#also my one friend took my quip of 'who's taking notes' seriously and lost count at the slo-mo scenes (around 50)

[geekwiththegoggles]

Woops I was talking about how bad Znyder's Rebel Moon part 1 was a few days ago and now not only did we have a movie night where we watched it there is a plan for a part 2 watch party. I guess it's art since we all spent like two hours talking about it afterwards.

#gg ramble #woops #it is over 2 hours of Characters Saying Things and it's still not fully understandable #like for example where the title comes from. what moon. where else are the rebels. on that moon? #there are so. many. characters. none of them ever shut up. #also my one friend took my quip of 'who's taking notes' seriously and lost count at the slo-mo scenes (around 50) #at least we had fun

[tataswish]

❝   at the rooftop  /  myg.

━   ・  paring:  aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━   ・ genre:  neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━   ・ word count:  5.0k.   ━   ・  contains:  mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━   ・  summary:  in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note:  i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of  the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.  

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳   PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

#yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #min yoongi #i had to repost bc i didnt like the title of the old one JGDHFKG

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

The One Where You Fall In Love (And Then You Don’t) | Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Reader (Moonlight), Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi (mentioned), Miya Osamu, Other!Reader (Angel), Other!Reader (Sunshine)

Pairings: Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, mild swearing

Word Count:  4406

Summary: You loved Daichi - you swear you did - for so long, and for so hard. You loved him, but you weren't quite sure when you stopped liking him.

A/N: And we are back to my regularly schedule antics as promised. I want to give a big thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells for helping me by Beta-reading (and to my mom for reading it too). This is also one part of what will eventually be a much larger series including some of the girls that you meet along the way. So, follow me and keep an eye out for them

Series Masterlist | Next

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You loved Daichi.

You had ever since you met him - well, that was a strong sentiment - but it had always felt that way, so you couldn’t fault your own emotions. Of course, you’d heard about him before, he was on the volleyball team after all; you’d just never met him until your third year. Somehow, by some miracle, you were put into the same class, seated right next to each other. He was sitting by the window - something that made you jealous because you wanted the window seat - you opted for just staring in that direction instead.

Maybe he took your staring the wrong way because he apologised to you after class. Obviously, you were confused, because he hadn’t done anything wrong. His friend snickered, “already scaring the ladies on the first day?” Earning himself a swift elbow in the ribs. You snorted at the noise he made.

“It’s just… you were glaring at me the whole class.” He said sheepishly, completely different from five seconds ago; it was endearing, his sudden nervousness.

Now that you couldn’t figure out, had you really been glaring at him? Your friends had always said that when you get lost in thought you tend to look more pissed off, but you never took them seriously. Not until now, that is. “Oh. Oh! Oh God no!” You cry out, waving your hands, “I was just staring out the window!” You explained, now feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Oh.” He says, looking more relieved with each passing second. “Had me worried for a minute, thought I’d done something wrong.” He chuckled - God, that chuckle was gorgeous.

“The only one who did something wrong was the teacher,” you scrunch up your nose and smile, “putting someone so gorgeous next to the window, how am I meant to stay focused now?” You froze, realising what you said. Come on, Y/N, you can’t just go around flirting with people. You silently kick yourself when he doesn’t say anything, just lets his jaw drop open. Of course, it doesn’t take him long to recover, flashing you a winning smile.

“Maybe you should sit by the window, although I think I’d find it hard to focus.” He gave you a lazy wink, his silver haired friend hollering at him for such smooth moves; now it’s your turn to recover, only you don’t do it with half as much grace as him, stuttering and fumbling around.

“I think you broke her,” his friend laughs, smacking him on the back, clutching his stomach like this is the best thing he’s ever witnessed.

An arm wraps around your waist and it snaps you back to reality, your friend smiling up at Daichi sickeningly sweetly. “Look at you, picking up the hot guys on the first day. And two of them!” She calls out, eyes darting to the silver haired boy.

“Picking up-” You ponder what she meant before gasping, “stop it!” You push her off of you as she starts her own fit of giggles. “I was just apologising for my resting bitch face.” That sets her off again, because of course your resting bitch face had managed to attract two guys.

“You always have a bitch face.” She quips, whisking you away. You wave over your shoulder, taking note of the soft smile on his face.

----

You loved Daichi.

Despite his confidence yesterday, it’s actually his silver haired friend that talks to you first - his name is Sugawara Koushi - you don’t know it yet, but he will grow to be the person you confide in the most. Even before Daichi.

“What’s up, bitch face.” Suga sits on your desk, and for a second you contemplate kicking him.

“What’s up, Suga tits.” You lean back in your chair. Daichi snorts at the nickname, making your heart swell with pride - wow, that has never happened before. Suga breaks out into a big grin, pointing his thumb at you.

“Oh, you should totally keep this one,” he says.

“This one? Is Sawamura here a player? Do I need to protect my precious little heart?” You gently place your hand over your heart, gasping lightly and making sure to pull the most adorably-shocked face that you can. The playful tone doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the boys.

“The only thing he plays is volleyball.” Suga says at the same time that Daichi says, “maybe you do.” With another lazy wink.

You can’t help but snort again, causing the three of you to break out into a fit of laughter.

It surprised you how close the three of you became and how quickly; for you, it felt like everything finally fell into place. Suga was rather chaotic - you remember the time he basically used Asahi as a human battering ram - but he had his moments of kindness. Daichi was effortlessly smooth, sometimes a little intimidating, and he had this aura of authority that you couldn’t help but smile at.

When they introduced you to their volleyball team, you made sure to stick closer to Daichi’s side. One of them asked if you were his girlfriend, neither of you fought off the notion - maybe you were crazy, but you swore Daichi was blushing.

You aren’t surprised when he asks you to go on a date with him - in fact, you’re elated - this is the moment you’d been waiting for; Suga was the first to hear the news and congratulated you.

Your happiness with the silver haired boy was quickly silenced when he brought a packet of condoms to class the next day and not-so-subtly shoved them in your direction. Had you ever wanted to punch someone? Not until you met Sugawara Koushi.

Everything gets worse when Daichi sees them on your desk, eyeing you curiously before you haphazardly shove them in your bag. No one else seemed to see the box, but that didn’t stop your embarrassment.

You made a note to kill Sugawara one day.

----

You loved Daichi.

That one date had turned into two, then three, and next thing you know, you’re seeing each other multiple times a week. He even asks you to be his girlfriend, which you all but scream yes at.

Maybe the first sign that things weren’t going to be perfect was how much time his volleyball club needed from him - but you weren’t upset about that, not at first, at least.

Because Daichi still never failed to make you feel special, like you were the most important thing in the entire world. He’d whisk you off your feet every single time you came to see him at practise. The amount of times he’s put a bouquet of flowers on your desk made your heart swoon. He showers you with kisses and hugs, love and affection for days; you swear, if he could have you stay with him all the time, he would.

You never put that box of condoms to use - not yet - but it sits inside your bedroom drawer behind an old packet of cute pens you never wanted to use, a new set of nail polishes, and a book you’d been meaning to move to the shelf.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He mused one evening, running his fingers through your hair while you watched a film. You hum, a little confused by his question, so you turn to face him.

“I’m going to assume that it’s a lot,” you giggle when he swats at your arm.

“A lot does not begin to cover it,” next thing you knew, he was kissing you, pulling you so close like he was afraid to lose you.

----

You loved Daichi.

So much that you’d watch his volleyball games and cheer him on, even if you really had no idea what was happening - he’d tried to explain it to you, but it didn’t help that much. The thing was that you didn't need to understand the passion in his eyes, you just needed to be there for him.

You wouldn’t have felt so bad about not learning about volleyball if he didn’t pay so much attention to all your hobbies - though you didn’t think it was that difficult to figure out the plot of Ouran HighSchool Host Club.

It became so easy to lose yourself in him. Soon, it was no longer just Y/N - the girl who makes friends a little too easily, and Daichi - the boy who is so blissfully unaware of the eyes on him - now you are Y/N and Daichi - the couple who are ignorant to their own worries. Because who needs to worry when everything is just perfect?

The way his hand fits into yours makes your heart swell; the hunger in his eyes when he’s playing volleyball makes your breath pick up; when he brushes your hair behind your ear and swoops in for a kiss.

Everything he did was just so effortlessly perfect. Did he even realise it? The way he drove you completely crazy? Before him, you were sure you’d never feel this way - especially not with how your mom talks about your dad. You were sure that true love was a myth told by hopeful housewives.

You thought this until you met Daichi. Until you fell for him so hard, so quickly that you weren’t really sure what had happened. The fire of your love burned so bright and hot, with such anger, spreading around to everyone - whether for the better or the worse, you wouldn’t know. Not yet.

----

You loved Daichi.

That was why, when things were just a little too difficult, you’d rather call Sugawara. You didn’t want to bother your boyfriend with your problems - even when he said that it’s fine and that’s what I’m here for. But you knew what would happen. You’d seen it happen in front of your eyes.

“What if I’m not good enough?” You sigh, pulling at the grass beneath you as Suga stares at you sadly. “What if he leaves me because I can’t figure out volleyball? It means so much to him, and yet I just...” There’s obvious panic in your voice.

The setter sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair. You were difficult to figure out. Your confidence always seemed unwavering. But beneath the surface you were riddled with insecurities; it was like a maze in your mind. One wrong word and you’re met with a dead end with no memory of how to turn around. He could only imagine that a scared little girl lay in the centre, wrapped up in a little fantasy world with dolls - a world where mommies and daddies got along, and she could act like a girl again.

“You know Daichi would never do that to you. He’s just happy that you watch the games.” Suga said, confident that that was the right choice. He couldn’t tell, not as you slowly looked up to the sky, face lacking the emotion your eyes yearned to show.

“I guess you're right.” He barely heard you, but maybe he hadn’t made such a mistake afterall.

He wondered how Daichi managed to deal with you; then he remembered that he didn’t. For Daichi, you were a constant ball of sunshine and happiness. Even when Suga could see the pain in how you moved, when he could hear your frustrated phone calls to your mother, the way you almost fell asleep in class so many times.

He watched you on the few days they’d come back to yours as you acted more like a housewife than a teenage girl. He’d joked with Daichi that you’d make the perfect wife one day - he didn’t miss the way you glared before lifting your baby sister up and planting her softly on your hip, feeding one of your brothers as he wailed.

Sometimes Suga wondered whether Daichi saw these things too. If he did, he never said anything.

----

You loved Daichi.

But when he asked you what you were planning to do after school, you didn't really know how to respond other than saying, “I have to watch the kids…” you said it like it should have been obvious, there wasn’t much else you could do. You’d never put much thought into college, not that you had the time to. You were happy with how things were now, why did they have to change?

“What about after that?” He asked, pausing the episode of Attack on Titan you were watching, turning to face you fully, clearly intent on continuing this conversation.

After what? After your siblings grow up enough to not rely on you? But that wouldn’t be for such a long time. The twins were still only two, not even taking in account your sister, who can now hold her head up herself.

“Do you not want a job?” His brow twitched in slight anger and you knew why; he wanted to know what future you had together. But you didn’t know. You’d never had a chance to daydream about the future, you couldn’t even glance back to the past, you were glued into the present without room to move.

“I do,” you shrugged, laughing nervously, “but it isn’t that big of a deal. Besides, I’ve got you. So what more do I need right now?” You tentatively reached out and rested your hand on his, squeezing it lightly. He squeezed back, letting you know he wasn’t really upset.

“Yeah, we have each other,” he smiled softly, pulling you into a big hug. You ran your hands through his hair, trying not to think about how he’ll be going off to college soon, trying your best to bask in this moment.

Things were never going to be easy, you see that clearly now.

----

You loved Daichi.

You just wished he hadn’t chosen somewhere an hour away from home. You wanted to be able to see him, to hold him close and never let him go, but he seemed hellbent on leaving. Of course, you never told him this, you just stayed by his side, talking idly about what he plans on doing.

He plans on being a police officer. You tell him he’d be good at that. He says thank you. There is an awkward tension in the air, but neither of you bring it up.

You want to tell him how you wished he would have chosen somewhere closer because he knows you can’t just leave the house whenever you want, but he’d just tell you that that was ridiculous. That you were an adult and you could do what you wanted (it was a fight you’d had too many times this month alone). He would never understand, so you told yourself you were okay with that.

That night you’d fallen asleep in his jacket, his scent barely lingering on the fabric now - you considered asking him if he would make it smell like him, but he’d be leaving soon, so he’d probably accidentally take it with him.

----

You loved Daichi.

Even when his nightly calls slowly turned into every few days, and then once a week. Nowadays, you felt lucky to hear his voice once a month. Of course he’d visit, but even those visits were so sparse that you didn’t really know how to feel. Empty. If you had to put a name to the feeling, that would be it.

You brushed off your feelings, because Daichi was still so happy, so maybe you were just missing something. Because on the days when he did call you, you were able to smile so wide.

Because you did love him.

That was why you decided to surprise him, take his advice from many months ago, to finally live life how you wanted to - even if it was only for a day. You left your siblings in the caring hands of Suga, who almost looked sad as you left, but he waved you off proudly nonetheless.

Maybe you should have felt sad when he didn’t get worried that you didn’t respond to his text, but it was normal, what’s the point of getting sad at something that happens every day? There wasn’t one. Not a single one.

You can’t help the feeling of something - though you aren’t sure what - weighing down your chest. Each step closer to his dorm feels like an eternity and before you know it, you’re too busy thinking about whether or not you’d made a mistake. The hallway suddenly feels hot, air slowly suffocating you. Had it always been so hot in these halls? You'd be sure to ask Daichi; maybe he could explain the aching in your chest, the weight of your lungs, the mild headache from the stress around you.

But when you knock, and when he opens, you aren’t greeted with the normal show of being whisked off of your feet. In fact, you aren’t greeted with Daichi at all. In his place stands a young woman, so radiant and ethereal you might think her an actual angel. But she wasn’t. No, the sinister reasons for her being here are all too obvious. You note the marks down her neck - the ones he’d refused to give you, lest you ruin your innocence before marriage - the way her cheeks are flushed, sweat shining her forehead. The way his shirt - you knew it, because it had been one you’d bought him - taunted you by daring to fall so perfectly on her body.

You can’t speak. The wind knocked from your lungs. Have you ever been hurt so quickly? Maybe, but that was only in front of Sugawara. You slowly raised a shaking hand to your mouth, trying to decide whether or not to give into the nausea that hit you so violently.

What had you done to deserve this? You couldn’t think of anything - not right now, at least. Of course you weren’t perfect, but who was? Daichi was. To you he was.

All around you, the world seemed to crumble, you couldn’t speak or move. For a second, it seemed like she recognised the look in your eyes - so obviously wounded by the sight of her. Her eyes flitter into the dorm. His voice calling out, “who is it, angel?” You have to press your hand to your heart, and check it, it felt like you’d been stabbed. You might have been happier with that.

When he pulls himself into frame you don’t even have the energy to cry, mind wracked trying to figure out where you’d gone wrong.

His chest is littered with bites, and marks, and scratches.

His face falls when his eyes meet yours, something breaking deep inside of him as you shake, feigning the softest smile. “Surprise…” you try and cheer, trying to pretend like you hadn’t seen him this way. Trying to cover the image of him in front of you with the Daichi you knew. The man with an aura of authority, the man too kind and blissfully unaware of the eyes on him.

----

You loved Daichi.

No, you love Daichi.

Maybe that was your personal imperfection.

As you sat in his dorm, listening to his excuses, you could only smile, tracing your finger around the edge of the mug. If you were honest, none of this hurt as much as you thought it would - of course it hurt, but the pain was lessened so deeply by something inside of you.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I-I… I thought maybe if we kept trying, then maybe we could-” you cut him off by gently placing the mug onto the coffee table, noting the little pieces of her that littered the apartment.

“I think what you mean,” you straighten your back and turn to face him - he’s still shirtless, that girl is still in his shirt - she sits next to him, the space between them seems like such a cavern now. She looks so much like she wants to escape, but you can’t ever escape something you’d walked into so effortlessly, “is that you didn’t mean for me to find out.” He opens his mouth, trying to find the words before he grunted. You let out a breath, clapping your hands together, “well, when you told me to go out and live my life, I never thought this is what it would be like.” You look around the room slowly.

“It isn’t like you ever needed me,” now he was desperate, trying to find something to use against you, “you always had Suga clinging to your side.” He sneered. Was that something he was proud of? That he might have hurt you with your own friendship. “You never even trusted me anyway.” He was hurt, you knew that much.

You bite back at your lip, wanting to yell I think everyone can clearly see why, but no. Because this is the first time he’s ever done something like this. “Maybe that’s true, but if you really think that, then you never really knew me at all.”

There’s guilt in his eyes because he knows that you know he just tried to hurt you, tried to make you run away from him. But you don’t need to run.

“I spent a lot of time thinking,” you continue, rubbing your hands on your sides to try and ease some of your personal tension, “that when you slowly stopped calling, that you were really busy; you were out here doing what I should have. You were living your life.” You glance at the girl - she stinks of shame, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “And I can see that I was right.” There aren’t any more words needed. You can’t even think of anything else to say.

