Eda: “How can I piss Serkan off?” Leyla: “Find a mistake he’s made and he will fixate on it forever. But you won’t find anything.” Eda: “Hold my beer.”

Eda walks into Serkan’s office and his meeting. She gets her purse back and they fight about him not being willing to apologize for ruining her life and education. He refuses and says she owes him an apology for embarrassing him in public (no, dude).

He wants to give her back the scholarship and make it all go away but she rightly tells him that it won’t fix her broken pride from begging the company and her university for a second chance. But somehow her calling him a heartless “Robot” is what gets to him???? And he short-circuits. Eda walks out triumphant.

~dRaMa!~

MEANWHILE

Melo, as well as being a perfume sales girl, also works as a flight attendant and wants Eda to cover her shift (we’ll get into how that doesn’t make sense in a minute)

Eda says no, she’s going to meet her boyfriend, Cenk, who she hasn’t seen in months and has just returned from Italy.

Enter: Selin. Serkan’s ex who he dumped a while ago and is now engaged to the heir of a hotel empire. Serkan doesn’t like this. The two of them grew up together and are set to each inherit 50% of the holding company that Serkan’s father currently runs.

Right away Selin serves us with a gender reveal level color scheme. Personally not a fan. They confirm that Serkan is coming to her engagement party tomorrow.

Meanwhile Eda meets up with Cenk. Her outfit is still reasonable and cute for her character. He looks mildly like a hobo and doesn’t seem to have anything going for him (I know he’s a throwaway character but the two of them really don’t have anything in common).

This creeper keeps staring at them, but Cenk tries to explain it away and says he’s busy and can’t meet her again until the day after tomorrow. Eda is disappointed but accepts this. Creeper girl remains and remains a red flag to viewers, but apparently not to Eda.

Cut to later that evening, and of course our broody main man enjoys astronomy in his free time (???) idk what he’s charting and to what purpose but okay?

Eda finds a mini first aid kit in her purse that Serkan put there before returning it. Queue montage of them treating their respective wrists for handcuff-related injuries. #couplegoals

Of course we also needed a sepia-toned flashback to earlier that day when the handcuffs contrived their faces to get too close together. #romance

Finallyyyyyyy it’s morning again and a new day.

Since Eda can’t see Cenk (good, he’s so boring), she agrees to fill in as a flight attendant for Melo, who’s side job is for a private plane company.

Now. This should not be a thing. Eda was in college to be a landscape architect and now works as a florist for her aunt... Where has she learned any relevant skills to work as a flight attendant?? Presumably nowhere. And I really don’t think a private plane company would be so easygoing about just having a random person fill in to cover for her friend?

But does this show care about that? What do you think...

Also, instead of the standard white shirt, black skirt uniform requirements, the girls decide that this skimpy dress and heels is fine? Hmmm

Also lol @ Melo for assuming that the client who wants jasmine tea and fruit salad is probably a woman. And her telling Eda that the PRIVATE JET COMPANY would in fact have its own tea was very random and unnecessary.

Back at the Bolat house compound, we meet the parents: Aydan and Alptekin. We’ll see them again later. Selin’s engagement party is today.

Meanwhile Eda is just.... being a flight attendant, I guess??? And who could possibly be the passenger she has to take care of? Take a wild guess. Of course it’s Serkan Bolat.

And of course that tiny dress (THAT ALSO HAS A LEG SLIT?? WHY?? I really don’t need to see her vagina) looks very practical and professional... not! (Hande Erçel is a gorgeous human, and the dress looks good on her, don’t get me wrong. BUT THIS IS SITUATIONALLY INCORRECT ATTIRE). Also him just folding his vest and then social distancing from it... K? 😂

Eda panics and doesn’t want Serkan to see her and runs away back to her seat pod thing - Serkan takes issue with his fruit salad for ~plot reasons~ (EDIT: I’ve been informed that it’s because there was a strawberry in his fruit salad and since he’s allergic, of course it needed to be fixed. Why doesn’t the plane have a note of that??) and comes back to find this mystery flight attendant.

Eda is very stressed out about this encounter and is also starting to have a panic attack because, surprise, she’s also claustrophobic.

After Serkan calms her down, they have a cute/civil conversation for the rest of the flight.

When they land, Eda realizes they’re on an island 2h45min away from Istanbul and she isn’t sure what to do with herself (How did she not already know where they were going, as the FLIGHT ATTENDANT??? So may red flags with this private jet company).

Serkan convinces Eda to come with him and she can hang out at the beach while he’s at Selin’s engagement party.

At the engagement party we finally meet Selin’s fiancé Ferit. He’s sweet and non-threatening and clearly insecure about Serkan being Selin’s ex.

This dress/skirt outfit Selin is wearing isn’t terrible, but it doesn’t scream rich socialite to me. Anything with feathers seems... a bit tacky/too showy? Like someone pretending to be rich? Idk, this outfit isn’t one I’m going to really take a stand on.

Does this engagement party warrant being a 2h45 min flight away? No. They try to explain it away as the couple wanting to have something small and private, even though they also invite the press?? But okay whatever, as long as Serkan and Eda cross paths again, I suppose.

Kaan Karadağ has been mentioned a couple times in passing, but now we finally meet our “villain.” Ferit’s friend, and Serkan & Selin’s childhood acquaintance, who has it out for Serkan bc he somehow bankrupted Kaan’s dad? Idk and I don’t really care but tl;dr they’re enemies.

Another thing I love about Turkish dramas is the censoring. Like, they’ll allow alcohol to be on screen, but they won’t say the word and they’ll just blur out the bottle and any liquid that we’d assume is alcoholic 😂

In the evening, Serkan is tired and wants to leave and Ferit snidely jokes about how Serkan is too picky to have a fiancé of his own. Serkan flashes back to 1 entire day ago when he and Eda pretended to be dating at his business meeting, and says that actually he is engaged to someone and then peaces out.

Serkan finds Eda on the beach, and they are preparing to leave when a crowd of people (Selin, Ferit, and Kaan mainly), arrive to get a peek at Serkan’s new “fiancé.” Eda very reluctantly plays along (good thing she has that unnecessarily sexy “work” dress to help her look the part) and Serkan notices that for the first time ever, Selin is jealous of another woman. #drama

After they finally escape the crowd, Serkan makes an annoyed Eda an offer: Pretend to be his fiancé for the 2 months leading up to Selin’s wedding so he can get them to break up and prevent Ferit marrying into the company. In return, he will pay all the fees to help her complete her last year of studies in Italy.

Eda refuses, stating that she doesn’t want anything from him, and besides she has a boyfriend (Sure Jan; Cenk is such a joke). They have it out and then fly back to Istanbul. But of course the gossips at the engagement have spread the news of Serkan’s new woman so the paparazzi corner them at the airport when they land.

So glad that we got to see this random mechanic find out the news (???)

They escape the cameras and Serkan takes her home, saying that Art Life has a press conference tomorrow, and she should come so he can save face and tell everyone that she was his assistant accompanying him for work to the party. Eda agrees.

It should also be mentioned that Serkan still doesn’t know her name at this point?? She refused to tell him and Engin still hasn’t sent him the names of the scholarship candidates so it’s a bit miraculous that their relationship was at all believable.

The next day, Cenk wants to meet but Eda has to go to the press conference. The girls come too for whatever reason, and Melo is convinced that Cenk wants to propose. Eda just lets that fantasy take hold (why tho?), and Cenk shows up unexpectedly right before the press conference and takes Eda into the nearby hotel’s cafe so they can talk.

Eda seems ready for a proposal (they haven’t seen each other or really communicated in months??) but Cenk wants to break up. Eda is shocked (???) but then Cenk mentions that he has a new girlfriend from Italy that he adores, and oh by the way, it’s the creepy girl from the other night who also happens to be here right now?

Okay fine, I guess??? Cenk: “She’s doesn’t speak Turkish” Girlfriend: *clearly a Turkish actress*

Eda is upset that he brought his jealous girlfriend with him to break up with her and says something about how actually, she’s seeing Serkan Bolat now (maybe it’s just me being someone who doesn’t follow tabloids, but are business people really that popular in every day society where everyone knows who they are?). Cenk laughs at Eda, saying that everyone wants to be with Serkan Bolat, and that she’s bluffing.

Eda makes an impulsive decision, and walks away, over to where Serkan has started the press conference. And seals their fate as fake dating in the public eye.

Queue confetti. No really.

And there we have it. That’s the episode!

In all seriousness, it’s a pretty great pilot, especially for a romcom. It hits all the right beats, includes enough tropes, and tells us a lot about what we should expect in the episodes going forward. And no matter how much I make fun of it, I really do enjoy this show! It’s been such a nice distraction from Current Events. I’ve spent a lot of time watching these episodes just saying “oh my god” out loud to myself as I watch all of the cute/romantic gestures that give me a lot of second hand embarrassment (I forget that PDA makes me kinda uncomfortable 😂).

There wasn’t actually that much terrible fashion in this episode, which I didn’t notice until my rewatch. If I continue with this series of posts, I’m hoping they’ll end up being less plot-centric, and more about the situationally inappropriate outfits and strange subtitling choices.

