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oliverreedmasterass · 11 months

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Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby Competition🤩

Oh my god Addison I am SO sorry for the wait, but thank you for the request!!

Sleek, Modern, Sexy

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: brief mention of a kinda nasty finger injury, the Blue Man Group

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“Sam,” Josh’s voice shook over the phone. “We did it. We won a Grammy.”

Sam was taking a nap when his phone broke him out of his slumbers and, while he had at first been groggy, he immediately snapped awake.

“You’re kidding,” was all he could manage to say.

“For Best Rock Album. We actually won.”

Sam sprung to his feet and raked a hand through his long hair in disbelief. Their EP had beat Weezer, Ghost, Fall Out Boy, and Alice In Chains. It didn’t feel real. In fact, Sam hadn’t felt such a gratifying sense of victory since nine years earlier.

He was about a foot and a half shorter, his hair was clipped above his ears, and, at that point, he had only touched his dad’s bass a handful of times. Instead of playing music with his brothers, he spent his days flipping through Marvel comics and, more importantly, designing his car for the Cub Scouts Pinewood Derby.

Despite his young age, Sam had established himself as a kid with a serious eye for engineering. It was most likely due to his father, Kelly, encouraging him to watch various Discovery Channel programs with him, and coming home with Lego kits, telling Sam to “go ham.” Sam’s creativity, logical reasoning, and handiwork made him a triple threat when it came to building a small, wooden car to race against his fellow Cub Scouts. He could hardly focus in school because he was too busy drawing blueprints and testing various models, hypothesizing which would be the fastest, or most aerodynamic.

A week before the competition was supposed to happen, Sam was ready to put his car together. His older brothers, Jake and Josh, took interest in his project and trailed him into the garage as he gathered his tools.

“I made a car for my troop,” Josh shared with Sam, hoping to impart some wisdom on his younger brother.

“It was a lousy car,” Jake reminded Josh. “You placed in dead last because you glued your tires to a block of wood without checking to make sure that they rotated. The stupid thing sat at the starting line.”

Josh frowned at Jake. “The whole point of this competition is to learn from your mistakes.”

“I bought a Hot Wheels car ten minutes beforehand because I forgot to make one and got disqualified,” Jake told Sam. “So the bar isn’t too high if you want to impress Mom and Dad.”

“I just want to make something I’m proud of,” Sam answered with a shrug. “But also I’m pretty sure I can win this thing,” he added. “The people in my troop aren’t the brightest.”

“I guess things haven’t changed that much since we were there, huh Josh?” Jake nudged his twin in the ribs, which earned him a smack on the arm in return. He rubbed his forming bruise and motioned towards Sam’s journal. “Is that your plan?”

“Uh huh,” Sam answered. He set his block of wood down and handed Jake the book. He would never say it to them upfront, but Sam really did want to impress his older brothers with his car. Earning their respect meant the world to him, and the fact that they had taken interest in his work was filling his heart with joy.

Jake scanned over the various sketches of Sam’s car and raised his eyebrows.

“This is detailed, Sammy. You really have been working hard on this.”

Josh grabbed the notebook from Jake and studied it as well.

“There’s notes in here about aerodynamics. How do you know what that is?”

“Dad showed me a documentary about how planes fly a few weeks ago. I thought it might make my car go faster too, with physics and all.”

“Dad and his science documentaries,” Jake rolled his eyes. “So, can I help you with the saw?”

Sam felt bad, but he had a specific plan in mind that he knew Jake couldn’t pull off. Plus, his parents had made it very clear to Sam that he and his siblings weren’t allowed to touch anything sharp. After Jake had sliced the tip of Sam’s thumb off a few years earlier, all of the Kiszka siblings were barred from putting their hands on any knives, saws, or other items that could cut.

“I have to wait for Dad,” he sternly told Jake. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble with his parents or, even worse, have Jake cut his thumb off again. That had hurt pretty bad.

Jake looked like he wanted to protest, but Josh put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and then pointed up the stairs at the main level of their house.

“I’ll go and grab the old man now so we can get this thing started.”

Sam wasn’t sure that he liked how Josh was referring to his project as a group effort, but he decided to let it slide since he was grateful that Josh was following his parent’s orders. It was rare that his brothers listened to their parents, especially since they had entered their teenage years.

Josh bound up the rickety wooden steps and threw open the door leading into their kitchen, disappearing from sight while calling out for their dad. Sam and Jake stood in silence for a few beats, but then Jake cleared his throat.

“Your design really does look good. Like, a lot better than the stuff I saw when Josh and I did the competition.”

“We’ll see how it turns out,” Sam mumbled, his cheeks flushing. Jake seemed to be uncomfortable with the silence lingering between them because he moved across the garage to retrieve a soccer ball that was sitting around. Sam tried to focus his attention back on his blueprint while Jake started to juggle the ball, his sneakers squeaking against the pavement.

Josh came back down a few minutes later with Kelly in tow, and the two joined Sam’s side.

“You’re in charge here, kiddo,” Kelly told Sam. “You let me know what you need, and I’ll give you a hand. But you’re in the driver’s seat.” Kelly couldn’t help but chuckle at his pun. “What’s first?”

“We have to rough cut my design,” Sam regained some of his confidence. He liked the feeling of being in charge and, more than that, holding his dad and Josh’s attention. Jake, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with his soccer ball at the other end of the garage. Kelly grabbed the block of wood Sam had been given by his Scoutmaster.

“Shave it down a bit?”

“Yeah, a lot thinner,” Sam said. He reached for his sketches and held them up to his dad to inspect. Kelly’s eyes scanned over Sam’s pencil drawings and he broke out into a smile.

