#bring back the stupid starbucks ads | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elftwink · 3 years

Text

no thoughts only taakitz superhero/villain coffeeshop au. taako’s power is shapeshifting but he has a cool gun from lup. kravitz’s power is Big Fuckin Scythe With Unspecified Abilities. also there was no time to get into it but fantasy starbucks isn’t a real starbucks it’s a borderline illegal unaffiliated bootleg starbucks that taako and lup own. like dumb starbucks was.

By all rights, it should have been a fairly routine night for the Reaper. Go out, stop some crimes, arrive just in time to prevent whatever scheme the Mongoose had cooked up this week, exchange some one liners, make some threats that essentially amounted to ‘same time next week?’, the works. A regular Tuesday as a superhero in Neverwinter.

But Kravitz is tired, and more than a little distracted, so he’s not doing so hot on the one liners, and the Mongoose’s attacks are a little closer than they would normally be. He doesn’t even have a good excuse, it’s not like he’s injured, or that he has anything pressing to think of.

It was just— this morning his barista (who he may or may not have been harbouring a small crush on) had mentioned offhand that he thought the Reaper was ‘probably hot under the stupid all-black getup’, and Kravitz didn’t really know what the protocol was for someone complimenting your alter-ego was.

“I think if you were gonna go for the strong silent type, you had to start doing it months ago. Now it’s just acting like an asshole. Are you mad at me?” the Mongoose cuts into his thoughts, firing off another few missiles from his stupid umbrella gun (Umbrastaff, he called it, although it was a gun and not a staff so Kravitz had no idea why he insisted on calling it that).

“We are literally fighting as we speak,” says Kravitz, playing up the cockney accent, spinning his scythe to deflect the missiles off the blade, sending them ricocheting around the room. He’d said something like ‘how can you tell’ to Taako— the barista (well, they’d been on a first name basis for a few weeks, so, Taako), and he’d said ‘I can just tell’ which was not at all helpful in getting Kravitz through the conversation without saying or doing something to give himself away.

He’d almost given Taako his number, but how was he going to justify that? Hey, it’s me under the all black getup. Do you want to go out sometime? As if.

“You can have fights without being fuckin’ rude,” says the Mongoose, firing off another few rounds, which Kravitz deflects again, advancing on him.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m a bit scattered. Not exactly my A game.” As if to prove his point, the Mongoose easily dodges his next couple swings with the scythe, not even bothering to leave his range.

“Clearly. I mean, normally you’re at least close enough that I can feel the breeze from your sword.”

“It’s not a sword, and you know that.” Kravitz brings down the scythe in the space where the Mongoose was only seconds before, having already backflipped out of the way and landed a few metres back. Show off. Not that Kravitz had room to complain about that. The Mongoose spins to face him again, at least this time seemingly aware of what a close call that was. He’s tense, and his hair, which Kravitz supposes has thus far been hidden underneath his costume, has come somewhat unravelled, black braid falling to the middle of his back.

It seems... familiar?

He doesn’t have time for that right now. Kravitz draws back the scythe, feeling the hum of energy under his fingers, swinging again, and—

“Wait! Time out!” the Mongoose puts up a hand and Kravitz, for who knows what reason, stops his scythe mid-swing. The familiarity sticks, so it’s not just a trick of the light. It takes him a second to place, but the hairstyle... it looks a lot like a certain barista he’d been spending all night thinking about.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s because he has Taako on the brain, is all. Besides, he has other things to worry about besides seeing his crush in his enemy. Namely the fight currently happening with said enemy. “What? You can’t call a time out.”

“I just did,” says the Mongoose, fishing through his pockets and pulling out several bobby pins, sticking them in his mouth so he can use both hands to fix his hair. Kravitz blinks, still trying to shake off the sense of deja vu, but it won’t quit nagging him. “It’s a whole safety issue to leave long hair down.”

“It’s still in a braid,” retorts Kravitz.

“Somebody never took Foodsafe.” the Mongoose gives him a lopsided grin that Kravitz fucking knows he’s seen before, and suddenly it’s more than just passing familiarity, and how could he possibly have not noticed before, and— the Mongoose finishes putting up his hair, raising an eyebrow at Kravitz and his private crisis. “Alright. Ready—”

“You work at Fantasy Starbucks,” blurts Kravitz, without even thinking about it. The Mongoose stops dead in his tracks, and Kravitz can see his eyes widen even behind the mask. He splutters for a moment, and then seems to find his footing, already ready with a snarky remark.

“Yeah, well— your accent is fake.”

Shit. He’d forgotten. At the only time so far that having it would have been useful too. Still, he pushes it out of his mind; the Mongoose hadn’t denied it. And, well, he’s already solidly derailed this fight, so he might as well get some real confirmation out of it.

“...Taako? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Just who the fuck are y—” The Mongoose— Taako— levels the Umbrastaff at him, and then stops again. “...Kravitz?”

Well. Shit. Again. Kravitz doesn’t bother to affirm that; his silence is more than enough confirmation. One of them has to say or do something, but the seconds stretch on.

“You’re telling me I said all that shit to your face this morning?” says Taako.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“Uh, yeah—” Taako is backing up now, and they’ve fought enough times that Kravitz knows when the Mongoose is looking for an escape route; Kravitz’s feet still feel glued to the floor, even when Taako reaches the window, fingers already turning to talons around the Umbrastaff. Taako breaks the glass (because of course he does, even though the windows aren’t even fucking locked), breaking eye contact with Kravitz in order to swing his legs through the window before his form changes too much. “Look, this is like, a lot right now, and I— I’m getting the fuck out of here,” he says, and then drops. Whatever had been keeping Kravitz in place, slack jawed, ends as soon as Taako leaves his sight, and he’s moving before he has time to think about it.

“Wait—!” Kravitz runs for the window, but by the time he gets there, the bird clutching the Umbrastaff is nearly out of sight.

Well. That could have gone better.

***

Kravitz doesn’t go for his coffee the next day. Or the next day, either, although the day after that he’s sick of making his own coffee. And frankly, he misses chatting with Taako. Even if the guy was trying to kill him like once a week. He couldn’t just avoid this forever.

Still, the fact that Taako is working cash when he comes in makes him want to turn tail and run back home. He conjures up the memory of yesterday’s shitty coffee and pushes onward. The shop is mostly empty still, so there’s no line.

“The usual?” says Taako, like nothing abnormal has happened.

“Please,” says Kravitz, and then, before he can chicken out entirely, adds, “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?”

“My shift isn’t over until—”

“I’ll cover you,” comes Lup’s voice from the back room; she pokes her head out and gives Taako a look that is clearly significant, but that Kravitz can’t quite puzzle out. “Take five minutes after you’re done making his coffee.”

Taako scowls at her, and she smiles brightly before heading to the back again.

“Okay. I guess I have five minutes. Talk to you after I make your coffee.”

Kravitz nods, and goes to hover around the pickup counter, pretending to be interested in things on his phone. Taako makes his coffee in a ceramic mug, which at least means he doesn’t want Kravitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, so that’s... something.

Taako slides the finished coffee across the counter, circling around to join Kravitz on the customer side as Kravitz grabs the mug.

“Lup!” he hollers, and then starts walking towards one of the corner booths without checking to see if his sister is headed to cash or if Kravitz is following. Kravitz does, though, sliding himself into the seat opposite Taako, hands wrapped tightly around the mug.

Taako speaks first. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would rat me out.”

“That would be shitty of me, to just sic authorities on your place of work without so much as a warning.”

“So is this the warning?”

“No,” says Kravitz, taking a sip of his coffee, “I... can’t really make coffee without burning it. And this is the only place for miles with tolerable muffins.”

Taako cracks a grin, like Kravitz knew he would. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” His smile falls, and he crosses his arms and leans back. “So. Reaper. Why didn’t you rat me out?”

Why indeed. Kravitz takes another sip of his coffee and thinks for a second, not even sure himself what his explanation will be once he starts talking.

“It didn’t seem... fair. You’re less of a villain and more of a pain in my ass—” Kravitz ignores Taako’s indignant noise and keeps talking, “—and while we always have cause to fight when on the clock, you’re not doing anything that I feel needs to leave the bounds of those... work hours, I guess.”

Taako is trying to pick him apart with his gaze; it’s something he’s been subjected to several times, although normally in costume, and in retrospect it’s difficult to imagine how he spent so long not noticing the Mongoose in Taako.

Whatever Taako is looking for, he must find it, because he relaxes a bit, and shoots him a lazy grin. “Plus, Mongoose related insurance just got rolling and it would be fuckin’ rude to take me out of commission before anyone got to use theirs.”

Kravitz laughs. “Sure.” He’s silent for a second, before adding, “You aren’t planning on revealing my secret identity, are you? Awfully rude of you to double cross me like that.”

“Wha— You didn’t even give me a chance to respond! Maybe I wasn’t!”

“Were you?”

“I was,” admits Taako, not even pretending to look sheepish. Kravitz raises his eyebrows, and Taako shrugs. “Oh, like you didn’t think about revealing my secret identity? And could you imagine the hype if I unmasked the Reaper? I was tempted.” He sighs. “But I figured then you’d have no reason to keep my identity a secret. No way am I risking a backfire like that.”

It sounds callous, but Kravitz has been talking to Taako almost daily for months; at this point, he can pretty reliably pick up on when Taako isn’t being entirely truthful about something.

“Hmm. Then I suppose it’d be in my best interest not to tell you that I wouldn’t reveal your identity even if you revealed mine?”

Taako narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

Kravitz makes a face. “It’s just in poor taste. I just think we all go through all the trouble to hide who we are and use these powers for good— or whatever it is you do— that it’s always going to be such a low blow to reveal who we are. There might be times where it’s necessary, but petty revenge is not one of them.”

Taako’s expression hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s narrowed his eyes more. “God, you are like— fuckin’ irritatingly nice. Fine. I wasn’t going to reveal your identity. That would be fuckin’ annoying to deal with. Plus I’m having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh don’t— don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re having fun out there too. With your stupid accent and one liners and shit.”

“Alright, alright,” says Kravitz, rolling his eyes. “But I’m not supposed to be having fun, so keep it quiet.”

“See, that’s why I market myself as a villain. No dumb rules.” He puts an elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Why do you have a fake accent anyway?”

Heat rises to Kravitz’s face, and he’s hoping he looks less embarrassed than he feels. “It’s my— I do it so people don’t recognize my voice.”

Taako laughs. “Well, it doesn’t really do that if you immediately stop using it when you realize you might know someone.”

“I was caught off guard!” defends Kravitz. “It’s not every day you find out your nemesis is your barista.”

“Nemesis, huh?” Taako grins. “Didn’t realize it was that serious to you. You know I have other heroes to fight.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes again. “I don’t see how you have the time, considering how often you’re causing trouble for me.”

Taako laughs, and it’s so contagious and the whole conversation is so surreal Kravitz can’t help but laugh too, before they both lapse into a comfortable, if drawn out, silence.

“So, uh,” says Taako eventually, “what now?”

“Well,” says Kravitz, “I want to keep coming in for coffee in the mornings. And I assume the Mongoose will continue with... whatever chaos it is you currently have planned.”

“It’s not chaos,” insists Taako, “I have plans. But yeah. And I assume the Reaper is gonna show up and throw a wrench in those plans?”

“Yes, probably. So we’ll just be enemies by night...” Kravitz trails off, not entirely sure how to refer to their by day relationship. Friends? Potential love interests? Acquaintances? There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Kravitz gives up entirely.

Taako pulls and pen and a napkin out of his pocket, jotting something down and pushing it towards Kravitz.

“Here’s, uh, here’s my number. If you give me a heads up five minutes before you get here, we can have your coffee ready by the time you walk in. If you’re nice to me out there.”

“I don’t take bribes,” says Kravitz, grabbing the napkin and pulling out his phone to type in the number.

“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a threat. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to your coffee if you fuck me up.”

Kravitz doesn’t bother to point out that neither of them have ever caused any extreme bodily harm to one another and instead says, “So you’re asking me to go easy on you? I thought you were having fun.” He sends Taako a ‘hey it’s kravitz’ text before he has time to second guess himself.

“Could you stop poking holes in my threats? You’re harshing my fuckin’ vibe, Krav.” He sounds irritated, but Kravitz can see the smile tugging at his lips as he texts Kravitz a couple of skull emojis. “I should get back to work before my sister kicks my ass,” he says, standing back up. “I’ll see you tonight, nemesis.” Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the counter, saying something to Lup as he walks by. Kravitz watches him disappear into the back room.

Tonight.

Kravitz had better make sure he had hung his cloak up to dry.

#this is like. 2k words of unpolished nonsense that desperately needs an edit BUT i had a lot of fun with it #i dont know how the powers work or where they are or why they're fighting or who theyre affiliated with ok just roll w/#*roll w/me on this one. just go with it #taako's name was selected by virtue of being the only thing on his wiki page that sounded even remotely like a good supervillain name #taakitz #taz balance #mine

460 notes · View notes

chelleztjs18 · 3 years

Text

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 15

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

I do not own any pictures, name, brand, song titles or anything that I used in this story.

All chapters

The next day has come. Lizzie slept in. The morning shades of light slip into Lizzie’s room and finally stir her up from her sleep. She opened her eyes looking around the room. She rubs her eyes and her face with both of her hands to wake herself up more. Then she remembered that today she is leaving for San Diego with you. Just the both of you, without Aubrey, and nobody else. Shortly after that, the second thing that came up in her mind was what happened last night between you two and it certainly brought her mood down even more. She got out of the bed with a groan and started to get ready. She turns on some music just to lift up her mood again.

She picked a song to start. After half a minute, she was struck by a realization that the song she picked was actually one of the songs in your playlist that you played before while driving her. The song is one of the songs that she secretly added to her playlist because she likes it. Of course it reminds her of you even more. After she realized, she quickly changed it to a different song. “What the hell!” She mumbled in frustration. It seems like the universe wants you to roam around in her mind and she’s not happy with it.

After Lizzie got ready, she packed everything she needed for the trip. She feels the need for some caffeine for her but too bad she’s out of coffee. So she decided to go out to get some coffee and some air just to kill some time as well until you arrive.

Weirdly, today she is in the mood for iced coffee. She thinks it is a good idea because she checked today’s weather will be warmer than usual. Then she remembers your usual coffee order and she instantly craves the taste of it so she ordered one for her, the SAME. EXACT. WAY with your order.

She actually likes the taste of the ice coffee but did she really order it just because she craves it or because it reminds her of you and she unconsciously wants to be reminded of you?

As she’s about to drive back, she gets a text from you. “Good morning Ms. Olsen, which coffee do you want me to bring today?”

She then replied to your text. “I’m okay. I already got coffee.” She put her phone down on the passenger seat and drove home.

An hour later, you arrived. Unlike usual, you didn’t get out of the car right away. You actually don’t know how you feel about this trip, especially after what happened last night. Just like Lizzie, after you got home last night you couldn’t get her out of your mind. You thought it would stop overnight but you were wrong. So wrong. As soon as you woke up, Lizzie, and what happened last night occupied your mind until this second. You really don’t know what is going on with you.

You took a deep breath, tried to get yourself together. You know it will be more awkward between you two than before but one thing you know for sure that you have a pinch of excitement for this trip, at least this time it will be Lizzie who will open the door for you. This little thought unconsciously brought your lips to a smile.

You came to the door and rang the bell. Just as you expected, Lizzie’s face showed up slowly as she opened the door. Your face’s muscles actually want to form a smile, your heart beats slowly but sure, raising faster but you managed to avoid it, not without difficulty but you did pretty good even though it came up with a hello in an awkward tone and a couple times of clearing your throat. “Hi Ms. Olsen.”

“Hi y/n.” She opens the door wider making space for you to come in. She tries to avoid eye contact as best as she can do. You come in, and she is standing near you awkwardly. She is standing with both of her hands in the back pocket of her short denim. You both were in silence for a few seconds until you decided to break the silence with a question.

“Uhm, are you okay--uhm I meant are you ready to go?” Your brain just can’t cooperate well with your mouth. You can handle being nervous around her, but being nervous in front of her and seeing her being nervous in front of you is a whole nother level for you to handle. It makes you think if she is nervous because of last night? Did she feel the same way the way you did? Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe she is not nervous right now, maybe she is actually still mad at you about last night.

Your thought stops as soon as her voice flows to your ear. “Uh yeah I am. These are the things I need to bring.” She pointed to her luggage then you put it in the car, this time Lizzie wants you to drive her car. Of course she stole a glance at you a couple times. After everything is ready, you get into the car. You see her from inside the car walking and getting into the passenger seat, with a large cup of ice coffee.

As you start driving and she puts the cup into the cup holder, you notice the description of her coffee order from the label and you can’t help yourself to let out a comment or more of like a tease. “Is that coffee mine or yours?” You gave a teasing smirk. “What y/n?!” She answered defensively. She actually heard your question the first time. She just pretends she didn’t so she can buy herself some time to curse herself internally for letting the cup visible for you and also to find an excuse to answer you.

“That coffee, is that mine or yours? You pointed to it and gave her another teasing smirk. “Oh it’s mine of course, why would I get you a coffee?” Again, Lizzie answered defensively yet ended in a cold flat tone hoping you won’t talk about it any further but too bad, you still want to talk about it.

“Then, why is the coffee order exactly the same as how I like it? Did you order it that way? I thought you didn't like it last time?” Your questions are no longer a teasing, you are actually curious about her and her coffee order.

Feeling cornered with a bunch of your questions at once, she starts to panic, becoming irritated that forcing her to answer you with the fastest made up answer she can think of. She tucked her hair to the back of her ear, looking at you as she answered. “Seriously? y/n, why does it even matter? I went to get coffee today at Starbucks nearby and I crave some ice coffee but I didn't know which one is a good one, so I asked the barista to make me some good iced coffee. There! Are you happy now with my answer?” She let out a harsh breath. Looking very upset.