See you next time?

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blarrghe · 3 years

Text

would be really great if adorable domestic ficlets about sequel!Twelve Nights (a thing that DOES NOT ACTUALLY EXIST there’s NO PLAN) would stop jumping into my head while I’m trying to finish this chapter of the Merrill Sessions and you can blame Taren and Dorian and the baby if I don’t. anyway this one is called Favourites: -- Kindergarten is a time of self discovery.

Bracha is five years old now, which means she can start kindergarten, and she is very excited. Taren is excited for her, in a your-happiness-is-my-happiness kind of way, even if he’s openly shedding tears as they pull up to the school parking lot. Dorian is not so generous. He is, frankly, just upset. He’d made a very good case as to why she should continue to learn from them, at home, including: they have more advanced degrees between the two of them than the entire staff of the elementary school put together, Bracha can‘t take field trips to the library or the valley to learn about ancient Tevene history or Dalish trail-signs or bugs every day if she goes to Kindergarten, and also, Kindergarten doesn’t have cuddling.

But apparently, Kindergarten actually takes a lot of field trips to the library and to the valley and even to the next town over to the science museum, Kindergarten’s teacher is a well-loved Dalish woman with wonderful credentials and two upstanding young teaching assistants whom Taren knows personally, and apparently having advanced degrees in astrophysics and business does not better suit one to teaching reading and social-emotional skills than ones in early childhood education and developing pedagogy. Also, Bracha really wants to go to Kindergarten, all her friends are going to Kindergarten, and ever since Autie Dee bought her a backpack in preparation, she hasn’t taken it off. So Kindergarten won that argument, though Dorian made a deal with his husband that they would reevaluate the situation in a year or two, because by that time beginning her education in astrophysics would be warranted, anyway. And now they are in the school parking lot and Taren is quietly weeping and Bracha is bouncing up and down in her carseat with her bright green backpack in her lap and her hair in already-messy braided pigtails, and Dorian has to be the one to get them inside.

Taren wipes his eyes as Bracha drags them up to the door, one of her tiny hands in each of her fathers’, and Kindergarten’s teacher is wearing overalls and a bombastic smile, greeting each child with a fun name-tag sticker and slow, patient directions for navigating her classroom: cubbies for their snacks, a reading nook with pillows if they get tired, activity tables, colouring sheets and markers in one station, a table filled with water and toys, bins of costumes and a kitchen set, a colourful carpet by the board where they’ll sit for stories and songs; a five-year-old’s dream. Dorian gets the feeling that the information package is more for them than it is for her, especially considering that Bracha practically sprints off to an easel equipped with water-colour fingerpaints the moment she spots it, and the teacher continues explaining the plans for the day without her.

Taren smiles, somehow finding one at the sound of Bracha’s laugh when she spots a friend across the room, while Dorian wonders if he can inspect the reading nook. But they make it out of there, somehow, and before driving them home, Taren drives them both over to Auntie Dee’s, and she sighs at them and gives them ice cream. Taren blushes, and Dorian is distracted: when Taren was little, ice cream always helped, she says. Taren protests that he has never mended a hurt with ice cream, while digging into the container for more, and Auntie Dee says chocolate chip was his favourite.

Favourite is an interesting word. Someone at Bracha’s school introduces her to the word, the blighted teacher, probably, and then soon Kindergarten is her favourite. It stings the first time, Kindergarten is her favourite, Miss Jessa is her favourite, but then Lara is her favourite, Eirlana is her favourite, Daven is her favourite, rocks are her favourite, animal-shaped cookies are her favourite... Dorian is pretty sure that she doesn’t know what the word actually means, and he calms down. A little.

But Kindergarten teaches her many things, not just new words, but new skills. He still won’t admit it, but when she comes back with letter recognition and blends, reading sight words and rhyming word families, when she starts counting in three languages and subitizes the numbers on the dice during board game night, when she tells him a story one night and evaluates that the problem in it was solved by sharing without any prompting, he starts to think that maybe Kindergarten is actually doing her some good. Soon, she figures out that with ‘favourite‘ you can have as many as you can come up with categories, and so the obsession continues.

Bracha loves to tell anyone who will listen, and with even more enthusiasm ask in turn, about favourites. It makes for surprisingly stimulating dinner conversation. The entire family learns many things about one another. From favourite colours (Bracha’s is rainbow, Dorian’s is green because black isn’t a colour, and Taren’s is also rainbow), to favourite foods (Bracha’s is waffles, Dorian’s is something he had once in Antiva but can’t remember the name of, made better by its unattainable mystique, and Taren’s is soup, which is cheating because anything can be soup — this argument takes up all of dinner, and by the end of it his favourite is determined to actually be pumpkin pie.), to more substantial questions like “what is your favourite day” (clarified to be as in ever in the history of ever — they all pick her birthday), and “what is your favourite book” which all of them flatly refuse to answer.

Dorian learns things he never thought to learn about his husband. His favourite flowers are pink heather, his favourite fish is starfish, his favourite animal is a blackbear, his favourite shirt is the one Dorian gave him three Satinalia’s ago and his favourite number is twelve. He winks at Dorian like it hasn’t always been. Dorian also finds himself taking stock of things he never has before; considering his favourite socks — knitted by Auntie Dee, obviously, his favourite toy — a duck he had when he was little, and hasn’t thought about since, his favourite colour of apples — after determining which, he starts buying the green ones more. She asks for some truly bizare determinations too, such as his favourite sense; Kindergarten went to the science museum that day, so he takes the teachable moment to say proprioception and then teach her the hidden-hand trick, because he needs to solidify that he is still smarter than Miss Jessa.

He learns that Bracha likes green apples too, and that she knows because they did an experiment at school where they tried all the different ones and filled out a graph, that her favourite toy is the bear he got her the day they took her home (though he knew that already, its name is Chauncy and it follows her everywhere), her favourite socks were also knitted by Auntie Dee and they are her favourite because they are rainbow, and her favourite sense is definitely proprioception — she cannot wait to tell Miss Jessa about it. When he puts her to bed, he reads her her favourite story, which they’ve agreed is a designation that can rotate each week, and she points out all the sight words. (Her favourite sight word is “no” — she doesn’t declare this, of course, but considering how often the five year old uses it, Dorian can’t be fooled.) When she is sleepy and slumping, her head nodding into her pillow, she reaches up towards his face and pulls his cheek into a kiss, before he can finish the tale.

“Thanks daddy,” she mumbles, and it squishes into him like a hug every damn time, “you’re my favourite.”

“What about papa?” he smiles softly, returning the kiss with the softest scold — it’s probably not okay to let her pick favourites — and she nods, eyes closing as he pulls the covers up over her.

“Papa is my favourite too. Miss Jessa says you can have lots of favourite people, it’s not like colours.” she says, then opening her eyes with a sudden thought, she adds “and actually, you can have lots of favourite colours,” very seriously. Dorian nods in serious agreement.

“Okay,” he says, “then you and papa are my favourite too.”

In the living room, after he tells him of this new rule to the game of favourites, Taren resoundingly agrees.

#listen I teach kindergarten #and I am having a bad day #so you get kindergarten fluff #my fic #modern au #pavellan #domestic fluff #sometimes you just.......gotta #I'm having a childcare moment don't mind me

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pendragonfics · 4 years

Text

All’s Fair

Paring: Draco Malfoy/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns for reader, alternate universe - modern setting, alternate universe - modern: no powers, alternate universe - lawyers, good Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle world, redeemed Draco Malfoy, carnival, Ferris Wheels, tooth-rotting fluff, marriage proposal

Summary: A day off at the carnival with Draco turns out differently than expected.

Word Count: 1,392

Current Date: 2020-06-03

It’s a beautiful day; the sort of day that you suppose only happens in fictional places, like books or movies. But it’s real, and there’s not a cloud in sight. The sky is a perfect blue, and there’s not enough wind to make a fuss, but the kites that litter the sky in manmade rainbows draw out the laugher of the crowds. It’s not often the fair comes to the countryside; there are markets, sure, but this is something else.

“You know I have cases to work on,” Draco whined.

But with every plea, you push it to the back of your mind. Instead, you keep on tugging at his hand, onward into the field. This place is usually where the local football team hosts home games, but today - in fact, all week - it’s home to a colourful array of oddities and fascinations.

“Come on, love.” He protests.

If you were in any way swayed by his appeal (you are) he’d get his way instantly (he usually does) but today is different. You’re determined on it. You tug him past the ring toss, the balancing games, and pull him onwards. It doesn’t matter that you’re parting crowds to get to where you want to be. They seem to move around you and pulling Draco through makes short work as you make your way.

“You can’t get out of this!”

“I could if I tried really hard,” he replies. You scrunch your face up into a glare, and backtracking, he adds, “but I don’t, because I love you.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad, or scheming to make you do things I want…” you retort.

He only hums in response.