“Sounds good,” he said as he carefully set the notebook back down.

Kelly let Sam wear a pair of safety goggles while he used his saw on the wood and instructed Jake and Josh to stand at least ten feet back. Jake had joined their side the second he saw Kelly bust out the saw, and looked visibly disappointed that he couldn’t move closer to see his dad cut the wood. While Kelly got to work, Sam looked over his shoulder a few times and grinned at his older brothers, who were both standing on their toes trying to get a better view. Sam had a front row seat though, and he remembered that he was the one in charge. He put that authority into practice when he noticed that his dad was being conservative with how much he shaved off.

“I want it to be light,” Sam told his dad. “Take off more.”

“You got it,” Kelly grunted.

When he was done, Kelly presented Sam with his altered block, which was cut down to a thin rectangle. Sam cradled the wood in his small hands and studied it, picturing how it would look when it was done. He was still feeling confident that his design was going to win.

“I need to sand it now,” Sam announced. This brought Jake and Josh closer to him, looking expectant that they would be asked to lend a hand. Sam wanted to be in charge of smoothing out certain edges of his car because he had to be very particular about it all, but he also wanted to make his brothers happy. “You can sand the tires,” he tried to delegate the work. “That will cut down on the friction.”

That was more than enough to satisfy Jake and Josh since they happily accepted some sand paper from Kelly and grabbed Sam’s tires.

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to do this,” Sam overheard Josh telling Jake.

“It wouldn’t have mattered for your car, considering your tires didn’t even work.”

“No need to keep bringing that up.”

Sam kept his goggles on because they made him feel official, and he settled at his dad’s work bench to focus on his work. He reasoned that his car needed to be curved slightly in the front and have its corners be softened. He had read a lot of books at the library about the fastest cars on the planet, and a lot of them followed a similar structure. Sam grabbed his sandpaper and got to work, rubbing it carefully against the wood while biting his lip in deep concentration.

“I think we’ve got the tires in good shape,” Jake joined Sam’s side while he finished shaving down the front of his car. Sam let out a short huff because he didn’t want to be distracted from his work, but he turned to look back at Jake, who was holding out the four black tires in his hand with a satisfied grin. Sam grabbed one of the tires and held it up to the lightbulb screwed into the wall above their dad’s bench to inspect their work.

“Just a bit more sanding and then it should be good,” Sam said back to Jake.

“You’re kidding,” Jake’s smile dropped. “We spent like twenty minutes on those.”

“Friction will slow it down. I need this car to be as fast as possible.”

Jake took the tire back from Sam and turned back to return to Josh. “The sandpaper is gonna turn my hands to stumps pretty soon,” he grumbled under his breath.

Sam focused back on sanding the wood and, by the time Jake and Josh returned to his side holding out the tires again, he was happy with how the body of his car looked. It was pretty close to his drawings, which Kelly verified when he stuck his head back into the garage to check on their progress.

“This is gonna be a fast one,” he claimed as he twirled the car around in his hands. “I can tell.”

“Can you make some holes near the bottom for the axles and tires?” Sam asked his dad. “Oh, and also a few holes in the bottom for my weights?” Kelly inspected where Sam had penciled in for him to cut and brought the wood back to his workstation to use his loud drill. Within no time, the wood was back in Sam’s hands, and Kelly excused himself to get started on dinner upstairs.

Sam grinned down at his car and then snapped his head back up to look across at Jake and Josh.

“It’s time to decorate it.”

“What are you gonna do for the paint job?” Josh’s eyes were wide with interest.

“Flames?” Jake guessed. “The Batman logo?”

Sam shook his head. “I want it to be sleek, modern, and sexy.”

“Sexy?” Jake and Josh both gaped at their younger brother.

“You’re ten, what do you know about sexy?” Josh sounded genuinely concerned.

“I hear people call cars sexy,” Sam replied. That was really all he understood about the word. His response seemed to bring some relief to his brothers since they dropped the subject.

“So, sleek and modern, huh?” Jake asked Sam.

“I want it to be red and glossy,” Sam shared.

“Only red?” Josh checked in. “You could paint something else on it, you know.”

“I was gonna do a Spiderman design, but I think only red is better,” Sam replied. “It feels more, I don’t know, grown up.”

“I can grab you a Sharpie and you could write some stuff on it,” Josh suggested. “Like ‘Sam Kiszka rules’ and ‘I love my brothers.’”

“Ew, gross,” Jake made a face. “Don’t you dare write that on your car.”

Sam laughed at his brothers.

“I’m just gonna do red.”

Josh was hovering around Sam quite a bit while he retrieved a tube of red acrylic paint from their arts and crafts drawer, and he took the hint.

“Do you want to help me paint?” Sam asked Josh.

“Sure,” Josh tried to sound cool, though Sam could tell that he was secretly ecstatic.

They settled back in the garage and grabbed their paint brushes, both spreading the scarlet shade over the wood. Off to the side, Jake had snagged his own paintbrush and was carefully decorating the discarded pieces of wood that Kelly had cut off of the original block of wood with the Cool S. Sam and Josh covered the car in three hefty coats of paint before Sam decided that it was looking good. The color was bright and was certain to gather a lot of attention out on the track. To top it off, Sam added some gloss over the paint so it had a bit of a shine to it when it was held up to the light.

“What do you think?” Sam called over to Jake, who had started mindlessly painting on his bare arms so they were mostly blue. He let his brush drop back down onto the table in embarrassment, and squinted to look at Sam’s progress.

“Looking good!” he called back, giving a blue thumbs up.