Unbeknownst to her, she would regret the answer she made up. “Oh really? Oh, It was probably Emma.” You answered nonchalantly. “I’m sorry, what? Emma? Who is Emma?” Lizzie asked with a huge confusion. She thinks there’s no way her answer that she made up coincidently connected to something or someone that you know.

“Emma, the barista you ordered the coffee from? I’m pretty sure that you went to the one I go most of the time, and Emma works there. She’s the only barista there who remembers exactly my order. Sometimes when I come in there, she even already makes one ready. I guess it’s because I always come at the same time” You smiled when you told Lizzie about Emma.

“Oh really? So why don’t you take her out for a date or something then?” Lizzie didn’t realize her sarcastic tone on her comment. “I’m sorry, what? Why should I take her on a date?” Surprised and confused with her sarcastic remarks, you turn your head quickly to her then back to the road.

“It sounds like she likes you. She remembers your complicated coffee order, and even makes it before you get there to order. She wouldn’t be like that if she didn't have a crush on you. And you were smiling when you were talking about her. I’m just saying.” Lizzie rambled in bitterness and she couldn’t help herself to pout, and again she didn't realize it. You laughed a little at her theory. “You are funny. She’s a barista, she makes coffee all the time, it’s her job.” You shake your head.

“Well, it’s either she has a crush on you or you are a very predictable boring person who always orders the same things all the time.” She answered in a mocking tone as she looked at you with an unamused expression. “Hey! I’m not a boring person. So based on your theory, does it mean Aubrey has a crush on me too? Because she remembered my coffee order when she bought me a coffee at the airport. Remember?” You joked about it but it actually hits Lizzie.

After she realized what you just said and remembered who actually ordered your coffee at the airport, she instantly jab you with a retort. “Y/n, can we stop talking about this stupid coffee order conversation, seriously!” She laid back to the seat, turned her head and looked out the window as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Okay! Okay! Geez, you don’t have to yell at me like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed, surprised and confused with why the attitude all of a sudden. After a few seconds of silence, you came to realize something. “Wait, how do you know I date girls”

“Uh- I don’t. I was just making a random comment about it.” She didn’t tell the truth again, but this time was to cover Aubrey’s back for telling her about your ex-girlfriend. And all of a sudden she turns her head to you as she asked you. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do but ---” Your phone rings and cuts you before you ask further. Lizzie was relieved that your phone rang. The call is from Jane. “Hi y/n, I know you are driving with Lizzie now but can you check your email asap please. It’s from the hotel in San Diego and it’s important.”

“Okay Jane, I will try to pull over to check it. Thank you.” You hung up the phone and pulled over to check your email. “Sh*t” That’s the only word that came out from you after you read the email.

“Y/n, what was the swearing for? What did Jane say?” Lizzie asked in a concerned tone. “I got an email from the hotel saying that they are closed for the public today and the next few days because two politicians are coming there and staying there. So they cancel all check-ins from today until the next few days.” You explained as your face showed that you are thinking of a solution.

“What?! So where are we going to stay the night? What about some other Marvel casts that are staying at the same hotel?” Panic sounds clearly on Lizzie’s tone. “Well, I guess they allowed the guests that already checked-in or stayed a few days before to stay, of course they won’t kick them out, so they canceled the incoming reservations. I don’t even know that they can do stuff like this at the last minute.” You exhale harshly.

“Oh my God. Y/n, you have to find another hotel for me.” Lizzie said in a stern voice. “I will Ms. Olsen, but I can’t do it here. We have to go somewhere and sit, so I can book us another hotel.”

You both decided to go to a restaurant that you have made sure that it is safe for Lizzie. That’s not really noticeable by the paparazzi. You were guided to your table. Not too long after you took a seat, your phone rang so you decided to answer it outside.

After a few minutes on a phone call, you came back to the table and you saw that Lizzie already ordered the drinks for both of you. To your surprise you noticed that she ordered unsweetened black iced tea for you with no lemon.

“Wow! Did you order this for me?” You asked in amazement as you took a few big gulps of your iced tea. “Huumm” She hummed to answer your question as she checking out the menu.

“How do you know I love iced tea?” You continued drinking your iced tea. She quickly glanced at you and saw you smiled on your straw that’s still on your lips and she continued checking out the menu.

“I told you, you are a boring person who always orders the same thing. You always order iced tea only if it’s freshly brewed, and not from the fountain machine.” Lizzie answered coldly with her eyes stuck to the menu obviously she doesn’t want to make eye contact with you talking about this.

You squint your eyes, staring at her. You don’t know what to say, you don’t know what’s going on. You don’t know why she even pays attention to that kind of detail but then you think, she’s probably right about you always ordering the same thing and she just happened to have good memories.

“Y/n, if you are staring at me because I ordered your iced tea, I will ask the waiter to take your ice tea back so you can order another drink and stop making a big deal about it.” She talked in a very stern annoyed tone to cover her awkwardness and embarrassment after she realized she shouldn’t have done what she did.

She is mad at herself and confused at the same time about why she would remember things about you, things that are not important for her and to make matters worse, why would she care and order that iced tea for you. It’s just an iced tea for crying out loud. Why do you have to make a big deal about it?

Then she remembers her “theory” about Emma that she told you earlier. That upsets her. Apparently that theory doesn’t apply to her. Well that’s what she thinks. She knows for sure she doesn’t have any crush nor feelings towards you. She ordered the iced tea for you simply just to save some time, right?

But that smile of yours, your excited tone when you find out she remembers that you like ice tea internally makes her want to smile back are what bothers her and upset her so much more. Seeing you happy unconsciously makes her happy. The more she thinks about it, the more she tries to convince herself that it’s normal to feel happy when seeing you happy, just like everybody else. She indeed wished she didn’t order your iced tea so she wouldn’t have to deal with this puzzle of emotions.

“Okay okay, I’m good, don’t take my ice tea.” Your playful answer finally brought her back out from her thoughts. “Then, I think you should start to find and book us a new hotel now.” She commanded, but this time her annoyed gaze searched for your eyes as she slightly tilted her head. “Okay, I will. Stop looking at me like that please. It’s scary.” You teased her. She rolled her eyes, tried to hide a small smile formed on her face from you.

_____

After an hour, you still haven’t found any hotel. “It’s so hard to find it. A lot of hotels are full because people are coming and staying for the Comic Con. AirBnB rental house is hard to find as well.”

Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose, stressed out. But a light of hope came. You found a hotel. “Oh wait, There is this one hotel. It’s the only one that is still available.” You startled her with your sudden expression in your tone..

“Well book it y/n! What are you waiting for?” She groaned in irritation. “But we have a problem.” Your face and tones show a disappointment. “What? What’s the problem?” Lizzie asked with impatience.

“They only have one room, with one queen bed.” You answered.

Ch. 16

A/N: Hello my favorite people! I'm back! :D So in this chapter about the hotel problem I don't know if a hotel would actually do that kind of stuff but I had to make the hotel cancel the reservation so I can go on with the story. Again, it's all based on my imagination. lol. Also, I don't know much about Comic Con, so pardon me in advance if what I wrote and what I will write about Comic Con is not accurate at all. I hope you like this chapter especially after the excitement from chapter 14's tension. haha. Again, thank you for reading the story this far.

Taglist: @madamevirgo , @musicinourlips , @unstable-sapphic-hoe , @fanboy7794 , @chloe7076 , @b0mbdotc0m , @trikruismybitch , @ichala , @californianwhiterabbit , @silver-lotus , @imfuckinggenius , @sxfwap , @chaekhan , @daenerys713 , @emptysince18x , @srtamercurio , @stupidsapphicsstuff , @pattypavo , @selfwrotevision (Let me know if you want to be added in the tag list).

239 notes · View notes

onetwothreefarkle · 2 years

Note

36 - “That means we’re both idiots.”

Ask for dumb gays and ye shall receive. Have an absolutely chaotic friends-to-lovers drabble. Just fluff and spice. I hope this brightens up your day! I love you! (prompt list)

“You what?!” Carlos choked on his iced vanilla latte, sending some of it up the back of his throat and into his sinuses. But the burn of the coffee up his nose had nothing on the burn in his chest.

Seb had the audacity to laugh, taking a calm sip of his own strawberry pink drink. “I had a big crush on you freshman year,” he said again, casual as ever. Like he wasn’t dropping an earth-shattering revelation onto Carlos.

“Okay,” Carlos took a deep breath, setting his drink down on the green metal table. Maybe he was being dramatic. After all, Seb wasn’t saying he currently had feelings for him. Just that he did, at one point. “Just to clarify. You had a crush on me, like past tense?”

“Uh, well,” Seb’s smile faded. He sighed, looking resigned for reasons unknown and inexplicable to Carlos. “Yeah, past tense.”

Carlos shook his head. “And you didn’t say anything at the time because…?” Because two years after the fact, sitting outside the local Starbucks, August sun beating down on them, was a perfectly logical time and place to bring this up, obviously.

“You didn’t like me back, so what would the point have been?” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

“You—" Carlos smacked his palm against his forehead. “Of course I liked you back, you complete idiot.”

Seb’s mouth fell open. “Wh—You—Oh.”

Carlos sank down in his chair, defeated. “Yeah, oh.”

They fell into silence for a moment, sipping their drinks as the full implications of their confessions settled over them. This was so not how this coffee non-date was supposed to go. They were supposed to be talking about Drag Race or celebrity Twitter drama, or speculating on what Miss Jenn would pick for the fall musical. Not talking about the nebulous, undefined thing that's been between them since the first time they met.

All of this was supposed to stay unsaid, for the sake of their friendship. After all that time, Carlos thought, all those nights complaining to Gina, and all of that pining. He’d liked me back the whole time. Stupid.

“That means we’re both idiots,” Seb finally said, pulling Carlos from his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

Seb rolled his eyes. “You didn’t say anything either. If I’m an idiot for not realizing you liked me back, then you’re also an idiot, for the same reason.”

“Oh.” Carlos nodded, swallowing a large gulp of his coffee. “That’s fair.”

“Just think, if we’d been smarter, we could’ve been boyfriends,” Seb sighed, wistful.

“And then we could’ve broken up,” Carlos added flatly. “Personally, I prefer the reality we’re in now to one where we dated and I lost you as a friend.”

Seb smiled, blue eyes crinkling. “I’m glad we’re best friends, too. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Carlos’ heart swelled at that. He may not have had Seb in all the ways he wished for, but he had Seb in all the ways that truly mattered. He loved Seb and he knew Seb loved him, and as long as he knew that, what did it matter if sometimes, when he watched Seb lick his chapped lips, he wondered what it would be like to kiss him? What did it matter if he ached with want and jealousy whenever someone else flirted with Seb? What did it matter if he stayed up at night wondering what if, what if, what if?

The short answer? It didn’t.

“But,” Seb continued. “I don’t want to be stupid anymore.”

“Wh—" Carlos blinked, grip tightening slightly on his cup. “What do you mean?”

“When I said that my crush on you was past tense…” Seb hesitated, and for a brief, fleeting moment Carlos felt hope rise in his chest, only to come crashing down when Seb finished his sentence. “That was technically true, but—"

“Okay?” Carlos didn’t understand. “I get it, you got over me, no need to belabor the point.”

Seb shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying, then?” Carlos knew there was only one other way to interpret what Seb was trying to say, but he refused to believe it. He had to hear Seb say it, in no uncertain terms.

Seb set down his drink and leaned over the table. “I’m saying I don’t have a crush on you anymore, because what I feel for you is so much more than some silly crush. It’s everything, Carlos. You’re everything.”

Carlos felt the wind knocked out of him. “Seb…”

“I’m in love with you,” Seb said, voice steady and firm, no traces of doubt or hesitation. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

“I cannot believe,” Carlos choked out, forcing himself to swallow the lump in his throat, to hold back the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks, “you just confessed your undying love for me at a coffee shop, of all places.”

Seb snorted. “I mean, you do love iced coffee. How many coffee non-dates have we had here over the years?”

“That doesn’t mean,” Carlos started, setting down his drink, and leaning forward over the table, “that I want to tell people our first kiss was at Starbucks.”

“Well, I—Wait, wh—" Seb didn’t get to finish his question because Carlos put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss over the table.

Kissing Seb was like jumping off a cliff and coming home all at once. His heart pounded against his rib cage, sending blood rushing through his body, making his ears ring. His lungs burning for breath that he refused to give them, and his toes curled, little shocks of electricity traveling up his legs and spine, and back down again. He felt tingly and excited, but mostly he felt warm inside, he felt right. Because this wasn’t just any kiss, not even just a good kiss, it was a good kiss with Seb. His best friend, the boy he loved, the one person who knew Carlos inside and out, who’d seen every flaw and imperfection, and still, Seb was kissing him.

They pulled back only when the need for oxygen got to be too much, resting their foreheads against each other, Carlos’ hand still tangled in Seb’s hair.

“So,” he said, between heavy breaths. “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m in love with you, too.”

“Yeah,” Seb replied, smiling dopily. “You are.”

Carlos was about to capture Seb’s smile once again, when he felt something ice cold and wet seeping through his denim cut-offs.

He jumped up from the table at the shock of it, just to see that in his haste to pull Seb in, he’d caused Seb to unknowingly knock over his pink drink. “Crap.”

Seb shrugged. “Good thing I’d rather have my lips on you than on a drink.”

Carlos wanted to say something snarky, but the words died in his throat at Seb’s blatant flirtation. That’s new.

“Come on,” Seb picked up what was left of his drink. “Let’s go to your place so you can get cleaned up.”

Finally, Carlos found his voice. “It’s just as well,” he said, voice low as he followed Seb out of the courtyard and into the parking lot. “I don’t think the things I want to do to you would be appropriate in public.”

#HSMTMTS #seblos #seblos drabble #seblos fic #my fic #my fan fiction #Carlos Rodriguez #Seb Matthew-Smith #Mia ✨🪛

23 notes · View notes

ginnympotter · 3 years

Text

call it even

Chapter 1: you’ll always know me

A/N: This is the first chapter of a 2 (or possibly 3? who knows) chapter Muggle AU fanfic inspired by tis the damn season and dorothea by taylor swift hehe hope you like it :) You can also read it on AO3 here.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It was way too early in the morning, she had just gotten off a long flight where she barely slept a wink, and she just didn’t have it in her to talk to any fans without the coffee she was impatiently waiting for at the LAX Starbucks.

But she turned around anyway, bracing herself, and then saw a face that jolted her so much she supposed she wouldn’t need the coffee anymore. “Harry?”

“Hey, Ginny,” he smiled. Harry Potter was standing in front of her for the first time in almost a year, looking as handsome as ever. He was tired, his green eyes looking glazed behind his glasses, his hair pointing in all directions- though she could tell he didn’t try to comb it- wearing the grey-blue sweater she knew her Mum bought him years ago.

Without really thinking about it, she moved forward and hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he put his around her waist and hugged her back, but he also let go first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously, trying not to think too hard about him breaking the embrace before she could.

“My students had a tournament against a school out here,” he explained. “We lost though.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Oh, don’t be, I don’t mind. But the kids all seem like they’re going to jump out of the plane before we can make it home. I was up until 2am consoling the quarterback. My assistant coach is talking them all down now out there while I grab us coffee.”

She nodded, biting her lip. And then blurted out, “Why didn’t you call?” At Harry’s confused look, she added, “to tell me you were in L.A.?”

He cleared his throat, and Ginny saw a light blush creep up his neck. “Well, I knew you were away for your match. I caught some of it, you played great, as always.”

“Oh,” she responded, feeling stupid. She sometimes forgot that as a member of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team her schedule was often public knowledge. She felt a tug at her heart thinking about Harry still supporting her after all this time. “Right, thanks. I wish I could’ve shown you around the city. Did you like it here?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, but big cities aren’t really my style. You know that,” he ended, a solemn note in his voice. “Have you been enjoying it out here?”

She mirrored his shrug. “It’s fine, I suppose. I like the weather, if that counts.”

“Nothing else?”

With most people she’d probably just lie and say she loved it, but with Harry she had a bad habit of always being blunt. “The traffic here is worse than what they warn you about, and honestly, it’s hard to make friends when it seems like everyone just wants to use you for your fame- or for the more famous people that you know.”

“Well, if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you'll always know me.” Harry offered her a sad smile. “I’m always a call- or a FaceTime- away. Not that a tiny screen is my ideal way of seeing you, but better than nothing.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond right away, as she could feel her whole body burning up and her throat closing. There was so much in the air between them. But the barista called out a cold brew, and at the same time they both said, “oh, that’s me,” then looked at each other and laughed. The first one had Ginny’s name on it, the one that followed five seconds later had Harry’s.

They walked away from the coffee pick-up area together, and Harry checked his watch. “Well, we have to board soon. I’m sorry this is the only way we got to see each other.”

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Ginny told him in response. She originally didn’t plan on reaching out to him when she got back home, because she knew her brother and Harry’s best friend Ron would just tell him, and if he wanted to see her he could make that decision for himself. But suddenly this became information that she couldn’t hold in.

“Oh,” responded Harry, running his free hand through his hair. Her heart fluttered at that motion, as she knew what it meant- that he was nervous in a good way. “Well, that’s great! Let me know when you plan on getting in, I’d love to catch up, properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, the sincerity spilling out against her will. She never could truly play it cool with him, not even when they were kids. She hugged him again, smelling home lingering on his sweater. “I will. Have a safe flight, Harry.”

His grip on her was tighter this time, even with coffee in hand, than the last. “You too,” he replied. And then stiffened and let go. “I mean, you already had your flight, so that made no sense. Have a safe...cab ride home, I suppose?”