You’ve managed to breach the crowds for the moment, and stopping, Draco collides with your back. It’s a sight to behold. It was visible from the outside of the field - it’s a small town; there’s hardly anything more than two flights tall at this end of the country - but ahead, is a behemoth of a Ferris Wheel. It looks like it was painted red over the steel beams once upon a time, but it’s faded to a soft pink that warms your heart. It’s as pretty as a postcard.

“Oh no.”

You beam.

Not ten minutes later, your fare is paid, and after inching through the line, you and your boyfriend are ushered into the two-person carriage. The other riders come in a variety; the elderly married couples who look like they do this every time the fair comes, young teenagers in love, parents and their children that are tall enough to ride. As a uniformed attendant secures the pair of you in, Draco turns your way.

“I wonder how old this thing is,” he says idly.

“Draco!” you admonish. “I’m sure this is perfectly safe.”

He raises a brow at that. “It’s practically antique. I wonder how many lawsuits it’s had in its time…”

You roll your eyes. As if he could go without mentioning his work. Of course, that was his everything; he’d divorced himself from his father for it (that, and because he’d started dating you, and his very posh East London daddy couldn’t see past your low birth and humanities degree). He’d recently been made partner at the local firm, and seeing as that kept him all hours, the pair of you hardly had time with each other.

“Babe,” you insist.

He nods and doesn’t speak any more on the matter.

You hardly hear the safety announcement, but sitting so close to Draco, you can’t help but feel the world around you melt away. He smells the same as always; like mint, the pricey aftershave from the chemists and a hint of woodsmoke. Leaning into his side as the ride begins, you feel his chuckle through your cheek.

“I can’t believe we’ve never gone on a ride together,” he says idly, as the ground level gets smaller beneath your carriage. “It’s…peaceful.”

You look up, but don’t move. From this angle, he looks just as handsome as ever, and you smile. “Is that the Draco Malfoy, speaking kindly about something leisurely?”

“Don’t you tell anyone,” he threatens in jest.

Once the Ferris Wheel gets fairly high, he nudges you and points toward the horizon. “Can you see it? That lump in the distance.” You peer that way, but alas, it’s hard to discern with your eyesight. How Draco spent all his time reading in poorly lit rooms and didn’t need glasses was beyond you. “That’s Liverpool.”

Just then, the ride makes a noise, and you freeze, squeaking. Before you can ask of it, though, the ride comes to a stand-still, and beside you, you can practically feel the smugness rolling off of your boyfriend like a fortune teller reading an aura.

“Don’t say it,” you moan.

“I told you so,” he titters.

From the other carriages, you can hear a mixed response. But you try to ignore them; somehow it makes you more nervous, thinking about the matter at hand. Instead, you huddle in closer to Draco’s side. He’s not the most affectionate person, your Draco. When you first met, he wasn’t even used to being touched by people, let alone prospective lovers. But now, he welcomes your touch, even initiates it.

“I wonder how long we’ll be up here,” you shiver.

Draco notices, and asks you, “Cold?”

You hum.

Carefully, he begins to shrug his jumper off. But instead of passing it to you, he puts it over your head and dresses you in his clothing. You slip your arms into the sleeves, and invigorated, lean back to his side in a less lethargic manner. The wind at this height is more than what you felt on the ground, but now you’re shielded from its effects. While your boyfriend usually runs cold, he’s warm beside you and continues to point out things in the distance that you can’t see.

“I’m sure you can see Manchester, it’s over that way,” he insists.

You peer that way, but in the midday sun, it’s almost too bright to focus wholly on what Draco claims to be the home of the acclaimed football team. You don’t notice his fidgeting, but when you look back to Draco, all words are stolen from you.

“It was supposed to be more romantic than this,” he grumbles, but even his ministrations can’t dim the ecstasy that’s filling your entire being.

In his hands, Draco cradles a ring box. It’s the one from the antique store across from your apartment; the one that you’d liked ever since you first saw it. It sits nestled in a box of blue velvet, and it’s so very small in comparison to Draco’s hands as he holds it your way.

“You didn’t…” you breathe.

He smiles and rests his arm on the bar that secures you both into the carriage. “__________, love,” he says, “I know I’m not the easiest to get along with. Potter knows, Parkinson knows…but you never let that get in the way. I knew I would love you ever since we met - I’ve never known anyone as brave as you, like when you stood up to my father, the prat -,”

“Don’t focus on the idiot, Dray,” you remind him softly.

“- and you’re the smartest, kindest, sexiest, most cunning person I’ve ever met, and I can’t let you go. I refuse to. So, __________ - my gorgeous, sweet __________, will you do me the absolute honour and privilege, of marrying me?”

You nod, overcome with emotion, “Yes,” you say, almost a whisper. “Oh my gosh, Draco. Yes!”

Carefully, he extracts the ring and slides it upon your finger. You’re not sure if he’s had it resized or not, but it fits as if it was made for you. Just as he pockets the box once more, you feel another jolt, and fearfully, move closer to Draco’s side. But instead of the unfamiliar sensation of plummeting to a death fall, the Ferris Wheel whirs back to life.

“See? Everything’s fine now,” he says, kissing your forehead.

A small voice in your head wonders if he paid someone to stall the ride. But it’s hardly loud enough over the excitement you’re now wearing on your ring finger, and the question is soon forgotten.

“Now that,” you tell kiss him, “is going to be a hell of a story.”

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy/reader #draco x reader #draco/reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #gender neutral reader

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spotsuns · 4 years

Text

redemption poem

when you get down on the ground the first thing you do is turn to your brother and smile. this isn’t a victory for you, and you have so much left to pay, but at least he is safe. you’ve always done it all for him; this is just the final act.

this is the part where the audience claps because you were brave, because you sacrificed yourself for his happiness. nobody will remember that you were your own child. nobody will remember what you lost.

they’ll see it as a victory; that at least one of you is not rotten. it’s a fair trade in the eyes of the people. you’re disposable.

the handcuffs they put on you feel like redemption and you don’t know why. you could have sworn you never did anything wrong to end up here—so why, then?

the water is all muddy. it’s all started to blend together. you’re just tired. you just want it to be over, that’s it. you’ve betrayed yourself. go directly to jail. do not pass go. do not collect two-hundred dollars.

you stare at your brother from the back of the police car until he’s too far away to see anymore. you become sharply aware of the fact that this is how it will be from now on. you try not to think about waking up to him in your arms in the forest; in your grandparents guest bed; in a tent in california; on a cliff; watching the arizona sunrise—

he’s shaking you awake, telling you to look at it, that it’s beautiful, and all you can do is agree. yeah. good call.

when you look out the window at it now it just hurts your one good eye. you better take it in for all it’s worth, though. who knows when you’ll see it next like this? whole, and not sliced up into slivers by the bars of your jail cell, spreading none of its warmth across your skin.

you feel like you’ve lost more than you had when you were walking in the scorching nevada desert with blisters on your skin. and it’s true. at least you had hope left, then.

this isn’t such a big story, one where there’s a light at the end, where you come out victorious and make it to the magicland. this one has you willingly heading into the dark cave and knowing it will be a long time before you find your way back home.

you’ll be in the sequel, maybe, where you’ll be reunited with all the old characters that helped you along the way. they’ll be older and wiser and they’ll have moved on without you, because that was a part of the story you weren’t in.

you hope your sacrifice helped people, at least. that maybe your absence did more good than harm. that you were the hero, somehow. it hurts too much to stomach if you weren’t.

fifteen years is what you get. they tell you you’re lucky that it’s ‘only’ fifteen years.

you just turned seventeen. you’ll have lived almost your entire lifetime over by the time you’re free again, you’ll be a fully-grown man, and so will daniel.

so will daniel.

suddenly, it hits you. you’re going to miss everything.

those talks between the glass won’t ever be enough. you are going to miss your brother growing up, and that hurts even worse than missing out on your own growing up, because that’s what all of this was for.

you threw your childhood away the second you took off with him in your arms. you expected to get to hang onto it. you didn’t. there’s no getting it back.

you don’t want to look back at him when the officers lead you away in handcuffs. it feels too painfully familiar, too much like the time you looked out the police car window as you were pulled away from him the first time.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were a little hopeful then. not anymore, no, that was crushed flat under the gavel. you pretend you don’t hear daniel wailing when the door shuts.

fifteen years is a long time.

in your first fifteen years of life you were born to two parents, you met lyla, you got a little brother, your mother left, you went to school, you went to work, you went to parties, to concerts, on trips with your family—it all went by pretty damn fast.

that’s childhood though, right? or is it? you can’t remember what being a child is like anymore, not these days. the last time was maybe in humboldt county, smoking weed around a campfire with a bunch of kids who had forgotten, too.

it’s funny, really. you got so caught up in the turmoil of losing your childhood that you didn’t even consider the idea that they’d take your adulthood from you, too. you’ll spend all of your twenties in a prison cell, get out at thirty-two, and then what? you’ll still be a child, chewed up and spit out by the system and thrown into the world a shell of who you once were to figure it out.

fifteen years is a long time, but time starts to not matter so much after the first few years. you think about those eight months on the road every single day that they get farther away. it seemed so awful then, and it was, but you can’t help but think you’d do it all over again over this.