Since they had to wait for the paint to dry, Jake and Josh excused themselves so they could find something else to do to keep themselves preoccupied that wasn’t watching paint dry. Sam overheard them scheming to paint Jake entirely blue so he could run around their neighborhood pretending to be a member of the Blue Man Group.

Sam took advantage of the peace and quiet and focused hard on aligning his axles and securing the tires. When he was satisfied, he glued the axles in place and then popped the tires on. He gave the car a light push across Kelly’s work bench and watched in delight as it moved in a straight line with ease.

“Nice,” Sam whispered to himself. And then he hustled upstairs to find his mom.

Karen was the self-proclaimed expert with the hot glue gun, which was what Sam needed to secure his metal into the back of his car to insure that it moved as fast as possible.

“MOOOOOOOOOOM!” Sam shouted from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Hun?” Karen’s voice was muffled from the other end of the house. Sam cradled his car in his arms to make sure it didn’t get damaged, and ran down the hallway to his parent’s room. There, he found Karen, laying on top of their Queen bed while flipping through Water For Elephants.

“Can you glue something for me?” Sam asked, out of breath.

“Is this your Pinewood Derby car?” Karen asked in intrigue, motioning for Sam to pass her his car so she could admire it. Sam excitedly handed it to her, hoping to receive more praise for his hard work. “Oh wow,” Karen breathed out. “This looks really good, Sammy. I love the color too.”

“Josh helped me paint it,” Sam said as he puffed out his chest in pride.

“That was nice of him,” Karen gave Sam a warm smile. “So what do you need me to glue?”

“I have these Tungsten balls that should fit in the holes Dad drilled to the bottom of the car in the back,” Sam explained quickly. “I need the hot glue gun to make sure that they stay in place.”

“Let me grab it,” Karen told Sam. He watched her mark her place in her book and stand from the bed to rummage through her closet for the hot glue gun. It had been a while since she had needed it; the kids weren’t doing art projects as much as they used to.

They moved to the kitchen where she could plug the glue gun in, and Sam stood on his step stool to watch his mom trap the metal inside the drilled holes with the hot glue. While they waited for it to harden, Sam watched an entirely blue Jake run around the front yard, waving his hands around and cackling loudly. Karen caught a glimpse of her son and shook her head in disbelief.

“What am I going to do with your brother?” she sighed.

They both watched as Josh ran behind Jake with the garden hose, trying to wash him off with an equally loud laugh.

Later that evening, the entire Kiszka family crowded in the living room to watch Sam test his design against the infamous Hot Wheel car that had gotten Jake disqualified three years earlier. On their homemade track, built out of old carboxes, Sam and a slightly less blue Jake held their cars at the starting line.

“On your marks,” Josh called, “Get set, go!”

Jake and Sam dropped their cars at the same time and watched in awe at the incredible speed that carried Sam’s car to the finish line in what felt like the blink of an eye. A few seconds later, Jake’s Hot Wheel clunked past the finish line. Sam’s grin was wide as he pictured his car winning the following weekend at the Derby in a similar fashion.

In what felt like no time, Sam was at the Frankenmuth Youth Center, carefully shielding his car model from any harm. His fellow Cub Scouts were crowding around the racetrack and playing with their cars on the gym floor, which Sam noted was ruining their tires.

He was standing off to the side, surrounded by his family, attempting to remain calm while he waited his turn for the competition. When the time finally came, Sam could feel his heart start to thunder in his chest.

You can do this, he thought down to his car. He hoped with all of his might that his car was going to win. The prize was a large trophy which was pretty cool, but Sam mostly wanted to prove to the other kids that he could make the best, fastest car out there.

He eyed his competitors and noted that their cars were too tall, too wide, too flimsy-looking, too chunky. In comparison his car looked like a part of the Indianapolis 500. Sam gingerly placed his car in its designated lane and then, per the Scoutmaster’s direction, took two steps away from the starting line.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Sam silently prayed.

“Let’s go, Sam!” Josh called from the crowd.

Please, Sam tried one last time.

The bar holding the cars in place on their elevated slope was removed, and the cars sped down the track in a quick zip. The bright red color of Sam’s car definitely made it stand out against his competitors, and he had no trouble tracking it as it zoomed down the track at the front of the pack. The other cars felt like they were miles behind him. Sam started to imagine all of the bragging rights he would earn on the playground and could feel his stomach turn in glee. The Scoutmaster’s shrill whistle marking the end of the race brought Sam out of his daydream and, beaming wide, he waited to hear the announcement that his car had won. But, off in the distance, he saw the Scoutmaster holding a different car up.

Bradley, who was conveniently the Scoutmaster’s son, ran to join his dad with an excited whoop, dancing at the finish line with his winning car. Sam’s face dropped in shock. Bradley’s car hadn’t seemed like a threat to him when he studied the other cars in the race earlier, but there must have been something about his design that outshone Sam’s.

Sam could feel the excitement oozing out of him until he noticed that the Scoutmaster was holding up his car as well. He could just barely hear his gruff voice call out, “Second place!”

Even though Sam had been shooting for first place, second place got a trophy as well which was more than enough to keep him happy. He had never won anything in his life and had always dreamed of having something shiny to display on his bookcase, just like his siblings.

He sprinted to the finish line and had his winning car placed back in his hands, which he immediately lifted up in victory. Within seconds his family was by his side, clasping him on the back and congratulating him. That is, everyone but Josh.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit rigged that the Scoutmaster’s son won?” he asked with his brows furrowed.

“Joshua, not right now,” Karen told him.

“It just seems a little bit fixed,” Josh continued to argue.