You stand up to leave, but he grabs your wrist, “we can still try, I- I want you to still love me. And I will love you, because I do love you.” He reeks of desperation now. It makes you feel sick. It hurts. You just want to leave. You don’t want to be here anymore. You can’t stand to see him. Not like this. Not when you’re about to crumble. You were fine holding yourself up a moment ago, but now, seeing the tears prickle into his eyes, you don’t know if you can do it.

It takes everything in you to smile sweetly down at him, “I never said I didn’t love you,” you chime, gently unwrapping his fingers from around your wrist. What’s left behind isn’t warmth, no, it feels more like a burn, “but I don’t think I like you anymore, Daichi.”

Maybe that is your last hurrah as you slink out of the dorm. 

----

You still love Daichi

As tears dribble down your cheeks, you call the one person you can think, hoping he can give you the strength to keep walking and not crumble right here.

Just as he answers, someone taps on your shoulder. The girl - she’d introduced herself, but you didn’t hear her - a buzzing in your ears reminds you of the blinding anger. You can’t even focus on what she’s saying. Something about how she didn’t know, or that he’s a great man. You don’t have a response. Not until she opens her eyes and notices the tears, “you really loved him, didn’t you?” Her voice is soft. Maybe she finally realises the calamity of what she’s done.

Did you love him? Well, that was definitely a yes. You couldn’t deny it, not even to her. You doubted you could ever fall out of love with him. “I’ll call you back,” you mumble to Suga, hanging up and taking a seat at the nearest bench, beckoning her to join you. “I do- I did. Did he ever tell you how we met?” She shakes her head slowly, so you decide to tell her a tale as old as time. Of a boy in a class, and a girl with a love for windows. Of how he blocked your light, and had kept doing so until right now. She listens so intently, because she must know the pain you feel.

You tell her about his unwillingness to give up and his aura of authority - she agrees, because who wouldn’t - you tell her about the passion in his eyes, how he could bring the first years to their knees. She laughs and you can see why he chose her. There were stars in her eyes for a thousand light years.

You can’t help but think that maybe love doesn’t exist, just as your mother had warned you for so long.

----

For too long, five years to be exact, you spend endless nights trying to forget Daichi. The memory of him sticks to the walls. So as soon as you can, you move to Hyogo - a place that even Daichi hadn’t managed to touch. You hesitated when you said goodbye to Suga, but he had met a girl that radiated the sun, and you just knew that he was going to be fine.

You opted to go to online university, some shame in the fact you’d never had a chance to go before, but that was a worry for another day. Your biggest concern was work. How were you to find a job with no work experience? A place to stay would be nice, too, but you could easily take it one day at a time.

On your hopeless search, you practically stumble into a restaurant by the name of Onigiri Miya. Of course, Daichi somehow lingers here when you are met with two - or one - vaguely familiar faces. You dig into the depths of your mind, trying to think of where you remember them from.

You brush it off, sitting down at the counter and aimlessly searching through the menu. Maybe you sat there for too long, staring with such tension, because a plate of onigiri is placed in front of you. “From my idiot brother, but made by me,” he sighs, taking a quick note of the way your eyes light up.

“I can pay!” You call out, sifting through your bag for your wallet. Except they both refuse to take your money and you huff.

When the chef - Miya Osamu - smiles lazily down at your pouting face, something in your heart fizzles awake.

For the first time in five years, you think that maybe love can still exist.

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

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[whatareyousearchingfordean]

The Wedding Date

Summary: When he finds out that his ex, Andrea, is bringing a date to their mutual friends wedding, Benny seeks out a woman to pretend to be his own girlfriend to save face. That’s when he lands on Y/n, his buddy, Dean’s, best friend. She is happy to oblige the charming southerner, but the night just may churn up some unexpected emotions between her and Dean. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (kind of)

Word Count: 3.2K+

Warnings: Language, angst

Square Filled: Fake Dating AU

Author’s Note: Written for @spngenrebingo . Thought I would try and do a new spin on this classic trope. I’m such a sucker for it too, so that helps. And I’ve always wanted to write Benny. So this is what you get. Special thanks to my boo thang @waywardbeanie​ for getting me excited to write this one. As always, thanks so much for taking the time to read and please let me know what you think, your feedback means everything to me. xoxo Alex.

“Dude, seriously?” Dean smacked at Y/n’s hand, knocking away a few of the fries she had stolen from his plate. She still managed to shove a few in her mouth that he was unable to get back from her. The young woman threw her head back as she laughed at the bitch face he tossed her way, the look reminding her so much of her best friend’s baby brother. “If you want fries, just fucking order them.” 

“I didn’t know I wanted them until I smelled them on your plate.” She giggled around the mouthful of potato. 

“Yeah, right you always say that.” Y/n shrugged at him, a cheeky smirk on her lips. He wasn’t wrong, but french fries always taste better when they are someone else’s. Stealing his fries was a favorite pastime of hers if only so she could see the annoyance that flashed across his face before he too would break out in a smile. 

“Quit being a little bitch about it and drink your beer,” she quipped, tipping her chin at the brown bottle in his hand. 

“You… drink your… beer,” Dean mumbled with a furrowed brow, only eliciting more giggles from his friend. 

The pair were nestled in a booth at the Roadhouse, the same place they’ve had dinner together every Wednesday night since they were teenagers. The Roadhouse wasn’t the nicest place in town, but neither cared much about that. All that matter was making sure they never lost touch with each other. They had made the pact to eat here when school and their lives began to try and pry them apart, demanding all their time and attention. But since graduating college two years ago, the pair had once again become nearly inseparable and by then, their dinners were just routine. 

“That was smooth, Winchester.” Dean opened his mouth to give her what she was sure was going to be a witty retort when his buddy, Benny, slid into the booth next to Dean. The Winchester bounced as he was forced to slide further against the wall, his annoyed grimace once again returning to his features. 

“Hey, nice to see you too.” Dean mocked his friend's lack of manners. 

“Hey, chief,” he chirped before turning his attention across the booth. “Hey, Cher.” 

“Hi, Benny.” Y/n smiled at him, using the distraction to pluck a few more fries from Dean's plate. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean questioned, unsure as to what the southern was doing interrupting their dinner. He knew better than anyone else that Dean and Y/n always had dinner together on Wednesdays nights. 

“I need your help. Andrea has a new boyfriend already and she’s bringing him to Everett’s wedding next weekend.” Benny explained, a frown on his lips. 

“Dude, that’s rough,”

“I need a date, someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night.” Benny spat out before Dean could finish his sentence. Dean raised his brow at Y/n, who chuckled again at her friends. 

“What makes you think I have a girl for you?” Dean tried this time, continuing to dig into his dinner in front of him. Benny turned his gaze onto Y/n across the table, who was taking a drink of her beer. The woman stuttered around her drink when she noticed both men looking at her. 

“Me?” She wiped the bit of bubbly liquid that had dripped down her chin in her surprise. 

Benny smiled, cocking his head at the adorable blush creeping up on her face. “Why not, Cher? You’re smart, witty, and more than beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you on their arm.” The southern insisted. She was more surprised than she thought she would have been upon hearing his endearing words for her. Benny had always flirted with her to no end, but he also flirted with everyone woman. That was just the type of guy he was. She presumed that’s why he and Dean got along so well, their easy demeanor attracting them to each other. 

Benny and Y/n were too busy staring at each other to notice Dean’s subtle glance at his best friend. 

“Ah, Benny,”

“There will be free alcohol,” He was pressing her, before even hearing her answer to his offer.

“I would love to. And not just because of the free alcohol, though it is a plus.” Y/n finished the last of her beer. 

“So, what do you say, Dean?” This time Benny turned on his buddy next to him.

“Me? Why would I care?” Dean’s voice rose in pitch, his nose scrunching up in confusion. The rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest picked up as both of his friends looked at him. 

“She is your best friend, and I know how you treat her boyfriends.” 

“That’s just ‘cause all her boyfriends were assholes. Besides, you’re not actually dating.” He couldn’t understand why Benny had even asked him that question. Y/n was a grown woman, it was not up to him to let her do anything. 

“They weren’t all assholes,” Y/n tried to defend, but both men narrowed their eyes at her in unison, causing her to huff out a mumbled ‘fine’. 

“So you’re good with this?” Benny asked Dean one last time. He knew his buddy well, and he wanted to make sure he never stepped on his toes, even if Dean was too thick to see it quite yet. 

“Dude, of course. Besides, it’s not up to me.” 

Benny clapped his hands together. “Right! Then we are on for Saturday. I’ll pick you up at eight Cher.”

****

The weather was on the cusp of early autumn in Kansas. The days were spent in warm sunshine and the evenings were cuddled together in hoodies near a bonfire. The sun was low in the sky as Benny helped her out of his car at the venue, making Y/n happy she chose a dress with sleeves for the evening. 

“So, what is the plan? You want madly in love or do we just like each other right now?” There was a small smirk on her lips as Benny hooked his arm underneath her own. He patted her forearm. 

“Just be yourself, Cher.” He promised her, his voice low as they drew closer to their seats. “The yourself that is madly in love with me.” Y/n had to laugh out loud at his comment. Benny’s words reminded her that tonight would be easy, even if she had butterflies in her stomach. Y/n and Benny had always gotten along well. He made her laugh, especially when he and Dean would get each going. Their nights together were always a riot. Not to mention he was a true southern gentleman. So, all in all, he was right, the two of them would be easy together, and she could do this for her friend. 

The two of them found their way to a row of open seats, finding Dean saving them two open chairs. He stood as they approached, his eyes flashing wide for a fraction of a second before he regained his composure. “Wow, Y/n. You look beautiful.” 

“Careful, that’s my girl you are talking to.” Benny piped up next to her as they all took their seats. He had a playful smile on his lips, but that did nothing to stop the embers from igniting deep in Dean’s belly. The reaction caught him off guard. Dean had never felt this sense of protection over his best friend that was now coursing through his veins. The way Benny had draped his arm over her shoulder had him biting the inside of his cheek, but not his tongue.

“So what is your plan if Andrea comes up and questions all this. She knows who Y/n is, don’t you think she’ll be suspicious?” Dean was trying to fight his proud smirk, thinking he had broken down their whole plan. 

“Well, then I’ll just say I’ve been hiding my feelings for him for a long time and when they broke up I finally took my chance to snag him.” Y/n had shrugged as if it was no big deal, Benny nodding alongside her. Dimples formed in the corners of Dean’s mouth as he frowned. It was that easy for her, wasn’t it? 

“Sounds good to me.” For the first time, the southern drawl of one of his closest friends just seemed to grate on Dean’s last nerve, a fact that scared him. 

Dean had quickly been pushed aside as the trio made their way through the cocktail hour. The two ‘lovers’ had the madly in love routine down easy, making Dean feel like the third wheel. Which was ridiculous considering that his friends were not even dating each other. It was all for show. But the longer they laughed at each other, and the more she leaned against the southerner, the more agitated he seemed to become. He was already on his third whiskey by the time they were being served dinner at the reception. 

Y/n leaned towards Dean where he was seated next to her, “Are you okay? You’re knocking those back awfully quick there.” Her voice was low but the scoff that Dean answered with was not. The woman furrowed her brow at her best friend, unsure of why he was acting the way that he was. Before she could say anything, he was out of his seat and heading back over to the bar, leaving her with a pit in her stomach. 

The feel of Benny’s fingers against her shoulder had her snapping her attention from Dean and back to the table she was currently sitting at. She turned her head to him as he tipped his chin to where Andrea was heading their way. The young woman had to shake away her thoughts of her friend at the bar and focus on the reason she was here. 

From across the tent, Dean leaned against the bar, another drink in his hand. Dean rolled his tongue over his teeth as Benny pulled Y/n closer to his body and kissed her temple. He watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as his blood boiled beneath his skin. 

The smoke building inside him had no place in his heart. Dean had seen her with plenty of guys before, and he couldn’t understand what had changed. Why did he suddenly want to rip her from Benny’s grasp? What about his best friend in his buddy’s arms was making his skin crawl? After all, Dean knew the kind of guy that Benny was. He truly could give her all that she ever wanted. He also knew how much Y/n liked Benny. Dean tightened his grip on the glass in his right hand and he continued to try to understand this rage inside him when he should be happy for them. 

It was then that she locked eyes with him across the tent. The conversation between Andrea and Benny dissipating to white noise around her as she watched his jaw tick. Her brows knit together as she watched the anger roll off him in waves. It wasn’t like Dean to not talk to her when he was upset. In fact, she was one of the only people he talked about his feelings with, the other being his baby brother, Sam. But there he was, downing whiskeys like glasses of water and storming off when she tried to speak to him. 

“Uh, excuse me.” She mumbled to the two ex-lovers, though neither of them seemed to pay her any mind. The temperature was dropping along with the sun, and Y/n rubbed her upper arms for warmth as she made her way over to him. His eyes followed her movements across the tent, not stopping even as she made her way next to him, leaning against the bar near where his elbow was resting. 

Dean didn’t say a word, flicking his eyes towards the crowd now forming on the dance floor. His jade eyes followed the movement across the wood without actually watching what was happening. He just couldn’t look her in the eyes because he knew why she was here. The damned woman always read him like a book. 

She scoffed at the silent treatment he was giving her before ripping the whiskey from his hand and setting it down on the bar. Y/n took Dean by the wrist and dragged him away from the crowd and to the outside of the tent. The sun was nearly gone under the horizon and the stars were beginning to twinkle in its wake. 

“Come on, talk to me.” Her voice was clipped, yet still soft as she addressed him. Y/n rubbed her arm again as she folded into herself to stay warm. The action didn’t go unnoticed by her best friend, who shrugged off his suit jacket and threw it over her shoulders. 

“What’s going on Dean?” She tried again, pulling the jacket closed around her to bask in his warmth left behind inside it. Not to mention the fact that it smelled just like him and the fancy cologne that he only wore for these types of occasions. It was a scent that she was obsessed with. 

“I don’t know.” He answered her honestly. 

“You are clearly angry about something. Your jaw has been set like that since the ceremony.” Her gesture was noncommittal as she tried to stay in the warmth of his jacket. “Have I done something to piss you off?”

“No, god no, Y/n/n.” Dean let out a breath, his face dropping when he realized how he had been coming across to her all night. Y/n was only doing what her friend had asked of her, and he couldn’t be mad at that. Hell, he couldn’t be mad at Benny either considering he gave them his blessing. The only problem was, now he wishes he had never done so. “I just can’t-” his words broke as he tried to voice the feeling even he didn’t understand. 

“What can’t you do Dean?” Y/n’s frustration was growing along with her voice and she couldn’t stop her own anger from trickling up inside her chest. 

“I can’t watch you with Benny!” He erupted, responding in kind to her lashing. “Benny with his hands all over you and trying to stake his claim. It fucking pisses me off, okay?” 

Y/n flinched back from his outburst, her confusion only growing, along with the butterflies in her stomach. “It’s all a show! Besides, since when do you care about any guy I’ve been with?” 

“I’ve always cared, Y/n. But I don’t know, somewhere deep down I always knew that you would eventually find out they were all trash, but Benny…” Dean took a deep breath. “Benny is a great guy, and he makes you laugh...” Dean’s voice was low as he ran his fingers through the short spikes at the top of his head. 

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is?” And she truly didn’t. Dean was making no sense to her right now, but she knew whatever he was feeling was real as she watched the water welling up in the corner of his eyes. 

“The problem is he’s not me!” Dean blurted out, the words escaping his mouth surprising even him. There it was now, all out in the open and they both finally saw it for what it was. Dean wanted to be the man to hold her tight to his body, to kiss her temple, and to be on the receiving end of those soft smiles that show him just how content she feels. 

“Dean, I-” 

“Don’t, I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything.” Blood was rushing to his face and neck as she just stood there staring at him, her mouth hanging open. His admission had caught her off guard there was no denying that. It was the fact that his words didn’t scare her that shocked her even more. Now, the butterflies were full-on losing their damned minds inside her belly and she could feel her heart racing against her ribcage. 

“Come off it! Don’t you do that to me! You can’t just admit something like that and not even let me tell you how I feel. Our relationship has never worked that way, and I’ll be damned if we start doing it now.” 

“Fine!” He spat.

“Fine!” Y/n parroted back to him, her words the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dean’s nostrils flared as he gripped her shoulders, pushing her back on her feet until he had her caged in between his body and the hedge from the garden. A small gasp left her body as her back made contact with the dense shrubbery. 

The woman squared her shoulders with a deep breath, refusing to back down to the man towering over her. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.” 

“How do you feel, Y/n? ‘Cause, god, I’ve got to know if I should be crawling under a rock right now or kissing you.” He lifted his right hand from the bush behind him, cradling her jaw in his palm and running his thumb over her lower lip. His jade-colored eyes were hidden in the now dark skies, but she could still feel the intensity of them boring into her own. 

The line in their friendship had officially been crossed, and there was no going back. Both of them knew there were only two outcomes from this moment. It was up to Y/n to make the decision now, do they go left,/ or do they go right?. Dean had put it all into her hands and it had her stomach flipping inside of itself. Had you asked her this morning what she thought about Dean having feelings for her, she probably would have laughed in your face, but now the look on his face as he gazed at her lips had sparks of electricity coursing through her body, making it feel all too real. 