that’s a selfish thought, though. you realize this when daniel visits you—his cheeks fuller, his clothes new and clean and no bags under his eyes. he tells you about school and his new dog and what his friends have been up to lately. every once in a while, he whispers to you about somebody he helped recently, or a school bus he stopped from going off a cliff. you remember this is why you’re here.

the only thing that keeps you somewhat sane when daniel’s not visiting is art. you’re allowed to have paper and anything that’s not too sharp to draw with, and you make the best of it.

you can’t do studies anymore, not in here. that’d be awfully depressing, so you draw what keeps your head up. you draw for daniel, mostly. comics of superwolf, showcasing all of his acts of heroism. it’s the best way you can show him that you’re proud.

he cries almost every time you pull out a new piece of paper for him; holds it in his hands so carefully, as if he’s convinced it’ll crumble to dust like a dead leaf in his palm if he grips it too hard.

he’s lost too much. so have you. it’s not over yet.

you notice karen visiting less than she did at first. you wonder if it’s just inconvenient for her to come or if it’s guilt, but then you remember she’s not ever been too good at feeling guilty about anything. it still sucks to admit, but you can kind of get it now.

when she does come she updates you on daniel and all her friends in away. she tells you that arthur and stanley finally got married, even after years of saying it didn’t really matter to them if it was official or not. you think about finn. you wonder if maybe, in another life, one where you had gone to mexico and called his number on that letter—

you hope he’s doing well.

you start avoiding reflective surfaces altogether. not that there’s many spare mirrors sitting around in prison, but even the water in the mop buckets makes you turn your head. you wonder how your beard looks, sometimes. you wonder how you look with the glass eye they fitted you with. you wonder how much you look like your father, or don’t. you wonder if he’d even recognize you now.

years and years go by and the only way you know this for certain is that daniel’s a lot taller, karen’s got wrinkles, and your grandparents aren’t able to visit you anymore. you’re sure you’ve aged like shit, but you can’t know for sure. your beard’s gotten fuller than your father’s ever was, and you know you probably look older at thirty than he did when he died at forty-five.

you don’t feel any relief when they remind you that you’re about to be released. fifteen years ago this day was all that kept you going, and now that it’s here, you feel sick. you don’t know what it’s like out there anymore. how much will have changed? how will the world look at you? how will you ever adapt after everything?

you’re still seventeen. you’re a thirty-two year old child. you’re still staring at the mexico border from the wheel of the car wondering if you’re making the right choice. you still wonder if you did.

they give you the few belongings you had in a duffle bag. you slip on the eyepatch right away, you aren’t ready to see the glass eye yet. you look for one thing in particular; an old sketchbook, a birthday gift from your father. ‘sean diaz, do not open.’, it read on the front.

the whole thing was read out loud in court for the trial, the entirety of your journey with daniel, your therapy. it’s not here. of course they kept it. add that to the list of things you’re never getting back.

you feel so incredibly small stepping out into the sun when they let you free, like an ant under a magnifying glass being lit aflame.

daniel’s there, of course, tall and bearded and a twenty-five year old man. that’s never going to stop hurting. karen’s next to him, looking so much older than you remember her looking the last time she came. you don’t remember when that was. she’s wearing a familiar rainbow windbreaker vest. joan must have passed away at some point. you wonder when that was.

you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t even notice a third person at first, you weren’t expecting anyone else, but she’s the only one who looks the same as you remember.

when she runs into your arms and crushes you in a hug you feel like a child again for the first time in nearly twenty years. you’ll never regret calling her, even when it was a stupid idea. best freaking fighters, forever.

adjusting is as hard as you imagined it would be, but not exactly in the way you imagined it would be. nobody gives you weird looks in public, but you can’t remember how to pump gas, because now the pumps look like alien software, and you cry in the car when daniel tells you that he’ll just do it instead.

you do look older than your father, but more than that, you look like a stranger to yourself. the only thing you recognize is your right eye, but everything else belongs to somebody else, a version of you you’ve never met.

it feels like greeting a family member you haven’t seen since you were little, and they look so different from what you remember in your head that you wonder if you ever met them at all.

somehow, that’s better than seeing yourself again. you remember the first time you looked in the mirror after losing your eye, how you had looked then with the cuts all over your face and your hair buzzed to the scalp.

it’s the same thing all over again, except now you have a beard, and instead of an empty socket you now have a solid white marble sitting in place of it. you look eerily like brody. something about that feels good, you’d love to be like brody.

you decide to keep the beard.

you feel guilty. even sitting in daniel’s apartment surrounded by your friends and family, a free man at last, you don’t feel happy. looking at him, you feel good. you’re proud, you’re incredibly proud, and he’s lived a good life, but now that you’ve paid your dues you have nothing of you left. it feels like you were a resource that’s all dried up and spent out. you’re in the sequel, and you still feel like you’re stuck in the cave.

after sixteen years of waiting you finally visit your father’s grave. you’re grateful that daniel’s taken good care of it, there’s already a bouquet of fresh flowers laid at his headstone when you go to place yours. you run your fingers along the words engraved into the hunk of marble and feel your wrist freeze when you get to ~2016.

1452 lewis avenue. tacky halloween decorations. lyla the love witch. daniel playing zombie in the front yard.

the front yard.

daniel lies with you in his arms on top of your father’s grave while you sob until you throw up in the grass and you’re so ashamed of yourself that you ride in the back seat when you leave. you don’t know what will ever make this better.

you want to get your life together, if there’s any point. you tell yourself there will be, you just have to find it. you pass your driver’s test and finally get your license, and daniel surprises you with a gift that rips your heart out in a way you didn’t think was possible anymore. the car that dad was fixing up for your graduation. the one you never got the chance to drive.

he’s saying something about how he’s made sure everything’s running and he’s had all the old parts replaced but you feel like you’re underwater and he sounds so far away.

you open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. there’s a faded old sticky-note on the dash with scribbled ink on it. ‘hope you have fun on all your hot dates, seanie-boy! don’t drink and drive. always call me if you need me. love, papito.’

i love you too, dad.

daniel helps you look for jobs, but every time you get an interview, you cancel. it doesn’t feel right. you don’t know why but you don’t feel ready, like there’s something you need to do first and you don’t know what it is.

daniel’s patient as ever, and you know he doesn’t mind, but sleeping on his couch feels a little worse every day you wake up on it. you almost feel like you owe karen an apology, you keep glancing at the door.

what do you need, then? what is going to fill this hole in your chest? think back, and think hard. when did you last feel most alive? was it living at home, going to school and working retail, worrying about college and being an adult? you know it wasn’t.

it was eight months on the open road. it was when you were traveling between state lines, meeting new people every day, living like wolves up in the woods. as horrible as it was, as much hell as you went through, you remember how much you loved the good parts, and how you’d pretend it was just a road trip when you could to make it bearable. you want to do it again, and do it right this time.

you bring it up to daniel. you ask him if he’d like to come, to be the wolf brothers together again—but he’s not like you anymore. he’s got a job, a home, a community—he’s got a place in this world. he can’t do it and that hurts. it’s why you threw away fifteen years of your life, though. you don’t know what else you expected.

he proposes an idea that makes your chest ache just to think about, but it sounds good. it sounds like it might be what you need, and that’s all you want, is to know what you need.

you pack up a small suitcase of everything you want to take with you; nothing heavy. you remember words from an old friend, a long time ago.

that’s how shit starts, you know? when you start havin’ things of your own… things you ought to defend. property, land, family. what do you think you’re missin’ out on now?

you don’t know.

you want to find out.

you follow daniel all the way back up to washington. even from the car, it’s all flooding back. you walked this exact road on foot for miles and miles in the opposite direction. you know now that you may as well have turned back then, but you know all things considered, it was worth the journey. the best and worst time of your whole life.

you park on the edge of the road, right where you first walked into the woods so many years ago. daniel didn’t even know his father was dead yet back then; just a couple of kids playing with sticks and skipping stones on the water, and you swallowing your grief down like shards of glass.

nostalgia eats you alive like a coyote tearing right into your throat. so much is the same; the trail, the markers on the trees, daniel excitedly walking ahead of you, and you’re trailing behind, feeling like the only thing that’s changed.

it’s funny. you were so worried about the world out there being different when you got out, but it’s just you. who is sean diaz anymore? you wish you could ask the boy who carried his brother into these woods in full confidence that he’d be able to outrun his fate sixteen years ago. in all his terror, he probably knows the answer better than you do. oh, how you envy him.

you replicate your first night in these woods down to every last detail by building a fire under the same rock den you did back then. daniel’s so much older, so much bigger than he was then, but he’s still daniel.

it hits you fully, finally. there’s no getting back what you’ve lost. not your own childhood, and not daniel’s either. you’re both grown up and there is no way to redeem yourself that will gift you the ability to go back in time.

it’s always going to be this; stories that you can try your best to imagine like you were there, but everybody will always know where you really were. they won’t say it, like it’s a dirty word, but it’s a part of you now. there’s no sean diaz without those ugly fifteen years stamped onto your life like a passport.

daniel’s in the middle of telling you about his first kiss with a boy when you remember yours. it was with chris, no less. they’re engaged now. you try not to be heartbroken that you missed that, too. at least they held off the wedding.