Sam hadn’t considered that, but Josh did have a point.

“Bradley cheated!” he called out.

“No,” Kelly assured Sam, turning briefly to shoot Josh a glare. “He won fair and square. But you got second place which is so wonderful! You should be so proud of yourself.”

“They stole that win from you,” Josh whispered to Sam.

“Joshua,” Karen warned her son again. Josh took the hint and shuffled away from Sam.

Sam was ready to continue spewing conspiracies that the entire race was fixed, but he was quickly distracted when the Scoutmaster announced that they begin the award ceremony. While Sam continued to hold onto his car, he was handed a polished gold trophy that had “2nd Place” written on a plaque at the bottom. He could hear his family whoop and cheer for him loudly and, in that moment, Sam felt like he had accomplished something truly great for the first time. He always felt like he was living in the shadow of his older siblings but, finally, he could enjoy the limelight. He felt a new confidence growing in him as he realized he had won something that he was in charge of. It had been his design, not Jake’s, not Josh’s, not Ronnie’s, not his parent’s, his. He couldn’t be more proud.

After receiving the news from Josh about their Grammy, Sam felt transported back to his youth when he placed second at the Pinewood Derby Competition. Like nine years prior, his heart swelled with joy that he, Danny, and his brothers had come together to create something that was uniquely theirs, and found success along the way.

“We worked so hard for this,” Sam told Josh, his voice quivering as his emotions caught up to him.

“Nice to finally win first, right, Sammy?” Jake joined Josh, calling into the phone to Sam.

“It definitely is,” Sam laughed.

#gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfic #pinewood derby #now I know how to make one of these cars....kinda lol

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hecatesbroom · 21 days

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For the fic titles ask game: number 9 for "the finish line" and "it's still the same old story", number 11 for "i'm tired of wanting more / i think i'm finally worn", plus a bonus - one question among these you really want to answer for any one of your fics! :)

Ooh different fics in the same ask, that's fun! Thank you! <3

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

the finish line

Not exactly, but also kind of? I started with the introspective bits in chapter 1, but there was no setting yet. Eventually I added in the bits where Dorothy is looking at Lucas and holding back her tears, because I thought framing this in an actual scene would give it more weight — and would make it easier for people to connect to the emotion.

I was originally planning to leave it at that, but felt so bad for Dorothy (and honestly also a little for myself, because I'd properly broken my own heart 😂) I had to give her a hopeful ending. So I added chapter 2 as a fix-it (and an apology) for the pain I inflicted lmao

it's still the same old story

Ohh my Maude fic! Thanks for asking about this one! :')

Yeah, there were two! The original version of this didn't include the movie theater — it was just the introspective bits. And while those worked fine on their own, I thought I could increase the tension and weight of the story if I added an actual scene to frame it. Kind of like the finish line, haha.

Though after writing the movie theater scene, I felt like a different setting might suit this better — so I started a half-baked attempt at another scene, one where they're having a movie night at home. It was fine, and I think it could've worked out well, but my mind was already set on the initial setting and I couldn't get the new one to work. So I ended up going with the first (ish) option eventually!

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I'm tired of wanting more / I think I'm finally worn

Ooh, this is a hard one. In terms of technical details, I had a great time with the way this is structured. Going through Dorothy's life year by year, opening with a similar line each time. I gave myself a few rules to stick to (open every part in the same way, sketch her life at that moment, and tie it all in with the physical weight of it all) and I think it ended up working really well :)

I also like that this gave me the opportunity to explore how to write about different types of exhaustion and fatigue, and distinguish between them. It's a topic near and dear to my heart, so let's just say it was nice to be able to put my knowledge to good use for a change!

And for the bonus question (thank you for that!) I'll add on to #11 with another fic :)

Farewell to a Daughter (in C Major)

I tried to include some symbolism in here, and it was so much fun weaving it in! There's Sophia's gray dress, of course, but there's also the second to last line -- where she finally dabs at her eyes with a black handkerchief, essentially giving in to the notion she's been struggling with throughout the entire scene: she's mourning, instead of celebrating.

My favourite part of symbolism in the entire fic might be the title, honestly. The tragedy of Farewell to a Daughter, contrasted with (C Major) at the end -- putting Sophia's feelings against a cheerful tune that is, in fact, the key Mendelssohn's wedding march is played to. But of course you knew about that already, haha.

#thanks again!! i had a great time answering these!#ask #ask game #fic tag

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blxxditout · 5 months

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Day 10: What does your muse look like? Did anything inspire his looks? From your secret Santa

He has a description in his segment of my google doc, and I've drawn him a handful of times, but I've yet to make a full ref of him. I'll go ahead and lovingly describe him again since his appearance is something that I really like about him. Putting that under the cut though. For inspiration, I'd say that Robert Pattinson was definitely kept in mind. I really liked his face, but I couldn't see it for Sid, nor could I imagine him portraying my character. Face claims are hard, especially when your character looks a specific way that doesn't align with your mental image of the muse. In spite of that and what I've been told though, Simon Henriksson from Cry of Fear wasn't taken into account despite the comparisons that could be made about their characters.

I did want him to vaguely look like a hunter from Left 4 Dead though, since originally he was going to be a zombie.

He is a tall, pale man, as sickly as a corpse but life still persists through him somehow. It couldn't be fathomed with how dull his skin looked besides the norm of a healthy glow. His eyes are sunken are the results of sleepless nights, and days spent rotting away in the dark of his room, though there is something that is unsettling about them. They're nearly unnatural with how light they are, nearing a silver while retaining a hint of blue. They say he has his father's eyes, but they were never this light, a testament of the horrific act that was done unto him by his partner. Even so, it is rare of him to express such through the windows of his soul, as it is often that they are curtained by the black mop atop his head.