There was only one outcome she could live with now, so she did the only thing that made sense. Y/n’s hands poked out of the jacket around her, griping onto the material of Dean’s button-down shirt and pulling him down to her. Their lips met in the middle, both of their eyes fluttering closed upon contact. Dean’s lips were frozen against her own before his brain caught up to his body and he finally responded to her action. 

Her knuckles were white where she kept his body as close to her as their position would allow. The rumble of a growl could be felt in his chest as he got her to open up to him, sucking her tongue into his mouth. Y/n basked in the flavor of whiskey on his tongue and couldn’t fight the moan bubbled up inside her. 

Dean had to pull back then, the noise she made shooting straight to his dick. Dean moved his fingers through her hair, waiting for her to open her eyes. His soft dimples were the first thing she noticed amongst his smile when she finally came back to reality. 

“Hey,” He breathed. 

“Hey,” Dean pecked her lips once more, just needing to feel her again before she ran away. “Are you happy now?” 

Dean chuckled, dropping his forehead to hers. “I think happier than I ever could have imagined.” The pair of them chuckled together before Dean tipped her chin back up to him and kissed her again, refusing to let anything ruin the moment he had never thought he needed before today.

Forevers: @polina-93​​ @22sarah08​​ @callmekda​​ @hobby27​​ @dawnie1988​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​  @akshi8278​ @superfanficnatural​ @malfoysqueen14​ @deanwanddamons​ @waywardbeanie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @talesmaniac89​ @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @flamencodiva​ @janicho88​ @anathewierdo​ @ellewritesfix05​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @lyarr24​ @tranquility-or-chaos​

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #benny lafitte x reader #benny lafitte #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn #supernatural #alex writes #mine #the wedding date

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.2

previously: ch.1

Summary: As you acclimate to your new workplace, you make a very interesting acquaintance - Bucky. Meanwhile Steve is persuaded by said acquaintance that maybe tonight’s his chance to finally... ahem... “get some”.

Word Count: ~2,320

Warning: explicit language 

a/n- Hey lovely people! Just wanted to thank everyone who read the first one and enjoy this one! sorry in advance because it’s probably gonna take me more time to upload the next one because i’m updating this as i write it (which means any requests you have could definitely be included in this so feel free to send them in!) the awesome divider is by @whimsicalrogers​ <3

It was Monday, your favorite day of the week.

Just kidding, you're a normal person.

You groaned at the sound of your alarm, hitting it to turn it off and making your way out of bed. You went about your usual morning routine, dressing up and going to your kitchen to grab a bite to eat.

Once you were feeling a little more awake, you looked at your phone, checking all the good luck messages from your friends and smiling while you replied to them. Your mood lifted the littlest bit. It's a new week, and you're getting a new start.

And you made good on your word, not clubbing or hooking up with anyone in the past week. You hadn't actually started seriously dating yet, but, you know, baby steps. Get rid of your habits, restore other's perception of you, start dating, break the cycle. That was your focus for the last week.

Now, you were thankful to have a distraction in your new job. On your way to the Avengers compound you practiced your introduction. Hi, I'm the new head of research. My name is – or maybe I should open with my name and then my job? Ugh, I'm overcomplicating this. I should just calmly and professionally introduce myself. Yeah, that's it. I can do calm and professional. I AM calm and professional.

After that charming pep talk on the way, you were standing and looking up at the tall building, shining in the hot sun as you took a deep breath and went through the entrance into your new job, reminding yourself your future starts now.

You welcomed the cool breeze of the AC on your skin as you made your way to the reception desk. "Hi, I'm here for the—"

"Oh, you're the new lab girl, right?" the receptionist smiled and you sent her a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

"I knew I recognized you!" she said. Being called a girl kind of threw you off, but she didn’t know you well yet. You were sure she didn't mean it in a patronizing way. She was just a little older than you. Yeah, that's it.

As you rationalized this, you noticed her typing away on her computer in search of something.

"Okay," she turned to you once more, "your office is on the twenty-second floor. Your schedule's probably there already, but if you need anything don't hesitate to call down," she smiled.

"I'm sure I can handle it, thank you," you said and walked towards the elevators. You might regret your little quip later, but right now you were too pissed at the patronizing bitc—

Your breath was knocked out of you and you tripped forward, panicked as you thought you were going to hit the ground, but a pair of strong arms quickly held onto yours, holding you up.

You looked up to see a handsome man with brown hair and blue eyes, which were filled with concern. It took you a moment to regain your composure but then you realized standing in front of you was Bucky Barnes, THE Bucky Barnes, aka winter soldier. And you had just tripped and embarrassed yourself in from of him. Shit, that's one way to start off your first day.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a little frown on his face.

Probably because you just stood there in stunned silence for the last 30 seconds, staring. It was a miracle your mouth hadn't opened and reached the floor like it does in those cartoons, because you surely felt that way.

You idiot, just say something already!

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. So much." You fumbled over your words a little, but quickly regained your composure. You came into work today wanting to make a good first impression, and there was definitely still time to salvage that. After all, Bucky was still standing there, a small smile on his face.

You introduced yourself, this time not fumbling over your words but being clear, professional. You mentally cheered for yourself, now let's keep that energy going.

"It's my first day here," you explained, "so I'm actually just getting to know this place." You gestured at the busy building around the both of you. "I know that's not really an excuse for bumping into you, but… all I can say is that I'm sorry, and I hope working with me will be less bothersome," you said lightheartedly while internally hoping desperately you haven't ruined his impression of you already.

"Come on, it's nothing," Bucky smiled, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He looked into your eyes, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. Dammit, he's hot. And by the looks of it, he knows it too.

"Honestly," he continued, "I'm glad I got to know you before anyone else did," he smirked, "more for you than for me. Trust me, the others… they're a bit much."

You both chuckled. "Well thanks, but I'm sure I can handle them. It's part of the job if what I'm researching is for them," You smiled and Bucky returned it.

"Speaking of which," you said, "I should probably get going and do that. My job."

"Yeah, you should," he grinned, "see you around," he winked.

He turned to walk away, so you didn't have much time to dwell on that wink. However hot he was, you were coworkers, and you're on a new path now. So, you turned towards the elevators, getting into one and going up to your office. First first impression, check.

Once you were in your office you sat down, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that you even got an office. In your previous workplace you hadn't been given one, due to space limitations, so you just had the lab. You felt your gratefulness wash over you. You haven't been here for even an hour, but you were getting pretty convinced that doing this was one of the best decisions you've ever made.

After that moment of introspection, you shook your head and went to work, looking at all the files for the new developments being made for the Avengers. You made a mental note to be sure to talk to all of the lab techs over the next few days.

Since everything was a bit last minute, you hadn't really had a chance to get to know many people here, except for the people who hired you. You knew they were taking a chance on you, bringing in a new head of research from outside and not promoting someone already working for them. It was a security risk, surely, but that didn't really concern you, since you knew you wouldn't do anything to compromise the Avengers. No, what worried you was the workplace atmosphere. You knew some on them must be annoyed that you weren't "one of their own", and that needed to be fixed.

At lunch you finally left your office, walking into the large dining area/cafeteria that was there for the benefit of employees like you who didn't want to go out to eat. You figured this would be an easy place to start getting to know your staff.

You bought some food and looked around. It was high-schoolish, every group sitting in a table, some sneaking looks your way. You were contemplating where to sit when a woman came up to you. When she got closer to you, you realized that she was taller than you, her brunette hair pulled into a sleek bun, secured by a hair clip.

"Hey," she came up to you. "I'm a little embarrassed to ask, but… we've been told that the new research head is coming today, and I was just wondering if that may be you? It's just you seem a little lost…" she trailed off, sending a small smile your way.

"That is me! And well, I can admit I am a little lost." You both chuckled as you introduced yourself, smiling.

"I'm Kate," the woman introduced herself. "I'm a lab tech. I'm working on the new Falcon wings."  

"Oh, that's so cool!" you couldn't contain yourself from geeking out a little. You remembered the project file from before. "vibranium hinges, right? So they'll get less wear-and-tear and we won't spend too much vibranium on each one. That's a great idea," you smiled.

"I agree," Kate said and you both smiled. "How about we continue this discussion over there?" she said and gestured towards a table behind you, where the lab techs were sitting, waving a little once they saw you looking at them.

"Sure thing," you said and started walking beside her towards the table. "By the way, I love how high-schooly this place is," you said, sarcasm evident in your voice, while Kate chuckled.

"Trust me, we all think that. But in the end, we're no better than high schoolers. But it's a fun sitting arrangement and it works for everyone, so really you can't complain."

Once you arrived at the table you made acquaintances with everyone, and to your surprise they were all extremely welcoming, willingly discussing the new projects with you. Knowing you all have such a cool job making stuff for the Avengers brought you all pretty close, and you started bouncing ideas off of each other, staying way after you finished the food.

After lunch you went to the lab, which was pretty close to your office. You spent time getting to know the projects better, listening closely to your coworkers, who were each explaining in detail about the project they were working on. You obviously had a general idea about them, but you knew stuff like this matter. Also, you got to know them all, the conversations often steering towards personal stuff, which none of you had minded.

Time flew by, and before you knew it, it already the end of the day. You bid goodbye to everyone and went to your office to collect your things.

You opened the door and nearly jumped out of your skin. There, you had found Bucky Barnes, standing and looking at the bookshelves on your walls.

He noticed your not-very-subtle entrance and turned towards you grabbing onto your arm in a soothing manner, but also an unnecessary one, which didn't escape your attention.

"You okay there doll?" he asked, the nickname rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. Heck, if it were different circumstances, you'd be very appreciative of Bucky's forwardness, but right now it really wasn't the right move.

"I'm fine," you sent him a tight-lipped smile and tore your arm out of his grip. "Did you need anything?"

"I'm sorry for coming in unannounced like that," he said, suddenly bashful. "That probably wasn't the best thing to do was it?" he grinned timidly, realizing how his actions could come across.

"Probably not," you agreed, smiling a little more genuinely this time.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you how your first day was. And also ask if you might wanna go out for drinks tonight. Steve and Sam are gonna be there, and a few more people from work," he said the last sentence as if it was a question.

"Thank you. My first day was great, but that doesn't matter, did you just ask me out for drinks with Captain America and the Falcon?"

"And me," he added, smiling. "But yes, I did. And you haven't answered yet."

"Of course that's a yes," you smiled. "But you have to promise not to barge into my office again, cause you scared the shit outta me."

"Deal," he smiled, holding his hand out. You shook it, smiling back at him.

"NO. I'm not going tonight, final," Steve complained.

"C'mon Steve," Sam tried to persuade him. "It'll be fun! We invited some people from work as well, it's not gonna be just the three of us. And tonight might be the night you get lucky!" he smirked.

"Ugh, that is exactly why I'm not coming," Steve groaned. "Every time I go out with you guys I never get laid." He couldn't believe he was stooping to their level of expression. Stupid Sam with his fucki—

"So what you're saying is that we're better looking than you so girls want us and not you?" Bucky teased.

"No, I'm saying you're giving me bad luck," Steve retorted.

"Steeeeve" Bucky drew out his name, "It's gonna be great, and you should really come. The new head of research is coming, maybe you could talk to her about your new shield or something. It'll be…" he paused, searching for the right word, "very beneficial and efficient. You like efficiency don't you Steve?"

Steve covered his face with his hand, exasperated. "Please get your annoying back under control. It's a problem." Bucky didn't answer, simply smirking. "Fine," Steve drawled, "If I come would you get off of me for like, a week or two?"

"Done!" Bucky agreed quickly, "see you at 8."

"See ya," Steve said, walking out of the room.

"Why the hell would you agree to that?" Sam asked. "Now he won't go out with us for like a week. Good job Barnes. You know, you just cost me the priceless entertainment of watching Steve trying to fuck girls and fucking it up instead."

"I have a feeling we won't need to do much persuading for Steve to come with us next time," Bucky smirked. "The new head of research is super cute, and I'm sure once she meets Steve we won't need to worry about him getting laid anymore. I could've hit on her myself today, but you know, the good of the many." Bucky failed to mention his attempts at flirting didn't go over that well with you, but that was unimportant.

"Sure," Sam said, guessing something probably close to what had actually happened. "Ten bucks nothing happens between them over the next week."

"Deal," Bucky agreed and they shook hands. "I have a good feeling about this."

ok admittedly the gif at the start was because you don’t meet Steve yet but i promise next chapter it WILL happen!! i just saw that this one was kinda getting out of my hands length wise and i wanted to give this meeting it’s proper space so yeah i’m sorry but i just had too much fun with Bucky in this one :) (also i’m so sorry if he’s a little ooc i just don’t wtire for him that much🥺)

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland@jazbot2000

Cycle Taglist: @dee-vn

if you wanna join / be removed from these taglists, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x female reader #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader

[ravenforce]

Manhattan 2

Word Count: 3583

Warning/s: None. (Would you believe that? Lol.)

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who likes, and follows this story. You guys are amazing. Please leave your reactions, bloody or otherwise, on the comment section. My inbox is open too if you’d like to pop by. Oh, and please note the ff:

1. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

2. Since you’re already reading this part. Please, be careful out there. Protect yourself from NCOV. Wear a mask if you’re going outside. Wash your hand regularly, and bring alcohol everywhere you go. Take your vitamin C seriously, and stay hydrated. If you feel flu-like symptoms, get yourself checked by experts. Don’t self-medicate. The world is a better place because you’re here. Stay with me. Xx

Manhattan Parts: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8  | 9

*** 

The Morning After - Lou’s POV

Lou can faintly see that the sun is already up and peaking through her curtains. Rather than get up, she shut her eyes tighter, the events of the night prior rushing to the forefront of her brain. She sighed happily as she remembers how soft you were against her hands, how obedient you were, and how beautiful you sound begging her to go faster, harder, and most especially when you screamed her name. She groaned when she remembered how you moaned as you come undone in her mouth and hands. She rolled on her back like she’s been struck by lightning when she remembers how you look in her bed, sated and peaceful.

She was disappointed when she found your spot on the bed empty. She sighed, no one leaves her in bed. It is her that always leave, and the other party begging her to stay but she never does. She sat up, she decided she’s not gonna wallow and think that you leaving is some sort of karma for every girl she left satisfied, yet heartbroken. She decided she’s going to shower because you both did plenty of dirty stuff last night, and then she’s gonna come downstairs to find her brothers and their merry gang of beautiful misfits and have breakfast with them.

Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, dark jeans, and black boots, Lou barged into the service kitchen where she knew everyone was holing after a night of partying.

“Good morning, children,” she greeted happily. Amidst being disappointed about your departure, she’s still positively lighter. 

The soft morning conversation came to a stop. It took a minute for everyone to process her presence, that Lou, their big sister is home for once. She’s rarely home ever since she opened the art gallery, The Heist, in Manhattan with Debbie, Daphne, and the crew.

“Sestra,” Loki greeted when Lou rounded the corner towards the coffee machine. “Your after-sex-glow can be seen from outer space.”

The Avengers choked on their breakfast items, Loki and Lou started laughing. 

“Loki!” Thor admonished after successfully gulping down his french toasts. 

“What? She looks great!”

“You could have gone with that,” Tony complained, blushing profusely and pointedly not looking at Lou. They’ve all been close to her, growing up with the boys but they still don’t like being privy to Lou’s sexual affairs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Loki, ever the sassiest, said. 

Thor watched his big sister for a minute, and the three of them have been closed enough to know that Loki’s right. Lou’s definitely glowing. 

“Please tell me you didn’t pick up a random college girl from the party last night,” Thor said warned jokingly. 

Lou smirked and intentionally didn’t answer the question as she makes her coffee.

“Lou?” Thor asked, squinting his eyes at his sister’s back. 

Lou turned around to look at her blonde sibling with an infuriating smile on her face. 

“Well,” she started, intentionally pausing a beat or three to annoy her brother. “I didn’t actively look for her. She stumbled on my lair, what am I supposed to do?”

Loki and the rest of the gang laughed, while Thor continued mumbling and complaining about having to look at the poor girl sulking at school because the legendary Lou Odinson won’t pick up their calls.

”Besides, how am I supposed to walk away from her? She’s breathtaking,” Lou said with genuine fondness. 

***

Heavy Breakfast - Your POV

Before everyone can grill Lou on who she slept with, you barged in the service kitchen looking slightly dishevelled and with a deep frown on your face. The conversation dropped, while the tension rises. Everyone looked surprised that you’re on-site, their collective gaze fell on Nat and Carol in an instant. The two looked terrified and wholly unprepared for your arrival. They still haven’t quite polished exactly what they wanted to stay, even though they’ve been trying to reach you since the sun started to rise.

“God, Odinsons’ your house is insane,” you said dramatically.

“I went outside to make a phone call, and I got lost on the way back,” you ranted before looking up from your phone and quickly looked at your friends. 

Your perfectly constructed poker face nearly slipped when you saw Lou standing behind Tony and Maria by the coffee maker. She looked mildly surprised but more entertained at the idea of being in the same room as you and the two women she helped you forget - temporarily - last night. You held back the urge to roll her eyes at her. 

“You’re not the first to complain about that,” Lou quipped. “I told the boys to put up signs but I guess they’re both lazy idiots.”

You cracked a smile remembering how she called her brothers that last night before threatening to beat them up, assuming they made you cry. Tony and Maria caught the smile, no matter how small it was and quirked an eyebrow.