Ginny laughed at his stumbling. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, raising a hand in a small wave as he walked back towards his students. “See you later, Gin.”

She returned the smile and watched him reach his students. She noticed one of them looking at her as if they recognized her. She saw him nudge Harry with his elbow before she turned around and began walking to find her cab driver. As she continued to stride forward she faintly heard him ask, “Mr. Potter, was that just… Ginny Weasley? Do you know her?”

***

It was her fault for thinking her brothers would give her some indication that Harry would be there. They knew she still had feelings for him, no matter how much she denied it and how many times she tried to move on, and yet they couldn’t even give her a heads up.

When Fred and George saw her exasperated expression, they rolled their eyes in unison as Fred put his arm around her. “Are you reverting back to your 11-year-old self, little sis?”

“Fuck off,” she said, shrugging out of her brother’s embrace. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I thought you were bold, or whatever,” said George. “Wasn’t that one of the three qualities you used to describe yourself in People Magazine?”

Harry began walking over to them. She mentally prepared herself as he hugged Fred and George and congratulated them on the joke shop’s expansion. As he turned his attention to Ginny, the twins quickly left to talk to other guests. He didn’t smile.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Hi,” he replied, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his drink. “Ron told me you landed three days ago.”

She gulped, feeling his hurt absorb her. “Well, I just got settled in and recharged, you know. I- I was going to text you.” Which was true; she did intend on keeping her promise to Harry at the airport, but didn’t know when the appropriate time would be- how do you know the right time to text your ex and first love to casually catch up?

He hummed, taking a sip of his beer. She absolutely despised cold Harry, she could feel it emanating off of him. “It’s fine,” he said, ostensibly lying. “I was catching up with some other people from school anyway. Remember Cho?”

Oh, he was cruel, bringing up his ex like that. “Obviously,” she almost spat. As if she could forget.

“Saw her and Neville, Hannah and Luna the other day.”

She had half a mind to mention Dean Thomas, her boyfriend right before Harry in her sophomore year, reaching out to her asking to go for a drink, but couldn’t find it in her to do it, so instead she just mirrored his cool and pretend unbothered tone. “I don’t remember asking, but thanks for the information.”

Harry’s frown became more clearly defined. “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

She felt a chill as he walked away from her, a familiar ache pooling in her abdomen. They were fighting like they were teenagers rather than grown adults. It was unlike him to start it- it was usually her- but she couldn’t really blame him, though. She knew at the end of the day that she was the main culprit, that she made him ache the way she did because she didn’t know how else to hold it on her own.

She watched him return to her brother Ron’s side and take another large sip of his beer. Ron’s wife and one of both Ginny’s and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, gave Harry an appraising look and then walked over to Ginny. Hermione gave her a short hug and then said, “Alright, which one of you said something stupid this time?”

Ginny scoffed, pulling away from her friend. “Oh, it’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“I saw you yesterday. So which one of you started it?”

“Obviously he did! He had the audacity to mention hanging out with Cho Chang to me.”

Hermione gave a look of utter exasperation. “That’s a new low for him.”

“I know!”

“But I’m assuming you replied with equal spite?”

She sputtered, crossing her arms. “Maybe so.”

“Well, you should have texted him, Ginny.”

“He should’ve texted me! ” she whispered sharply.

“But you told him at the airport-”

“No, I know that, but- I mean, he should have texted me after…” she trailed off, feeling ashamed of herself for being this upset. “After your wedding last year.”

“You mean after you two slept together again after my wedding last year.”

“Well, yeah. Once I got back to L.A. at least. But nothing.”

“You could’ve texted him then, as well.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway? I know Harry’s been your best friend forever and everything but I’m your sister-in-law! Doesn’t family by marriage mean anything to you?”

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You two really need to sort out your issues on your own. But if it helps to know, he wasn’t really ‘hanging out’ with Cho. We were out with him and the others as well, Cho wasn’t in our group, she just happened to walk in with Michael Corner and they stopped by our table and said hi for a quick minute.”

“She’s dating Michael? My ex-boyfriend Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ll be engaged any day now,” Hermione informed her.

“That lying piece of-”

“You’re both to blame here,” Hermione declared, using her I’m Putting My Foot Down voice. “Just act like adults for once and sort it out. Properly.”

Guilt enveloped her throughout the rest of the night and she hated how such a small exchange could do this to her, as she had to act like everything was okay, be happy for her brothers and talk about her life in L.A. and as a famous soccer player and sell the life she was living as one she was satisfied to have.

By the end of the evening, before he could leave, she found Harry by himself sitting and reading something intently on his phone. She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”

He looked up for a second, shook his head, and continued staring at his phone. She eased up just a tad, as she could tell his silence wasn’t his I’m Ignoring You silence, but rather his I’m Deep In Thought and Concentration silence. “Everything okay?” She asked, and when he glanced her way she gestured to his phone.

He gave a half-laugh, half sigh, looking back at his screen. “Yeah, it’s just some of these parents have no boundaries… emailing me during the holidays- on a Friday night no less. I’m just reading through them to decide if any of them are worth responding to outside of my automatic away signature.”

“Is this for the football team kids, or your English Literature students?”

“My Lit students, but there is some overlap. I have this one student, Danny, who’s a really great kid, and his parents are real dickheads, and they’re mad that he got a B+ instead of an A, despite me telling them last quarter that a B is a great grade, and Danny’s already self-conscious as it is and could use encouragement rather than nitpicking over bullshit-“

He caught sight of her face and quickly cut himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She realized she was smiling- it was always nice to see Harry talk passionately about something- and quickly adjusted her facial features. He cleared his throat and closed his phone. “They can probably wait until after the holidays for me to repeat myself, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the right call,” she assured him.

He exhaled, running his hands through his hair and then over his face, trying to wipe off his exhaustion with it all. “Thanks.” He put his hands on his lap and looked at her fully, as he refused to do a couple of hours ago. “Ginny, I’m sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry,” she interjected. “I told you I’d let you know when I’d be here and I didn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” he said with a sigh. “Classic Harry for you.”

She laughed, folding her legs into a pretzel in her seat. “Can’t blame you, really, as I’d probably behave the same.” She let out a breath and continued on. “Look, I did mean to text you and tell you I was back. I just… I don’t know, I was stupid, I thought it had to be the right timing, but I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“What, were you waiting for a sign or something?” he asked. He was joking when he asked, but as he processed the look on her face he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wow, Gin. You never stop amazing me.”

She blushed and laughed nervously, thinking of all the times in the past Harry had said something like that to her. She wanted to hear more of it, over and over, even when he’s saying it in jest. “That is what I do best.”

His features sharpened a bit and he leaned forward. “Well, how’s me asking to see you tomorrow for a sign?”

She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think about it. “A pretty good one, I’d say.”

#harry potter #hp #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry x ginny #hinny #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #ginny weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger #fred weasley #george weasley

70 notes · View notes

ismokechurros · 3 years

Text

misunderstandings - ao3

When his mark first appeared, he hated it. He was five and didn't quite like that the first thing he would ever hear his soulmate say would be

"I'm sorry."

What did that mean? Would his soulmate hurt him? Would that be the very first thing they did? That can't bode well for a long term relationship.

Besides that depressing thought, another issue he had with it was how common it was. People apologized every day, how was he supposed to find her?

His first mistake was thinking it was his kindergarten teacher, who apologized after he ran into her feet. It was hard to explain to his parents why he got sent to the principal's office on his first day of school, hugging a teacher's leg and professing your undying love for them isn't exactly a common offense.

After that, he tried not to get too excited when he heard those words. And as time went by, he succeeded. Slowly, his head stopped shooting up everytime someone near him apologized, his heart rate stopped skyrocketing when a passerby said sorry, he grew to feel the general disdain and doubt most feel in accompaniment with apologies.

Those two, meaningless words scrawled at the top of his right bicep were left ignored and he went on forgetting they existed for the better part of 17 years.

----------

She was five when her mark appeared, too, though that seemed to be a common age for the mark's development so she wasn't exactly surprised. What she was surprised by was the

"You're okay."

now sprawled on the bottom right side of her neck. An odd place for an odd mark.

In her five-year-old indignation, she resented the fact that her mark was telling her what she was. She could be not okay if she wanted to be, who was her soulmate to tell her that she wasn't!

A stupid fight to pick, and one she dropped after about two minutes. That was how long it took before the girl next to Nancy screamed and then started crying. Apparently, Amy didn't like that the first words her soulmate would say to her would be asking for her starbucks order.

Nancy decided it could be worse.

---------

Working at The Claw can't be that bad, Nancy thinks as she enters the restaurant for her first day at work. She needs to get her mind off of her mother's death and making a few bucks in the process couldn't hurt. Plus, it would help ease the financial burden of college- if she still stood a chance of getting in, that is. Her senior grades (and attendance rate) weren't exactly "Columbia Material", no matter how good her essay was.

Walking from the door to the back room, Nancy makes sure to take into account everything she sees on the way. Two truckers eating greasy cheeseburgers at the counter; a woman drinking coffee alone at a table; a family celebrating their daughter's graduation in a booth. Another reminder of the life Nancy won't get to lead.

Reaching up, Nancy rubs the side of her neck where she knows, under several layers of foundation, there's a reminder that she's okay. Her soul mark has grown to be something of a saviour for her these past couple months. A reassurance everytime it seemed her demons were getting a little too close to snuffing out her light, her crutch at her most debilitating moments. Nancy thinks, whoever her soulmate is, they must be a decent person if they’re able to give her this much comfort.

“Drew! Your uniform’s in the back, I’m not paying you to stand there and look pretty! You did enough of that in high school!”

Ah yes, George. No matter how many times Nancy tries to proclaim her innocence, George refuses to believe she didn’t play a part in spreading the rumors that ruined her life in high school. And honestly, maybe she was right. Nancy may not have spread any rumors, but she definitely didn’t stop them. Maybe she does deserve George’s wrath. Besides, what’s another person added to the list of “People Nancy Drew Has Failed”. George can go right under her mom.

At this rate, she might need to put more foundation on her mark.

“Now, Drew!”

Eh, she’ll do it at lunch.

-----------

One month in and Nancy thinks she’s got the job down pat. She’s at least doing better than some people.

Dishes clatter in the kitchen as pots hit the floor.

“Oops! Sorry!”

Speak of the devil. Nancy goes to the kitchen to help Bess, because Bess has needed nothing but help since the day George gave her the job, but when she opens the door she's met with a peculiar scene.

Bess, the endearing clutz she is, is on the floor trying to pick up the pots but somehow making a bigger mess. Ace, on the other hand, is just staring.

Nancy hasn’t known Ace very long, hasn’t even talked to him directly, but from what she’s seen he’s at least helpful. He cleans up after himself, stays late to do inventory, cleans out the grease traps, all without complaining. Yet here he is, staring at Bess on the floor and doing nothing.

Nancy wants to call out, ask why he isn’t helping, or at the very least say excuse me on her way to help Bess collect the pans, but oddly enough she can’t find the words. She just stares at him with that confused look on her face.

It seems she doesn’t need to say anything, though. As if the question on her face was spoken aloud, Ace snaps out of his reverie and bends to help Bess. He’s smiling at her a little too much, and Nancy can tell where this is heading before he even opens his mouth. She decides to make a clean exit before she’s forced to watch him try and fail to shoot his shot with her royal waitress Bess.

------

Nancy just needs a minute. She needs a second to breathe. Serving her high school friends and having to listen to their patronizing and pitying tones while she can hear them laughing the second she turns around is not what she signed up for.

To make matters worse, she’s about one more rub away from her mark making its presence known and she doesn’t need the added stares today. She doesn’t quite understand the taboo of revealing your soulmark to others, but today may not be the best day to tackle generations worth of unnecessary forced modesty.

She rushes through the back door, the mocking sounds of laughter cut off as the door swings shut behind her. Apparently god isn’t on her side, though, because the second the door shuts, the freezer opens and Bess exits carrying boxes stacked a good foot higher than her. Boxes that topple over as she tries to close the freezer behind her.

Normally, Nancy would help Bess out. God knows she’s gotten used to it, and Bess is a nice enough girl that Nancy doesn’t totally hate doing it. But right now, the noise from the boxes is too loud and sounds suspiciously like laughter and Nancy can’t really breathe so she doesn’t think getting near the cold, thin air of the freezer is gonna help her.

And so she ignores Bess’ apologies and pleading eyes and instead barges through the backdoor, hoping to get some much needed air in the alleyway behind The Claw. Instead, she faceplants into a cotton cladded wall.

“I’m sorry.”

She maneuvers around the person she ran into, avoiding eye contact and desperate for some space. She reaches the wall across from the door and puts a hand on the cool brick hoping it’ll help ground her. Leaning forward against the wall, the other hand immediately goes to her neck.

“You’re okay.”

Suddenly, struggling to breathe is less of an issue than not breathing altogether.

Nancy slowly turns and stares at the man who she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Ace slowly blinks back.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. Nancy can’t really respond, considering the fact that she can’t breathe.

“Woah, Nancy. You don’t look so hot.” Great, my soulmate thinks I’m ugly. Nancy urges herself to use her actual brain for a second instead of whatever it is she’s using now because obviously that one isn’t working.

Still, she says nothing. Ace takes the silence as an invitation to lean against the wall across from her. They continue to stare at each other; her like a deer in the headlights and him entirely too mellow for someone who just found their soulmate. Unless he didn’t.

That’s not a thought Nancy wants to have. But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop thinking about it. Does it work like that? Can the whole soulmate thing go unrequited? Some memory escapes the precipes of her mind, a brief chapter on soulmate history she had to read for class. It was her senior history class, so she didn’t really pay attention, but she does remember reading something in there about a rare percentage of the population that had one sided soul marks. She also remembers thinking about how sad of a life they must lead.

And it's not like she's wrong about this, especially since Nancy’s heart feels like it’s about to explode and she instinctively knows the only thing that can calm her down is standing there, staring at her with glazed eyes.

“Want one?” Ace asks, materializing a blunt out of seemingly thin air. “They always help calm me down.”

Now the glazed eyes make more sense. Nancy reaches for it without thinking, the brief touch of their fingertips as the weed changes hands works wonders for calming her down. She is finally thinking a little clearer, breathing a little easier. She stands taller and some of the tension escapes her body.

“See? Works wonders for the nerves.”

If he wants to attribute her abrupt demeanor shift to his weed, she won’t correct him. Instead, she thinks about how this is the first real time he has talked to her. She wishes it happened sooner, his voice reminds her of waves crashing on the shore and when he talks she thinks she’s found her happy place. She’s never hated herself more.

Taking a hit, she passes the blunt back to him and relishes in the little contact that brings about. How lame is it that she’s pining for a guy who is destined to be with someone else.

“You seem more relaxed now, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m here.”

She does. She wants to talk about how she feels more at ease and safe with him, here in this alleyway, than anywhere else; how she hasn’t felt peace like this since her mom died; how he has a calming effect on her that she wishes she could use like a drug; how she’s scared it might become one.

But she can’t talk to him about that at all, because she knows that though her soul finds peace with his, his soul fits better with someone else's. She doesn’t want to guilt him into any half-assed relationship, figures it would be better to become his friend and get to experience the safety and comfort he exudes at a safe arms-length away.

Instead, she talks about the ways everything has gone wrong in the past year (she avoids bringing up how he could have been her first right thing in a while). He listens as he smokes through the whole blunt, his eyes getting heavier as she continues. She’s confident he won’t remember anything tomorrow, thankful she won’t have to explain her near-meltdown. But above all-else, she’s sad. She really is doomed to go through life alone, she doesn’t get anyone to help shoulder her pain. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

When she finishes her sob story, he thanks her for sharing it with him. She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid of what she might reveal if she opens her mouth again.

“DREW!” An angry George calls from inside.

“That’s my cue.” She makes to leave but is stopped by an arm on her hand. She tries to ignore her heart screaming.

“Hey, I really liked talking to you. We haven’t really done that before.”

She nods, trying to make it seem like she just doesn’t want to talk and not like she physically can’t (not while he’s touching her).

He doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he stares at her with more consciousness in his eyes than she thought he would be capable of by now.

“You’re not alone. I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to hear that.” His voice is soft and quiet and warm, low tide at sunrise.

Nancy’s eyes widen (though her heart warms) and he let’s go. She heads inside without another word, hand rubbing her neck on the way in.

Nancy decides to invest in neck ties.

#ndcentral #plz tell me what you think #im desperate for validation #nancy drew #nace #ace x nancy #nancy x ace #soulmates #hiatus week one #also i dont know how to work this app #someone tell me how to post a preview #also please dont judge me too hard i TRIED #nace fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

silverrstarrr · 3 years

Text

Hello, today I am starting a Eren x black reader fanfic. And don't worry, yo girl over here is Nigerian😋😋 I do plan to put smut into it but I've never written smut before so please be easy on about that part! (The reader and Eren are both 18, their first year in University.)

Y/n L/n. Daniyah

Dylan. Jason

Yume

Normal Girl<3

Chapter one:

You love the way I pop my top. Or love how I lose my cool

Music was playing in the background on a loud Bluetooth speaker as you were preparing yourself for the day. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you take off your bonnet, your long black box braids flowing down to your hips. Which cost a bitch. You were cleaning up your face and doing a causal face routine. You grabbed your makeup bag from under the bottom cabinet and began applying. Doing your eyebrows, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipgloss. Placing the brown foundation on your skin to cover up the bumps that were on your face, contour and more. You placed your false eyelashes on, ruffling up your hair a bit more. After a good 15 minutes, you were ready for the day.

Or love how I look at you. Say why?