His hair is a mess, perpetual bedhead that never bothered to be tamed. It curls slightly, with bangs framing his face to try to draw attention away from his striking eyes. Sid doesn't bother with his hair much, unless it's a hot day or irritating him. What he tends to wear doesn't change often, unless the Entity or someone else has bestowed upon him a new choice of attire, anything would be better than the bland clothes he likes to default to. That being said, his usual choice happens to be: a grey hoodie, black t-shirt, khaki cargo pants, and worn black sneakers. He prefers to dress for comfort rather than to dress formally, there isn't anyone he's trying to impress anymore, or would care to... save for a small few.

General appearances aside, he has a few finer details to his character that is rarely ever brought up. He has a prominent scar over his heart, taking the shape of a half of a heart(ironically) from when he was stabbed by Selene. The hair on his chest has stopped growing around there. His nails are also permanently black since he's reanimated. Even while being brought to the Fog, he still died, and I thought that it'd be neat of him to have. While his abilities are essentially non-existent save for his premonitions of the supernatural(dark sense/spine chill, etc.), he still has Scythe buried in his heart. If a killer stabs him there, they have a chance of hitting it, but they won't ever be able to physically retrieve it(he's not a kinder egg.)

Everything that I've explained here doesn't differentiate much from what I already have listed in his sheet, which is already pretty descriptive enough. Plus I have some other body headcanons: like how his teeth were made sharper upon being revived, or how he has stretchmarks on his stomach and arms. The little changes about his person from when he was alive compared to when he died/got brought back were very subtle, but they're a joy to describe. Regardless, when designing him, I didn't want to do anything grand with his character because he's not meant to be stylized. His whole point is that he was a normal guy, and then his whole life got flipped on his head. As he develops, he's bound to change and have more added onto his character, but as I see him now he is a perfect representation of what I wanted him to be.

#— 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔 #SS! 10 #// I want to bite him #// I want to bite him soooooo bad #// i know people would rather see an image than read a description but i didnt have anything i was proud of to represent him atm #// even now i dont really have anything but silly doodles #// also i know im late to these but thanks for the ask #🩸『 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 ┊ ooc 』#🪝『 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗔𝗧! ┊ dbd 』

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shoutatthe-devil · 2 years

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Dandelions | E.M.

KICKSTART MY HEART PT. 1

Masterlist | AO3

She was the kind of person who you never saw without a book in her hand. Eddie didn’t think he had ever seen her talk to anyone for longer than a gentle hello, but he had seen her hundreds of times sitting at the edges of any room or facility in Hawkins High with her nose buried in some crusty paperback. She was pretty; hair shorter than acceptable, ignoring any bullying she got for almost looking like a boy, light make up except for heavily exaggerated eyeliner with different patterns worked in every day, loose blue jeans covered with embroidery and a series of blouses that looked like those to be seen in the pages of Oscar Wilde or Thomas Hardy.

Eddie had never spoken to her, never even gotten her name, but every major memory he had at Hawkins High had her in the corner of his eye. He had her gentle smile emblazoned in the back of his mind and the feeling of warmth from when he had been sat next to her in a chemistry class one year carefully engraved in his muscle memory.

So no, he’d never spoken to her, but he knew her. She had captured his attention. Unlike everything else in his life, Eddie kept that attention subtle. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be the kind of girl to appreciate grand gestures and loud proclamations.

“You’re staring at her again,” Mike said through a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s kinda creepy, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped over to the younger boy. “Staring at who? I’m not staring.”

“Y/n Y/l/n,” Mike sighed as if the weight of the world was somehow on his shoulders. Little shit. “You’ve been obsessed with her all year.”

“Which one’s she?” Eddie questioned, hope beginning to fill him at the prospect of finally getting to learn your name.

“Seriously?” Lucas joined the conversation. “You’ve been obsessing over her and you don’t even know her name?”

“She’s the one with the dandelions on her jeans,” Mike tag-teamed in with Lucas. “Y’know, a bit weird, always reading.”

“Don’t call her weird,” Lucas snapped at his friend before Eddie got the chance to. “She’s not weird.”

“Objectively, she is,” Mike countered. “I mean, obviously I love her, but she’s always been a bit strange.”

“Like we’re not,” Lucas grumbled.

Eddie’s mind was reeling at the new information. “Wait, you guys know her? How do you guys know her?”

Mike sighed again. “She was always around when we were kids,” he said. “Used to be Dustin’s babysitter. He was super protective of her, so she always got invited to all of our DnD games and stuff. Plus, the parents loved her, so she ended up having dinner whenever the rest of us were around.”

“She plays DnD?” A great smile spread across Eddie’s face at the prospect.

“Oh, absolutely,” Lucas smirked. “Absolutely crushes at it, too. Although, half the time when she played, we wouldn’t even end up battling anything, because she always thought a way around it.”

“Super creative, and always talking her way out of things,” Mike added. “Honestly it got kind of annoying.”

“If you’re going to do anything about your little crush, though, I’ve got to warn you,” Lucas said, “don’t say anything that’ll make her think you think you’re better than her. She’s real competitive, and she absolutely is smarter than you. She won’t say anything up front, but test her too much and she’ll work out some way or another to make you take it back.”

Eddie zoned the two out as they started bickering about something or another. He began to rearrange all of his thoughts about her to fit with these new details. He had to admit, it intrigued him; he never would have gotten any of that just from observing her. And that she knew the kids, that she babysat Dustin…

“Hey, wait,” Eddie burst out, stopping the kids’ argument in its tracks. “Where is Henderson, anyway?”