“Putting up signs around the house is ridiculous,” Thor complained as you walk towards the coffee machine. 

“Not to mention tasteless,” Loki backed his big brother up. 

Lou handed you her mug of coffee before starting a fresh brew. Thor and Loki stopped talking in an instant, as everyone watches you drink from Lou’s cup. You let out an ungodly moan as you let Lou’s perfectly brewed black coffee with two sugars wash over you, and warm you inside out. Your friends are watching the two of you like hawks. You can hear the cogs in their heads turning, piecing every action and reaction together.

Any minute now, you thought.

“You look good in my shirt,” Lou commented, full-on grinning now. 

“Holy shit,” Tony exclaimed. 

“What?!” Thor yelled as he stumbles out of his stool. 

You just shrugged before turning to your friends. You don’t care much that they know. You’ll tell them eventually, anyway. You just worry that you sleeping with Lou will change your dynamics with Thor and Loki. Wanda looked surprised while Maria looks worried for a second, she knows you best. So, she knows you slept with Lou as a coping mechanism.

Loki and Tony look impressed while Thor looks like he’s still processing but he doesn’t look angry. Nat and Carol looked pissed as hell.

“You slept with Lou?” Nat asked, voice clearly on edge. You frowned, not liking the tone she’s using. “Why?”

“Because I can,” you answered simply, voice neutral. “And I wanted to. Last time I checked I’m free to do whatever and whoever I want.”

“We know we fucked up last night,” Carol started to say. “But this retribution is brutal.”

You can feel your blood starting boil at that. You wanted to yell that you didn’t sleep with Lou as revenge for them kissing Steve and Val, you did it for you. You did it to forget, sure but you did it also because you’re attracted to the woman for fuck sake. You wanted to scream so many things, some of them probably spiteful but you weren’t able to as Lou’s warm, soft hand landed purposely on the small of your back. Everyone caught the action, Nat and Carol’s frown dipped deeper as they watch all your anger dissipate. 

“I can’t do this right now,” you sighed before putting Lou’s mug on the sink next to you. 

Lou just nodded at you before stepping away from her. You walked towards Maria and Wanda before planting a soft kiss on both their cheeks with a soft promise that you’ll explain everything soon enough. You walked towards the Odinson boys next, pulling them both out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Once out of everyone’s prying eyes, you tugged the boys into a hug which they immediately reciprocated, sandwiching you between them.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” you whispered. Thor’s hand landed on the small of your back, while Loki placed his around your shoulder. “I hope we’re cool?”

The boys can hear the worry and hesitation on your voice. Loki smiled at you, before tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “I’m cool with whatever you and Lou are up to. I ship it.”

You smiled at the raven-haired boy before turning towards Thor.

“I don’t understand it but it’s not my business. I just hope you understand what you’re getting into,” Thor said, worry lacing his voice.

The truth is, he secretly ships it as well but he knows her sister’s reputation in New York. She’s been living in Manhattan for a couple of years now, and never had Lou ever dated anyone seriously. He knows her sister’s not the relationship type. She beds girls that caught her interest for a small amount of time until she gets bored or until the girls started developing real feelings for her; then Lou bolts.

She doesn’t care how long the arrangement has gone, if romantic feelings are involved, she’s out. She doesn’t care much if it hurts. For their sister, it’ll hurt worse if she pretends she can give them something she couldn’t. For their sister, it’ll only hurt worst in the long run because what she gives won’t be enough. Lou has been leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere she goes that’s why Thor worries about you.

You sighed happily. All things considered, you know you’re gonna be okay now that you’ve secured your friendship with the Odinson boys. You were about to leave when the door opened revealing Nat and Carol.

“Wait, Y/N. Please stay,” Nat pleaded. 

“Let us explain,” Carol added. “Let us try and fix this, please.”

You wanted to ignore both of them but the sadness in their voice stopped you on your track. You turned towards them and saw the two woman you truly adore nearly in tears. 

“I can’t,” you started. Nat and Carol visibly deflated. “Not right now. I need to go home and get ready. I have an interview for the internship program. We’ll talk after, I promise.”

“Okay,” they answered smiling softly at each other.

At that moment, you decided that there’s no point holding on the hurt and anger. No matter what, you still love Nat and Carol but you decided you’re not gonna be a player in their game anymore. When you met the two, you knew they still have feelings for each other but they’re too stubborn to admit it, yet you still willingly played. You decided though that if you can’t be with them, you’ll help them get who they deserve.

No more running away. No more mind games, no more using other people to make each other jealous. No one else is gonna get hurt, just because Nat and Carol can’t be honest with each other but that’ll have to wait after your interview. 

***

The Heist - Lou’s POV

“You’re late,” Daphne stated the obvious as Lou walked in leisurely in the conference room two hours after she’s supposed to be in.

Debbie noted the soft smile on her best friends face but said nothing. Lou just shrugged as she plopped down on her designated chair beside Debbie.

“I’m sorry,” Lou said but didn’t offer any other explanation.

She didn’t really have to explain how she stayed up all night just to make you come undone. She didn’t really have to explain how she offered to drive you home as an excuse to spend more time with you. She didn’t feel like sharing how she drove leisurely back to Manhattan because a part of her wants to stay in Ithaca, and risked being teased by her friends for immediately having a soft spot for a girl she barely knew.

9Ball looked up from her laptop to regard Lou for a moment, then every one to check if they’re seeing exactly what she’s seeing.

“At least one of us had a good weekend,” 9ball said with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with an after-sex-glow, like ever,” Tammy said making everyone laugh and Lou to roll her eyes playfully.

“Agreed,” Debbie seconded.

“See, even Debbie agrees,” Constance said, “So who’s the lucky girl?”

“There’s no girl,” Lou lied. She knows that Debbie can tell she’s lying but she doesn’t care. She’s not ready to share you with her vulture friends yet.

Before anyone can call her out on her bullshit, the gallery secretary, Charlie poked her head in the conference room.

“She’s here,” she said looking at Debbie.

“Saved by the bell,” Amita teased, prompting everyone to start giggling again. Debbie shushed them after a minute. Charlie who has been working in the gallery since it opened didn’t bat an eye on her bosses weird antics. She just waits patiently for instructions.

“Send her in,” Debbie instructed before Charlie nodded and scurried away to get the last interviewee for the gallery intern position. Whoever gets the job will join her, and the second gallery assistant, Kurt at the bottom of the corporate ladder.

Lou looked at her best friend with a silent question but before she can answer, the door opened and the applicant walked in.

***

The Interview - Your POV

You stopped dead on your tracks when you saw Lou, while the other paled a little.

Holy shit, you thought to yourself.

When Lou said she’s a businesswoman, it didn’t occur to you that she might be the owner of the art gallery you’re applying for an internship. You internally cursed the alcohol you consumed the night before for missing dead giveaways that Lou owns the Heist, like the number of artworks and art pieces in her home office, or the magazines on her coffee table featuring her and her crew. 

You were pulled away from your internal musing when 9Ball jumped out of her chair to tackle you softly in a hug. 

“Y/N!!” 9Ball exclaimed as she rubs her pretty face on the side of yours. Lou frowned at the action.

“You know each other?” Lou asked carefully keeping her voice neutral. 

9Ball extricated herself from your person before dragging you to the table. “This is Y/N Y/L/N, she’s my friend from MIT. She’s eighteen when we graduated uni,” 9Ball bragged. 

“We know, nine. We read her file” Rose said smiling.

Lou frowned because she doesn’t know, she forgot to read your file. She meant to do it yesterday but well, she met you instead. Though she knows things about you, it would be inappropriate for her to divulge them in this interview. She had to bite her lips to stop herself from smiling, thinking about all the tiny details she knows about that isn’t in your resume. Daphne caught her though but decided it’s not the time to discuss what’s going on. 

“Y/N you’ve been vouched by Nine, and your credentials are spot on,” Debbie started to say, using her CEO voice. “So I’m wondering why you still want to do this interview rather than just get the job?”

You smiled up at your potentially new boss. You can easily see that Debbie is the level-headed one in their group. 

“I work great with Nine. You all work great with Nine but that doesn’t mean you will work great with me,” you said softly, confusing everyone some more. 

“I need you to assess me as a person, not just my credentials.” You paused to let that information sink in. 9Ball looks at you with pride in her eyes. 

“I’m great in the paper, sure. I possess the technical qualities to perform an excellent job, but I believe all of it is to go to waste if you find my personality doesn’t match yours.”

Smart. Debbie noted on your resume without breaking eye contact. She smiled at you, clearly impressed. She looked around the table to assess her team’s reaction, and by the happy look on their faces, she knew they liked you as well. Everyone was enamoured by you if their attempts to engage you in a conversation all at the same time is to go by. 

“What do you think?” she whispered towards Lou. 

Lou didn’t take her eyes off you as she answers. “I think she’s perfect…for the job,” Lou caught her slipped up early on but by the look on Debbie’s face, she knew she caught it.

Debbie cleared her throat to draw everyone’s attention back to her. She looked at you intensely, the pregnant pause is giving you anxiety. “Y/N, when do you think you can start the job?”

You heaved a great sigh of relief. “Can you give me until next week to find an apartment, move, and get settled?”

Debbie nodded before standing up, walking to you and shaking your hand.“Welcome to the Heist,” she said smiling. Then everyone came over to congratulate you and give you hugs, except Lou.

***

You were standing at the side of the gallery entrance, texting Maria the good news when someone stood toe-to-toe with you. You’ve seen that boots this morning but you opted to finish your text with Maria before looking up at Lou.

“Would you prefer if I turn down the job?” you asked tentatively. You’re a little worried that she didn’t come over to congratulate you awhile ago.

“What?! No! Unless you don’t think you can’t work with me,” she teased. You laughed softly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ms Odinson.”

“Miller,” she said. You tilted your head confused. “I don’t use Odinson here. It attracts too much-unwanted attention.”

You wanted to make a joke about how such a face would attract a lot of attention but the seriousness in her voice prompted you to let it go.

“Well don’t flatter yourself, Ms Miller,” you corrected yourself, trying to imitate the way she talks. Lou laughs at your antics. You’re such a child but instead of running for the hills, she’s craving you more and more.

“Anyway, do you have plans tonight? Thought maybe since you’re here, we can celebrate.” Lou wanted to smack herself for being unable to resist vomiting her words. She doesn’t do nervous but something about asking you out, platonic or otherwise, feels daunting to her.

“I can’t tonight. I promised Maria and Wanda I’ll be home for dinner,” you said with a frown. “And you know I promised Natasha and Carol we’ll talk too.”

Lou mirrored your frown. Something about you, and Nat, and Carol in one sentence ruin her good mood. “Okay. Some other time, maybe?”

“Now, who can’t get enough of who?” you teased, effectively eradicating the frown on the blonde woman’s face.

“Shut up.”

You laughed. She started laughing too while hailing a cab for you. When the famous yellow car pulled up on the curb next to you, you bid her farewell. You stopped before entering the vehicle to look at her.

“Maybe you can help me warm my new apartment soon.”

It wasn’t a question. It’s an offer, and Lou knows it.

She smiled broadly at you.

“It’s a date,” she said before the yellow taxi rolled you away.

Taglist:  @kaytoopio​​​ @marvelfansince08love​​​ @marvelb00kwolf​​​ @shycucumbersandwich​​​ @subject7creed​​ @inkstainedhandsofgold​

#lou miller x reader #cate blanchett x reader #oceans 8 x reader #oceans 8 imagine #avengers x oceans 8 #avengers x oceans 8 imagine #avengers crossover #minor: natasha romanoff x reader #minor: carol danvers x reader #natasha romanoff #carol danvers #maria hill #wanda maximoff #tony stary #Thor Odinson #loki odinson #debbie ocean #daphne kluger #nineball #tammy #amita #constance #rose #imagine #reader insert

[my-5sos-babes]

TDMAR || Part 6

Summary: Luke is feelin' and reelin'. Ashton is gorgeous, per usual. Mike and Cal fight a bit.

Word Count: 3260

Triggers: swearing, band(?)

Publish Date: 9/21/18

a/n: trying something a bit new this chapter bc i'm not digging the first person anymore. also sorry for changing the tense in the last two updates?? i totally didn't notice that, i'm v sorry. p.s., I listened to some coffeehouse playlist while writing this chapter, so i'm guessing a lot of the tones in my writing came from that lmao, i'll try to make this story less trash. ALSO, if y'all would like, I can change the whole thing to third person, if it makes the story more cohesive. just lemme know. p.p.s., I saw 5sos the other day, pls talk w me about it <3

He sighed heavily, unable to repress it.

“Good, mate?” Calum asked.

Luke glanced up from his phone. “Oh, no, yeah. Just thinking about my anatomy notes for tonight,” he lied. “Lots of bones.”

Cal, unable to catch on, continued the conversation. “Ugh. Why would you take anatomy and physiology? It’s such a terrible class. Notes every night, tests every week? I couldn’t fathom having that much work every day.”

“Yeah, I can’t fathom that you know the word ‘fathom’,” Michael quipped. Quickly the conversation devolved into some squabble after Calum shoved Michael rather aggressively. Luke, while amused by the fight--and having no intentions to stop it--got caught up in his own headspace.

That seemed to be the norm these past few weeks. He wasn’t sure if anyone actually bothered to notice, but he hadn’t been talkative. Luke had been trying to look better, though, and that was something that people noticed.

He decided that he was tired of the emo-grunge look, one day. Almost out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. He had some inspiration (from the kid who made his heart beat out of rhythm). 

To Luke, Ashton always looks so comfortable in his clothes: button down shirts with loud patterns, suave shoes of varying styles, and an occasional necklace or two. Luke, feeling partially intimidated--and partially turned on--realized that he would have to start putting more effort into his look if he wanted to make an impression. He wasn’t sure how, yet he knew he was going to do it.

With the help of his mother in the purging of his closet, Luke bought nicer clothes, better shoes, and even some accessories. The trip to the store had been interesting enough with the outfits, but when they passed the jewelry section, things got a little awkward.

“Luke? Where’d you go, honey?”

“Over here.”

“In the… accessories aisle?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“... Okay.”

That weekend, he spent time preplanning outfits and coordinating his jewelry so nothing clashed. He felt strangely proud of his work, as he looked at the clothing strewn about his room. He even threw on a few ‘fits and checked himself out in the mirror, admiring the way they fit his body. Luke had never really had such fitting clothing before and was--while apprehensive--unable to keep himself from thinking, Hot damn.

The day he showed up to school in new clothes, though, that pride plummeted. Everyone who knew him stared at him, everyone who didn’t was staring as well.

Oh, Jesus, I’m an idiot. Who the fuck would come to school looking like they just came off a knock-off Gucci mannequin.

Michael and Calum were perplexed at this sudden change in image more than anyone else.

“Woah, dude. What’re you wearing?”

Luke tugged at his sleeve, his confidence falling straight through the floor. “New clothes. Went shopping with my mum on Friday. She insisted.” He added on the last part as an afterthought, as if that would sway his friends shock. It helped a little. He was relieved when they bought his bluff.

   “Finally got tired of your rebellion, huh?” Calum queried good-naturedly.

“Sure. Something like that.”

Michael scoffed, “A true punk wouldn’t have let the rebellion fade.” He smirked afterwards.

Luke chuckled. “Guess I’m not a true punk-rocker anymore.”

At first, he found himself pulling his collar up his neck, like he couldn’t cover up enough skin. It wasn’t until someone complimented him during first period that he felt validated again. Gradually, kids every so often would approach him and say something like, “Nice boots!” and “Lookin’ good, Hemmings”; yet, it wasn’t until he saw Ashton for the first time that day that he felt most insecure.

“Luke?”

“Oh, hey, Ash,” Luke said, trying his best to be nonchalant.

“You’re lookin’... different.”

“Well…” He tried to not let the older boy’s word choice bother him. “I mean, felt like a change. Got some inspiration.” The younger boy nudged the other in the ribs.

   “Ah!” Ashton replied. A furrow appeared in his brow, his gaze lingering over the new threads adorning Luke’s skinny frame.

If Luke didn’t know any better, he’d say Ash was checking him out. Of course, that wasn’t true. Ashton’s the kind of guy that just does stuff like that. He probably thinks it’s weird. I’m weird for liking his style.

Luke mentally chastised himself. If he feels weird about it, he’s covering it up really well. Christ. Just don’t say anything stupid.

The two surprisingly didn’t speak for just a moment. Luke was astonished by this.

Ashton spoke first. “You did a decent job, Hemmings. Not bad at all… Although,” He circles around the other boy, a hand to his chin, “I think I would’ve chosen a wider pant leg. Skinny jeans just feel too tight for the shirt you have on--in my opinion, at least.

“As for your jewelry… I like the watch, it’s classy. I would’ve taken out the lip ring, though.”

Luke unconsciously reached for his face, wondering what the hell to say to that. Ash saw this immediately.

“Wait, oh, God--sorry. I just gave you a fucking review like I’m Miranda Priestley or some shit, didn’t I?” The older boy chuckled. “Wow… Jesus, I’m sorry if I made you self-conscious. You do not have to listen to me, just--just ignore what I said.”

The younger boy quickly shoved aside Ashton’s comments. “No, dude! That was awesome. I’ll take notes next time, seriously. That’ll help me so much. But you like it?”