The song Normal girl by SZA continued to play as you hummed to the rhythm of the song. Finishing up laying down your edges, you gave yourself a small smile in the mirror, feeling hella confident in your looks. Even though you were self conscious, you had this thing when you believed you that you're the most ugliest bitch in the world, next thing you're in love with yourself. It was currently 8 am in the morning, class was starting by 8:45.

You wanted to freshen up before you left for school. Your roommate you shared a dorm with was currently out grabbing you guys breakfast. You guys both settled for Dunkin' since their drink prices were reasonable and good unlike starbucks. You left the bathroom and grabbing your bonnet on the way out, switching the light off. You tossed the hair net on your bed as you went over to your dresser.

For your affection, tryna be down. No fighting and no stopping, Stick around

Oh shit, this was your part. You started to sing to yourself, not ACTUALLY singing it but you know, saying the lyrics.

"Wish I was the type of girl you take over to mama! The type of girl, I know my daddy, he'd be proud of. Yeah, be proud of."

You were singing your heart out at this point, who doesn't enjoy SZA?!

Not to mention, you relate so much to the song. Since you weren't America's "normal girl". You didn't have Blue eyes, blonde hair, or white pale skin. You were a beautiful brown skin woman, with black curly hair and brown eyes. Not to mention you had 4c hair. But it wasn't a bad thing in your opinion, you loved your hair because at the end of the day, you knew it was long ass hell.

A bzzt sound came from your dresser, instantly your grabbed your phone and unlocked it. It was your roommate, Yume. Yume was a pale skin girl, with brown eyes and long black hair. She was mixed. Her mother was Japanese and her dad was white. Yume was pretty outgoing and bold, a lot of people on campus knew who she was. She was a party person. She still managed to get decent grades by that, you meant that she crammed at the last second and got a C+ or above. Opening up messages, you read the ones from Yume.

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

Attachment: 1 photo

Look what I gooottt😩❗❗

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

y/n liked a photo

Girl, hurry up and bring the food😭

over here posing with the dunkin' bag, goofy😭😭

colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

I KNOW, IM ON MY WAY

I'm getting in the car now, see you later hot melatonin queen, wakanda queen 👸🏾 remember BLM✊🏻❤

y/n is funky🧑🏾‍🦱🦷❗

LMAAAOOO, I HATE YOUUU

GET TF ON DAMN COLONIZER 😕

You began laughing, using your hand to cover your mouth. You left messages and began scrolling through your other social media. First you check snapchat, it was a bunch of your friends and people who added you, leaving hearts under your post story. Since you posted a little selfie. You had on a cute graphic t shirt that hugged your upper body and showed your stomach. You didn't have a flat stomach but a little tummy. You had on faded blue jeans that rested at your hips. Even though you didn't have a flat stomach, your curvy body and a dump trunk made up for it. You had a few necklaces resting on your chest as well with a few rings on your finger.

I wish I was a normal girl, oh my. How do I be? How do I be a lady?

You clicked on instagram. You had a decent 10k followers. You were considered one of those pretty aesthetic pinterest girl, especially because of your outfit ideas. You look through your feed for a bit, then you came across yume's page. You scroll through her post and liked her recent. You checked the comments and all the guys fawning over her, it wasn't anything new but you didn't expect this one person. They left a black heart under their post and yume replied to it. You clicked on the profile just to check if she had a secret lover and she wasn't telling you. The username was "eyeager45". Surprisingly, he had 18k followers.

Normal girl, oh

I wish I was a normal girl.

I'll never be, no, never be uh

This shocked you, not his follower count but the fact your roomie got him commenting hearts?! Nah, you need to find out. You scrolled through his feed, looking at his photos, he didn't have a lot of post. But damn he was fine. He had long brown hair that rested on his shoulders, his eyes were a teal color but you were still stuck deciding if it was blue or green. Most of his photos, he had it tied into a sloppy bun, a few strands stood out flopping over his forehead. Without thinking, your dumbass liked his photo.

"I-" you said. Before you can unlike the photo, yume barges in with breakfast. It was already 8:20, classes were starting.

"There was traffic on the way and since it's rush hour, everyone and their crew was getting coffee."

Yume placed you guys drinks and food on a nearby round table. She quickly ran to the bathroom to pee, closing the door behind her. You placed your phone back on your dresser and went over to grab your drink. You took a sip, It seem like this time yume got your (f/d) correct and not just getting a random flavor she sees on the menu. Opening up the bag, you grab your (f/f) along with the other food that was apart of your meal. You went back over to the dresser to grab your phone, then back to the small table. You sat down on the small couch that was close to the table and started eating.

"Hey! Make sure you got your own shit and not eating mine by mistake" yume was washing her hands in the bathroom.

You nodded your head with a "mmm". You were digging in, eating fast because class was starting soon. Coming out of the bathroom, yume whistled looking at your outfit. She always gassed you up & was your number one fan.

"Look at you~ all cute and shit" she ruffled through the bag, grabbing her donut already taking a bite out of it then her breakfast sandwich as she sat down next to you. Both of you guys were munching as if the food was running away, like slow tf down. You took out your phone to take a quick insta video of your food and yume. She was taking a sip of her drink when you pointed your camera on her, she did a quick deuces, which made both of you laugh a bit. You quickly added it to your story and tagged her. You went back and forth with your drink and food, until it was finish. You still had a some coffee left but the food? Gone.

You and yume shared an apartment together. It was close to the campus and it was cheaper. Dorms costed a load for no reason. Most of the time they had no kitchen and barley any room other than for the beds. You met yume during high-school but you guys weren't that close but still kept in touch. Summer break came around and you guys so happened to have the same job. It was the best summer of your life, you were really greatful for meeting yume. She was also the first to offer you to share an apartment together since you both were attending the same university.

Both of guys were majoring in different things but that was fine. Yume was planning on becoming a nurse while you were in the cosmetic industry. It's been a dream ever since you were young. Grabbing your mother's makeup bag and just smearing it all over your face by the age of twelve. You remember the first time you did your makeup and showed your mom.

She laughed so hard and took you into the bathroom to fix it up. Slowly you started getting better and better at makeup. You had your own YouTube channel by the time but it wasn't a lot of subscribers, about 3k. Now you were 19 and had a 500k subscribers who supported you all the way. Being in the beauty industry on YouTube was a hassel because there was always drama here and there but you were never included. More like a "I just sit back and observe" type shit.

The apartment you guys shared was pretty big. You had your own room and bathroom, the same with yume. Yume parents were wealthy since her mom was a dentist and her dad was a doctor. Yume never made any real friends. They always ended up leeching off of her and her money, one of the main reason she kept distance from you and others during high school but the summer brought you guys together.

It was the beginning of the first semester, you had your first class today. You were excited but that didn't stop the anxiety creeping up your spine. What if you didn't make a good expression, or did some stupid shit and fell.

"Hellllooooo, y/n. You good?"

yume was waving her hand in your face. She was laughing at bit because of your face expression while you were in la-la-land.

You nudged her lightly and giggled back.

"Stoop, leave me alone. I'm just nervous about my first day"

Yume grabbed the empty bags and wrappers that were on the table, walking to the kitchen to threw them away. She had on a cute oversized black sweatshirt with a white collar. It went well with her white tennis skirt and beige color platforms. Yume was 5'6 but looked 5'7. She was really pretty in your opinion. It was surprising she didn't have a boyfriend.

"Girl pleaseee, you'll be fine. You're pretty and you have a cute laugh—who wouldn't fall for you?" Yume continued cheesying. She went over to the doorsteps and grabbed a pair of pair of black air Jordan 1 retros(the high ones). She walked back over and tossed them on the ground next to you.

"You aren't wrong about that...but you know I literally don't know what to say after 'hi'. I don't know how people do it, it gets so awkward after that point."

"Shit...you're right...well since we're in college now, we can ask others about their majors and stuff but I rather not hear about a guy talking about how much he likes the human body system."

Loosing up the laces, you slip your foot in and began tying the strings—you repeated the same process with the other foot. You grabbed your coffee and did a quick stretch before heading over to your dresser. You picked up your phone and keys, your bag was next to the door, you'll grab on your way out.

Yume grabbed her jacket and you did the same.

"How many people do you think we'll be in my class?" She asked

Since she was majoring in nursing. You titled your head up and started to think.

"Maybe around 335 people."

You zipped up your jacket and placed your phone in the pocket. Opening up your airpods, you placed one in your ear.

"Pssshh, that's an underestimate. I think around 400 or more"

Yume opens the door, tossing her bag over her shoulder— you grabbed yours also. Stepping out the apartment, she stood by the side as you locked the door. You pulled your phone out and played your playlist. It was time to start the day.

pt 2

#x reader #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #anime #eren yeager #eren x black reader #x black reader #aot x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren yeager x y/n

172 notes · View notes

softholand · 3 years

Text

gingerbread kisses - t.h

pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader

warnings: a lot of dialogue and some good old festive fluff

words: 2.5k

a/n: this is like a part two of my youtuber!reader series, it can also be read on it’s one but if you haven’t read chocolate kisses yet, you can do it here i really hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think!! ✨

It was another normal workday at your flat, you had all your lights and camera set in your living room, ready to start filming. Today’s video was going to be a Q&A with a special guest, Tom Holland.

It was expected that your baking video with him was going to be one of the most successful ones, but you weren’t expecting the number of views that, to this day, a whole month later, kept coming.

With so many comments almost begging you to bring him to your channel again, you finally gave in and asked him to do a Q&A with you, but since it was the end of the year and Christmas was just around the corner, you decided that, while you answered your viewer's questions, you two could build gingerbread houses.

“Tom, where are you? I’m about to start this without you!” You shouted from the living room floor, where you were seated. “I’m coming, I just had to get something before,” Tom answered, appearing in front of you, wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas jumper, making you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God! Where did you get that?” You asked, trying to recover from your fit of laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, darling! There’s one for you too!” He stated, taking an identical jumper from behind him.

“You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?” You questioned, sighing when you saw him shake his head. Once you took your (his) hoodie out, replacing it with the ugly sweater, you were finally ready to start recording.

“Hi guys, welcome back to another video! This week we have a special guest that you guys have been asking since our last video together.” You said, giving Tom time to sit next to you. “It’s Tom!”

“It’s me!” He exclaimed, smiling at the camera. “This time we’re not baking anything but, since Christmas is almost here, I thought it was a good idea for us to build some gingerbread houses!” You said, pointing to the kits you had bought on your last trip to the grocery store.

“It’s been so long since I’ve done this!” Tom smiled, clearly excited to start. “But, instead of just sitting here, I asked you guys on Instagram to send some questions so we could answer while doing our houses. What do you think?” You questioned, looking at him.

“Dangerous… but fun!” He said, making you laugh. “So, we have the Christmas tree with the lights on, it’s starting to snow outside, I’ve made us some hot chocolate and of course, we cannot forget our ugly sweaters, courtesy of Tom.” You grinned.

“You’re welcome!” He praised, making you roll your eyes. “I’d said we’re ready to start.” You announced, to which he gave you two thumbs-ups.

Once you had taken the house out of its package, you laid all the biscuit parts in front of you, Tom doing the same beside you.

“So, the first question is “What’s your best/worst memory together?” You let them know while putting the baking glue on your biscuit. “Do you wanna start?” Tom offered, to which you shrugged. “It’s okay, you can go first.” You said, seeing that he already had the answer at the tip of his tongue.

“Best memory is your twentieth birthday party.” He stated, without taking his eyes out of his project. “Why?” You asked, also concentrating on building the house.

“C’mon, y/n! You know why!” Tom finally looked up, making kissy lips to you. “Tom! It’s supposed to be a surprise for the end of the video!” You whined, earning a chuckle from him. “Okay, fine! I’ll behave!” He said, making you laugh this time.

“I think my favorite memory of us is at the Far From Home premiere party! We had so much fun!” Tom declared, making you smile. “Yeah, that was nice!” You agreed, thinking about your favorite memory with Tom. “Mine is probably when we went to New York, I loved that trip!” You confessed, remembering all the crazy things you and Tom did back then.

“Yeah, that was a good one!” Tom agreed, smiling at you. “Worst one has to be the time paparazzi locked us outside of that restaurant. It was awful, I honestly thought I was gonna die that day.” You remembered, feeling chills cover your body. “Yeah, same!” The boy next to you answered, clearly feeling down just thinking about that event, so you made sure to quickly change the subject and ask the next question.

“So, the next question is, what was your best trip?” You asked, motioning for Tom to go first. “Mine has to be Bali, I loved that place and I’m dying to go back.” He stated. “Tell me about it, I was so jealous when you guys went there!” You whined, remembering the photos he kept texting you. “What about you, y/n?”

“Oh, 100% Christmas in New York!” You told him, without even having to think. “It was magical!” You smiled, remembering the trip like it was yesterday.

“Nice! I never spent Christmas in New York!” Tom commented, before going for the next question. “What’s the other Starbucks order?” He asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Yours is tea!” You said, rolling your eyes. “Hey, I drink coffee too!” Tom uttered. “Rarely! Most of the time is Chai Latte or a Royal English Breakfast Tea.” You stated and of course, Tom had to agree.

“Yeah, you’re right! I should try more of their stuff. But you also always get the same, White Chocolate Mocha or Peppermint Hot Cocoa at this time of the year.” Tom listed, making you smile knowing that he knew your drink orders.

“But it’s just soooo good! I can’t help it!” Tom chuckled, before passing your phone back to you for the next question. “That’s a good one, who’s the messier one?” You questioned. “I don’t even think I have to answer this, you guys realized that from our last video together!” You declared, making you both laugh.

“Ok, I’ll give you this one. I’m pretty messy! But I’m trying to get better at it, I promise!” Tom added, to which you chuckled. “My house is built, now I just have to decorate!” You announced, making Tom gasp by your side. “What?! There’s no way! I’m still trying to make these walls stick together.” He whined, making you chuckle.

“That’s because you’re not using enough glue, look, you have to put a straight line across the whole biscuit, otherwise it won’t stick.” You told him, showing exactly how to do it. “But the glue it’s showing on the other side.” He reasoned. “It doesn’t matter, Tom! We’ll just make it look like snow. See?” You pointed to your own house and he nodded, going back to work, focused on finishing it so he could start decorating.

“Next question, what’s the most useless talent you have?” Tom asked, already laughing. “Mine is really stupid but I can put my feet on top of my head,” Tom stated, demonstrating exactly what he was saying, almost knocking everything that was on the table in front of you off.

“That’s not a talent, you’re just flexible.” You rolled your eyes, to which he laughed. “You’re only saying this because you’re jealous you can’t do it.” He smirked, clearly trying to get on your nerves. “Shut up, I have a much better one, I can lick my elbow.” You said, also showing your completely useless talent. “That’s… weirdly impressive.” Tom expressed making you both laugh.

When Tom was finally done building his house, he joined you and started to decorate. You told him and your viewers that you were going for more of a white Christmas theme, while Tom expressed his desire to make the house as colorful as possible.

“Tom, I think the next question is for you.” You gave him a look, before continuing. “What is the dumbest way you’ve been injured?” He gasped, putting one of his hands over his chest while you laughed. “Why are you coming for me today?” The brown-haired boy asked, pretending to be offended.

“I’m sorry, but how many times have you broken your nose while filming?” You asked once you had stopped laughing. “Three, actually, two and a half, the last one wasn’t a complete fracture.” He explained, trying to not make a fool out of himself.

“Well, I’ve never injured myself badly, just some paper cuts, which for me it’s very dumb.” You mentioned. “See? Your answer is dumber than mine and still, I get the title.” Tom shook his head, making you laugh. “So, taking a break from the questions, what are you doing with your house?” You questioned, taking a moment to observe his work.

“I’m gluing some gummies on the roof.” He exclaimed, putting the icing on the sugar-coated candy before sticking it on the house. “And you?” Tom asked, stopping his movements to look at yours.

“I’m putting shredded coconut on the roof and a little bit on the floor, to make it look more like snow.” You smiled, happy with what you had done so far. “Uhh, bougie!” Tom uttered, sticking his tongue out.

“Shut up! Okay, question number… I don’t even know what number we are, so… weird habits of each other? Oh my God, Tom makes SO much noise to eat, it’s ridiculous!” You blurted, to which he immediately complained. “I do not!” He exclaimed. “Yes, you do!”

“You never said that to me!” You laughed at Tom defending himself. “I have told you, at least, a hundred times!” You stated. “Well, at least I have control of my own body, you can’t stop bouncing your leg for literally two seconds.” He exclaimed.

“That’s because I have anxiety and you know that! I’m always moving a part of my body!” You practically yelled. “Still annoying!” Tom said. “Well, I can’t help it!” You interjected. “Neither do I!” He replied. “Next question?” You asked. “Please!” He shot back, making you both burst out laughing.

Once you stopped, Tom took your phone and asked the next question. “Do you have nicknames for each other?” He smirked, making you panic. “Hey, you said you’d behave!” You warned, pointing a finger at him. “I will, promise!” He told you, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous about his answer.

“I sometimes call her cherry, because she can do that trick with the cherry stem, it’s unbelievable!” He smirked, making you blush. “That’s actually pretty easy to do!” You said, trying to make light of the situation. “Oh yeah, it’s totally easy to tie a knot with a cherry stem with your tongue. Super chill!” Tom added, without taking that stupid smirk out of his face.

“Stop it! I don’t think I have a nickname for you, I call you spider-boy sometimes but just to spite you.” You smiled, sticking your tongue out. If Tom wanted to play, you could join his little game.

“I wish I could tell them all the other names you call me in bed,” Tom whispered, making you almost choke on your hot chocolate. “Thomas!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to clean the mess you’ve made. “Fine…” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ok, since we are almost done with the houses, the second to last question is: If you could, what would you change about your first kiss?” You asked, immediately regretting choosing the question. “Oh, that’s cool! Let me see… no, I don’t think I’ll change anything about it, maybe the place. It was a little too crowded.” He replied, not even trying to hide his smirk.