“He was asking his science teacher about something,” Mike answered. “It’ll probably take a while, but he should be here soon.”

At that, they all saw Dustin start jogging into the cafeteria, clearly excited by whatever it was he was planning. Not looking where he was going, he bumped right into Jason Carver. Eddie winced as Jason turned to the younger boy.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, little nerd,” Jason scowled menacingly.

“Sorry, but you were in the way, and I was just-” Dustin rushed out all at once. Jason grabbed the front of his shirt.

“I was in the way, was I?” Eddie could see Dustin gulp from across the cafeteria. "Well listen here, toothless-”

“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. It seemed light, like a fairy’s, but it was loud. The entire cafeteria quietened down, and Eddie was shocked to see that the voice came from Y/n.

“Leave him alone, Carver.” Y/n’s voice was unshaking. Eddie wouldn’t have realised that he had never seen her talk to anyone based on the way she was acting.

Jason turned to look at her, his hand still gripping onto Dustin. “Oh yeah?” he chuckled. “Or what? What are you going to do about it, Y/l/n?”

Eddie saw your shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh before you slammed your book shut with a bang. He gasped and people started murmuring as she pulled out her chair and used it to climb up onto the cafeteria table. Eddie had done that exact thing a hundred times before, but you… you were almost elegant as you silently walked all the way down the length of the table to reach Jason, leant down to look him in the eyes with one hand in your pocket and the other curled around your reading material.

“You may not have noticed, Jason,” you began, making direct eye contact with the jock, “because I prefer to observe than to be an absolute jackass, but we grew up together. I was here for everything, all those awkward stages, when you were the shortest in the class, when you were trying to grow in that pre-teen moustache. And, well, I’ve certainly heard enough from the girls around here about Little Jason and his,” you looked down, grimacing, before looking into his eyes again, “limitations.”

Jason tried valiantly to hold eye contact with you and keep his posture arrogant, but Eddie could tell he was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Everyone could.

You continued. “And I know exactly what to say to destroy you. I know you. I know that you are a pathetic little boy,” you leaned in closer with each word, “who can’t help himself from picking on the weakest and who wouldn’t be passing half his classes if this school’s faculty didn’t care so much about,” you paused and looked at Eddie. His chest grew warm. “Tossing balls into laundry baskets.”

“You- “Jason protested, but you cut him off.

“As for what I’ll do… Have you ever read War and Peace, Carver?” You held out the book you were still clutching so that Jason could read the title. He shook his head. “It’s quite long, and it can get slow in parts, but I’d recommend it. The best thing about it though, is that it’s heavy enough that if you fuck with Dustin again, I will smash your goddamn teeth in so far back that they will lodge into whatever walnut it is you call a brain.”

You jumped down off the table in front of him, gently grasped his hand and pried it off of Dustin’s shirt. “You alright, Dusty?”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah, thanks Y/n.”

You smiled and ruffled his hair before looking up at everyone. “What are you all staring at?”

And just like that, everyone went back to their lunches and their conversations. You walked back over to your seat, leaving Jason Carver behind you, and began to read again. Eddie was still looking at you when Dustin sat down next to him.

“Did you guys see that?” Dustin asked his friends loudly. “So badass.”

Mike and Lucas agreed as Dustin looked over at Eddie. “Dude, are you okay?”

Eddie took a shaky breath. “One day,” he said lowly, “one day I’m going to marry that woman.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #jason carver #anti jason carver #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader fic #stranger things x reader fic #stranger things fluff

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aprilxries · 2 years

Text

Good Luck Charm//Chapter Two

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/OFC (no name)

Rating: Teen & up

Words: 1.4k

Chapters: 2/10

(you can find all chapters on my page by searching 'good luck charm' in my tags :) )

CHAPTER TWO

The next day I sat at my desk practically vibrating with nerves. I was sure that any moment Stacy would come out and tell me that I was fired, and that was the best case scenario. I wondered if I could be arrested. Maybe that was a little far fetched, but I didn’t know Sidney. He seemed alright on TV but privately he could be the worst person to ever exist. I knew that wasn’t true either though. I thought back to how he had reached for me after I fell, and asked if I was alright. He looked so pretty even under the harsh fluorescents.

With a sigh I pulled myself back to my work. There were some organizational things that someone from the PR team had emailed to me. It made no sense to me but I didn’t want to ask for help. Looking stupid on day two was not the best move, so I tried to puzzle it out on my own.

Alicia came to perch on my desk while waiting for the copier. “Honey,” she sighed, “you have got to decorate your desk. It’s depressing.”

I pointed to the penguin tacked up on the bulletin board. “I’ve got Malcolm. He’s all I need. Plus, I’ve only been here a day.”

Alicia shrugged. “Most people bring things with them.”

Truth is, I didn’t really have anything to bring with me. I didn’t have many things at my grandmothers. “Well I didn’t.” I replied. Alicia rolled her eyes and offered me a stick of gum. “Did you catch the game last night?”

I took the gum, grateful she let the topic go. “No,” I replied, “homework and all that.” It was the truth. I had spent most of the night working on some design details after I had a good long panic about Sidney Crosby.

“Well they won in a landslide.” Alicia grinned at me. “It was crazy. I think Crosby managed like eight points or something.”

“Six!” Called Jonny from his desk. “Eavesdropper.” Alicia muttered, but she was smiling. The copier beeped behind her, and she knocked three times on my desk before going to collect her pages. Alicia had managed to make me feel much more at ease. I felt like maybe I was making friends. Work friends! Who would have thought?