That totally didn’t sound needy, dipshit.

Ashton nodded vigorously. “Yeah, definitely! You are stylin’!” He glanced at his phone, then. “Oh, shit. Better get to class. See you later!” He hurried down the hall. “Stylin’!” He reiterated, already far enough away to shout.

Luke called after Ash. “Aces!”

Luke. Who the fuck says ‘aces’?

Band rehearsal nearly every night meant that Luke couldn’t wear his new (lowkey restrictive) clothes in the afternoon. As soon as he got home, he changed out of whatever button down and jeans he wore that day and swapped them out for shorts, t-shirts and sandshoes. He couldn’t complain, however. He’d rather be comfortable at rehearsal anyways, with how demanding the show was this season.

Tonight was quite a rough run-through. The band director hadn’t been satisfied with the formations or the sound quality; to Luke, Watkins was downright scary.

Everyone else in the band could tell that rehearsal wasn’t going well. Something was just putting them off, but no one knew what.

Calum, who was up on the podium, grew more irritated by the second. Of course, Luke wasn’t able to pay much attention to that since he was busy running across a turf field with a six foot pole in his hands, which was adorned with several square feet of silk, all while dodging disgruntled clarinetists and trombonists. Whether he was fortunate or not, he only caught glimpses of Cal’s stiff arm movements and stern face.

The band dragged on miserably for the next hour. Luckily, when it finally came to a close, Watkins didn’t even bother with a speech; their band director sighed disappointedly and let the kids go. Luke, quite ashamed of himself, began wrapping up his silk while walking off the field. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see Ashton pop up at his side.

“Yikes. Tonight was bad,” Ashton put plainly.

Luke snorted. “Tell me about it.”

They walked together for minute, stewing in their misery. Then, “Think I need to take my mind off it. Blow off some steam or something.”

“Me too,” the younger boy exhaled.

They continued a little longer, both simmering with dissatisfaction and something indescribable that always comes after a bad rehearsal.

“Would you wanna--” Ashton adjusted his harness, fingers twisting at the screws,“--would you wanna go get some pizza? Just veg out and stuff?”

Luke considered it, not expecting a request such as that. “Uh… yeah! Sure.” He smiled wide, looking at Ash. Suddenly he stopped both of them in their tracks. “Wait, is it cool if I invite Calum and Michael?”

Ashton remained quiet for a moment. Luke, of course, took this the wrong way. Before he could let a word out, though, the older boy spoke.

“Of course, mate! Yeah, no sorry--bit of a mental lapse. Yeah, no, that’s cool.”

“Sick, be right back!”

   Luke ran towards his friends, both way back on the practice field, doing drum major duties of some kind. By the time he made reasonable distance, he changed his pace back to walking. Luke, pathetically, was winded by that short run, and he strained to control his breathing. When he could hear more than the rush of blood in his ears, he heard Michael and Calum’s voices. They were arguing rather intently.

   “... just, Mikey, c’mon, we’ve been over this. It’s not very likely that it’ll happen.”

   Michael, ever the dramatist, fired right on back. “Okay, Cal. Whatever you say. I still think it’d be a good idea! I don’t get why you’re so closed-minded about it.”

Luke hung back, not sure if he should be hearing this.

To that, Calum only sighed and shook his head. “The answer is ‘no’, Michael. It will always be ‘no’.”

Luke could feel the fire fueling between his friends. Unconsciously, he knew that there needed to be a metaphorical fire extinguisher, and quickly. So, he happily threw himself into the fray.

“Hey, guys!”

He got a few disgruntled sounds from Michael (unsurprisingly), but Calum gave a more mature response.

“Hey, Luke… Have you been there long?”

   Luke shook his head vehemently. “No! Just, uh, just rolled on up. Wanted to talk, you know?”

   Calum eyed him suspiciously, but soon enough, let his suspicions go. “... M’kay. What did you wanna talk about?”

   “Oh, uh.” Luke had to remember why he came over here in the first place. “Well, uh, Ashton wanted to hang out and get some pizza… Care to join?... Both of you?”

   Calum and Michael, with very tense movements, glanced at each other and abruptly looked away.

   Michael spoke flatly. “Not tonight, mate. Got some games I planned on beating and shit.” With that, the crazy-haired boy left, slapping Luke on the shoulder as he went.

Calum, a frown dancing on his lips, attempted a friendly smile. It was half-hearted at best. “Thanks, bud, but me neither. Homework... I appreciate the offer.” He walked past Luke with his mace and some stray band equipment bundled up in his arms. “Have fun tonight.”

Jarred by his best friends’ transgression, Luke slouched his way to the band room, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. As he expected, the band had already cleared out, the drum majors lingering in Watkins’ closed office for some official business. What he didn’t expect was Ashton Irwin, sitting in the corner of the room, waiting. He couldn’t help the words as the tumbled out of his mouth.

“Ash, you’re still here?”

The older boy abruptly looked towards the Luke. “I was waiting for you, dude. Pizza? Remember?”

“... Right, I just didn’t think you’d wait.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Pause.

“So what’s the verdict?”

“On…?”

“Calum and Michael. They coming?”

“Oh!” Luke shook his head. “No, they, uh. I think they have stuff going on.” He checked back over at Watkins’ office, where Calum had emerged. “Or something like that.”

“Alright, cool. Let’s get going.” Ashton twirled his keys around his fingers. “I’ll drive.”

“You sure? We can go separately if that’s easier for you--”

“Nonsense! I don’t mind.”

Luke, unaccustomed to being the one taking rides from others, suppressed all his objections after that and followed Ashton. With the setting sun, it would’ve been hard to make out any shapes in the dark. The parking lot lights were on, and Ashton happened to park directly under one, which made maneuvering easier.

It was quite old, the car. A bit rusty here and there, and it groaned like a dinosaur when the engine turned over. However, the inside seemed homey. The seats were worn soft from time, and it smelled musky. Like… teakwood? Something manly, Luke thought to himself. The radio had been on some rock station, but the volume was turned low, so it was only a soft murmur in the background.

Luke found himself sighing.

Ashton, pulling out of the parking lot, glanced over, eyebrows knitted together. “Good, mate?”

He sighed again, relaxing into the seat. “Yeah, Ash. I’m good.” 

The pizza was everything they needed it to be. It was cheesy and gooey and just greasy enough. The two boys heartily chowed down on the large platter in front of them, barely bothering with plates.

The diner Ashton had brought them to was unfamiliar to Luke. In fact, he had rarely been to this side of the city. That didn’t hinder him any from the joy of the incredible, wonderful goodness that was this diner’s pizza.

   In the neon lighting, everything was cast in some ethereal glow. Some odd greens, blues and reds scattered throughout the tiny, empty room, and formed interesting shadows on the floor. The ‘50s theme--with squeaky leather-like cushions and cool silver metal framings--was a design Luke hadn’t seen often in the area. There were approximately two employees and two customers in attendance.

   Luke paused in between bites, studying Ashton’s features. Ashton pushed on, unaware of the boy’s stare. In the lighting, Ash’s face aged significantly. Not in a bad way, of course. He just seemed to look more wan, more tired--but also prettier. Luke couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe Ashton always looked this pretty, but he’s just now seeing it. He wondered if he looked the same.

   Don’t be stupid, dude. Ashton isn’t into that.

   Luke felt a harsh tug in his gut anytime he even thought about the boy sitting in front of him. The mention of his name, the sight of him, a scrap of his homework, anything. Anything sent his head spinning.

   Luke knew that this meant he was something he didn’t want to be. Something that he never expected to be. When Ashton wasn’t there merely two months before, Luke ignored any doubts he may have had about his sexuality, and with ease. He simply brushed off his attraction to men as jealousy… but since the minute Ashton appeared, his walls came crashing down.

Probably around three in the morning a few days ago, Luke whispered, admitted, under his breath:

   I like guys. I like Ashton.

   Seeing him now, in the late-night glow of this decrepit hole-in-the-wall, Luke really knew this to be true. He couldn’t not like someone as beautiful, someone as genuine, as Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

   He bit into another slice of pizza, pondering. A question slipped past his lips into the space between them.

   “How’d you find this place?”

His voice almost disappeared into the abyss, it seemed. Everything was so quiet. So gentle.

   Ashton smiled, swallowing his last bite. He smiled like he had a secret, an old memory. “Few months ago… I was just driving around and saw it. Was kinda hungry, so I stopped in. Now, it’s uh…” he fiddled with some leftover crust, “it’s my favorite place.” The corners of the older boy’s mouth turned down slightly, yet Luke didn’t notice. “You know, I’ve never actually brought anyone else here before.”

   It was supposed to be question, but came out as a statement.

   Luke’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Really?”

   Ash nodded. “And, honestly, I don’t care for pepperoni. I’m typically a just-cheese kinda guy.”

   Luke glanced at the scraps of pepperoni pizza and back to Ash, unsure of how to process this information. “Um. I feel honored?”

Was that the right question?

   Ashton physically shook himself from a pensive thought and replied. “Yes. Yes, you should definitely feel honored.”

   Luke smiled shyly. “Then, I do.”

   A second passed between them with no words spoken, just little grins and twinkling eyes. There was a spark in Luke’s chest. A hopeful, teensy flicker of a flame. Maybe Ashton felt it too.

Their waitress sauntered in, breaking the charged air.

“Hey, boys! How you doing? Need anything?”

“We’re doing great, Shirley. Thank you,” Ashton put kindly.

The pretty waitress--as if from nowhere--then procured a glass she had been hiding somewhere; Luke didn’t want to imagine how she was able to keep it hidden.

“Aw, Shirley, I can’t--” Ashton started.

“Of course you can. It’s on the house! For my favorite customer.” With a wink, the dark-haired girl went behind the vintage-style double doors, leaving the room an empty void again.

Ashton, shaking his head with good humor, picked two straws out of the nearby dispenser and held one out to Luke. “Like some? It’s strawberry…” He let out a small giggle.

Luke couldn’t resist his smile as it crept onto his face. “Love some.”

He grabbed the straw from Ashton’s grip, unwound the wrapping and plopped it into the glass. The older boy motioned to the cherry on top, but Luke shook his head. Ashton,  plucked the fruit from the whipped cream and tantalizingly dangled it in the air. Luke watched as Ash’s jawline protruded sharply under the taut skin. Ash chewed slowly, and, whether he was aware of it or not, and smirked sinfully. Luke swallowed thickly.

God damn.

The younger boy pushed aside the images in his head and focused solely on the strawberry milkshake. He focused on the closeness of their foreheads as the sipped from the glass at the same time. He focused on how when they both reached for their drink, their hands brushed for just milliseconds. His heartbeat thrummed in his throat.

He assumed he was imagining the blush on Ashton’s cheeks. Probably just a trick with the neon. Yeah, it’s just the lights.

He chuckled to himself, knowing he should know better. And he chuckled at the mantra that repeated in his head again, like clockwork. Nonetheless, Luke brushed off all of his unwanted thoughts and focused on the moment and the beautiful boy before him.

Not much later, Ashton dropped Luke off at school, where they had left Luke’s car hours earlier. Ash carefully parked right next to the old machine and shut off his engine. Together, the two sat in the still air, neither wanting to break this peaceful lull they were experiencing. It was something precious, fragile, new. They knew, though, that it was inevitable.

“Do you even know what time it is?” Luke asked from the passenger seat.

Ashton squinted at his watch in the dark. “Almost midnight, I’d say.”

The boys looked at each other and immediately burst into a fit of giggles.

“My mum’s gonna kill me,” Luke managed between splutters.

“Me too,” Ashton chimed, breathing heavily.

They tried to sit a while a longer. Luke, however, knew he had to go before his mother actually murdered him.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Hmm?”

“Um. Thanks, for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

Ashton smiled through the darkness. “Of course, Luke. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve laughed like this in ages. It felt nice.”

Luke said nothing in response, only gave a soft smile; reluctantly, he opened the door and heaved his lanky frame out of the seat. In his own car, he pulled on the seatbelt and turned the engine over. At that, Ashton did the same, and once he was certain Luke was ready, set off himself.

The younger boy sat just a few minutes longer, relishing the new memories. He smiled once more to himself, shifted the car into gear, and took his time on the ride home.

#ashton irwin #luke hemmings #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #Michael clifford #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #ashton Irwin imagine #ashton Irwin fic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings one shot #calum hood one shot #luke hemmings imagine #calum hood imagine #ashton Irwin one shot #Michael Clifford one shot #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fic #calum hood fic #lashton fic #lashton #Lashton one shot #Lashton imagine

[bellesdiaries]

A Life Sentence

Prompt by anonymous on tumblr: I think it could be cute if you wrote about them having a conversation soon after he regains his princely form, where they each talk about what they were thinking of each other and the circumstances when certain key moments in the story happened, and how each was so concerned for the other but also kind of wondering what on earth the other was thinking, etc. Haha, I'm sorry, I'm not expressing myself very clearly, but if you want you could try to do something with that...?  

A/N: Thank you, dear Anon! Sorry it took me awhile to finally write this. I so appreciate this prompt. I’m not sure if this is quite what you had in mind, but I hope you like the tangential path where my muse led me. Enjoy!

Also available: on AO3 Word Count: 4.8k

xxx

Belle finds him in the library...their library.

He’s leaning back in his usual reading chair, his feet unceremoniously propped atop the desk in front of him, as he studiously pores over one of the larger books in the collection that he’s determined to finish.

She has to bite her bottom lip to keep herself from giggling at that wonderfully adorable little furrow between his eyebrows already in place. He’s so deep in concentration, completely oblivious to her presence as she tip-toes a little closer. Like the morning she found him in the rose garden reading about King Arthur, it’s easy and natural to be playful with him. And lately, particularly during quieter moments like this, he seems almost childlike, so full of wonder and open to a world he’s been isolated from for too long.

She understands that yearning completely.

Hiding behind a corner bookshelf, Belle studies him further, making special note of the way the sunlight illuminates his hair with golden flecks and how smooth the profile of his face is now. She’s begun a bad habit of watching him at every opportunity, wanting to try to catalog all the ways his features and expressions have changed and yet stayed ever just the same. Despite the radical transformation of his outward appearance, he seems unchanged in his overall manners and lingering gazes and sarcastic quips.

But there are also small things that keep taking her by surprise, small, idiosyncratic acts that pile up to make him appear altogether...altered. Unknown. She blinks, and it’s like she’s in the room with a stranger.

And yet, Belle realizes, it’s not as though they were intimately acquainted before. They were barely even friends. How much of the change in him is because he has changed? And how much of the change is simply because there is still so much more to learn about him?

She doesn't know how to reconcile the easy companion she knew before with the regal prince before her now.

“I’m not going to change back, you know.”

She starts, suddenly feeling...flustered, caught, uncertain.

“I can feel you staring,” he says without looking up from his book.

“Forgive me, I--” Belle turns in search of the nearest book she can get her hands on.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” His words are gentle, and he looks up at her then, that distinct twinkle in his eyes. He abandons the book with a toss onto the table and sits up straighter as he looks back at her with a hundred questions in his eyes.

“At least now I know I’m being watched for the right reasons. And you’re not alone, you know.”

“Alone?” she parrots.

Something in her face must give her away, and the way he looks at her leaves her a little shaken but also steady, in the best way. She’s a little envious of his ability to do that...to read her so well, like she’s an open book herself, to know her enough to see into her mind in the silence.

“Strange as it sounds, I sometimes miss the old me--well, perhaps not the old me entirely. But I will admit there were certain...advantages which my...other form provided.” He teases her with a quick smirk.

She returns the smile easily, feeling oddly relieved. “Hmm, advantages. Such as?” she asks, sauntering a little closer to his desk.

“Such as...never being cold. I’d forgotten how frigid this castle can be at night. And I was considerably faster. I never ran late for tea.”

She laughs. “I’m sure Mrs. Potts would never have allowed that.”

“No,” he smiles, pausing, tipping his head at her a bit as he studies her right back in that special way of his, the way that makes her feel the blush rise and spread all over skin, from the tip of her head all the way down to her toes. “What are you doing so far over there?” He holds his hand out to her, and she can’t help the way her heart soars as she hastens her steps just a little towards him, this time running to him, never away, never away again.

His hand is always so soothing enclosed around her own. She’s still getting used to the warm smoothness of his skin. As she draws close, he watches her with that same quiet caution like always, like he’s afraid she’s going to wake up one day and change her mind about him. As if her heart could be so changeable. While she has changed, too, she hopes he realizes it’s for the better.

He pulls her into his space with slow, welcoming movements, and she follows, carefully twisting into place, fitting perfectly on his lap. This marks the third time they’ve done this--not that she’s keeping track--and he never seems to mind that his silk jacket will be ruined for the rest of the day.

Once she’s seated, she raises her arms up and over his shoulders, interlocking her hands behind his head.

“Hello,” she says just a breath away from his face.

“Hello,” he answers softly.

“Taking a break?” She nods to the open book he’d tossed aside.

“Oh...yes.” Quickly, he combs a hand through his hair, looking oddly sheepish.

And like a beacon in the night, her eyes lock onto that subtle, habitual motion, the way his hand runs through his vibrant hazel gold hair, exactly the color as the hair he had before. Her heart flutters strangely at the familiarity of the act, one she finds rather endearing.