“Really? That’s all you’d change?” You asked, giving him the chance to take back his answer. “Yep, that’s all! What about you, y/n?” You shook your head, feigning disappointment that he didn’t choose to make you his first kiss. “I’d change the person, you idiot!” You answered, throwing one of the icing packages at him.

“Hey, that hurt!” Tom protested, throwing it back at you. “Stop it! We have to finish these so we can end the video.” You warned, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Oh, I’m done!” He announced, showing off his finished gingerbread house with a very colorful roof, windows, and door. “Already? I still wanna do a garland on the door. I even bought special sprinkles for it.” You stated, rushing yourself. “Of course you did!” Tom mocked, to which you simply flipped him off.

Once you had also finished your house, you and Tom did a quick cleaning of the table, before going back to filming. “We’re back!” You said, to which Tom added. “And we’re finished!”

“I’m really happy, they turned out so pretty!” You beamed, looking at your finished works. “They did!” Tom agreed, smiling widely. “So… before we end this video, we do have a last question, one that was the most asked and that is: are you guys together?” You said, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

You and Tom shared some guilty looks before blurting it out together. “Yes!” Tom’s smile was so wide that it made you smile too. “Yes, guys! You were all right! Tom and I are in a relationship now and we are so happy to finally share this with all of you!” You grinned, looking at your boyfriend, that of course was looking back at you.

“Yeah, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world and I honestly couldn’t be happier,” Tom murmured, making you blush. “Stop it!” You smiled, now completely lost in his eyes. “I think you have to finish the video now, darling!” He joked, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh, yeah, right! So… that was everything for today’s video, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Don’t forget to give the video a thumbs up and subscribe to my channel! Please, let me know what you guys thought in the comments section down below and… I think that’s it. Do you wanna say something?” You asked, shifting your eyes to Tom. “Thank you for having me again and I hope to come back soon for another one!” He said, giving the camera an adorable little wave. “Bye guys! See you next week!” You cheered, getting up to stop the recording. “We did it!”

“Yay! Can I eat now?” Tom quipped, before smashing his house in half. “Thomas!!!!” You shouted, not believing what he had done. “What?! We’re not supposed to eat it?” He wondered, putting one of the cookie pieces in his mouth. “I mean, yeah, but not… like that!” You tried to reasoned, to which he scoffed.

“C’mon, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to make a mess, right?” He smirked, signing for you to come closer. And you did, sliding right in front of him, straddling his waist.

“You’re an idiot!” You teased, clasping your arms behind his head. “Hmm, c’mere!” Tom lifted your chin and there was nothing more to do other than kiss his lips, so you did, only this time, instead of chocolate, they tasted like gingerbread.

tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @uglypastels @screamholland @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @duskholland @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers

#my writing #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland writing

195 notes · View notes

katsuhera · 3 years

Text

chapter 12: where do we go from here? [keep it on the low series]

this is: ch12 | chapter 13 | series masterlist

pairing: levi x female reader (y/n)

scenario: it’s your first day of your sophomore year of college and you’re anxiously waiting in your seat in your first major-related class! in walks the ta, and he’s the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but you’re already intimidated by his piercing stare. what could possibly happen!!?!?

genre: fluff, modern day college au

wc: 561

a/n: super short chapter today, but i promise the following chapters will be well worth it :’)

you were to meet eren in the lobby of your dorm, since you wanted to drop off your laptop and stuff anyway. during the entire walk back from levi’s office, you couldn’t concentrate on anything besides what levi had said to you and your blossoming crush on him.

you couldn’t deny that you had always thought he was attractive. that was your first impression of him when you first met him, anyway. suddenly, your thoughts swirled back to when eren brought up the prospect of levi’s actions being inappropriate.

were they inappropriate? you asked yourself, distractedly weaving your way through the swarm of students trying to make it to the dining hall. you remembered the way he patted your head at starbucks, the way he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly in his office, and the way he genuinely seemed to mean it when he looked in your eyes and told you that you were the only student he really cared about.

was it your gut telling you that these actions were meant to be looked into further? or was it wishful thinking? you couldn’t tell. but was levi inappropriate… you found that you didn’t really mind if he was.

y/n, please don’t be stupid and fall for your ta of all people, you thought, squeezing your brows together in an attempt to bring yourself back to reality.

you had barely any experience with romantic relationships.

during your freshman year, you went to a couple frat parties during your fall semester, but stopped after a girl drunkenly vomited all over you. that experience was quite enough for you. besides, you weren’t that big of a drinker or smoker - drinking occasionally with your group of friends on the weekends or just chilling at each other’s dorms made you happy enough.

that being said, the only way you knew how to handle crushes was to simply get over them. so, that’s exactly what you decided to do with your developing feelings for levi - you’d set them aside until they vanished. any further “flirtations” on his part, you’d dismiss as him just being kind. besides, why would he even flirt with you? you were crazy for thinking that there were other intentions behind his actions.

setting your bag and jacket aside on your chair, you looked at your phone. 2:49pm. you still had around 10 minutes to relax until you were supposed to meet eren downstairs.

you flopped onto your bed, letting the blood rush to the top of your head and feeling it settle as you tried to just be at peace for five minutes. closing your eyes and enveloping your mind in the darkness never felt so nice before.

a knock on your door woke you from your mini-nap.

“who is it?” you called out, slightly annoyed. all you wanted was to rest your eyes for a couple minutes.

“it’s eren,” came his voice.

huh?

“oh come in,” you said. “i thought we were gonna meet downstairs?”

he pushed the door open haltingly. “yeah, but… i wanted to talk to you first before we ate.”

again? you thought. is this going to be about levi?

“yeah, is anything wrong? what’s up?” you said, sitting up and facing him.

he hesitated, seeming to hold his breath before raising his head and looking you squarely in the eyes.

“i… i like you, y/n.”

[TAGLIST OPEN] dm me if you’d like to be added! @strawberryakaashi @berrijam @starstruckkittensweets @selenasoftly @sakuramadae @fluffyleviackerman @snowyseungs @daddy-kakashi-sensei @super-peace-fangirl

back to series masterlist

91 notes · View notes

twooneztaylorthecat · 3 years

Text

When Nobody's Around - Adam Stanheight / Reader

A/N. There was a clip of the song 'Better' by Khalid on TikTok, and that inspired this story. Anyway, continue.

It was dark in the area, December twenty-fourth. The wind howled loudly as it whipped through the tree branches and sent snow spraying everywhere. The air was freezing cold, and the ground was icy. Even snow boots couldn't dull the slip from anyone who tried to walk on it. It was difficult not to tense up against the chill, or even not to zip up the jacket around one's shoulders, but no matter what you did you just couldn't get warm. You kept your head bent and plowed on through the snow. The coffee in your Starbucks cup made your palms hot, but you liked it that way; you didn't like the cold anyway. Adam Stanheight was following closely behind you, along with your best friend. You guys had a mixed friendship, or so it seemed. You knew what you had with your bff, you didn't need to question it. But your relationship with Adam was quite another thing entirely, it dissatisfied you, dismayed you. Often times he'd play off his flirting to be nothing more than jokes, and it hurt you a little. His mixed signals were confusing you. You clutched your tote bag closer and sped up your speed. Getting home was your biggest priority right now; you felt so flustered being around Adam. It made your heart beat faster and your stomach swim chaotically.

In your head you knew there was something there, or at least you wished there was, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling it. You rounded the corner very urgently. You were in the lead, Adam and your friend had been talking earlier about politics, you didn't want to discuss that. But unfortunately for you, your friend called out to you. "What's your opinion?"

You, who had not been listening, turned around slowly and looked at them dumbly. You could not remember what they had been talking about before. "I wasn't paying attention," you admitted.

"Oh, come on. I was asking-"

"-No, no," you interrupted. "Right now I have other things to worry about than what side of the political spectrum you are on. I'd like to keep our friendship strong before Christmas, then we can ruin it."

"Fine. Then at least tell me this. What side of the 'romantic relationship' are you on? You know, with..." Your bff elbowed Adam in the ribs.

Adam made a face. " 'Romantic relationship'?" He repeated skeptically. "What the fuck are you on about?"

You turned back around and started to cross the street, your heart heavy. The light, which was blurred by the snowy fog, changed red suddenly, and you were pulled back by a strong force. It wasn't like you could have saved yourself, but you did appreciate the thoughtfulness. Not to mention, there weren't any moving vehicles out right now to plow you over, so it didn't really matter. "Thanks," you mumbled, and pulled your arm out of their grasp, you expected it to be your friend.

"Hey. Where are you going?" The voice sounded right behind you. It was quiet and soothing; it sent chills up your spine; like it always did. Apparently the political conversation was over now.

"A-Adam..." you gasped. "I... wasn't expecting you to be there."

"No?" Adam pressed up against your side. "You seem cold. Mind if I warm you up?"

You gagged, feeling embarrassed, and tried to get away, but Adam held you close. "Where are you going?" He asked again.

Your best friend came up to you. "Yeah. No romantic relationship here. What's up love-birds?"

Adam released you. "Tch," he scoffed. "What are you talking about? We're just friends. Can't I care for my friends?"

You stared at him miserably. "Christmas at my house?" You asked, changing the subject.

Your friends looked at you cluelessly. "Oh sure," your bff agreed. "I won't have to rearrange any plans if we go to your house."

"You live in the same place," you muttered.

"That's the point..." your friend grimaced.

Adam had fallen behind you both while you discussed this. He seemed quiet now, and lost in thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. You wished he was talking with you again. You wished he would try snuggling again.

The discussion wasn't a long one, and it ended right as you reached the other side of the road. "So, Adam," you hummed out quietly. "You need anyone to help with baking? I know you said you would like it if someone came over tomorrow morning."

"Only one someone..." Adam winked at you, and laughed. "In all honesty, I just want the company. It gets lonely over there."

"So... No baking?"

"What would you guys be baking?" (Bff's name) asked. "Not like Adam is having anyone over. Not like he CAN. Everyone would be falling on their asses."

Adam muttered something under his breath, then spoke up, "No, you're right. I... will do the baking myself." He chuckled. "That is, if I stop taking pictures of it first."

"You're not planning on doing any baking, are you?" You realized.

"I... was? Actually."

"Pffft." Your best friend sounded dubious.

You yourself were a little doubtful too, but you had the sense to shut up about it. You blew out a breath, which made your bangs fly into the air.

"You look kinda cute when you do that," Adam commented and held your hand lightly.

You blushed, waiting for his infamous 'jk' or stupid reasoning as to why he was 'pretending to flirt' with you, but it never came. You exchanged glances with you friend, but alas Adam caught it, and let go. "I should really stop doing that, shouldn't I?"

You huffed. "I... like it..." You said inaudibly.

Adam had heard you, but he chose not to respond. He started talking about the snow instead.

Fuck, you thought.

Faulkner walked you both to your condo, and held the door open. You were the first inside, but didn't get too far. Adam called you back as your best friend stalked past you to the stairs. You fell back and leaned against him. What was going to happen now? Adam got all cozy with you when you guys were alone, and now that your friend had left, you wondered what was going to happen. "Hey, Y/N?" He looked directly into your eyes. He never flinched or gazed away, but his body language said he was nervous.

You felt obliged to ease his stress. "Yeah? Are you cold, why don't you come in for a minute and warm up?"

"No," Adam said boldly. "I... just wanted to..." He looked away finally. Your heart nearly stopped in anticipation. "Well, you see... I've been thinking about this for a while. Ever since October."

You stared at him silently, hoping he wasn't psyching you up just to joke with you again. "What is it?" You asked in irritation. "Are you playing with me again?"

"What do you mean by that?" Adam didn't seem to understand that you were referring to his 'fake flirting.' Honestly, sometimes you thought that he was completely unaware that he did it. Or maybe he simply pretended to be innocent?

"I'm not kidding around right now, I'm being serious. Here's the deal. I-I wanted Christmas at my place, if that's alright with you. I don't mind if you bring

(Bff's name,) But... Yeah."

Your stomach felt hollow after hearing that. Whatever you had been expecting was entirely not up for debate. You were simply 'friend-zoned', at least it felt like it. You thought about his words for a short moment, then stared at him questioningly. "Will your apartment be clean enough?" It was a joke, but not really. Adam was notorious for have a messy living quarters.

"Haha," Adam said sarcastically. "I cleaned it yesterday... well enough, that is..."

You nodded halfheartedly, still feeling disappointed. "Sure. I'll tell (Bff's name,) the change of plans."

"Yeah," Adam agreed.

It was awkward after that. Adam stayed in the doorway, and you kept the door open. Neither of you knew what to say after that, but you didn't have the heart to close the door and leave him there. It was so intense that you could feel heat rising to face in the cold forty degree (Fahrenheit) weather. Snow was starting to fill up the inside. "I guess you should go?" You didn't want to be rude, but asking it instead of saying it didn't help the bluntness of the sentence.

"Um..." Adam shrugged. "I was wondering something else..."

You looked at Adam in disbelief. In the fifteen minutes standing in the cold, he didn't think to bring this up? "Well, alright then. Any time would be... perfect." You noticed for the first time, how fidgety he had become. You'd never seen him like that before. Something else was on his mind, you knew him well enough to know that. "Go on," you encouraged.

"Why don't you come to my place for the night?" Adam asked unexpectedly. He got straight to the point, you liked that. He added clumsily, "Unless... Uh, you're busy... in the morning? I understand, you know. Of course I understand. Um... Y-Yeah, I just- I wanted to make sure you knew the invitation was there."

You smiled shyly. Having Adam stumbled over his words was a little bit cute. And then you realized what he had actually asked you. Wait a minute!? This couldn't be real! Stay the night with Adam Faulkner Stanheight!? Who could turn THAT down? Not Y/N. Definitely not Y/N. "Okay," you agreed politely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You ran your hands over your clothes quickly, trying to smooth them out. But Adam didn't care about the wrinkles in your shirt, he just wanted you with him. He pulled you outside again, the chill biting you immediately. You huddled up next to him, trying to get warm.

Maybe this time it would be different? Maybe he'd snuggle with you?

But Adam was not as observant to his surroundings. He led you to his car, which was parked beside the road.

"What's with the car, Adam? We live close enough, you know," you joked.

Your companion only scowled at you as he snapped, "I was at a client's house when you called. And I decided not to leave the car here on the way home."

You sat down in the passenger's seat happily. Adam, of course, took the driver's seat, and as he started up the car the radio blasted you guys unexpectedly, hollowing out each one of your ears. Instead of turning it off, Adam just turned it down. He seemed much more laid back now that it was just the two of you.

In the silence, however, you were able to pick up what song was currently playing. It was Better by Khalid, and this surprised you. You didn't usually listen to this artist very much, but the radio seemed to love playing this song in particular. You hadn't been expecting it to come on while you were in Adam's car though.

Due to the quietness you could hear the words now. You'd never really listened to them before, but now that you could hear them, you felt suspicious.

"Say we're just friends, but I swear, when nobody's around. You keep my hand around your neck, we connect, are you feeling it now?-"

Adam rolled down a window suddenly, cutting off the next part.

You raised an eyebrow, thinking to yourself. Why the hell am I relating to this song so much? No wait, an even better question is, why would it come on the radio when I'm in the car with Adam? It doesn't add up right.

Almost instinctually, you asked, "D-Did you do this on purpose?" You hadn't meant to blurt it out. In fact you usually were pretty good about thinking about what you were going to say or do before actually performing it. This was a rare scenario.

Humiliation engulfed you as soon as the words left your mouth. You rolled your window down hurriedly, trying to act like you hadn't spoken. It was all for naught.

"What?" Adam asked dully.

"I-uh..." you stammered for a minute, then quickly regained yourself. "Yeah. I was just wondering if you chose the song, or if it was the radio?"

"Why would I have chosen it?" Adam sounded confused. "There would be no reason for me to choose it."

"oh... You're right..." You stared out the window and let the wind blow into your face. It was cold but you didn't say it out loud. You did wonder though, how Stanheight managed to live through it. It was so cold it felt like it was burning your skin off. You closed the window again.

Adam pulled to a stop in front of his apartment. "Don't mind the neighbors," he warned. "They don't like newcomers."

"I know. We've had this discussion before."

"I know," Adam said regretfully. "But... I just... like to remind you."

As you both shuffled into Adam's apartment, you gazed at the floor. He told you he'd cleaned up yesterday, and it showed. The normal empty boxes, or bits of laundry, had been taken care of, as well as the large stacks of photographs laying around the place. Adam was nothing if not passionate about his job, and that made you happy. It still amazed you to be able to see the wooden floor beneath your feet, and you desperately tried not to notice the counter, on top of which was an ashtray, which was piled with cigarette ends. The scent of cigarette smoke was thick, definitely fresh, but... you didn't mind it really.

Well, that was a lie. You did mind it, a lot. But that was the thing, that smell reminded you of Adam, so... you didn't mind it THAT much. Come to think of it, having the scent of smoke remind you of someone was probably not a good thing. Not for you or Adam. In fact, Adam probably had it worse. Imagine hearing someone say that the scent of smoke reminded them of you. That didn't seem like a positive thing to hear.

You shuddered at the thought.

"Come sit down over here," Adam said from the couch. "Sorry about the... Everything... I did try to keep the windows open but... it was way too damn cold. And I guess I couldn't stop... If you know what I mean?"

You did. You could understand completely.

Gently, you sat next to Adam, crossing your legs over each other delicately. It was warm in here, or was it Adam's body heat? You were sitting so close to him it was hard to tell. "I'm glad you came over," he said nervously. "You know... It's kinda stupid, but I only said I wanted your help with baking 'cause I didn't know how to invite you."