The rest of the workday passed in a blur. The PR work kept me busy and reasonably entertained. There were a lot of quotes they wanted the team to use in interviews. Some of them were very cheesy. Just as I was packing up to leave Stacy came over to my desk. She patted my arm and leaned down. “Hey,” she whispered, “I need to see you in my office. Nothing bad.” She added after catching the panicked look on my face. Still, it felt like a death march as I followed her.

“Close the door behind you.” She said leaning back in her chair. I did and sat in the chair in front of her desk. My hands were so sweaty, I wanted to wipe them on my pants but I couldn’t. Stacy regarded me cooly for a moment. She drummed her fingers on the desk before finally breaking the silence. “Did you run into Sidney Crosby yesterday?”

Embarrassingly, my eyes felt a little hot. This was it. “I’m so sorry!” I blurted out. “Is he okay? I got lost and then I ran into him and I swear I didn’t mean to. It was an accident!”

Stacy stared at me as I wrung my hands together, a nervous habit I never managed to shake. “Uh, no he’s fine. Are you alright? He said you took a tumble. Hit your head on the concrete.”

I shook my head. “I’m okay. I didn’t even really hit my head.” This was a half truth. I’m pretty sure I had a bruise just above my right ear.

“Well,” sighed Stacy, “I’m glad you’re alright. However there is something I need to talk to you about.” I nodded. “Do you know anything about Sidney’s superstitions?” I nodded again. Of course I knew, who doesn’t?

Stacy folded her hands. “As you are probably aware by now, Crosby had a good night last night.” She paused, “And he seems to be convinced you had something to do with it.” I blinked at her. “He has asked to meet with you tomorrow if you are amenable.” Stacy continued.

“Sure.” I replied blankly, there was a buzzing sound in my ears.

“Great!” Stacy smiled at me, “That was easy and painless, huh? Practice is at 11am tomorrow and I would like for you to meet with him before that if you can. I know tomorrow is your day off, but if you could see your way to the third floor conference room at 9am tomorrow morning I’ll pay a full day’s worth of overtime.”

I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. “Have a good night then.” Stacy said. I took it for the dismissal it was, and made it out the door in record time.

Later that night, as I was rolling out large swathes of shiny fabric on the floor while my grandmother knitted on the sofa, the reality of the situation set in. I poked myself with a pin and sat back on my heels with a swear. My Nana looked up from her knitting. “I’ve never seen you so distracted from your projects. What’s gotten into you?” She looked at me curiously. I shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know Nana. I’m just nervous about the new job.” Nana narrowed her eyes, “Are they being good to you?” I nodded quickly. She didn’t look convinced, but went back to her knitting without another word.

—

Then the next day I was awake and dressed by 5:30am. I paced up and down the front hall clutching my coffee. There was no reason to be nervous. I was sure Sidney Crosby was a reasonable man and this whole thing would be cleared up in minutes. Obviously I had nothing to do with his win. I thought about what I would say to him, what he would say back, how he would look at me with his doe eyes. Fuck. Okay. I cleared my head and went to start Nana’s breakfast.

I was finally out the door at 8am, wanting to get this meeting over with. The conference room was shockingly easy to find and I was settled into a ridiculously comfortable high-backed chair by 8:35. Bored, I spun around in my chair, trying to see how fast I could go before I got dizzy. The answer was very fast. I was trying to break my record before someone cleared their throat from the doorway. I shrieked and stopped spinning. Sidney Crosby was standing in the doorway. I stood up quickly and smoothed down my shirt before offering my hand, “Hi Sidney Crosby.”

He raised his eyebrows at the greeting before reaching out to shake my hand. “It’s just Sid.” He sat down next to my chair and swiveled it around a bit. “Don’t you get dizzy doing that?” He asked, obviously referring to my spinning.

“Yes,” I replied, “I just wanted to see how fast I could go.”

Sidney nodded like this was a completely normal thing to say. I blushed, feeling stupid. “I talked to Stacy.” Sid said, “Did she talk to you?” He continued when I nodded, “I have all these superstitions I need to do before games, and, uh, I had a really good night the other night after we ran into each other.”

“I heard.” I said, “I’m sorry for running into you.”

Sidney laughed, “No worries. I was the one who knocked you over.” I didn’t have anything to say to that so I stayed quiet. After a moment of silence Sidney said. “Okay, well, I think you might have given me some good luck the other night and I’d really like it if you would come see me before the game tomorrow.”

I mustered up the courage to tell him, “I don’t think I’m any sort of good luck, Sid.”

Sidney raised his eyebrows. Clearly he wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him. “I think you’re wrong.” He replied. “Will you do it anyway?”

I knew he wasn’t going to let it go so I agreed reluctantly. Sidney’s return smile was blinding. “Great!” He said. “Meet you in the kitchen tomorrow night at 5pm.” It wasn’t a question. He smiled at me again, knocked three times on the table, and left.

“See you tomorrow, Sidney Crosby.” I whispered to myself.

#good luck charm #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #nhl penguins #my pic

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funnywiccanwritingcorner · 1 year

Text

Le Joyau le plus precieux - Candyfloss

WARNINGS!!!

Contains NSFW scenes and LGBTQ+ couples. Don’t like, don’t read. All the characters are over 18 years old.