you think about finn again. you think about arthur and stanley. you think about the fact that you’re thirty-two and haven’t had a kiss since, and the fact that you could have fallen in love, but that was taken from you, too.

you feel so selfish and ridiculous for bursting into tears. you feel like such a fucking child when daniel has to rock you in his arms to calm you back down and keeps apologizing for bringing it up.

sorry, I forgot. you told me back then, remember? I should’ve known better.

none of it’s fair. you deserve to have the capacity to be happy and be happy for daniel. you feel too numb for your own comfort. this isn’t who you are.

you’re surprised when you wake up the next morning and feel… clarity? the sense that something better is coming, maybe. oh, right. there’s a name for that.

hope.

it feels right when you’re walking out of the woods and back to your car with daniel, like you’re getting ready to meet yourself somewhere, as soon as you find him.

this is a choice, a see you later. we’ll talk as soon as i get somewhere with wifi. promise, i’ll call. i love you. get home safe.

you get into the car that your dad wanted you to grow up in, and after much too long, you’re finally about to. you drive away first, watching daniel in the rearview mirror as he waves excitedly. he’s almost out of view when you see him cup his hands around his mouth, tilting his head back. you can’t hear him, but you know well enough.

you howl as loud as you can, even though all the windows are rolled up and daniel’s over the hill already. maybe a lot has changed, and you have too, but there’s one thing that never will. the tale of the two wolf brothers.

it’s time for you to write your own story, big brother.

#lis2 #life is strange 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #my writing #long post /#I DEBATED POSTING THIS ONE HERE... BECAUSE ITS REALLLY LONG LMAO #but w/e anyways heres a redemption poem Thing i wrote to cope #also a lot of this is headcanon so take it w/ a grain of salt we simply dont know!

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a-simple-imagine · 5 years

Text

When Worlds Collide (Prologue)

Synopsis: The events running up to the moment everything changes. You're excited to test out your new gadget from Tony but things don’t go quite as planned.

Based on the events of Into The spider verse only instead of ending up in Miles’ universe you end up in the MCU

Pairing: Miscellaneous (future MCU!Natasha x fem!reader)

Words: 1.3k

"This city is full of idiots," You comment harshly, tossing the daily newspaper across the table. The Headline reads Spider-Man stops bank heist. The paper came to a stop just before it hit the black widow who sat opposite you. A steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"For once I agree with you," She stated matter-of-factly without so much as a glance in your direction.

"How many times do I have to tell them my name before they stop calling me Spider-Man? Plus I'm not even a man." You reach over the table, finger bouncing rapidly on the picture of you scaling the stone wall of the bank. This wasn't your first rodeo, you'd been on the covers of papers and magazines plenty of times but you never quite got used to it. You'd think by now they'd get tired of printing stories like this. That's why you kept your identity a secret; you weren't sure you could handle the fame along with being a superhero. "I know I wear a mask but is it really so hard to believe that a woman can save the day."

"I know it's my fault for sitting down here but I don't remember inviting a conversation." Natasha groaned, taking a long swig from her cup. You and the infamous Natasha Romanoff didn't have the best relationship. That was clear by practically every interaction you had with her. You tried to be civil but she was always hostile in return. Made you wonder why she disliked you so much.

"You don't always have to be so rude, you know"

"I'm hoping it'll make you stop talking to me" Natasha's shoulders rise in a casual shrug as she finally looks towards you. Your brow furrows as you meet her green eyes.

"Do you two ever stop arguing?" You both turn to find a certain billionaire lurking in the doorway.

"She started it," You fire back, glaring at the other woman. "It's like she's incapable of being nice."

"I'm perfectly capable, thank you very much,"

"Will you two stop?" Tony interrupts, he drifts over to the two of you.

With a heavy sigh, you turn your attention back to Tony, giving him a bright smile. "Why are you here?"

"Not happy to see me?" He asks brow cocked as a familiar smirk settles on his lips. "I came to see you, Spider-Man"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "Please, don't."

"She's very sensitive about her superhero name," Natasha adds. Tony places his hand gently on your shoulder, squeezing softly.

"You did good yesterday, kid,"

"Thanks, please tell me you're here to give me an actual mission. I'm sick of being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman, I'm an avenger for goodness sake."

"I actually came to give you these," Holding out his hand, he opens his palm to show some small metallic black balls. They clatter against each other. Taking one of them, you roll it between your forefinger and thumb. It had a Purple spider on the side that matched the one from your suit.

"Am I supposed to guess what these are?" You wonder, glancing up at him.

"They're bombs."

"You're seriously trusting her with bombs?" Natasha pipes up, a mean chuckle passing her lips.

"Web bombs, Romanoff. No need to worry."

"Oh, you finally finished them?" Taking your hand, he hands them all over.

"Just press the little spider and throw. They take a few seconds to explode but they're pretty powerful so use them carefully."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." You push out of your seat more than eager to get back out into the city and find an opportunity to use your new gadget.

"Janet wanted me to invite you to dinner, I said you'd be busy but she insisted so," He shrugs.

"Never too busy for you and Janet," you flash him a quick smile as you brush past him.

"Great, I'll send a car for you at-"

You didn't care enough to let him finish, this wasn't your first time going to the Stark residence. You head for the balcony, the fresh air filling your lungs as you stare out over the city. It looked as busy as always. Tapping the Spider on your chest, it comes to life shining bright and purple as your suit begins to form around your body. The suit itself is pitch black and metallic in nature with purple features; your wrist to your palm with black fingers. Your calf was also purple up to your ankle. Two identical thin purple webs adorned both your sides and finally Illuminated purple eyes and a bright spider on your back. Stark made it. You had a none-nanotech suit but you mainly used this one for convenience and the drone feature. Perched on the edge of the barrier, you let yourself fall backward. Didn't matter how many times you did this, you always got the same rush. It was so exhilarating. After a few seconds of falling, you used your middle and ring finger to press the button for your web shooter. A string of white fires out connecting with the building abruptly changing your falling to swinging; with your other hand, you shoot your next web to propel forward.

"Jo, anything happening in the city that I should know about?" You ask your trusty A.I, standing on the side of what seemed to be apartments above a bakery. The smell of fresh bread was mouthwatering.

'Two Four six in hell's kitchen' It was a police radio. You'd been piggybacking off their system so you knew where to be and when but you'd never made the effort to actually learn the police codes.

"Explain?" You demand as you slowly crawl up the side of the building.

"Shooting at inhabited dwelling," Jo informs you. A shooting was perfect, hopefully, there would be more than one shooter so you can use your bombs. With a running start, you jump off the roof but don't seem to make it very far: something tries to draw you back. You fire a web at the building across the street, gripping the web tight but it was doing much good. You glance briefly towards the source. It looked like a black hole mixed with a rainbow of colours. What the hell? Your fingers begin to slip, with your other hand you shoot a second web to no avail. Both snap abruptly sending you sinking into the darkness.

Everything happens so fast, you can't even comprehend what exactly was going on but you were suddenly in what seems to be Times Square. Something very much felt off though. The lights are blinding, the sounds below are deafening as you smash into solid concrete. A long, loud groan leaves your lips as you stare up at the twinkling stars. "...ow." You sit up slowly, a rush of dizziness swirling around your head. "What happened Jo?" There's no answer. Your interface seems fine though. "Jo?"

Maybe he somehow broke when you went through the portal thing? You remove your mask as you scramble to your feet. A sharp pain shoots through your leg. Could anything else possibly go wrong right now? You hobble to the edge of the building, looking down at the people below. They seemed normal. Holding up your arm, you aim your web shooter but as you press the button nothing comes out. You press it again and again but it didn't seem to want to work. You groan a lot louder this time actively showing your distaste with your situation. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself before trying out the other one. When it didn't work, you take it as a sign to just give up and go home. Luckily, you didn't live too far from here.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #spiderman #spider man #peter parker #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow #tony stark

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theshrubbery · 4 years

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Chapter 5 of my fic :)

Chapter summary:

My father is shouting something, I feel like I should be listening to him, but all I can focus on is how beautiful Simon is. He’s fucking gorgeous and it’s breaking my heart. I love him so much that I can’t breathe, my chest is constricting and it’s all I can do not to lean back into him, let him swallow me whole.

SIMON

I didn’t mean to rifle through Baz’s personal things like this. I didn’t even know they were personal until I noticed how worn the newspaper clippings were, how thin the paper of the photo had become. It was a photo of a tall, beautiful woman holding a small Baz in her arms, both of them are smiling, standing in front of a window—I notice Baz’s father, Malcolm, in the reflection. One corner of his smile is peeking out from the side of the camera, which is held high, right to his face, as he squints through the viewfinder.

I’d shared a room with Baz for long enough to know that his mum had died, though I’d never really thought much of it. I realise that makes me sound like something of a complete asshole, but this is, of course, coming from an orphan.