You smiled at him. "That's sweet. I would have done the same thing," you reassured Adam.

Adam slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. In a low tone, he said, "I didn't get you anything for Christmas. I'm sorry, I... Well, I mostly didn't know what kind of things you liked and didn't like."

"It's okay," you said. "I wasn't planning on having Christmas here until my parents' flight got canceled."

"So, you didn't get me anything either?" Adam's voice held some relief.

"Well, no," you tried to disappoint gently. You knew how it felt when you realized you weren't the only one who had done something a certain way. It was very reassuring. Maybe a bit too reassuring. You didn't want to crush his bubble so violently, but there wasn't any way to say it softly. At least, not one that came to mind. "I actually did think of something."

"Oh?" Adam didn't seem bothered, that was good. "What is it?"

You scoffed. "Like I'd tell you. You have to wait."

You had baked everyone some cookies this morning. That's what you were going to give your friends for Christmas. It was the first thing that came to your mind last second.

Adam leaned away from you hesitantly. "Well, there might be something that I thought of, too, but... I don't know... I guess I got scared..." He glanced at a nearby clock, and shrugged. "Is one fifteen AM close enough to Christmas?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I'd say, at least six AM."

"Fuck that," Adam exclaimed. "I... don't think I can wait any longer." He laughed nervously. It lasted for so long that you started to wonder if you had missed the joke.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. "I don't think... I follow."

Adam stared at the floor. "No, I'm sorry, that was unnecessary. I just got... scared?"

You narrowed your eyebrows sympathetically. "What is it, Adam?"

"Well... Will you be my significant other? The time we spend together means a lot, not to mention I enjoy your company a lot, too. Our dates have been nice... I know I should have asked you long ago, but... I don't know... I couldn't get up the courage..."

You smiled, but it was only out of uncomfortableness rather than actual happiness. You had no idea if he was playing with you or being honest with you. "Uh... Heh. You're joking, aren't you?"

"No," Adam gasped. He looked flabbergasted. "Why... What makes you ask that? I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Oh, right, you thought dryly. Just everything else about our relationship.

Out loud you said quickly, "Nothing." You regretted doubting yourself. It just made this situation very embarrassing. You felt the need to clarify your answer now. You didn't want to leave Adam hanging after such a significant question. "Well, Adam. The answer to your question is yes! I thought you were never gonna ask me. Well, actually, I thought you were bullshitting me the entire time."

"I didn't go about it the right way," Adam admitted. "That's my fault." He pulled you down so that your head was on his lap, and started to comb his fingers through your hair. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," he murmured. "That's my gift to you."

You inhaled deeply, feeling a strong wave of affection flood you. You had no idea anyone could feel so much emotion at once. It awed you. Gazing at the ceiling you felt your heart swell up. It beat in your chest heavily, loudly, nervously, but you felt soothed at the same time. And in this exact moment, you had good feelings. Maybe it was too soon to tell, however something in your gut told you that you were going to have a long, successful, future with Adam. "Wow," you hummed out quietly. "Christmas is going to be a hell-of-a-lot different this year." Adam didn't stop brushing your hair. You yawned and smiled. "But I can't wait for it."

#adam faulkner stanheight #saw movies #saw franchise #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #christmas #december

13 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Photo

Playing games Pairing: dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader Warning: yandere, swearing, some non-con implications towards the end. Words: 2069. P.S. JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAVE I DONE I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON I HOPE NO ONE WHO REALLY MET SEBASTIAN GONNA READ THIS ghjdfyjdfds I’m so sorry guys _____________________________________ “I asked for a vanilla latte with extra milk, not caramel cappuccino.”

You rolled your eyes at his irritated remark. You knew Sebastian wasn’t in his best mood this morning and expected him to make your day nastier just because he felt like it.

“Sorry, but I’m sure it was caramel cappuccino. You asked for some cinnamon on the top, remember?”

“No, I didn’t.” He snarled and looked at you, giving a mocha frappe to Jill, his hair artist. “I asked for a vanilla latte. If you suffer from memory loss, you’d better visit your doctor once we get back to US.”

What an asshole. Mary, who was now applying some makeup on Sebastian’s face with her beauty blenders and brushes, bit down on her lip: she had been watching how he treated you for the last 3 weeks, and it was a living nightmare. It was very odd since Sebastian was on good terms with pretty much everyone around, but you were always an exception. Why? Neither Mary nor Jill could tell. There was nothing revolting in the way you behaved around Mr. Stan, simply doing your job as his assistant. You were getting him coffee every morning, buying some personal stuff for him, managing his meetings… but you were more an errand girl, that’s true. It was surprising for most of the other people surrounding you two, but you didn’t object to your tasks. You were furious because of the way Sebastian treated you.

He was mean, unfair, irritating, and rude. You didn’t deserve it.

“Well, my voice recorder tells I got everything right.” You pulled it from the pocket of your below-knee sheath skirt, ready to press the button.

“What the fuck is that?” The man rose to his feet immediately, almost pushing frozen Mary out of his way and stepping towards you. “How many times do I have to tell you? NO. FUCKING. RECORDERS.”

He was ready to snatch it from your hands, yet you were able dodge him right on time, hiding the recorder in your pocket again.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll put it away!” In a second you were behind Jill’s tall figure as if you were a child hiding from a bad-tempered parent, Sebastian watching you with anger in his cold blue eyes. “I’m not going to use it. But it’s still true, you asked for caramel cappuccino.”

“Guess what? I don’t fucking care.” He growled in a low voice. “You’ll go and get me vanilla latte because it’s your goddamn job. And I want my coffee before Jill’s finished with my hair, understood?”

Watching his with clear disdain on your face, you cursed under your breath. It was freaking hot in Prague where Sebastian was filming now and getting out the second time just to run to Starbucks once more would sure ruin both your makeup and a white blouse you had been wearing. Damn it.

“God, why do you have to be such a bastard most of the time?” You snapped at him, visibly shaking with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a closet psycho or what?”

“I’m the one who pays you, honey.” He smiled at you the same way he always did it in front of the camera and you felt sick.

You stormed off the room without having a glance back at his perfect white teeth. Sebastian Stan was the worst person you had ever met, and you were working for him, seeing him every day and listening to his orders as if you were his pet. How did it come to this? Why did he look like the most perfect human being to you six months ago? What made him behave like that to you when in reality it was him who offered you a job?

God, it was all messed up. You did not remember when things got so bad you could yell at each other in a full voice. It was actually surprising, someone like you shouting and swearing at one of the world’s most famous actors, but it was something Sebastian let you do. Like he wanted you to scream at him regardless who surrounded you whether it was his makeup artists, agents, cleaning ladies or anyone else. It was like he got off on it.

True, this job payed well, much better than the one you had before. Moreover, in these 6 months you saw more countries than you did in your entire life, travelling with Sebastian everywhere and meeting tons of new people, many of them being great professionals. It was inspiring; it made you dream of all the things you thought were impossible; it made you curious and gave you a chance to practice your networking skills.

But Sebastian was fucking blowing it. After six months of constant everyday battles filled with rage and pure hatred you had gained weight, 10 pounds to be precise. Now you were having problems to sleep, and you knew it wasn’t the jet lag.

Anyway, you spent the whole day running around the city to buy him this or that. In the evening you were so tired you could barely move your legs while Sebastian was clearly pleased seeing you like that. It probably stroked his enormous ego.

Fuck it. You didn’t deserve a minute of it. You were not going to let him ruin you for fun, just because he could it since he payed you. Why did you spend you precious time trying to please him? Sure, you still considered him one of the best actors on the planet, but the things he did to you were not ok. He wasn’t ok. Maybe he really was a psycho or had some disorder he didn’t want to treat, you had no idea. But you knew it couldn’t continue like that. It was too much.

You spent an hour writing an email and asking to be laid off. It was just a few lines, simple and professional, yet you were constantly adding and then erasing new sentences. You shouldn’t make it personal, you thought to yourself. You doubted you could leave on agreeable terms, but you needed to give it a try. Even if your last argument with Mr. Stan might be the worst of them all, it would be your last one. It was worth it.

Sighing, you decided to take a stroll before going to bed. 15 minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? You’d have some fresh air and enjoy the view of Prague’s Powder Gate – you were lucky to stay right in the center of this magnificent old city. You could make some more photos to show your friends once you return back home. It was also nice to just sit on a bench and look at the night sky full of stars.

Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so guilty for leaving Sebastian and your team.

In the end, it took you way more that 15 minutes, but your late-night walk made your thoughts clear and left no regrets about your choice. What was happening between you and Sebastian wasn’t right, and you could do nothing but leave. With so many people wishing to work for him he would get another assistant in a matter of hours, and you would get your life back. Those money you earned would keep you afloat quiet some time even if you wouldn’t be able to get a job right away.

“What is this, Y/N?”

His voice almost made you jump. Sebastian stood up from the chair in the corner of your room once you put on the lights. What the Hell was he doing here so late? How did he open the door? If he needed anything, he could simply give you a call.

Oh. You saw your little black recorder in his hand.

“I told you I won’t use it anymore.” Your jaw clenched.

“I’m not talking about this piece of shit.”

He tossed your recorder on your bed as if he couldn’t care less and moved towards you so fast you had no time to step back.

“What is this pathetic email you wrote?” Sebastian’s handsome face darkened. “Are you not right in the head? You want to leave?”

“Yes, I do. What’s wrong with that?” Your expression hardened. He dared to touch your laptop when you weren’t there. “I thought you’d be glad to know. Today you told me three times I didn’t deserve working for you, correct?”

“You know perfectly well I wasn’t serious.”

“God, I have a hard time telling when you’re serious since all you do is hating me.”

He sent you an icy glare.

“You know I don’t hate you. You just happen to bring the worst in me, dear.”

There he was again. God, were you going to have this argument right now when you were deadly tired? You hoped it could wait till tomorrow, but it was clearly not your luckiest day.

“If you want to blame me again, it’s ok. I’m the worst one. I’m a bad person and a terrible assistant.” You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed again, scratching your forehead. “I get it. What I don’t get is why you aren’t happy I’m leaving.”

“Because I don’t want you to leave. If I really hated you so much, I’d already found another assistant, but I don’t want that.”

“Listen, let’s stop playing our games just for a few minutes.” This conversation made you feel even more exhausted. “We don’t get along. You don’t like me. Why do we torment each other? I don’t even remember the last time we had a regular conversation without shouting and cursing.”

“I’m not playing games with you, dear. You do.” He had already cornered you, his face determined and somewhat unsettling. “What do you want? A raise? More benefits?”

You were ready to yell at him again.

“Did you listen to what I just said? I want to leave. I want to come home and forget about all our horrible fights. I want to have a steady and boring job back in US. Do you understand?”

“NO, I DON’T!” The man screamed at you again, and now you suddenly felt his arms clenching your shoulders painfully and winced from his touch. “I already told you to stop toying with me! After all this shameless flirting and batting your eyes you wanna tell me you’re leaving? Do you think I’m so stupid to believe in this bullshit?”

It took you a few seconds to process his words. What? Flirting? Well, you did consider him handsome and charming, who on Earth didn’t, but you had never pulled anything like that. At first, it was because of your professionalism, and then your relationships escalated so fast you knew that he hated you and you hated him. What Sebastian had been even talking about?

You felt very aware how close he was once you felt his heavy breath on your face. He never did this before.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I want to leave. That’s all.” You tried pushing him back with your hands against his chest. “Please, let me go. I need to… t-to go to the kitchen.”

“You’re going nowhere, dear.” His expression darkened. “Tell me the truth. You don’t want me to treat you like my assistant? I get it, I get it, it’s fine. I can treat you like my girl in front of everyone if that’s what you want.”

“No! I – “

His put his hand on your mouth immediately, leaning in closer.

“It’s ok, I understand. I grew tired of pretending like nothing happens between us, too. You want me to let everyone now? It’s ok. I’ll post our photo on Instagram tomorrow. Is this what you want? Is this what you want?”

You tried to scream, but his grip on you was too strong as if Sebastian was really some kind of super soldier. Desperately trying to wriggle free you only got him to hold you tighter, his soft lips all over your face already wet with tears.

“It’s ok, dear. I got it.” He shushed you, trying to keep your arms together with his hand and pushing his knee in between your legs. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I understand now, so you don’t have to go. You won’t go, will you?”

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #dark sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier

420 notes · View notes

ko-fanatic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake (Part 3)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary: Breakfast before the show, and Mondo realising he loves Taka's music if it's live. Still, there's something too close to a disturbing premonition burning under Mondo's skin, and the idol's comments, actions and frame just make it worse. Something's going on with him...

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

Other parts: Part one | Part two

Kiyotaka did not, in fact, get to finish his allotted miles.

Mondo, in his defense, had attempted to continue, but after another mile his lungs had given up on him. Taka was so concerned, hearing his wheezing breaths, that he’d gotten him to spill about being asthmatic. The idol then promptly freaked out, calling a taxi to take them back to the hotel and insisting that he’ll keep his workouts to a gym setting in future.

He could tell Taka was upset - he might be callous, but he wasn’t stupid. Still, the kid said he was just antsy, nothing to worry about. Excess energy he hadn’t had the chance to burn off.

After a while of sitting on the couch, watching the TV that was way bigger than it had any right to be, he wasn’t actively dying anymore. Therefore, Taka saw it fit to leave him for a bit as he pottered around, doing idol things. He could hear Taka practising one of his songs in the bathroom as he performed his ludicrously long skin care routine.

Honestly, he was more focussed on Taka’s singing than the shitty sitcom on TV. He’d heard the polished, studio versions - who hadn’t? - but this was something else. Fuck autotune, for sure; Taka’s voice was beautiful, crisp as a bell and perfectly trained. But rather than the polished version, Taka added more vocal tricks and a generally interesting style to the song that he’d never heard before.

If there was more of that in his official audios, Mondo would’ve been an avid fan by now.

“And if you got a little more time, baby let me hold your hand in mine,” The idol sang as he strolled into the kitchenette, opening the fridge and retrieving an apple, “Drink you up like the finest wine, lick you off my lips before showtime -”

“Whoa,” He whistled lowly, unable to help himself, “Those lyrics aren’t very ‘sweet boy next door’.”

“Oh,” Taka blinked, seemingly just remembering he wasn’t the only one in the room, “That was actually my original version, before it was reviewed. Too lewd for the image, I guess.”

“Or they didn’t want a bunch of tweens bustin’ their first nut in public,” He chuckled, Taka’s nose scrunching in disgust.

“Ew,” He huffed, retrieving an apple from the fridge and starting to cut it up, “I’d rather not think about that.”

He just smirked, not bothering to turn back to the mindless crap on TV, just watching as Taka prepared his breakfast. He was about as meticulous about cutting up that apple as he was his choreography; while anyone would cut an apple into segments (barring bento making), Taka halved and cored it before cubing the frankly pathetic slivers of fruit he was left with.

The cubes were small, almost diced, and quickly scraped into a bowl like they'd burn Taka if they so much as brushed the pale, thin skin of his hands. Then, a bottle of lemon juice was procured, sprinkled on the un-diced half of the apple before it was wrapped in cellophane and sealed in a Tupperware box. Just watching the methodical, practiced actions had Mondo raising an eyebrow; Taka sealed that half apple away like some corny Hollywood curse. Like it would come back for one final scare if he didn't get rid of it.

He expected another fruit to be taken from the fridge, making up a small fruit salad, or for bread to be put in the toaster. Hell, he'd be cool with the promise of Starbucks or McDonald's on the way to the venue, but no.

Taka sat next to him on the sofa, chopsticks in hand as he daintily picked at the meagre portion he'd given himself. His frown only deepened when he saw just how little it amounted to, barely obstructing the bottom of the bowl from view. It hardly counted as an apple, looking far more like peelings you’d throw in the garbage than an actual meal.

“That it?” He asked, gesturing to the ‘meal’ as Taka placed a particularly small cube into his mouth.

“What do you mean?” The idol asked, raising an eyebrow, “It’s my breakfast.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” He grumbled, “I mean, ‘wow, kid, you eat less than a fuckin’ bird, go get some more’.”

“Half an apple is perfectly fine,” Taka defended, putting down his chopsticks to properly argue with him. It made a pang go off in Mondo’s chest, especially as his eye was drawn to the small bowl, resting on Taka’s thin thigh.

Most people’s thighs pool when sitting; flesh, whether be muscle or fat, generally molds under pressure. However, there was still that oh-so-lauded gap between the boy’s thighs, hardly more than bone. It made him… uncomfortable. Like seeing a cancer patient on their final days; only Taka wasn’t dying, ashen complexion notwithstanding.

“Yeah, no, it’s not,” He spoke bluntly, no preamble, “You did a three mile run, and you’ll be in rehearsals all day. Half an apple’s not going to keep you going.”

The idol rolled his eyes, muttering something about how his run should have been five miles, and picked up the chopsticks once more. He seemed to just push the fruit around his plate, however, instead of bringing piece after piece to his lips like he had before.

“What -?”

“Lost my appetite,” Taka shrugged, standing on those tiny, boney legs once more, “I’ll have something later.”

Mondo didn’t comment, not wanting to upset Taka more than he, apparently, already had. He simply watched as the peelings got scraped into the bin with the rest of the apple, hardly eaten. Maybe the equivalent of a couple bites.

He didn’t say anything, considering he’d already put the kid off his food. He’d make a note of it, but he mainly put it up to nerves for tonight; big venue, and didn’t they say that stage fright was an important part of this shit?

“Looking forward to the show?” Taka asked as he washed up his bowl, chopsticks and knife.

“Honestly, yeah,” He nodded, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, lounging around like he owned the place, “I’m not a huge fan of pop, but what you were singing now was cool. Guess I like live music better than studio versions.”