“I just came up here to look through any political documents I could find. It’s been some time since I’ve bothered to care about doing my civil diligence. And in truth, I’m a bit overwhelmed.” He huffs once, a little grumpily, puffing out the side of his cheek, exactly like he did the day he first brought her here. “So I opted to start reading something else, and I suppose I...got a bit distracted.”

He looks so...young when he talks like this, about all the influence he’s supposed to have in the world but seems to care very little about. There’s still an innocence about him she can’t quite pin down, and it’s just another mystery about the man she loves that she looks forward to uncovering. But there will be time for that later.

“Yes, well, Homer does have that effect,” she declares brightly. “Even if it's not in the original Greek.”

“Who's making jokes now?” He flashes a mock glare at her. “Promise not to tell Cogsworth? He’ll be furious with me for delaying the inevitable.”

It’s rather adorable that her once beast could be so intimidated by his elder attendant, when it was not so long ago that those roles were reversed.

Spotting a few hairs that have come loose, Belle cannot resist casually running her fingers through the ends of his hair. “So long as you promise not to reveal my secret.”

“Oh. And what secret would that be?”

“Well, Lumiere and Cogsworth have been helping with...princess duties.” She utters the word with apparent disgust, which draws a bursting, vibrant laugh out of him, one that she feels flutter through the core of her being. Startled, she beams back down at him, loving him a little more for that.

When he manages to quiet himself back down, he remarks, “So you came here to escape, too. What do you say we run away?” He leans in closer, his nose just barely brushing against hers, his arm encircling her in a fortress of strength.

“Hmm. And where in the world would we go?” she asks, playing along, trying and failing to ignore the rushing thrill that comes over her as his splayed hand makes a lazy journey up and down her back.

He frowns deeply, as though seriously considering it. “Anywhere you wanted. There’s always Paris. The furthest islands in the East. The Americas.”

He makes his own face at that, sending her into her own fit of giggles.

“And just what would we do in the Americas?”

“I have no idea, but I’d imagine it could be fun.”

“Hmm. I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you. And most importantly, I’d stay with you.”

He kisses her hand briefly, as though to say thank you, before looking back over at the desk in front of them, covered in papers. His frown turns grave, less fervent and more anxious.

“Oh no. What has you making that face?” She reaches up to cup his head and turn his face back to hers.

Looking a little lost, he has trouble meeting her gaze again. “Well, it’s not every day that the former infamous prince--with a reputation for having abhorrent social skills--reenters society, emerging from the dark forest from which he was cursed.”

Belle fixes him with a look of her own. “Are you always so dramatic, your highness?” she teases, as she takes to straightening his loose cravat.

That earns her a delightful, though petulant, eyebrow raise. “Yes. It’s what gets me attention.”

“Well, you don’t need it. You already have all my attention.”

As she smooths the nonexistent wrinkles on the sleeves of his jacket, Belle falls into one of her imaginative trances, wondering what in the world the man before her now was like...before everything changed.

And of course, he catches the shift in her gaze; his entire being shifts, his body unconsciously curling in closer to hers, as he becomes completely and utterly focused on her. “What? What is it?”

She licks her lips, unsure how to begin. “Before...before the curse, how did people look at you?”

He sighs heavily, his shoulders sinking a little. “However I wanted them to look at me. I wanted to be seen as someone who had everything. I wanted others to...to be envious of me, I suppose. And I am ashamed to say that I mistreated everyone around me to get the recognition I craved, especially the people who kept this castle running. They’ve always been too good to me.”

She waits until he’s decidedly finished, until he has the courage to maintain eye contact with her, and then she offers him a sympathetic smile, one she hopes conveys all the love and acceptance she has for him without judgment.

It seems to work, because his whole body softens on an exhale. His fingers loosen their tight and desperate grasp against the fabric of her gown.

“What’s brought this on, Belle?”

Belle.

Her heart still does this funny little flutter at the sound of his voice, a deep and soothing timbre--though not as deep as she instinctively recalls. It’s taking her some time to adjust to the way his voice sounds now, a little softer, a slightly higher pitch, and a little less rugged. But somehow, still beautiful, still sounding like him. It’s the way he says her name. He is all familiarity and graciousness, treating her as though she were both a countess and an old friend.

“I just wanted to learn more about you, to understand you.”

“And you think dredging up my hideous past in the best way to do that?”

She hesitates. “I realize how painful it must be to talk about...”

He sighs deeply, his hand resuming its running in small, soothing circles against her back. “It’s not painful so much as it is...regretful. I wish you didn’t have to know the kind of man I once was.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything further until you’re ready.”

He smiles meekly, reaching up to rest his palm against her cheek. Instinctively, she leans into his hand and shuts her eyes, relishing the silent comfort they draw from one another, like his hand was designed to fit her face and hers alone.

“You’re being so patient with me,” he finally says.

“You’ve been so patient with me. I confess, it’s not been easy...transforming into a princess.”

His smile changes a bit, deepening briefly to reveal faint crinkles about his eyes that she’d not been privy to before. But his smile fades quickly as he turns serious once more, his voice raspy and filled with some unidentifiable pain. “Belle, I want you to know every part of me--the past, present and future. And I realize in order for that to happen, I need to talk about my life...from before.”

He swallows, as though struggling with how to put his past into words. And she waits, sitting up a little straighter and holding her breath, not wanting to scare him but also not wanting to stop his determination to share. This is important. She feels the importance of this moment in the way her heart viciously hammers against the walls of her chest, so loud she’s certain he must hear it.

“I wanted to be out from my father’s shadow so much that I...I made people hate me as much as I hated him. Because then at least I had some sort of control over my own destiny.”

She gasps, and instantly his eyes fly up to lock with hers. She sees the fear in those bright blue eyes, the fear that he’s told her too much, already too much. But she shakes her head quickly, as she searches for her own words. While she’s aware of some of the horror of his childhood courtesy of Mrs. Potts, she’s never heard the truth from him, from the little boy who lost his mother--just as she did--and his childhood in the same day. And it’s...it’s so much; it’s nearly as doleful as she imagined--and so much more traumatic at the same time.

Desperately, she takes his narrower and skin-covered face back in between her hands for safekeeping, while holding his gaze, conveying with all her might that she is not afraid. “I am...so sorry for whatever horrors you had to endure as a child. No one should have to grow up hating their own father.” She doesn’t think she would have liked the man very much, so perhaps it’s best they’ll never meet.

He seems to sag with relief, though his eyes don’t carry quite the same level of mirth that she’s gotten used to these past few weeks. “Thank you for that, but as we well know it’s no excuse. I let my anger turn me into a callous, selfish... creature. I was a beast long before that enchantress knocked on my door. I often wish I never became that man at all, but then...”

When he pauses, she finishes his thought. “Then we might never have met.”

Slowly, his eyes regain their usual twinkle, those little crinkles reforming in the corners. He seems pleased that she could follow his thoughts so easily, that they truly do understand each other. “Does that make me a fool?”

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back close to her. “Well, if it does, then we are both fools together. Ones who loved not wisely but too well.”

That daring, wonderful eyebrow shoots up again. “Shakespeare?”

She laughs. “Yes, but this one is Othello.”

“Ah, yes. Who doesn't love a compelling tale about a man being deceived by someone claiming to be his friend?”

“The story is also about a woman seeing the man she loves, when everyone else judges him for his outward appearance. She can see beyond his exterior and straight into his heart.” This time, her hand seems to move of its own accord, falling from his neck down to his chest. “You’re nothing like you were before, you know. And that’s what matters,” she breathes, positively shivering at their closeness, at the way he can’t seem to stop touching her either, as his thumb comes up to stroke the back of her hand resting against his heart.

“That’s thanks to you.”

Belle tips her head, answering brightly, “Well, I didn’t do it all by myself.”

She watches the confession form in his eyes before he says it aloud. “Belle, I...I know I’ve said this before, but I am sorry for the way I acted then, for the way I treated you.”

“I forgave you, my love. And I forgive you now,” she tells him softly, unable to stop herself from quickly glancing down at his lips. Is it just her or has he gotten much closer? When she quickly looks up, she finds him staring at her lips too, before his eyes dart back up to meet hers again, gentle and desperate and longing.

xxx

They’ve just begun brushing their noses against each other, so close he can practically feel the taste of her already...when Belle suddenly pulls back. He’s about to ask what’s wrong, when he hears the distinct sound of familiar footsteps echoing down the hall.

Belle starts, her eyes going wide. “Just as I hope you’ll forgive me.”

She hops off his lap faster than he can say, “Be my guest.” With surprising grace, she scurries towards the nearest pillar, when suddenly the doors to the library are flung open, and she halts, frozen in her tracks, like a startled doe in the woods. He’s about to assist her or stop her or do something , when just as quickly she flies back in his direction and then detours by throwing herself--yes, throwing herself, all grace forgotten--underneath his desk, shoving herself into the little crook where his chair would usually fit.

Dumbstruck, he can’t help but stare down at her and those big, pleading eyes. “Please, I’m not here!” she mouths up to him.

He can only blink stupidly at her until their new arrival makes himself known with an abrupt clearing of his throat. Just like the good old days, he thinks ruefully.

He raises his eyes slowly to find, like clockwork, Monsieur Cogsworth standing proudly before his desk, bowing once and huffing in his distress.

“Your highness. I was looking for um...well, your betrothed, sir. She seems to have disappeared.”

He shoots a quick glance downward, stealthy, to find his betrothed’s eyes go even wider with panic, and she immediately presses her index finger to her lips, silently begging him not to give her away. As if he had any power over whether or not he obeyed her every wish. As though his natural instinct wasn’t a constant dichotomous struggle of wanting to give her the world and also show her the world.

Fortunately, in this one instance perhaps, his prior youthful endeavors may be of some use to him. He’s had enough practice lying to Cogsworth’s face and avoiding responsibility for years, that his awkward hesitation and haphazard glances downward are hardly noticeable.

Casually, he sits up a bit straighter, forcing a slight frown on to his face for good measure, as though he’s truly puzzling over where in the world his beloved could be. He rests his hands on the desk in front of him, casually yet effectively covering the little nook with his entire body.

“I’m sure she’s hiding around here somewhere, Cogsworth,” he says, struggling not to smile at his own little joke, and he can almost picture Belle wincing and covering her face with her hand in embarrassment.

“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m here, checking with you, to ask if you have seen her. As you well know, this is her favorite retreat--”

Cogsworth suddenly moves closer to the desk--almost in line to see into the nook--and he can’t have that. So he scoots his chair a touch, silently praying he doesn't accidentally smack the beautiful woman lurking beneath his desk.

He decides this charade needs to end, so he projects his best princely voice, puffing out his chest a bit, commanding attention in that way he effortlessly perfected years ago but seems to struggle with maintaining now. “Cogsworth.” And he’s a little surprised at how loud he raises his voice--as it echoes through the empty rafters. “If Belle was in the library presently, don’t you think you and I would know about it?”

It’s not a lie, technically, but it makes for an effective deterrent.

“Well, I...”

“Shall we call for her?” He’s surprised at where his mischievous thoughts have led him, but this is far too amusing an opportunity to disregard, and if this means getting him alone again with Belle sooner, well then he’s certainly a proponent of this plan. “Belle!” he calls to the ceiling. “Oh, Belle, darling? Are you here?”

Cogsworth, a man of propriety, at least has the decency not to interrupt his childish actions and glances up and around the large room, as though Belle might just emerge from the balconies at any moment.

“Yes, sir. I see. You’ve made your point. Please have the dear girl return to the kitchen as soon as possible. Decades of traditions and order cannot be floundered overnight simply because you and--”

He clears his throat.

“At her earliest convenience, of course.”

As soon as Cogsworth takes a bow and leaves (his departure made known by the abrupt clanging of library doors slamming shut), he pushes his chair back with a screech and practically leaps to the floor to join his fiancée, who has somehow coiled her arms around her legs pressed them up against her chest. He hunkers down beside the nook, angling himself as close as he can next to this obnoxiously low table--how on earth is she small enough to fit under there?

“He’s gone, my love.”

Belle finally raises her head and looks at him with those wide doe eyes, revealing a bright, impish grin. “That was very cruel,” she whispers.

“Oh, he’ll manage,” he breathes a laugh, unable to stop himself from reaching up to push one smooth lock of hair that has managed to escape its place in her bun and tuck it behind her ear. “Not that I don’t approve of hiding from Cogsworth at all costs, but do you wish to tell me what has you scurrying away from him this morning?”

Her smile fades instantly, replaced by an adorable pout. He has to physically restrain himself from smiling at the way her whole demeanor shifts.

“I’m supposed to be making decisions regarding the celebration ball--only, I don’t feel I know at all what I’m doing. Despite having grown up there my entire life, I hardly know anyone from the village. And Monsieur Cogsworth says that the invitations should have gone out yesterday, but--”

“Well then, by all means invite them all.” He shrugs.

Somehow, she looks even more horrified at the prospect. “My entire village? Are you sure there will be room?”

He tips his head playfully. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I don’t suppose there are quite enough rooms to hold everyone. We might have to exclude a chicken or two.”

That breaks her out of her troubled state, and she laughs so heartily, he can't resist winking at her, effectively sending her into another small fit of giggles.

“We could probably fit them all in this library alone,” she admits.

“My darling, invite the whole parish, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Belle shakes her head very soberly, but there's a lightness returned to her expression that had been missing for a few minutes--a few minutes far too long for his comfort.

“Well, we must be sensible about this.”

He nods, wearing an exaggerated frown, feigning more seriousness than he feels. “Of course. That is one of the many qualities that I love about you.”

When she nibbles on her lower lip, his gaze instantly falls to the act, and he feels himself drawn back into that delicate line where her lips and teeth meet. Something new and vibrant wells up deep inside his chest, a warmth oozing from his heart and radiating out across his entire being, through his veins and down to the soles of feet. It's a similarly overwhelming feeling to the night he changed back into a man. It's the same inescapable pull he felt the first time he kissed her--and every time since then.

She looks up at him a little sheepishly, effectively breaking the spell he'd fallen into. “Perhaps we should start by standing up?”

He tries not to groan, but he can’t help it if his disappointment shows. “If you insist.”

He takes her hand, helping her rise to her feet with as much dignity as possible.

He's preparing himself for releasing her hand, but to his pleasant surprise she doesn't let go either. Instead, she reaches up to lay both her hands on his arms, watching him in that curious, captivating way of hers; it's a look he believes he'll never learn how to say no to.

“When did you know?” she finally asks after a period of easy silence.

“Know what?”

“That you love me.”

“Oh, this game again. Let me see, I think the last time we discussed this I had settled on somewhere between getting hit with that ridiculous snowball--”

“It was no more ridiculous than the one you threw back at me.”

“--and the night of our dance,” he continues, unfazed by her interruption.

She rubs her lips together tightly, seemingly unsatisfied with his reply. “There are still a few days in between those events. Surely you can narrow it down a bit further?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, not all of us have the privilege of watching the person they love undergo a physical change right before their very eyes the moment they realize their affection.”

“You know, even if you hadn’t have changed back...I would have stayed.”

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I know. And that’s exactly why I did change back.” He pauses to study her briefly, as though the answer to his question will be written across her perfect brow.

“Belle, why did you stay? The night the wolves...” He abruptly shuts his eyes. He can’t even look at her, can’t even finish that thought, because just the memory of that night still haunts him; the lingering image of her almost being swallowed up by animals in the night makes him shudder. He shudders at the way he sent her away--at the way he frightened her. He almost lost everything that night.

A warm, gentle palm presses against his cheek, and he opens his eyes to find hers filling with happy tears. “You were hurt. I couldn’t...I couldn’t leave you.”

“And after?” he asks, his voice thick and rough. “When I was better?”

“Well...things changed after that night. Didn’t they?”

“Yes. I gave you a library.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Is that really what you thought? That I stayed because...because of all this?” She glances around the room briefly before coming back to him.

“Well...I couldn’t fathom you wanting to stay for any other reason. Pity, perhaps, and intrigue. But nothing more. Wanting to see if you could uncover the secrets of the beast.”

She shakes her head again, a bit softer, stroking his jaw with the same care and ease that she once stroked the fur that used to cover him.

“And I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, I suppose you did.”

When he leans in closer still, to press their foreheads together, he feels the intensity of her love hit her like a storm. Ten more colossal libraries could never repay her for all that she’s given him.

And so he tells her. “I owe you so much, Belle. I am indebted to you forever.”

She hums against his skin, positively vibrating with life. “Is it a life sentence?”

He pulls back just enough to regard her intently. “You know, I believe it is. I shall never be free.”

And then, he finally gives in to his deepest need to hold her and show her how much he means what he says. He kisses her attentively, carefully, guiding her through the act. They’re still becoming reacquainted with one another now that he’s a man. But, oh, is she a quick learner, his clever, wonderful Belle. She may have less experience than him in this arena, but she’s a wonderful partner, her lips warm and soft and full, silently begging him to go faster even as he exerts all of his might to respectfully slow them down. He allows himself to indulge in cherishing her this way for just a few seconds longer, because the next person to come waltzing into the library could be Mrs. Potts or--heaven forbid--her father. And he will not have his future father-in-law thinking ill of him just a few days after their engagement.

But Belle, bless her, is growing a little bolder in her displays of affection every day, and that only encourages the temptation further. Their hands roam over each other, her fingers digging into his jacket, while his fingers re-familiarize themselves with the contours of her perfect shoulders.