Honestly, though, I’d been looking for some clothes to wear. I was too scared to go back to my room to fetch my bag full of my own clothes. I’d ditched them in my escape out of that fucking freak-hole, and I sure as shit wasn’t going back for them. As much as I hate the idea of borrowing Baz’s clothes (again) I hate the idea of going back to that room even more. So, naturally, I’d started looking through his wardrobe for something that didn’t look like it was over a bajillion pounds. Something more Primark, less… whatever expensive brands these silk shirts were.

For some reason, I’d figured that Baz must have just been keeping all his fancy shit out to show off. Most people would do that, I figured, and Baz definitely seemed the type to try and keep up his pretentious image like that, so I got up on my tip-toes and started to rummage around the top shelves, pushing a neatly folded pile of jumpers out of the way until I accidentally found the shoebox. Might I add that it was a very expensive branded shoebox, too.

Inside were the articles I’m sitting holding now: the newspaper clippings of Baz’s mum’s death. The newspaper clippings of Baz’s childhood kidnapping that I’ve never heard a fucking thing about. What the fuck?

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Baz’s voice sends a cold shock straight through me. My stomach drops through the floor, a sense of dread pouring like cement into my chest cavity. I’m holding the photograph when Baz opens the door. The one of he and his mum; he strides forwards and snatches it straight from me before I can think to surrender it of my own accord. I look up at him.

Baz is seething. In all the years I’ve known Baz, never have I seen him look so genuinely terrifying. It makes me wonder whether I’ve actually ever seen him mad.

“I’m sorry,” I say. But I say it too quickly, it sucks the genuineness out and leaves it empty, bland. I can’t help but curse myself, internally, there’s no way out of this one.

“For a genius you sure are thick,” Baz spits, shoving me hard in the shoulder as he gathers the clippings back into the box and holds them tightly to his chest. He gets to his feet and glares down at me, like he isn’t sure what to do next and doesn’t want me to know.

“You were kidnapped,” I say. Baz flinches. “You were kidnapped by your mum’s killers.”

Baz’s jaw tightens, his thick eyebrows lowering even further, casting shadows over his eyes. He’s scowling so tightly his lips are starting to whiten.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I try again, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m still going with this. It’s clear that Baz doesn’t want to talk about it, that he’s enraged I ever looked through his stuff without permission in the first place, but I guess now that the can of worms is open…

“Baz!” Mordelia shouts up the stairs. I can hear Malcolm trying to quiet her, but she shouts again anyways, reminding us that there’s breakfast to be had, a relationship to fake.

“I can’t believe you,” Baz snarls under his breath, and somehow his disappointment is an even sharper spear to the stomach than his anger. “I can’t believe you.”

“Baz, please, I really am sorry.”

“Just shut the fuck up, Snow, I don’t want to hear it.” Baz pushes a hand through his hair, pulling at it when he gets to the back of his head, then he forces a violent sigh through his teeth and throws his hand away from his scalp, slapping it against his thigh. He gives me this look, and it scalds me, like he expected more from me. What I don’t understand is why would he? It’s not like we’ve ever really been friends.

Baz turns away from me and takes a deep breath. “Let’s just go down to breakfast.”

“Right,” I say quietly, feeling like I really don’t have the right to talk at all.

“Come on, Snow. We’ll discuss this later but for now, don’t fuck this up for me too.” I don’t need to ask him what he means, I already know he means pretending to be his boyfriend. I feel like I owe him, I feel guilty, so on the way down the stairs, after Baz has (literally) thrown me some clothes to change into, I psyche myself up, and I grab his hand.

Baz freezes, stumbles, nearly misses a step, then rights himself and tentatively pushes his fingers through the spaces in my own, interlocking our hands. It’s strange, I think, how effortless it is to do this, how easy it is to pretend we’re a couple.

Malcolm looks down his nose at us, standing at the bottom of the stairs as we descend. I can’t see Baz’s face, but I really can’t imagine it would look much better. Baz’s hand tightens in mine and he pulls me closer to his body as his father’s eyes rake over me. Then, Mordelia comes bounding around the corner again, obviously over-exited at all the happenings. She probably doesn’t see many visitors inside the house.

“Cute!” She exclaims, her eyes ogling our joined hands. Malcolm swallows, as though he’s physically withholding himself from making some sort of derogatory comment.

“Enough, Mordelia, go back to the table,” Malcolm tells her, gently pressing his hand into her tiny shoulder and sending her away. He’s acting as though whatever me and Baz are, whatever we have, is infectious. It’s nothing short of frustrating. Really, it’s a lot more than frustrating, it’s disgusting, but this isn’t my place to say anything, not yet anyways. “Baz, you and… your friend will join us.” Malcolm’s voice curls around the word ‘friend’, wrapping it in sneeringly impolite undertones. It’s making me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Luckily, even though Baz and I aren’t really seeing eye-to-eye right now, he doesn’t just stand there and let his father pick at me.

“He has a name. And you know he is more than a friend,” Baz’s voice is flat, empty, but I can still make out the simmer in it that tells me he’s trying to keep his cool. “Just because you’re my father, it doesn’t give you the right to treat Simon this way.”

“Basilton,” Malcolm snaps. “You really need to rethink your position in this family, rethink your rank, your status, are you really going to throw that all away to gallivant around with this boy?”

Baz steps down a couple more steps, and I unwillingly follow. Not that I have a choice with how his sweaty hand has mine in a death-clamp. I’m not sure whether he even remembers he’s holding it.

“And what if I am?” Baz challenges. He’s already tall, but standing as he is, a few steps higher than his father, puts him inches above eye-level and forces Malcolm to look up at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The sooner you give this whole thing up, the better, it’s clear what you’re doing here, Basil.” My heart starts thudding just a little harder at the implications. Has Malcolm figured us out already? Am I really that bad at this whole dating thing? Baz gave me one job, granted I hate him, but letting people down once I’ve committed to a promise really isn’t something I like to do. It feels like a failure on my part.

“What are you talking about?” Baz demands. I can see his pulse in the hollow of his throat. I’m two steps above Baz and I slowly lower myself down one until I’m directly behind him, so close I can feel the heat from his body.

“You’re an idiot if you think I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Basilton. You honestly expect me to believe that straight after our conversation you’d reveal to be dating the one boy you’ve hated since first year? It’s clear to me you’re just trying to prove a point, and the act is up. So drop it.”

“You’re wrong, father.” Baz squeezes my hand. I look down at his whitening knuckles and then up to his clenching jaw, which I can just about see from this angle. I look to Malcolm and it irks me how fucking confident he is that he’s won this. Baz and I don’t convince him at all, even if he has only had one dinner to form his opinion of us.

“The act is up,” Malcolm repeats. “Basilton, come to your senses. Just stop this foolishness, it is, frankly, embarrassing.” I hear the hitch in Baz’s breath that he can’t quite cover in time. There’s a splotchy red flush of colour blooming in ugly flowers across his cheeks, down his neck, his chest, where I can see a bronze ‘v’ of skin between the fabric of his button-down shirt.

My ears feel kind of like they’re ringing, I feel a little like I can’t see properly, like I’m standing on the other side of a glass window looking in on my own life. It’s strange. I feel like I’m floating, weightless and unreal.

In hindsight, my body probably knew what I was going to do next before my brain caught up with it. The chemicals surging in my brain, the adrenaline trembling through my veins, it was all because of a subconscious thought that hadn’t quite reached the forefront of my mind yet.

Unsure of what I’m doing, I pull at Baz’s hand, turn him at an angle, use his momentary surprise to tilt his head towards mine with my other hand, cradling his jaw for what feels like an eternity. I’m not looking at his eyes, but his parted lips.

And then, I kiss him.

BAZ

He’s kissing me. Simon Snow is kissing me. I feel dizzy, lightheaded, I feel like melting. I haven’t ever been kissed before, I wonder if Snow knows that this is my first, wonder if he can feel the same fireworks that I can. My heart is pounding when we pull gently away. He doesn’t jerk back with the disgust I’d have expected from Snow, I’m sure it must’ve sunk in that he’s pretending to be in a relationship with a gay man by now. I never imagined that Snow would ever willingly kiss me and look as dazed as he does right now. His eyes are glazed, his lips are flushed pink, his cheeks on fire, his pulse pounding in the column of his golden throat, the freckled skin fluttering.

My father is shouting something, I’m vaguely aware of him storming away and I feel like I should be listening to him, but all I can focus on is how beautiful Simon is. He’s fucking gorgeous and it’s breaking my heart. I love him so much that I can’t breathe, my chest is constricting and it’s all I can do not to lean back into him, let him swallow me whole.

Snow is looking at me, I am looking at Snow, neither of us know what to do now. My father distantly tells us to get down to the dining room at once, he sounds disgusted, he probably thinks we’re disgusting and I just don’t care. Simon Snow just kissed me. Snow’s eyes widen, his head jars back suddenly, and I can’t help the jolt in my stomach, I knew it was too good to be true. He doesn’t say anything though, not for what feels like an eternity. He just stands and stares, his hand sweating where it’s still holding my jaw. I want to push my face into his hand and breathe him in, but I can’t. I can’t, and it’s killing me.