“Honestly, that’s completely valid,” Taka smiled, “I prefer doing my own thing, with no editing to slow me down…”

---

Mondo was having the time of his fucking life! Taka wasn’t kidding about editing slowing him down, the guy was a beast on stage.

The stage lighting pounded down on the idol, refracting off the metallic accents of his costume and catching the beads of sweat at his temple. Two hours of jumping around, dancing, singing, and playing his guitar, and he showed no signs of slowing. The adrenalin was high, and it vibrated through Taka, the crowds, the stadium itself and straight through Mondo himself.

If he was a cheesier person, he’d say it was like he could feel Taka’s own heartbeat through the music, resting in his chest next to his own. But he wasn’t that sappy. Nope. Not at all.

He certainly wasn’t prepared for Taka to remove the prince-like, white jacket to reveal the costume underneath. A crisp button-up was par for the course, but the leather harness buckled around his torso made the simple look jaw dropping. Finale outfit, he’d heard one of the costumers mention, but he hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

The leather looked so perfect wrapped around his thin body, and Mondo was screaming. Internally, thankfully, but this was going to be his end.

The song wasn’t long at all, maybe a couple minutes. Like a vast majority of Taka’s “approved” songs, it was about love; albeit darker. A couple heavily veiled allusions to bondage, both in the fun and not-so-fun senses, a feeling of wanting to pull away but being far too in love to do what was healthy.

The crowd just ate it up, even if it gave Mondo an odd feeling… Foreboding, perhaps? Some sort of anxious buzzing under his skin, like a premonition, but no basis in anything he could actually pinpoint. It wasn’t like he could see Taka’s eyes, or anything like that. Maybe a slight tremor in the voice, but fuck, the kid had literally been singing for hours.

After the final guitar riff, and a couple breaths, Taka grabbed one of his water bottles off the front of the stage, not even hesitating to dump it all over his head. The screaming from the crowd managed to increase tenfold, and he was pretty sure the whole stadium was enjoying the view of that white shirt turning translucent and clinging so enticingly.

“Thank you and goodnight!” He cheered, stage lights going out and allowing Taka to walk off stage with minimal awkwardness.

“That…” Mondo began, Taka holding up a finger as they disconnected his mic, making sure none of the sounds backstage got broadcasted and ruined any spell the audience was under.

“Sorry I had to interrupt you,” Taka apologised, so sweetly sincere, “You were saying?”

“Just… That was incredible…” He breathed, still slack jawed from the rush of the concert, “You… I…”

“Articulate,” Taka smirked, hand on hip as he sauntered off to get changed, before he would exit and be swarmed with both eager fans and paparazzi alike.

Mondo was smiling, heart still hammering, until his attention was brought to what was visible beneath the sodden fabric.

Ribs.

#danganronpa #dr talentswap #idol!ishimaru #bodyguard!mondo #ishimondo #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #blood guts and chocolate cake series

12 notes · View notes

diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

*************

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

**************

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker x reader #joker leto #joker imagine #joker suicide squad #joker jared leto #mister j #mr. j #dc #dcu

101 notes · View notes

dyaz-stories · 4 years

Text

Screaming Color — A SessKagu One-Shot

“The rest of the world was black and white... but we were in screaming colors”

Tagging: @shinidamachu @sailorbabydoll92 @sweetchcolate @clearwillow @zelink-inukag @cstorm86 @digital-art-monster @danycontreras90 @redflamesofpassion @lost-amidst-the-stars @eternalnight8806-3 @desiree239 @keichanz @ashleys-canvas @mustardyellowsunshine @meggz0rz @contacting-u @ramen---boi @superpixie42 @kazeinori

Also available on Ao3 and ff.net.

Prom night. Balloons suspended around the school gym in a desperate attempt to make it look a little more dreamy, not-so-dazzling lights, the one mirrorball the school owned, which had probably been purchased at the peak of the disco era, considering its looks, glitter on the floor, and bad music. Girls dressed to the nines and boys, well, making an effort, at least. Smiles, heartbreak, epic highs and lows of teenage romance.

And, standing by the drinks table, bored out of her damn mind, Kagura Kaze, art teacher in her thirties, chaperoning.

To say this wasn’t Kagura’s dream night would have been a complete understatement. See, when Onigumo, the school director had approached her to give her that job, she had had a moment of hesitation. It had lasted a second, if not less, as memories flooded her mind. When she’d been in high school, she was way too cool for prom, so she had never experienced it, and it made her— it made her somewhat curious, you know? Made her want to know what all the fuss was about.

Of course, the thought quickly vanished from her mind. Obviously, she couldn’t experience it as a teenager again, and while it might have been fun back then, though she seriously doubted it, there was no way she would enjoy it even the tiniest bit now.

But because of her hesitation, she’d lost her way out, and that was how she found herself, well, here.

“I’m standing right here, Manten.”

The teenage boy seemed genuinely surprised to hear her talk, and almost dropped the bottle of alcohol he’d been about to pour in the punch that was available for all students to drink from.

“Yeah, I know, I just—”

He just hadn’t thought she’d say anything. She’d heard that a lot tonight, and she didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. It definitely confirmed that she was the ‘cool teacher’, a title she’d earned because she was, by far, the best dressed teacher in school, because she actually had some renown in the art world and also because, if she dared to say so herself, she was an a-fucking-mazing teacher.

That would have come as a surprise to anyone, including her own self, just five years ago, when she’d gotten the job. She’d thought that would be the nail in the coffin of her creativity and of her already dying art career. She’d thought, and everyone around her agreed, that she would murder one of the young imbeciles she’d have to look after after just one day, and end up in jail, and if that didn’t happen, she would certainly die a long and boring death in the small high school of a small town, miles away from the city and everything she loved.

But, as it turned out, that had not been the case. She could, in fact, live without Starbucks, and she didn’t need to go shopping at high-end clothing stores every week-end.

Not that she could afford it these days.

As for teenagers, they were horrible, stupid, and hormonal, but some of them, sometimes, were also interesting. Those, she did her best to help. After all, Kagura liked talent. She took pride in her ability to spot it, even in its rawest form. She had thought it would make her bitter, to see these talented teenagers, with all their lives still ahead of themselves.

It didn’t. It just made her want to help them, and if that meant she had to do her damnedest to find scholarships they could apply to, well, she’d do that.

Other students didn’t complain about her class, either. It gave them an outlet for all sorts of emotions, and if there was one thing no one had ever said about her, it was that she was boring.

So it didn’t exactly surprise her, to hear that Manten had thought she’d let him spike the punch, but on the other hand— how did he dare? Did he really think she was that irresponsible? She wasn’t going to let teenagers get wasted on her watch.

“Give me the bottle, Manten,” she sighed, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

“But…”

“And tell your brother to come here and give me his,” she added, eyeing Hiten, who was watching the scene carefully, and who, of course, had sent his brother do his dirty job for him.

“Oh, Hiten would never—”

“You heard her, kid,” a deep voice growled from behind him. “Get it done.”

Manten immediately seemed to shrunk and disappear, which could have been a pretty funny sight, in different circumstances. The look Kagura gave to Inuyasha Taisho, P.E. teacher, was not amused.

“I was handling it,” she said dryly.

“Yeah, and I got it done faster.”

She had to resist the urge to snarl at him. Inuyasha was an alright person, but what an asshole he could be.

”Hey,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly unaware of the less than charitable thoughts that were going through her mind, “you wouldn’t have happened to see—”

“I’ll tell you where she is if you get Miroku and Sango back from their break,” she interrupted him. “I want to take mine, and we need someone by this table.”

She didn’t add that they were probably making out. Miroku had taken two bottles she’d gotten from kids who also wanted to spike the punch — which showed that there was no coordination there and was very irresponsible of them, because what if they’d all succeeded, that would have been a disaster — and winked at her before leaving with the perpetually unimpressed Sango. Thinking back on it, she probably should have stopped him then and there.

She’d high-fived him instead.

“Sure,” Inuyasha shrugged, not realizing what he was probably opening himself to seeing. “So?”

“She took a group of lonely kids to the library.”

“Keh. Of course she would,” Inuyasha scoffed, but his dumb, soft smile betrayed his feelings. That was how he’d been tricked into being here tonight, too. Because, of course, ‘she’ had also volunteered to watch over the dance.

Another day, another time, Kagura would have loved to meddle in the slow-burn developing between him and the literature teacher, the lovely Kagome Higurashi, because they were so damn entertaining, definitely her favorite couple among the faculty, but if she stood there one minute longer, she was going to spontaneously combust or something.

“Good. I’m off.”

“Hey, wait a second—”

“Hiten, here!”

The teenage boy begrudgingly handed her a bottle of what she knew at a glance was a very, very nice wine. Those kids really had too much money and too little supervision for their own good, which wasn’t something she could fix. Wasn’t her job, either, but sometimes, it disappointed her a little. Gave her heart an unpleasant squeeze. Every year, how many of those kids graduated, about to jump headfirst into a shitty life that would never get better? How many of them had she failed?

That wasn’t something she ever thought about, before starting to work here. It wasn’t a pleasant thought by any means, but she didn’t hate it, either. It felt— needed. It felt like it was something she should have thought about before. Then maybe she could have made a difference sooner, maybe she would be doing a better job.

On the other hand, if she didn’t think about it, maybe she wouldn’t need a drink so bad right now.

“Mrs. Kaze,” a calm, even voice, called from behind her as she was just about to leave the gym, “may I ask where you are going?”

Kagura froze, closed her eyes a second, then turned around, a charming smile on her lips.

“I was just taking my break, Mr. Taisho,” she said, ignoring the way her heart was hammering in her chest, as it always did whenever she talked to him. “Care to join me?”

Sesshomaru Taisho rose an eyebrow at her offer, and she had to remind herself not to hold her breath waiting for an answer. She wasn’t one of the teenagers she was supposed to chaperone, dammit!

That was all his fault, by the way. He had no business looking this good. He hadn’t dressed up, exactly, but he was wearing a fitting white shirt, which underlined a nicely chiseled chest, and black pants, and that was enough to create the illusion. She knew, from the looks he was getting, that she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. His long white hair, which he usually tied into a ponytail, were falling over his broad shoulders, and she would have killed for that hair, but that wasn’t what got her attention.

No, she was entirely focused on his face. He had the type of face she would love to paint someday, and that was the first thing that had struck her about him, when she’d first met him. He was beautiful, sure, but beauty could be boring. With him, it wasn’t. It wasn’t just his sharp jaw, thin lips, straight nose and high cheekbones. He was much more than the sum of his parts, but Kagura was convinced that even without all of that, if she had met his golden eyes, if she had seen the intelligence behind it, she would have been irremediably lost, regardless of anything else.

Sesshomaru glanced behind him at Inuyasha, who was sullenly watching over the drink table where she’d abandoned him. The two of them were brothers, but you would never have guessed it from the way they acted with one another. There was a rather painful story behind that, which Kagura had heard from Miroku, but she knew better than to bring it up with the brothers, so she kept her mouth shut.

“I suppose I could,” he finally said. “Inuyasha knows better than to let Rin get in trouble.”

Another subject it was better not to speak on. Sesshomaru’s adopted daughter was the apple of his eye, and he was, perhaps, just a little overprotective. Some had tried to point it out to him, but they’d learned that he didn’t take kindly to comments on his parenting, something no one in school ignored, at this point.

Unfortunately — for herself —, Kagura had never been really good at not speaking her mind, and there was only so much she could hold back in one night, especially for the same guy.

“Rin’s perfectly capable of getting in and out of trouble if she chooses to. I doubt there’s much Inuyasha could do to stop her from doing that.” I doubt there’s much you could do to stop her from doing that.

Sesshomaru glared at her in silence for a few seconds, but that wasn’t nearly long enough for Kagura to regret speaking her mind.

“Why would Rin want to do that?” he finally asked.

“She’s sixteen,” Kagura shrugged. “She might want to… experiment.” Like with that Kohaku kid I’m positive you don’t know about. “Are you coming or what?”

Sesshomaru looked over his shoulder one last time, sighed deeply, then nodded. Kagura deemed to be an absolute win. He was by no means talkative, after all, and this conversation had gone well enough, considering who it was with.

“Let’s get to my room,” she said, tilting her head towards the door. “Yours is depressing.”

By that, she meant there was a plain, black board — because Sesshomaru refused to change it to a white one — and nothing else. Evenly spaced desks, one larger one for him, no books, no posters, no nothing.

“And yours is too full of useless things,” he replied, frowning ever so slightly. “You should throw them out as soon as you’ve finished that project.”

Kagura let out a horrified exclamation. She could never do that. She knew what it felt like, when someone threw out something you’d poured your heart into, and she didn’t see the need for her pupils to experience that just yet. Of course, she couldn’t keep everything, and at the end of the year, she did have to throw away things that were left, but it had never crossed her mind to do that during the year.

“My room,” she argued as the two of them walked through the silent hallways, “is pretty and the students are happy to come here. I doubt you can say the same thing.”

“I’ve never heard anyone complain.”

“That’s because they’re terrified of you!”

In the dimly lit hallways, she missed the half-smile that curved Sesshomaru’s lips while the two of them argued. Even if she’d seen it, she would probably have assumed she’d imagined it, and yet, it was there. Sesshomaru was enjoying himself.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the doors to her room and let him in, turning on the light to reveal a place she was genuinely proud of. On the walls hung finished products, on the tables, paintings were still drying, and on the shelves were the results of that time they had tried pottery. Inuyasha probably hadn’t been happy that she had used his ex’s contact information to find a teacher for that, but he hadn’t said anything about it.

He’d just hidden in the gymnasium all day.

“There,” she said, satisfied with the scene. Esthetically, maybe it wasn’t the most pleasing sight, but she could see all the efforts poured into this work. She knew what belonged to which student, by name. She knew which themes had felt the most personal to whom, she knew…

Ugh, she was getting all mushy now.

“Let’s drink,” she said, pulling out the two bottles she’d gotten off of Hiten and Manten earlier.

But Sesshomaru wasn’t listening to her. Instead, he stepped closer to one of the walls and examined it in silence. Kagura narrowed her eyes at him. What exactly was he… Ah.

“Fractals,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, well, an assignment that was inspired by fractals,” Kagura said, rolling her eyes. She started tapping her fingernails on the wood of the desk she was sitting on. This was more embarrassing than she’d thought it would be. Not that she’d thought about it much, actually, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have done it. “Are we drinking or what?”

Sesshomaru looked at her over his shoulder.

“I do not think that is a very good idea. We need to look out for the students. We cannot do that drunk.”

Why did he have to be so reasonable all the time?

“Why fractals?”

Kagura pushed herself off the desk with a sigh and walked to his side.

“Well, I was looking into some geometrical things,” for no reasons whatsoever, “and I thought fractals were… an interesting theme. Most kids went for a mirror type of thing, but some took more interest in the snowflake shape and others on…” She sighed, but couldn’t quite contain her amused smile. “The Triforce, I guess.”

Sesshomaru watched her as she spoke. Kagura was always passionate about things. When she cared about things, it was obvious in her voice, in her attitude. Right now, her eyes shone as she examined her students’ project, her lips curved into a smile he knew she couldn’t quite control. She smirked, a lot, but she always looked like she was caught off-guard when she realized she was genuinely smiling.

“That isn’t a bad idea to get them interested,” Sesshomaru conceded, voice perhaps softer than it usually was. “To pick things they can— have fun making, I suppose.”

“Well, we don’t all have that luxury,” Kagura grinned, shooting him a wink. “You’d have trouble doing that, wouldn’t ya?”

Sesshomaru rose an eyebrow, and took a step towards her. Kagura tried to step back, only to realize her back was already against the wall. She swallowed as the tall, white-haired man leaned towards her, towering over her even though she was wearing high heels. Curse him and his stupid height…

“Is that a challenge, Kagura?” he asked, and God, his voice was doing all sorts of things to her.

She didn’t think he’d used her name before. She found she quite liked it.

“Might be,” she replied, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m pretty sure even if you tried, you couldn’t get your students interested.”

Something dark briefly lit up in his golden eyes, and Sesshomaru sighed.

“You’re an impossible woman,” he said, possibly for himself more than for her.

“Yeah, I kind of pride myself on—”

Sesshomaru kissed her. At first, it felt brusque, his lips crashing against hers but remaining immobile, his body so completely tense against hers.

Kagura reacted immediately. She didn’t try to understand it, didn’t stop to consider whether or not that was a good idea. Before she could have any form of cohesive thoughts, she was pushing herself against him, her hands were in his hair as she pulled him down against her. If that took him by surprise, he didn’t show it. In a second, he’d pulled her away from the wall and lifted her onto a desk, where she promptly wrapped her legs around his waist.

She’d thought about this for years, wondered of what he’d taste like, how his body would feel against hers. His warmth, seeping through his clothes, was almost surprising, opposed to his usual cold demeanor. His large hands, his long fingers, moved slowly, up her legs, then on her waist, as he took his time to discover her body. It was the clash of her passion, her impatience, and his slow deliberateness.

When he pulled away from her, she let out an annoyed whimper, but didn’t try to hold him back. Instead, she took in the sight of him in that moment, and it made her smirk. She liked the way he looked right now. Disheveled, shirt all creased, tie half-undone, hair a mess. She liked the way his lips parted as he tried to steady his breathing. She knew that in a second, he would look as tidy as ever, but for now, she enjoyed a sight she doubted many people has set their eyes on before.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, and her smile widened. It only lasted a second before he did compose himself again, and when he looked back at her, it was gone.

“I think it’s time we go back. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

Kagura took it and jumped from the desk, quickly smoothing out her skirt. It wasn’t her first rodeo, and she knew she could make herself look perfectly presentable before she walked back into the gym.