He hasn’t known safety and comfort like this since his mother was alive. Even as his body is still learning the shape of hers, it’s his heart that is slowly, almost tentatively becoming reacquainted with how it feels to love and be loved in return.

And to think, he almost turned her away.

A life sentence for a rose...for redemption.

xxx

Send me Beauty & the Beast headcanons/prompts here.

#beauty and the beast #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast fanfic #beauty and the beast fic #belle x beast #my stuff #my fic #new days in the sun

[elfnerdherder]

Dread and Hunger: Ch. 15

Sorry for the late post on here! But you can also read Chapter 15 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 15: Old Fashioned

           Abigail found him on campus that Monday, perusing help wanted ads pinned to one of the community boards.

           “Hey,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. Will pulled a phone number tab from one of the papers with a little too much force.

           “Was it Tobias Budge that complained about me?” he asked.

           “…Yeah.” She made a face, and they walked along the sidewalk, shoulders occasionally bumping with uneven steps. Somehow, he didn’t mind it. “He made a huge deal about being charged wrong, you using foul language whenever he came in, and things like that. Even when I said it was a lie, she got a hold of that Freddie Lounds article and it was all downhill from there.”

           “I’m giving up bartending.”

           “Your dream?” she asked, brows lifted in mock surprise.

           “I’ll make a new dream…dog walking.” He held up the scrap of paper to show her.

           “You need a bachelor’s degree for dog walking.”

           “…Then I’ll make a newer dream.” He snorted and tucked the paper into his pocket for later. When they reached one of the coffee shops on campus, he grabbed drinks for the two of them and sat down, staring off towards the crowds of students going to and from class.

           “How are you doing?” Abigail asked.

           Will opened his mouth to tell her that he was fine, just fine, but his eyes fell to the chiffon scarf tied into a bow at her neck. His mouth fumbled with the words, discarded them. She was the only one who could possibly know what he was going through.

           “I’m…wrestling with a moral dilemma,” he admitted. He turned the iced coffee about in his hands, thumb wiping away a streak of condensation on it.

           “About the Chesapeake Ripper?”

           “About a lot of things, but him too.” Tobias Budge. The Ripper’s note. The fact that Will had sex with the Chesapeake Ripper. Just thinking it sent tendrils of chills down his back.

           If you truly wish for me to kill Tobias Budge for you, you only have to ask.

           “Are they any closer to finding him?” Abigail asked.

           “No.” He took a sip of coffee and laughed bitterly. “The body count is rising, too,” he added.

           “That’s not your fault.”

           “…What if it was?” Will asked. “What if…you were upset with someone, and your father had offered to kill them for you. Would that be your fault? Or would it have been his?”

           “He killed a store manager once because I’d mentioned him leering at me and my friends,” Abigail confessed quietly. She watched her coffee much the same way Will did. “When people are sick in the head, they’ll make it about you no matter what you do. They’ll make you think you put the thoughts in their head, not the other way around.”

           “You loved him,” Will said quietly. “Even when he was like that.”

           “I loved him, but I was afraid of him,” Abigail replied. Her hand passed along the scarf, an unconscious gesture.

           They enjoyed their coffee in silence, and when the large clock tower chimed the time she left him to head to her next class, hair cast about wildly in the breeze. Will watched her go, then stared up at the sky, the hint of a forlorn sigh on the tip of his tongue. Only his blunt refusal to be cliché stopped it.

           Abigail loved her father, but she’d been afraid of him. Will wasn’t afraid of the Chesapeake Ripper. He was afraid of himself.

           If you truly wish for me to kill Tobias Budge for you, you only have to ask.

-

           The dog walking gig fell through, but a seedy bar at the edge of the city snapped him up right away. Mingles had a reputation for bikers, a strict code about not cheating at pool, and a perpetually dirty bathroom. The tips were phenomenal, though. Even on training night, Will walked away with a stuffed pocket of cash.

           The idea of Hannibal ever showing up to such a place didn’t cross his mind. It smelled of sweat, well-whiskey, and the acidic aftermath of vomit. The loudness was brash, moreso for Will, and he found that more often than not he was detaching himself from customers male and female alike that just ‘wanted to take him home to mom’.

           The noise helped him drown out the thought of asking the Chesapeake Ripper to kill Tobias Budge.

           This town isn’t big enough for two serial killers.

           In reality, he should just call Jack and tell him to look closer at Tobias. How could he explain that, though? There had to be probable cause to go snooping without a warrant, and it’s not like Will knew where Tobias kept his human remains. Could they test the strings? Would there be a difference between cat gut strings and human gut strings? Would Tobias Budge walk, and in doing so walk right up to Will and gut him in thanks?

           It wasn’t lost on him that with all of the surmounting evidence he had on both the Chesapeake Ripper and Tobias budge, he was in no way capable of presenting it to the authorities in a way that wouldn’t condemn him, too. That is, if they even believed him.

           The bar also distracted him from the random sparks of memory that slid along his mind’s eye in a macabre fashion. The sounds he’d made as the Ripper touched him. The sensation of their members rubbing along one another, the way he kissed as though he could inhale the very essence of Will by desire alone. It was not concise, organized memory, but sporadic pieces that he had to stitch together to get the full story. He’d gotten home, drunk, to the Chesapeake Ripper in his house. In his loneliness, in his desperation, he’d –what, asked to fuck him? Begged him?

           “What do we know of hunger?”

           “It needs to be fed.”

           “Why did you change your aftershave back?” Hannibal asked, sliding onto the barstool in front of Will. He looked up, surprised, rag in hand as he attempted to get a particularly vicious lipstick stain off of the rim of a martini glass. Some of the girls sported matte lipstick that boasted at its ability to never come off. He learned the truth of that after a sorority came through and decimated the daqueri glasses with merciless precision.

           “…Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, setting the glass back down into the water. He’d fight with it later.

           “Now that I have?”

           “How did you find me here?” Will asked, looking about. It wasn’t terribly crowded, a few bikers in a corner and a few fraternity brothers drinking by the dart boards. Hannibal’s clean-lined, tweed suit stood out in sharp relief to the dim, dirty backdrop of the bar. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but if he noticed the clash of his presence in the general ambiance, he certainly didn’t care.

           “Not everyone is as difficult to find as your secret admirer is. Your friend Abigail was more than happy to help me out.” A pause as he looked about, eyes maroon underneath the bar lights. “This is far from your normal places of work.”

           “Well, the ‘normal’ places are all terrified that I’m going to bring a psychopath in tow that will kill their customers,” Will groused, and with nothing on the menu resembling wine, he started making Hannibal an Old Fashioned.

           “I suppose, given the assumptions about people that frequent these places, a psychopath is the least of their worries.”

           “Assumptions?”

           “Most of it, I’m convinced, is a societal stereotype. More often than not, the one that appears the least capable of kindness holds it in endless quantities, while the one whose face is a shining pillar to the community keeps the darkest secrets.”

           “If you say it a little louder, you’ll make friends with everyone here.”

           “I am always searching for new acquaintances.”

           He set the drink down for Hannibal, a little harder than intended at his mentioning of new acquaintances, and he accepted it with a nod of thanks. A waitress came back with orders for the men in the corner, and Will busied himself with filling pitchers of beer, pointedly ignoring the way the girl was eyeing Hannibal.

           When she left, he looked to Will, taking a sip of his drink. He nodded in appreciation at the taste and set it down lightly.

           “Were you going to tell me that you got a new job?”

           “I thought about it.”

           “I’m relieved to find that I was given some consideration.” He smiled, canines showing.

           “…I’m not sorry,” Will said.

           “Don’t be,” Hannibal replied pleasantly. “You are your own person, equally capable of making bad decisions just as much as good ones.”

           It was a fair sting, and Will nodded, setting clean glasses on the rack to dry.

           “In your own way, was changing your aftershave a way to cut some aspect of me out of your life?” The words were accusatory, but Hannibal wielded them with a small, knowing smile. Will shifted from foot to foot, looking out over the room again.

           “You didn’t call me, either,” he pointed out after a moment. He didn’t have a serving tray to hide behind like he’d had at Sangre. He didn’t have an Abigail to make him go do inventory like he did at Nectar.

           “I didn’t,” Hannibal agreed. “I supposed that you were upset with me, given how our last call had ended.” A pause. “And the one before that.”

           “I wasn’t.”

           “You were,” Hannibal quipped.

           “Alright, I was,” Will said. His shoulder jerked into a shrug, and he drummed his fingers idly on the bar.

           “Therefore, I thought that space was best for us and our ‘non-label’.”

           It didn’t sound so nice that time, when he said it. It sounded dry, an overused word with a meaning Will didn’t even know anymore. Someone walked up to close their tab, and he used that as an excuse to not answer, head ducked as he swiped the card and went through the motions. Hannibal idly sipped his drink.

           When he returned, he said, “I think Tobias Budge killed the musician from the Baltimore Symphony in order to try and reach out to the Chesapeake Ripper.”

           Whatever Hannibal was expecting, it wasn’t that. His brows lifted, curious, then he smiled slightly and set his drink down.

           “It was just dinner, Will,” he said kindly.

           “I don’t know if Jack will take me seriously, though,” he said, ignoring the barb. “There’s something…wrong about him. That murder wasn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, although Agent Crawford thinks it is. It was from one killer to another.”

           “How could you tell?” Hannibal asked.

           “It felt…different. I’ve seen enough of the Chesapeake Ripper’s work to know when it’s not, and this wasn’t it. The intestines were removed, but it was messy, not as meticulous as the Ripper is. No, this…this was…a serenade. He was reaching out to the Ripper.”

           “And you think Tobias Budge wants to reach out to the Chesapeake Ripper?”

           “Serial killers wouldn’t like sharing, I don’t think,” Will said.

           “I don’t imagine so, no,” Hannibal agreed, amused.

           “So I think that…unless the Chesapeake Ripper knows, he won’t realize he’s in danger.”

           “Does it trouble you to think that he could be killed rather than apprehended by the FBI?” Hannibal asked. “Given how defensive you feel of him?”

           “That’s not justice, and it allows another killer to walk free,” Will hedged.

           “That’s not truly an answer,” Hannibal murmured, finishing his drink.

           “That’s not really a fair question,” Will replied.

           Hannibal waited until his shift was over to walk out with him, and when they reached the sidewalk his hand ghosted the small of Will’s back, a light caress that he didn’t want to admit how much he’d missed. The neon lights outside of the bar lit up different angles of Hannibal’s face; his jaw green, his cheek red, the hollows of his eyes blue. They loaded Will’s bike into Hannibal’s vehicle, and they headed back to his apartment.

           “Did you change your aftershave because you were intimate with someone else?” Hannibal asked in the car. Will balked at the question.

           “What?”

           “It’s not an unfair question, Will.”

           “…It’s not,” Will agreed. He sighed quietly and propped his head up, staring out of the window. He thought of Beverly’s warnings about dating someone far older than you, how it always ended up ‘messy’. He thought of the way the Ripper’s skin left an aftertaste of copper on his tongue, and how it’d excited him in his drunken state. If it’d been Jack Crawford asking, he’d have immediately jumped to conclusions that would have, for once, been entirely spot on.

           “I don’t remember it,” he said slowly, tasting the lie. It was a good one, delivered with as much hesitance and confusion as it deserved. “I don’t even know who it was,” he added.

           “Then you’re ashamed of it,” Hannibal noted.

           “I guess I’m realizing just what I’m capable of when I feel like I don’t have a lot of control,” he said morosely. Apparently, fucking serial killers was one of those newfound capabilities. He rubbed his forehead, trying to push the images out of his head.

           “Was I part of the reason you felt a lack of control?” Hannibal asked.

           “I was rude to you,” he said by way of apology.

           “Fear makes you rude,” Hannibal reminded him. Will laughed, covering his face with his hand. It did. It really, really did.

           “I think I want us to have a label,” Will said, unable to look over at him. He didn’t want to see Hannibal’s face twist, didn’t want to see the inevitable expression of a person that didn’t want the same thing he wanted. “I’m tired of the way we sound without one.”

           “What sort of label would you give us, if given the option?” Hannibal asked. His tone revealed nothing.

           “I think the kids call it boyfriend, or at the very least, partner,” he replied. His mouth was decidedly dry. “If I butchered that, though, I…understand.”

           “Jealousy makes you rude, too,” Hannibal said cheerfully.

           “Yeah.” Will nodded and looked out of the window, letting lights blur to streaks in the dark. He thought of lavender on his tongue, and the way Hannibal smiled at him at Sangre, counting the many times he was able to meet his eye. On a particularly good day, five.

           Hannibal reached over and took his hand, holding it to stop Will’s damned tapping on his knee. At a red light, he twisted his wrist and lifted Will’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss to his inner palm. Will looked at it, then up at his mouth. His teeth worried over his bottom lip as he watched, waiting. His heart gave an irregular, pointed thump.

           “If you change your aftershave back, I think that ‘boyfriend’ is a label I can certainly live with,” he said. When he caught Will’s eye, he kissed each one of his fingertips, as delicate as the petals of a flower.

           After Hannibal left that night, he tossed the bottle with the ship on it in the trash. He told himself it was because the other one truly did smell better; in reality, he was better at lying to Hannibal about his memories than he was at lying to himself.

-

Dear Will,

           Did my last letter trouble you? Is the ease in which I fulfil your every desire something that you shy from out of perceived moral obligation, or is it because you have an instinct to reject aid in any form?

           I think I want to meet you, face to face, without the darkness. After the way you placed your hands on me, I think you feel the same.

                                                                                                                       Yours,

                                                                                                                       -C.R.

           “Hey, Jack…it’s Will. I hope your wife is alright. I know you said you’d spoken with Tobias Budge, but I…I really think you should look deeper. There’s something about him that I can’t see, but I think that when we do, it’ll be too late. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

           He turned over the flower petals: iris, rose, dianthus, carnations, freesia, amaranth, forget-me-not, and verbena. The same petals as the first letter, the same petals as the bouquet the woman held, clad in her wedding dress. Will thought about what it’d be like to pull back the veil covering the Chesapeake Ripper. He placed the rose petal on his tongue and smiled.

-

           It rained the next few days.

           Will didn’t mind the rain as much as he minded walking home in it. After work, the sheets of water went sideways, and he pulled the strings of his raincoat tightly to keep the hood over his head.

           The sound howled in his ears, and he hunkered his shoulders, making a beeline for the overhang of various shops, small landmarks until he could get to a place where a taxi lurked. Honestly, it was worth it to just get an Uber. He hated them, the mundane conversation of the driver, the tense atmosphere of sitting in the back of a car that belonged to someone else. With a twenty minute walk home, though, he’d risk the uncomfortable social obligations of small talk. Hannibal would be proud.

           It was at that moment, though, when his thumbs tapped over the screen of his phone to get to the app that a needle punctured into the back of his neck. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew it was a needle –it’d been years since his last shot. He figured it was the angle, coupled with the sensation of something entering his veins, sinking deep as each heartbeat spread it farther, farther. He whirled about, but his feet tripped over one another and he stumbled, arm flying up to grab at the person behind him, trying to find his footing.

           He didn’t recall hitting the concrete with an unforgiving thud. He didn’t even recall the sound of someone soothing the confusion away as he tried to slur what was happening.

           All that he heard was the sound of the killer’s serenade, the mellow notes of a cello that hungered. Then everything went black.

#LiaS scribbles #Dread and Hunger #Hannigram #hannibal #hannibal fanfic #hannibal x will graham #someone help will graham #seriously this time #hannibal au #younger will graham #older hannibal

[tomhollandish]

Peter: The Adventures of Spider-Man and Kinesis

Summary:The trails and tribulations of two super teens in Queens.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Cursing

Word count: 3,932

No. 1

“No, no, wait! This is my…friend? Partner? Uh, Partner in crime, no, my partner in justice?”

Spider-Man stumbled over his words as he and Kinesis sat in a glimmering Lexus in the middle of a parking garage, the police surrounding them as a man nearly bled to death on the surrounding ground. Kinesis, with her hooded face and cloaked body, looked quite suspicious next to the web slinger.

“Guys, I swear, she’s with me!” he pleaded again, stepping out of the car, one hand still raised. He could hear a chopper circling the building and canines barking. He squinted at the blaring red and blue lights as officers cautiously stepped closer to the scene.

“Then what happened to him?” one officer yelled, pointed his gun (which was previously pointed at Spider-Man) to the body lying face down on the ground, a vicious wound denting the back side of his head.

“Um,” Spider-Man started bluntly. “He was like that when we got here.”

The officer flicked his eyes up to the vigilante, who looked almost sheepish as he shrugged. Clearly apprehensive, the officer lowered his gun, but not before the clicks of several safeties alerted Spider-Man to some movement behind him.

He watched as Kinesis closed the car door, pulling back her hood. That unwavering indifferent look was almost ominous under the green light of the garage. Standing there, she surveyed the situation blankly, before floating over to the Spider.

“I do not understand what you all are doing, but we are leaving. The man you are looking for is in the trunk.” She stated all of this in a monotone voice, floating away just as easily before taking a nose dive off the edge of the garage. The sirens had long since faded and Spider-Man straightened his back, running to a start as the police still gaped.