“I—Sorry, that was—that was too much,” Snow stutters. Nausea is swirling unpleasantly in my gut. There it is. The rejection. Though… does that really count as rejection when he’s the one who initiated it in the first place? Snow looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t know what he should do now, and I decide to put him out of his misery.

“It’s fine, Snow, I get it,” I tell him, forcing my voice to stay level. Forcing myself not to allow the thickness in my throat to constrict my words. I can’t scare Snow off, not now. “You’re… doing well, my father will have no choice but to believe us now.”

“I just—how could he say those things to you? It was—I didn’t think—I just—” I hold up a hand to stop him. He must really be feeling quite turbulent if he’s stuttering over his words like this, it’s been a long while since he stumbled over each word like a hurdle in this way.

“We don’t need to talk about this, I understand, Snow. We can discuss things later.”

There is an awful lot we need to talk about later.

Breakfast was so tense I was half positive Snow was about to get up and run. He scoffed his food like he always does, though I think he was just nervous. Mordelia wouldn’t shut up, asking us all sorts of questions as to the status of our relationship. In the end Malcolm had snapped at her to be quiet, something he very rarely did. Daphne took her away from the table as soon as she could, taking the rest of the kids with her too with the help of two maids. When Snow and I had arrived, the house had been empty, but in the mean time Daphne had returned with Mordelia and all my other siblings. I love them, I do, but I don’t feel like I can handle all the attention at the moment. Though I don’t let anyone into this, I can’t, my mother taught me better than to lose my composure.

So I remained composed, dignified, ate my breakfast, reprimanded Snow on his eating habits just to reassure him that I wasn’t mad at him. Not for kissing me, not for finding out everything I never wanted anyone to know. My father didn’t make any more remarks, in honesty he tried not to look at us, I’m not sure what I want from him—other than acceptance of course. It hurts to have my father treat me this way. It hurts to feel like a disappointment for something that I can’t control. It’s even worse knowing that he still loves me, I know that he does, he’s always done everything he can for me its just… he cannot stand me being attracted to other men. He’s always ignored it, probably in hopes that it’s just a phase. But it isn’t, it never was, and it never will be. I have no idea if he’ll ever stop letting this be a wedge between us.

“What are—what are we doing today then, Baz?” Snow asks me after breakfast. We’re the last ones at the table, father has excused himself to work and I’m grateful I can drop my ramrod posture, if only a little. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead when I invited Snow here. Usually I would spend the holiday studying, attending formals with my father, counting down until I could go back to school. Snow has always stayed at Watford over the holidays, I’ve always speculated over what he spent his time doing in our room alone, though those thoughts often ended up wondering down a hormonal path that I really should steer clear of at the moment.

I cross my legs and lean back in my seat.

“Anything you want to do?” I reply as nonchalantly as I can. Snow glances at me and then quickly away, I can’t work out what he’s thinking. Is it about the kiss? Is it about finding him rummaging through my mother’s articles? My kidnapping? I don’t know whether I want to distract us from these thoughts, or talk them through. It feels like too much, all mounting up on me like this, I can’t help but feel anxious.

Snow shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders. “I’m the guest here.”

“I’d use that lightly,” I huff. “You’re not exactly getting the best hospitality here, are you?” I say it flatly, Snow knows that it’s not a question but a fact. He shrugs again. He’s always shrugging. His eyebrows pinch like his trying to think about how to word something.

“Don’t you feel—”

“Let’s study,” I say, cutting him off. I don’t want to answer anything that is poised as a question and includes the word ‘feel’.

“Study?” Snow asks, like he’s hearing the word for the first time.

“Yes, study.” He’s looking at me like I’ve just told him I’m a vampire. “What? Christ, Snow, aren’t you meant to be a genius? Are you telling me you’ve never studied?”

“No, that’s not. That’s not it, I study plenty, thank you very much—I just. I’m surprised you’d suggest studying.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, considering everything that’s happened, I just—”

“Please,” I interrupt again. I can’t have this talk right now, any of these talks. I don’t want to deal with feelings, I just want to pretend everything is fine, just for a little longer. I don’t want to talk about my mother, I don’t want to talk about myself, I don’t want to talk about that kiss, I just don’t think I can. I don’t trust myself not to spill everything I’ve been holding back for years. I just—I need to pretend. Just for a little longer. “Let’s just—let’s not talk about anything just yet, Snow. Let’s study. I’m still not entirely convinced you even know how to read.”

“Of course I can read!” He exclaims, sounding genuinely offended. I bless the heavens above that it’s so easy to distract him, so easy to rile him up. I love him for it.

“Oh really?” I taunt, pushing away from the table. He follows without breaking eye-contact. “I guess you’re just going to have to prove how smart you are then, scholarship-student.”

“I literally got the third highest grade in English!”

“Yeah, after me and Bunce.”

“You probably have like eighty private tutors and a rich-people machine that feeds knowledge into your head!”

“Snow, can you hear yourself?” I can’t help but laugh at him. Though it’s short and controlled. I manage to make it look like a sneer. Snow is most comfortable around me when I’m like this, playing the enemy, picking a fight.

“Fuck off, Baz.” He starts walking away from the table, then stops and looks over his shoulder to see if I’m following him, which I’m not.

“What is it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know where to go,” he says blankly. I huff through my nose, bite my lip to try and keep from smiling as I watch him standing there in my clothes which are a size or two too big. The sleeves hang over his hands; he has the fabric of each cuff bunched up in each freckled hand. I love him. I love him.

“Come on then, you git.”

#snowbaz #simon snow #simon snow fanfiction #snowbaz fic #snowbaz fic rec #fanfiction #carry on fandom #Wayward son fanfic #carry on fanfiction #baz #basilton pitch #Tyrannus Basilton Pitch #snowbaz fanfiction #cibcty

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folklorik54 · 4 years

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Chapter 5 Sneak Peek

Hello, me again. remember me? I don’t. Anyway here’s a sneak peek of Chapter 5 of the assistant AU, called Good Company. Honestly, this chapter made me nostalgic because Aoko is talking to these two characters and it made me think of someone who is no longer with me. Promise this isn’t a sad chapter it’s just me in my feelings. Hope you are staying safe, and hope you enjoy.

Aoko checked the time on her phone and waited in confusion outside of The White Rabbit. It was past any reasonable hour on a school night, and she was wearing her best dress along with make-up. She had been getting help from Chikage-san on how to make herself look older and it was coming in handy that night. According to her resources anyone under the age of 18 was not allowed entry overnight, but it was her companion that chose this location. It was also her companion who advised her on looking much older, or else she needn't had bothered so much. She was a little less than a year away from 18 to begin with.

Jii-san finally appeared and looked her over with a satisfied smile. "You look wonderful Nakamori-san."

"Better than the last time I snuck in at a bar?" She asked cheekily.

Jii-san's eyes lit up with a hint of mischief, "Much improved. Unfortunately the young master will not be here to see it." He held out his arm and Aoko took the offer.

"Jii-san, why are we here, again?" Aoko asked while checking out the once tame diner. The place was lit up like a club with cheerful music and multicolored lights.

"Because we have reservations, and a meeting with old friends of mine and Kuroba-sama."

'His and Kuroba-sensei's?' "This wouldn't have something to do with my alibi, and Chikage-san's training would it? You did say you've thought of something."

"An alibi, yes. As for the training well, that's going to depend on you. First I want to introduce you to this building officially." Jii-san gestured to The White Rabbit. "By day a popular, but expensive diner. By night a club with a preforming show!" Jii-san smiled widely as they stepped in front of the bouncer. Jii-san gave his name and they were drawn into the building and told to wait off to the side.

The interior was nothing like Aoko remembered from the last time. The multicolored lights decorated the room like a crystalline cavern. Large, dark curtains draped over each wall giving the place a sense of infinity, like looking up at the night sky. There was a large hole in the center of the building. Rainbow silk fabric cascaded from the ceiling. Aoko noticed how there was a border surrounding the area where the hole was where no one sat despite many tables filling out already.

Before Aoko could ask what everything was about, a man around her father's age had strolled up to welcome them. He had dusky brown hair striped with grey, and a sincere smile that led up to his brown eyes. He wore an olive green suit with golden buttons and cufflinks, overall he was rather attractive for his age.

"Ah, Konosuke-kun nice to see you!" His voice boomed over the clamour of the noisy patrons. "You're right on time for the show!"

"Yuzu-kun, good to see you. Sorry for the short notice, I normally call in advance." Jii-san answered timidly.

"No apology necessary, you know you're always welcome here, day or night!" 'Yuzu-kun,' glanced around the room and gestured for Jii-san and Aoko to follow him up to a higher floor.

Jii-san and Aoko obediently followed after him taking great care to not accidently disturb the other guests as they got settled. They climbed up the spiral staircase as quickly as they could but their host seemed to be much faster. Twice they had lost sight of him in the crowd only to find him whenever he would back-pedal to get them. They climbed all the way to the third floor and Aoko watched in curiosity as their host pulled a staircase from the roof and he ascended to what she assumed to be an attic space. An attic space that she hadn't noticed the last time she was here. Jii-san began to follow him up, but Aoko grabbed his sleeve.

"Does Kaito know about him?"