“You should give that back to Hiten’s parents,” Sesshomaru added, pointing at the bottles she’d abandoned by the door. “He probably took it from them.”

She rolled her eyes. He just had to know everything better than everyone else, didn’t he? Fine. She would. Because, of course, it was the right, smart thing to do. It was just very annoying. Ugh. The things she was doing because she liked him…

She grabbed his tie and took to straightening it, and he went very quiet. His face didn’t express any emotion, but he didn’t have to for her to be able to read him. Pulling him forward, she planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Watch out, professor,” she whispered huskily, “you have some lipstick there.”

Then she took a step back, winked at him, and disappeared through the door.

Sesshomaru spent long seconds there, regaining control of his breathing. He couldn’t explain to himself what was different about Kagura. Everything about her was fascinating. The way she moved, the way she talked, the was she smiled. She brought color to his mostly dull, black and white world, something only his adopted daughter had been able to do before. He had never really considered acting on — whatever it was he was feeling, until tonight.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about when to do it again.

It was a shame the year was ending, but they’d both still be here for the next one. At the thought, his lips curved into a smile.

He would be looking forward to it.

Hiii, thanks for reading! I’m tentatively coming back on Tumblr so you might see more of me in the next days. I don’t think I’ll be engaging with any content from the sequel, at least for the time being though. Hope you enjoyed this piece I wrote while I was gone!

#inuyasha #sesshomaru #kagura #sesskagu #inukag #in the background sure but it still counts #inuyasha au #teacher au #inuyasha fanfiction #my writing #annnnd i vanish into the night again

53 notes · View notes

writer-room · 3 years

Text

Well, Could’ve Been Worse

AO3

Summary: No sane person would be calling at this house if it wasn’t important. His phone said it was two in the morning. Lovely. His phone also said Tim was calling. Also known as: not a normally sane person. If Tim had gone on another frenzied Red Bull-induced investigation and gotten himself stuck again, Kon was gonna kill him. Also known as: Tim makes stupid decisions when on a caffeine crash + sleep deprivation. Kon, sadly, has to deal with that at the worst hours.

Kon’s powers were...weird. Unstable, if you wanted to be specific. Not as bad as it used to be, but it still wasn’t the same as Clark’s. Thank you again, Luthor.

Which means that if he’s conscious enough to check every now and again, he can do the whole ‘call my name and I’ll be there in about four seconds’ schtick, but it didn’t go so well when he was asleep. Cassie said he slept like the dead, to which Bart insisted that if there was ever food involved, he’d be wide awake faster than he could run across a room.

Both were ridiculous, but whatever.

Tim, at least, had tried to assure Kon that surely Clark couldn’t hear disasters going on when he was asleep. Tim wasn’t one who was often wrong, but Kon was willing to play a risky betting game on this one.

It made sleeping a little anxiety-inducing for a while, knowing that if something happened. he wouldn’t know anything about it until he woke up. Tim had said that it was normal to hate sleeping because of hero business.

Kon always thought of that comment every time he caught Tim awake at ungodly hours for days on end, staying up purely because of caffeine and spite. He should probably bring that up sometime.

The point was, Kon didn’t hear things when he was asleep. Which could be a good and bad thing in its own right. He isn’t, however, impervious to an obnoxiously loud ringing going off by his head.

Kon snorted as he woke, his phone ringing eerily sudden in the quiet of the Cave. He groaned, sitting up from where he’d passed out on the couch in the Cave. He suspiciously remembered something involving Cassie and arm wrestling landing him here, but he was too tired to care about that now.

His phone was on the ground beside him, a wonder nobody had stepped on it, especially Bart. It rang painfully loud, though that was probably because it was the first sound he’d heard in the past...however many hours it’d been. Kon resigned himself to slowly reaching down and pulling his phone up as he leaned against the arm of the couch. No sane person would be calling at this house if it wasn’t important.

His phone said it was two in the morning. Lovely.

His phone also said Tim was calling. Also known as: not a normally sane person.

If Tim had gone on another frenzied Red Bull-induced investigation and gotten himself stuck again, Kon was gonna kill him.

That’s a lie, he wouldn’t. Cassie, however, would kill him if he told her. So he could probably settle for that.

With a sigh, Kon mentally prepared to hear incoherent rambling he’d need to find Bart to interpret, and accepted the call.

“It’s two in the morning, Tim.” Was the first thing he said, letting his annoyance seep in.

“It’s like, two twenty-four,” Tim’s voice rasped over the phone, far scratchier than normal. “So if you woke up at normal times like everyone else, this wouldn’t be as big an issue.”

“You are not the person to be telling me how to go about my sleep schedule.” Kon scolded lightly. “So I sleep in till noon, so what?”

“You woke up at three--” Tim cut off with a series of coughing coming through. “--p.m yesterday.”

“Not the point,” Kon muttered. “Why are you calling? I thought you were still in the Cave?”

There was shuffling on the other line, and Tim’s voice came through more faded, like he was further from the phone.

“Oh, yeah, left a few hours ago on patrol,” Tim wheezed. “Thought I’d be back before Bart woke up. He’s been wakin’ at like...six a.m or something.”

“Tim,” Kon started.

“It was barely a patrol,” Tim puffed. “More like...doin' rounds and...grabbing something from Denny’s.”

Tim’s words were slurring here and there. He did so a lot when he started having caffeine withdrawal or was coming down from a Red Bull rush. Or was sleep deprived. None of those options were comforting.

“Did you find some villains?” Kon inquired, praying that there was a less ridiculous reason he was being woken up so late. “You need backup or something?”

“Woulda called like...the headquarters if I did, dude.”

Yeah, something was wrong.

“What’s this all about, then?” Kon asked, swinging his legs off the edge of the couch and standing. “Where are you?”

“Okay, okay,” Tim mumbled, his voice closer to the phone now. “Uh, you know...the Denny’s...but it’s by that weird tiny mall with the Starbucks?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m about...two streets over from that. By a bustop. Don’t worry, don’t worry, street lamps are out.” Tim assured quickly.

“The street lamps are out?” Kon repeated.

“Broke ‘em.”

“Course you did,” Kon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood up. “Seriously, man, what’s going on? What happened?”

“M’fine,” Tim lied, poorly. “Just don’t like...tell Cassie. She’ll kill me. With her eyeballs.”

“Tim, I’m way too tired for you to dodge around questions right now.” Kon groaned. “What happened and why do you need me? If you're not answering this outright, I’m hanging up and going back to bed.”

That’s also a lie. A bad one, at that. He’d probably stay on the phone all night if Tim needed him to. Though he’d definitely try and wake Cassie or Bart to help him out, he’s not that loyal.

“I was getting to it!” Tim whined, and oh wow, he must really be delirious. Bart was gonna be so mad if there weren’t any videos later. “I just kinda...wasn’t payin’ attention n’ stuff.”

“Paying attention to what?”

“The road,”

Kon froze.

“What?”

“Got hit by a car,” Tim slurred. “S’cool though, got outta there fast. Happened like...five streets back.”

“What the hell, Tim?” Kon nearly dropped his phone, remembering last-minute to grab his jacket off the floor as he started to race to the nearest exit out of the Cave. “You need to start with the ‘I got hit by a car’ part, not correcting what time it is!”

“There was time,” Tim mumbled. “I’m not dyin’ or anything.”

“You were hit by a car.” Kon stressed, already in the air. Thank you, inhuman speed.

“But I’m not dying,” Tim said simply. “Doesn’t count. Just hurts like a b--”

“Hang on, I’m nearby.” Kon talked over him, landing on a rooftop. The streets had grown recognizable fast, and thankfully, if Tim was right about his coordinates, he wasn’t that far from the Justice Cave. Probably wasn’t smart to fly at ridiculous speeds at two in the morning when he was barely awake, but he was too preoccupied to care.

“Oh, cool.”

Kon shoved his phone in his pocket as he flew down from the rooftops, far slower this time. He scanned the streets quickly, almost skimming right over the bus stop Tim was at. The lack of light, plus his darker costume, was not helping matters.

Sure enough, Tim was where he said he’d be. He wasn’t even sitting on the bench. More like dramatically draped over it with his arms keeping him upright and legs strewn behind him. The nearest street lamps had been shattered, probably with whatever Tim carried in his utility belt these days.

And Christ, Tim was a mess.

He must’ve been wearing a concealer, or it was extra pronounced tonight, because he had heavy bags under his eyes. His hair was a mess and falling into his eyes, his mask slightly askew. His costume wasn’t in awful shape, but his cape was twisted around so that it hung sideways rather than regularly situated on his back, and he had a few small tears here and there. Aside from the palms of his gloves, those had bigger tears. Plus he had scuffs of gravel and dirt.

And blood, there was blood, too. Blood on his hands, knees, and smears on the side of his face. But all in all, he looked more dazed and bruised than anything.

“No big deal, huh?” Kon said, crouching down beside his friend.

“Had worse,” Tim mumbled, resting his cheek on the bench. “M’just tired, really.”

“That all?” Kon sighed, taking off his jacket as he debated if it would be worth it to patch up the small amount of bleeding he could see.

“Breathin’s being weird, too.” Tim added, as an afterthought. “Think I fractured something.”

“Of course you did,” Kon groaned, reaching out and turning Tim around so he was sitting upright, leaning against the bench.

Tim hissed in pain at the movement, eyes shutting for a moment as Kon paused, anxiously looking him over.

“Please don’t tell me you broke a rib,” Kon begged, more to himself than Tim as he reached out to feel his side.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Tim yelped, cringing away.

“Hospital,” Kon decided with a nod and a grimace. “You need a hospital.”

“I’m Red Robin,” Tim complained. “Can’t go to hospital. Dad would kill me.” He insisted, dramatically thunking his head back on the bench and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Medical attention, then.” Kon said. “At least until you pass out so we can take you to a hospital when you can’t complain about it.”

“You're so mean,” Tim whined, shifting his arm slightly to give Kon a glare. “Bart wouldn’t treat me like this.”

“Bart would probably be having a panic attack.”

“S’why I called you,” Tim mumbled, slumping down and off the side of the bench, leaving Kon to jump and support Tim’s head before it conked against the concrete. “Cassie woulda yelled at me.”

“She’s definitely going to yell at you now,” Kon agreed, gently keeping his hand on the back of Tim’s head as he pushed him back upright. “How did this even happen? Don’t you have ridiculously fast reflexes or something?”

“It was a hit n’ run, I know it was.” Tim rasped, weakly shaking a fist.

“You said you fled the scene.”

“Was still totally a hit n’ run,”

Kon sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument tonight. None of the bleeding was concerning, so instead he settled for dumping his jacket over Tim’s shoulders. He also picked up Tim’s phone from where it’d been discarded on the pavement, shoving it in one of the jackets pockets.

“Pretty sure you're just too tired to notice anything,” He muttered quietly, scooping his arms underneath Tim’s knees and back.

“Was gonna get more coffee, swear it.” Tim mumbled, letting himself go completely limp as Kon picked him up. “Came outta nowhere,”

“Next time I catch you pulling all-nighters, I’m sitting on you till you get proper sleep.” Kon threatened, giving Tim a half-hearted shake as he rose into the air.

“If you catch me,” Tim said cheerfully, giving a crooked smile.

Would’ve been a lot more charming if it weren’t for the fact it reopened what was apparently a still-healing cut on his lip.

Not that it was charming to begin with. Injured best friend, not the time. Kon shook his head.

“I’m Superboy, it won’t be hard.” Kon boasted, flying at a grudgingly slower speed back to the Cave. It probably wouldn’t help Tim if he went back at the same speed he arrived, the base wasn’t that far, anyway.

“You miss things all the time,” Tim huffed, raising a weak hand to presumably poke at Kon’s face, but ended up just flailing it around.

“Psh, not that often.” Kon rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you do,” Tim insisted, letting his head hang back, staring upside-down at the ground below them. “Obvious things. Miss ‘em all the time.”

“Like what?” Kon pressed. “And you're not allowed to say anything about the Justice League, they don’t count.”

Tim went quiet. Kon wondered for a brief, terrifying moment, that Tim really had passed out from his adrenaline rush before they made it to base. But then Tim raised his head and he could breathe easy.

Tim stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. It was his ‘I’m not sure if you're being sarcastic or actually an idiot’ face, which, honestly, could be better classified as ‘I’m judging you for being an idiot’ face, considering the circumstances he used it in.

Kon met his gaze, more than a little curious. Normally Tim would’ve started rattling off all the things he’s oblivious to on a daily basis. The hesitation was...well, not normal. He chalked it up to Tim being loopy from his whole ordeal.

“Stuff,” Tim decided, his head falling back to its original position so fast that Kon cringed.

“Descriptive,” Kon sighed, grateful for the sight of the Cave, speeding their flight.

“Shut up, I’m tired and broken.” Tim mumbled, his voice laced with drowsiness.

“Then maybe, and here’s a thought,” Kon said, landing just outside the Cave. “You don’t go days without sleep to the point you get hit by a car of all things.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Kon talked right over him.

“I know, I know, it’s very difficult to ask of you.” He said, his playful snooty tone lessened by the smugness that seeped in. “But with the right routine, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

“You sound like a horrifying combination of Alfred and Dick.” Tim grumbled, no less limp as Kon carried him inside the base. “I wish you had your sunglasses so I could break them--wait,” Tim raised his head again, squinting at Kon. “Where’s your glasses?”

“Didn’t really have time to grab them after, you know, you woke me up at two in the morning and stalled in telling me you were bleeding at a bus stop.” Kon snarked.

“It was two twenty-four,” Tim muttered quietly, drawing his arms up to his chest and looking away.

And dammit, Kon was almost convinced Krypto was rubbing off on Tim too much. The guy looked like a puppy after stealing food from the table. Which, frankly, was something Kon would also do if he had to eat the same thing every day. Clark hadn’t seen it that way, but whatever.

Kon held back a sigh, shuffling through the hallways. He could probably put Tim on the couch, right? Christ, Cassie was gonna bite off his head for waking her up.

“Just be careful, alright?” Kon murmured, resituating Tim in his arms. He got slippery after a while. “You don’t need to be up at all hours of the night to patrol,” He said, frowning to himself.

Tim reached up one of his arms and looped it around Kon’s neck, aiding Kon in holding him properly. His face turned to the side and pressed into Kon’s chest, huffing.

“You have your family to look after Gotham at night, anyway. That helps, doesn’t it?” Kon added.

“S’not the same,” Tim mumbled, his voice muffled.

Kon would’ve argued, really, he often does, but tonight just wasn’t the night. Tim was too battered for much of anything to sink in, and honestly, he was still tired. And he was pretty sure if he spent another ten minutes around Tim with nobody else to buffer, his common sense was going to finally kick in and make him start freaking out even more.

“At least take someone with you,” Kon settled on, craning his neck down so he could press his nose into Tim’s hair. It was still frazzled and greasy. “Bart’s already awake at ungodly hours. Jinny’s down for almost anything. Hell, I’d come with you if you asked.”

“You’d come without me asking.” Tim muffled, and Kon swore if he could see Tim’s face he’d be smirking. “Besides, you complain.”

“I complain, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.” Kon huffed, slowly moving his head back as he came to the couch he had, previously, been having a rather nice sleep on. “And honestly, if someone like you can end up getting hit by a regular car of all things, you probably shouldn’t be out on the streets on your own.”

“Piss off, it’s a bad night.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Kon rolled his eyes, slowly leaning down so he could place Tim on the couch.

“Ow,” Tim groaned, his arm tightening around Kon’s neck as he was set down, his other hand coming up to fist the side of his uniform.

“Scale of one to ten, how bad can you guess it is?” Kon winced, slowly slipping his hands out from under Tim.

“Mm, well, it's not broken.” Tim slurred, refusing to unwrap his arm from Kon’s neck, leaving the super to awkwardly bend forward. “Probably just cracked. If it was broken, I would've lost a lung by now.”

“Ah,” Kon hummed anxiously, raising a hand to unwrap Tim’s arm from him. “That...is a nice thought.”

“Just told you it wasn’t broken,” Tim grumbled, glaring up at Kon as his arm was pried free.

“Your way of being comforting isn’t the best,” Kon admitted with a tilt of his head, stepping back. “Now you stay here, alright? I’m gonna get Cassie.”

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim groaned, pawing at his face until he caught the edge of his domino mask. “After today, I would’ve been better dumped in a ditch.”

“It’s still nighttime,” Kon reminded.

“Details,” Tim waved his free hand, the other peeling off his mask and letting it fall to the floor.

“Whatever, just don’t move.” Kon warned, pointing a finger close to Tim’s face. His eyes were unfocused and hazy, and the sight of that only added to the pit that was opening in Kon’s chest.

“Aye aye, captain.” Tim mumbled, giving a half-hearted salute before letting his arm dangle off the couch. The other came up to clutch at the jacket still around his shoulders, turning his head into it.

Kon has never so badly wished he’d taken his phone out of his jacket earlier so he could take a picture. Never, he swears.

And, of course, he also wished Tim wasn’t injured. That was the main issue here, really.

Kon hesitated, stepping around the couch and glancing back. Tim was never known to stay put when asked, but it seemed this time he was being merciful.

One friend down, two more to survive.

Could’ve gone worse, he reasoned as he creeped (in a poor attempt at being quiet) down the hallways towards Cassie’s room. A car was nothing. Except for a reminder that, unlike the rest of them, Tim wasn’t superpowered--but that was an anxiety for Tim to get offended about later.

And if Tim woke up hours later in a hospital, with Dick on the other line and Cassie seconds away from cracking the rest of his bones herself, at least Kon could rest easy knowing that he wouldn’t be pulling that stunt again any time soon. Or at least be more careful. He’d take what he could get.

18 notes · View notes