“She’s not lying about the guy being in the trunk. Also, you might want to call an ambulance; Lexus guy is still breathing!” his last words were hurried shout as he swung off, following the bright light of Kinesis’ powers. She seemed to be flying with no destination in mind, at least to no destination he knew of.

A moment later she switched from gliding to flying, the disk disappearing beneath her feet and her body going horizontal. Spider-Man’s lips twitched behind the mask.

“Kinesis,” he called out, stopping on the roof of a building he knew well. Oscorp’s silvery tower was brightly lit, even so late into the night. As he stood, Kinesis caught a glance at him from over her shoulder, then turned to join him.

“What is it?” She inquired, crossing her arms and floating in front of him. He hated when she did that; it felt condescending, as though she was flaunting her higher power in his face. Even though he knew she wasn’t showing off on purpose, it still rubbed him the wrong way. Similarly to how she handled the situation back there.

“Listen, if we’re going to continue… this,” Spider-Man spoke carefully, trying and failing to accurately sum up their partnership. “We need to lay down some rules.”

She was so quiet, even while exerting the energy to hover like that. He swore there was an acute nod from under the hood, but he couldn’t be sure she was actively listening until she said, “What rules?”

The wall crawler almost cried out upon hearing her cooperative tone. “For one, can you not float above me like that? It makes me feel weird.”

“Do you mean short?” she quipped, landing softly on her feet next to him. He pouted, noting that when on equal footing, Kinesis was notably shorter than he was. “I mean patronized,” He bit back, crossing his arms.

“I assure you that is not my intention.” There was mirth in her voice, but Spidey chose to ignore it.

“Second rule; you cannot dismiss cops like that.” He waged his finger at her, showing that he was serious about this one. “Those guys are doing us a favor by not locking us up.”

“And we are doing them a favor by stopping crimes they are too inadequate for. I should not have to adjust my action for the sake of mortals,” she told him, making the Spider’s fists shake a little as he sighed. Kinesis must have caught his disapproval, because she grunted before removing her hood once again. Her eyes were solemn, glowing in the lights of the city, the color of them still unbeknownst to the web slinger.

Spider-Man couldn’t imagine how she felt. He couldn’t fathom being supernatural, stuck in a world full of emotions and actions he couldn’t comprehend, much less sympathize with. He could only understand that as a hero, he had a duty to his city, and he would do it to the best of his ability.

But at the end of the day, underneath the spandex, he was human. Kinesis was not.

“I’m sorry I cannot understand--”

“I know.”

His answer must have taken the girl by surprise, because she shut her mouth tight, watching him in awe. “I know that you don’t have a grasp on human emotion, or the affairs of humans in general, but trust me. They don’t like knowing that there’s higher beings than them. Heck, I don’t even really like it,” he disclosed, making her eyes go wider as he finished his sentiment.

“I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m just asking you to cooperate a bit. That’s all,” he phrased, wondering what her response might be. Their normal silence bothered him and he shifted under her gaze. It felt familiar; both her eyes and the situation, but Kinesis’ voice derailed his thoughts.

“I can understand that, Spider,” she said, placing her hood back atop her head and turning away from him. She stepped closer to the edge of the building before looking back. “I will try to be more amiable in the future.”

She was flying off before the slinger had chance to reply, her cloak soon blending into the hues of New York’s night. An immense weight lifted from his shoulders as he sighed, mumbling under his breath, “I’m glad we had this talk.”

No. 2

Sundays.

Something about that day isn’t quite as bad as other’s as far as Peter Parker is concerned. Perhaps certain criminals can tell that it’s the Lord’s day, or some other form of divine intervention, because crimes just do not happen on that day.

Cap once said, “Petty thieves normally have some form of decency”, but Dr. Banner pointed out that it was probably because most people stayed inside with families.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad it doesn’t include me,” Peter informed them, laying down on his back and draping an arm over his eyes. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Exhausted from what? Getting your ass handed to you?” Peter didn’t need to peep through his fingers to recognize your voice. He didn’t move to acknowledge your statement, and you only laughed further, sitting down next to him and turning on the TV. He was going to ask about which weird TV show you were going to watch next, when an anchor woman’s voice caught his attention.

“Last week, an alarming series of burglaries starting in Midtown and ending in Queens have been thwarted by the vigilantes Spider-Man and Kinesis. The Wall Crawler and the Caped Crusader have been very diligent about picking up after crimes, some might even say more so than the Avengers.”

Peter’s figure shot straight up, watching the TV with wide eyes and a boyish grin. “Did you hear that? Some people think I’m better than the Avengers!” Peter swiveled his head to look at you, but the expression you held steeled him. Y/N?”

Sitting there with blank eyes watching the TV, you seemed less than thrilled. Your hand rubbed absentmindedly at your collar bone, your gaze so far away that Peter felt chilled just looking at you. “Y/N?” he asked, much softer this time as his hand touched your shoulder.

“Hm?” you said, quickly turning away and facing Peter. “Sorry Pete, I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” he asked, genuinely concerned. You’d never looked so lost before, and he wondered if something was seriously wrong. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your lips curved faintly, but your stare was on the ground. Hollow eyes blinked back up, forced grin too painful for Peter to allow to continue. “Seriously, what is it?”

The smile dissolved into a grimace. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Kinesis.”

Until those words had been spoken aloud, Peter wasn’t aware that jealousy was in your vocabulary. You didn’t wear it well, that much was evident. And yet, Peter felt like grinning, a fiendish smile because “It almost serves you right to be jealous.”

But he took the thought out of his head. Returned emotions had never been a guarantee with you, and he’d known that since the beginning. But it was still nice to know you cared. “I guess so. She’s just helping me fight crime, is all.” His nonchalant shrug seemed to make you grow even more agitated, and Peter couldn’t help but tease. “Why, are you jealous I’m hanging out with other girls?”

“I’m sure you hang out with other girls all the time. I didn’t expect you to abstain from them in my absence,” you backfired, bringing up the infamous Shanghai Trip. Peter frowned, wondering if you were going to flash him a grin to signify the joke, but the moment never came. Instead the two of you sat in silence, aware of what you’d said and what had been done.

“Just…be careful out there, okay? Wherever she comes from, I’m sure there’s more like her. But there isn’t anyone else like you.” Your eyes were sincere and you didn’t smile, worry evident in every aspect of the interaction. Peter could only nod, his heart swollen with affection.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” he told her and she smiled, flipping the channel to something more lighthearted.

No. 3

It was awkward, something that was different this time around when it came to the so-called Caped Crusader.

She wouldn’t really look at or speak to Spider-Man anymore, only when they were in the heat of battle (much like now, actually. An old friend of Spidey’s had come out—the Green Goblin, pumpkin bombs and all).

Spider-Man swerved to avoid another bomb, which Kinesis just encircled in her wicked purple energy. The bombs would explode, no damage done and it was starting to annoy the villain.

“You’re no fun with your lackey around, Web Head. What’s the matter, have you not trained her to speak yet?” the Goblin screeched forward on his hoverboard, using the sharp prongs at the end to trap Spider-Man, pinning him to the side of a building. “Why don’t you face me by yourself anymore?”

“Because your obsession with me is getting a little old. And creepy,” he quipped, using his arms to hop out from between the prongs and onto the hoverboard. Irritated, the villain simply jetted forward, tilting at a ninety-degree angle to shake the Spider off. Peter hurdled forward, in a bit of a panic before he felt the familiar feeling of flying.

“The obsession was always creepy,” she replied and Spider-Man grinned, watching as the Green Goblin began pursuit. With a sigh, Kinesis abruptly stopped, facing the villain head on.

“Um, Kinesis? What are you—“ before he could finish there was just brightness, a wall of purple light that extended far beyond his plane of vision. The Goblin inevitably smacked into it, but with his impressive suit he wasn’t nearly as fazed as he should have been.

“Damn,” Kinesis muttered, and Spider-Man briefly asked himself where she had learned to curse. Probably from him.

“Ahahaha, that’s a pretty good trick for a sidekick,” the villain jeered, and the girl’s hands balled to fists. “But maybe next time we play you can do something with a little more punch.”

“Like this?” Suddenly an impression of her fist materialized, bigger than her entire body and sent the Green Goblin flying into the side of a building. He the force of his impact created a mold if his body in the brick. He slumped forward, falling with no control over his glider before being bubbled, like Electro had all those weeks ago, when Spider-Man first met Kinesis.

She huffed before making the bubble smaller and smaller, cramping the goblin inside with very little room. Kinesis looked back to see Spider-Man in awe; nothing new, but certainly enjoyable.

“Sorry, he was, what is it you humans say? Getting on my nerves?” She cracked a grin, looking untouchable, infallible, immortal as her green hair blew around her shoulders and the gem on her forehead seemed to sparkle.

Never mind her dust streaked face or the cut above her brow. Kinesis actually laughed the more the web-slinger stayed silent. He felt like his brain was going into overdrive, his face and neck even sweatier than usual. His hands twitched and he flexed his fingers, trying to rid himself of that feeling.

The feeling he usual only had around Y/N.

“If it is okay with you, I would really like to stop being referred to as your sidekick. If it does not hurt your feelings,” she added, but there was mirth in her tone. The two of you were waiting for the police, (per Spider-Man’s instructions on the night of the parking garage incident) the goblin looking almost peacefully asleep in his tight bubble.

“You never were my sidekick,” Spider-Man blurted, his face burning as he realized what he was going to add on. His abrupt stop made the heroine look him in the eyes, her brows creasing.

“Then what was I?” There’s a moment between answers, the two of them just standing in a thoughtful silence. In the distance sirens wailed, and her attention was split, so Spider-Man found his chance.

“You’re my friend,” he replied, hoping the noise would drown out his unsure voice, but Kinesis still turned. Those indiscernible eyes were gleaming, her dark lips curving to make her look so young, so different from the hardened, condescending woman he first thought she was.

“I am glad to be your friend, Spider-Boy,” she joked, moving the bubble closer to a few horrified policemen. They looked over at the smiling girl, fear quite evident before she dropped the Goblin on the ground. Hastily they secured handcuffs around him, shoving the villain into the car.

One of them stopped, lifting up their cap in respect to the heroes. “Thanks, Spider-Man and Kinesis,” he waved, and the two gave smile, Spider-Man giving two thumbs up as camera flashes go off around them. Spider-Man supposes this must be the first picture where Kinesis must look like a real hero, so he pushed her next to him. Her smile doesn’t waver, and the two of them pose like a superhero duo; like partners in crime.

Like friends.

No. 4

His breaths were labored and uneven, his chest staggering as blood seeped from the wound in his abdomen. It was leaking, the blood staining the concrete under him, and Kinesis’ cape, which pooled around him as she crouched down to inspect him.

“Spider-Man?” she spoke, her voice shaky and small, an unusual occurrence in her speech patterns. Her eyes were wide and frantic, searching their surroundings for the best option, but there was nothing she could do.

“Spidey, tell me what to do, tell me how to help!” she urged, knowing it was probably futile. The hero couldn’t even breathe, much less give coherent directions. Spider-Man took a raspy gasp for air, and Kinesis blinked, tears shedding down her face.

“You have to…pull it out,” he hissed, trying his hardest to keep it together, but he was finding it increasingly hard with the metal shrapnel still in his side. It didn’t feel deep, but then again, all Spider-Man felt was pain, dizzying his senses and shutting his brain off.

“Pull it out and then what?” Kinesis inquired, looking around for anything that could have helped in this situation. The alley they were in was dark and dirty, not a very ideal place for an impromptu surgery. “Spider-Man we have to get you to a—“

“Don’t say hospital,” he breathed, using most of his energy which caused him to collapse against the floor. Warm hands cupped the back of his head firmly, her nails scratching lightly against his scalp in a soothing manner.

“We have to get you to some facility,” she muttered, gently resting his head on the ground. “The Avenger’s facility?”

“Too far,” he mumbled, moving his head and he tried to lean on his elbows again. “There’s… there’s this girl.”

“Is she close enough?” Kinesis’ voice was undecipherable, a mask of concern and something else. Peter was too tried and in too much trouble to think about it.

“She lives some blocks from here…in the building next to the silver water tower. It’s that way,” Spider-Man halfheartedly pointed left of where Kinesis stood, giving direction as best he could. “MJ. Her window has purple curtains.”

For a second Kinesis didn’t move, which Spider-Man found very, very strange. As if in a daze herself, the girl looked up in the direction he had previously directed, then looked back down at his struggling form. Shedding her cloak, she draped it gently across the wall crawler’ shivering form. She picked them both up and flew off on a disk, surprisingly quiet given her earlier state.

Spider-Man almost found the voice to ask her about it when she disappeared, falling though the tangible surface before he landed squarely in her arms, grunting in discomfort as the shrapnel rubbed against his skin.

Kinesis looked at the window solemnly before asking, “What is her name?” Again the voice was surprisingly cold and distant, but Peter was not in the state to ask about it.  

“Mary Jane,” he coughed, eyes flitting closed.

Spider-Man didn’t see the exchange between them. He heard MJ’s name being called, Kinesis’ powerful and foreign voice making MJ’s name sound regal and grand. After that there was MJ’s voice, loud at first but then quiet, possibly just a whisper.

Then the was the changing of hands, Kinesis’ strong warm body for the plushness of MJ’s bed, swallowing him with comfort, but not the same heat. Spider-Man’s eyes opened for just a second, long enough to catch MJ’s scared face looming above him.

With his narrowed eyes he could see Kinesis, rubbing her collar bone in deep concern, her eyes going back and forth between him and MJ. She looked so different without the cape; standing there (floating, really) in just tights and a leotard she looked like a dancer, waiting in the wings for her turn on the stage. Her mystery and grandiose was gone, and without the green hair and jewel between the eyes, she could have looked mortal.  In fact, she might have looked familiar.

MJ said something to the heroine and then she was gone, leaving her cape with Peter, and leaving her scent to was over him as he closed his eyes again.

No. 5

“You’ve seriously never done this?”

The fire escape was awash with gold and pink light as the sun faded quickly on the horizon. Perched on iron railings, the heroes known as Spider-Man and Kinesis are looking over the city, munching on burritos neither of them remembered paying for.

“I do not even know what this is,” Kinesis reminded the wall crawler, the sider of her mouth full of food as she tried to chew. “It is delicious, however.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve lived here for so long and you’ve never eaten a burrito! Have you even had pizza? Ice cream?” She was shaking her head and Spider-Man was freaking out, the shock of her situation making an ‘O’ form on his lips. With the mask pulled up just below his nose, Kinesis, for the first time, saw his pale complexion and pink lips, even though they were currently occupied.

“Seriously? What do you guys even eat where you’re from? Do you even need to eat?” Two months ago he wouldn’t have even fathomed asking her about where she was from, but they had warmed up to each other quite nicely. Every once in a while, when days were slow, he and Kinesis would sit on the fire escape and watch the streets below them, more often than not with food. This was the first time, however, they’d done so nearing sunset.

“We eat what we are served. My family came from royalty, I never saw where my food came from,” she told him, looking down at the foil wrapped burrito in her hands. “And we certainly never had anything quite like this.”

“Sounds nice. The royalty thing, not the not having burritos, thing,” he clarified, making a small chuckle come from Kinesis.

“It was not bad. It feels a lot worse now, looking back on it. I never did anything.” Her face suddenly went sullen, as though she was remembering something unpleasant. Spider-Man waited, hoping she would say more and open up to him. They were friends, after all. And who ese could you entrust your suppressed childhood memories to?

“Do you know why I came here?” she asked suddenly, and Spider-Man could sense her urgency, like a warning, like danger. He was getting close to something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to, but he shook his head no in response.

She deflated, her shoulders slumped forward so much he thought she might fall. “I came here because I thought I would feel significant. I am one of many back home; indistinguishable, ordinary, replaceable,” she recited, almost like a self-deprecating mantra.  “There was not much I could do, so I left. There are many planets very similar to mine, with long ruling dynasties and powerful leaders, but Earth is not one of them.”

Spider-Man was so quiet, Kinesis had to look up to see if he was still there. His mask was back over his mouth, expression undeterminable, probably how he wanted it. She exhaled, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I suppose the thought process of a spoiled princess must be…condescending, to humans. But at the same time, I believe you recognize my feelings. I just wanted to feel as if I had a place somewhere, is that understandable?”

“It’s more than understandable,” Spidey finally spoke, face turned to the horizon, now washing their faces in orange and pink. “The need to contribute, the idea that you have some sort of power in this world...it’s very human.” He mused, unable to characterize her feelings in any other word.

“I guess it is,” she muttered, her eyes glued to the same spot as Spider-Man’s. The air was cool and the silence was welcome, the space between them feeling smaller as they both gripped the rail, hands touching in the subtlest of ways.

“Thank you,” Kinesis broke their silence with soft words, never breaking her gaze from the setting sun. Spider-Man chanced a glance, seeing the warm sun color her brilliantly, the gem in the center of her forehead reflecting rainbows. He wished he was Peter Parker right now, a camera ready in his hands to capture the moment, the sight of the girl next to him making his heart beat loud and apparent.

He didn’t ask what for, however, he just sighed contentedly. This was not a moment for Peter Parker. It was a moment for Spider-Man.

“You’re welcome.”

(why yes, I did steal Batman’s nickname)

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