Jii-san looked despondently in her eyes and shook his head. "No, Kaito-bocchama doesn't know any of the people we'll meet tonight. His mother made it so." He politely took her hand off his cuff and climbed up the stairs. Aoko wondered about that, and after remembering the devastating look on his face she decided not to pursue it for now. It was clearly a sore spot.

When they reached the attic space the man known so far as 'Yuzu-kun,' had turned around and spread his arms out. "This is a much better room for conversation! No extra noise here, unless of course you count the bustling of my performers as they get ready!"

Almost as if validating this statement, a group of people dressed in shimmering outfits had entered the area in a babbling rush. Each performer had a different, but equally vibrant outfit with expressive make-up. They seemed to be going over their routine and had begun to form a line around the opening of the hole. When one spotted them they immediately hushed the others, and the volume lowered considerably.

"Now introductions are in order, right Konosuke-kun?" The man held his hand out for Aoko to shake. "My name is Yuzuru Haido and I am the manager and night-time owner of The White Rabbit."

"O-Oh! It's nice to meet you, Haido-san. My name is. . ." Aoko looked to Jii-san wondering if it was safe to tell this man her real name.

"Aoko Nakamori, but it's a bit of a secret Yuzu-kun." Jii-san quickly added.

Haido-san looked at Aoko more closely and seemed to come to some conclusions of his own. Before she could begin to worry about what he took from that, Haido-san smiled and pulled a chair out for her to take.

"For the young Nakamori-san." He added giving it away.

Aoko took the seat and Jii-san sat down to her left while Haido-san caged her in on the right. 'Odd how no one sat in the seat facing me directly,'Aoko thought awkwardly while placing the cloth napkin in her lap. 'Whoever we're waiting for must be someone important.'

"You see Yuzxu-kun, I've claimed Nakamori-san here as my disciple. She's already been tested, and passed." Jii-san passed Aoko a menu that was placed on the side of the table.

"So all that's left is the registry. You've never taken on a student before Konosuke-kun, she must be something truly special." Haido-san glanced at Aoko and chuckled at the expression she made when looking at the prices. "Don't worry so much sweetheart, I'm sure he doesn't mind paying for you. Especially since I always add his old mentor discount into his total."

"Old mentor?" Aoko raised her eyebrow, intrigued. 'Didn't he just say Jii-chan has never taken on a student?'

"Kuroba-sama and I merely advised him on a few performances and investment details." Jii-san answered with visible nostalgia.

"'Details!?' Absolutely not Konosuke-kun! What you both had done was nothing so small or trivial, and I've told you this before!" Haido-san looked offended and locked eyes with Aoko. "Kuroba-kun and Konosuke-kun had helped me through some of my toughest times. They encouraged me when no one else would and believed in me when no one else had. Back before I was in charge of The White Rabbit at night and doing travelling shows, I was a kid on the street. No money, no plans, and most damning of all- no connections." He took a deep breath and continued. "I was preforming on the street when I first met Kuroba-kun. Here's a guy that couldn't have been much older than me but had the confidence and talent of a man who's lived lifetimes." His eyes became distant here, and a large smile overtook his face. "He somehow saw talent in me. Offered me a job. I thought it was going to be something sketchy. 'Too good to be true,' I thought. He said he was looking for a stage warmer- an opening act to 'warm up the crowd!'" He chuckled and leaned closer to Aoko's ear. "I thought 'can't get any worse, probably preforming in some hole-in-the-wall place. It wasn't." He leaned back and exclaimed, "It was the Chapeau Magique theatre!"

Aoko's eyes widened both in shock over his volume and in his news. The Chapeau Magique theatre had been renowned for hosting many of the finest performers in the world.

"You should have seen his face when we took him there for the first time. He looked like he would faint." Jii-san added playfully with a wink to Aoko.

"You're forgetting the part I didn't believe you, Konosuke-kun!" Haido-san added pointing an accusatory finger at Jii-san. Both men laughed and Aoko couldn't help joining in. Their good humor was infectious. "That's when I began to open for them until I got noticed by talent scouts. I'll never forget it." He looked at Jii-san gratefully. "It was some of the best days of my life."

The words hung in the air warmly and the trio fell into a short, comfortable silence before Jii-san broke. "I should have called to tell you myself Yuzu-kun. I was just so-" a look of utter anguish fell over Jii-san's face like an unwelcomed cloud. He continued to struggle with his words and Aoko discreetly placed her hand on his arm worriedly. Jii-san looked at her and relaxed.

"Konosuke-kun if I've told you once I've told you a million times, it's alright-" Haido-san began but was interrupted.

"No Yuzu-kun, it isn't alright!" Jii-san sighed and explained, mostly to Aoko's benefit. "My actions after Kuroba-sama's death would've no doubt made him upset had he been alive." He looked back at Haido-san who for his part looked like he's heard this speech a thousand times. "I should have told you, and everyone else he and I met in our travels. He and I loved coming here to watch your shows."

Haido-san smiled at Jii-san tearfully, "I remember how angry he was when I told him I wasn't going to be dancing anymore."

"That's only because he was under the impression you were quitting aerial dance completely." Jii-san huffed in obvious agitation, instantly lightening the mood.

"He wouldn't let me finish!" Haido-san defended. He looked at Aoko and explained, "He asked me when my next show was, I told him there wouldn't be one. He did his thing where his face would go blank and he would shut down." He heaved a sigh, "Before I could tell him why he began his lecture on 'talent is like a blade,' and I couldn't get a word in."

Aoko snorted at that. Jii-san always has the same lecture whenever she began to show signs of defeat. 'Talent is like a blade, it must be routinely sharpened for it to be useful.'

"It took me months to get him to talk to you," Jii-san said angrily.

"Imagine how I felt!"

Aoko chuckled at their back-and-forth causing both men to stop and look at her. "I-I'm sorry," she gasped between laughs. When she calmed down enough to breathe she continued. "I can just tell you all were very good friends. It's funny. . ." She looked down at her lap, "I wish I got to know that side of Kuroba-sensei." She didn't add how she also wished Kaito was here to hear these stories with her. 'It would have meant so much to him,' she thought sadly.

"Did you say 'Kuroba-sensei'?" Haido-san asked. He looked at Jii-san, "Is this the reason you chose her?"

"Jii-san smiled, "it is a part of it, yes." He explained how Aoko was Kaito's best friend and Aoko picked it up from there.

She told him about her life before the Kurobas, and how she met Kaito. She explained how Kaito had changed her life and how his family inspired and encouraged her. She told him of all the things Kuroba-sensei, Chikage-san and Kaito had taught her. Kaito and his family had meant so much to her. After all, if it wasn't for them she wouldn't know where she'd be. She spoke until her voice seemed sore and when she got to the part of Chikage-san's training (she made sure to avoid mention of Kaitou Kid) Jii-san jumped in.

"That's why I brought her here." Jii-san explained while inputting his and Aoko's orders into a tablet-like device. "You see, she has the talent but none of the guidance. The drive but none of the confidence." He looked in Haido-san's eyes. "I wanted to show her what confidence looks like in a performance. Maybe give her a chance to talk to some of your dancers. If you had a job opening she could benefit from that, too."

Haido-san smiled conspiratorially and said, "I'll do you one better." He gestured to the aerial silks tied to the rafters above them. "After tonight's show, I'll show you some exercises."

Aoko gaped, and glanced at the dancers who were slowly, and gracefully descending to the lower floors.

"As for the job, I'm not supposed to hire high schoolers for something as dangerous as preforming aerials." Haido-san cradled his chin in thought. "Becoming a waitress wouldn't help too much with becoming an assistant. I suppose you can be hired on as a part of the skeleton crew, but they arrive very late. Past high schooler curfew in fact." He noticed Aoko's confusion and elaborated. "The skeleton crew are the people in charge of turning this place from a diner to a show and back again." Haido-san gestured to the lights throughout the entire building. "They're responsible for lights, sound, equipment, and clean-up." He looked at Aoko, "That okay with you? We have the latest systems so it'll help you learn some stage-hand things."

"Yes! That's more than okay, it's perfect! Thank you so much!" Aoko bowed her head in gratitude causing Haido-san to laugh.

"You're very welcome Nakamori-chan! Any friend of the Kurobas and Konosuke-kun is a friend of mine! Now that we've talked, how about we watch this show from a better viewpoint?"

Aoko and Jii-san agreed and they headed down to the second floor to watch the dancers go to work. Throughout the performance Haido-san would explain the dancers' movements and hand/ weight placement. Aoko's mind raced with the new information and the excitement that someday soon, she'll be able to do those same maneuvers. She only hoped one day she'd be as graceful.

*update* I spent all night writing this chapter and wanted to warn everyone that this one's going to be a MAMMOTH of a read. Seriously it has more words that Contrary Prologue/Introspection. Take it as my apology for the short chapter last time. I hope this more than makes up for it.

#kaiao #assistant au #magic kaito #detective conan #Nakamori Aoko #Aoko Nakamori #konosuke jii #kuroba chikage #kaitou kid #chapter 5 #long wait #reality is kicking my butt

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