Chapter VIII

Thanks a lot, Jesse. I owe you a huge favour.- -You're welcome, Frank. I'm always ready to help you.- Both carrying large boxes in their arms, the James brothers were intent on climbing the last flight of stairs of a luxury apartment building with a view of the Eiffel Tower. -Since I moved here to Paris permanently to teach, I've always hoped to come and live in a place like this.- He set the box down on the landing: -But for the lift to break down on moving day... it's a joke.- -Look on the bright side, Frank: so much exercise can only contribute to your diet.- -Funny.- He slipped the key in the door lock: -Ah, brainstorm: how's it going with your sugar dealer?- -You mean Billy?- -You've been seeing each other for a while now.- -It's going very well, and yes... we've been together for a month, and two weeks.- They crossed the threshold, where more boxes were stacked in a cluttered pyramid.

-Tell me the truth, have you already plucked the fruit from its tree?- -Pardon?- He placed the box at the foot of the pile. -Have you already consummated your relationship?- -Oh, Frank...- -I'm your brother, you can tell me.- -... not really. I won't go into details, but I'm waiting for him to be ready for the step.- -Oh, you're giving him the candy-coated treatment. That's very perceptive.- -What's that supposed to mean?- -You're slowly tasting what you can get before you savour the filling.- -... You are literarily disgusting. That's why I never tell you anything.- -Jesse, you should know that my duties as your brother include disgusting you.- With a box cutter he broke the tape of a box: -Now the fun part begins.-

-We are ready- announced Cheyenne to Billy. They both sat in front of her laptop computer in the kitchen at Luke and Joe's house (the latter of which was preparing popcorn), they stared at the paused screen of a video that the boy had asked to watch with them. -You sure you want to do this?- -Sure. I have to do it, to learn how to keep calm.- -If you start screaming like a little girl I'll kick you out- Dalton threatened him calmly. -I'm not at that level!- -Leave him alone, Joe; you have to consider who the protagonist is- Luke defended him. Standing in a circle in front of the computer, the four of them began to watch the hour-and-a-half long video: a Shakespearean play with Jesse in the cast.

-How come you started doing this "marathon" of works with our friend?- asked Cheyenne, munching on popcorn. -I was curious at first because of something Jesse told me, but after a while... Let's just say a problem presented itself.- -I don't think I want to know...- Joe inserted himself. -What were you curious about?- Luke added, ignoring his partner. -He told me he'd acted half-naked a few times, and I wanted to see when.- -... Oh.- -And that's the problem I was referring to... Here, pause it!-

Cheyenne obeyed, leaving the video still on the image of a shirtless Jesse taken just before he spoke his line. -What can I say, it doesn't leave room for much imagination, but it's nothing bad- commented the girl. -I know, but... it makes me jealous.-

All three looked at him surprised. That was not the "problem" they had thought of.

-I have to get it into my head that in his work he sometimes has to act like this, or else I'll risk making a scene! I know it, I know myself...- -Oh, well...- Cheyenne cleared her throat: -Think of this: the rest of the audience can watch but not touch; you, on the other hand, have the privilege!- -Yes... Yes, that's true.- -About that, it's time for an adult chat- Dalton continued. -What's that?- -You've been together for a while. How are things going?- -Why does it sound like an interrogation if you ask?- joked the girl. -Professional development, I guess.- -Everything's fine... and to be honest, the other day...- -Yes?- Billy blushed with a strange smile, fumbled in a pocket of his jeans and showed a small key in the palm of his hand: -This is his.- In a second everyone realised what it meant. A sigh of surprise escaped Luke. Cheyenne was speechless. Joe almost choked on his popcorn. All in the three seconds that preceded a choral: -Whaaaaat?!?-

Two days earlier...

At the foot of the Eiffel Tower Jesse was waiting impatiently for Billy. He needed to tell him something, and he was going to take advantage of that afternoon appointment to make him a proposal that was perhaps crazy and rash, but one that he felt came from the heart. And right at heart level, in a pocket of his coat, there was a small object, but one that carried all the weight of that idea.

Billy arrived with an angry expression that the actor had not expected: he watched him approach with heavy step, frowning and huffing. The only thing missing was a black cloud hanging over him. -Hey, Bi-!- The boy simply threw himself into his arms, sinking his face on his chest with a grumbling prolonged grunt. -Are you all right?- -... I hate the whole world...- -What happened? The shop?- -No...- He squeezed even tighter: -The house...- Jesse stroked his head: -Are you having trouble with the flat?- -Yes...- -Come on. I'll buy you a hot drink.-

Having found a cafeteria with tables outside, over a nice cup of chocolate one and coffee the other, Billy sighed and began to explain: -The main boiler broke down. And now we're all without heating. Not the best as winter is approaching.- -That's right.- -The worst thing is that the stingy landlord won't replace it. So we're in the cold! What should I do, spend a fortune on blankets?- Jesse began rummaging in his coat pocket: -My dear Billy, in your misfortune perhaps I can help you find a silver lining.- -Which one?- -Close your eyes and bring your hand closer.- The boy obeyed, so that Jesse could hand him the small metal object: -Now look.-

Billy blinked a couple of times and looked at the palm of his hand: there lay a shiny metal key, it was definitely new.

-What is it?- -The key to the place where I hope you will want to spend the winter and the future seasons.- Thinking about it for a second, the boy understood: -It is the key to your house...- -That's right.- He put his hands on the small table: -I had already intended to ask you if you wanted to come and live with me; since this emergency has arisen...- -You what??- -I know, it's unexpected and maybe a little premature.- -I-I can't accept, Jesse! I mean, it would be nice, but- Come on, you've seen how messy I am, you on the other hand are a neat guy; you'd go crazy!- -Maybe messy, but not so messy as to let, say, chickens run loose in a room.- Billy laughed. Taking his hands between his own, the actor continued: -Seriously, Billy: I would like to make this attempt with you.- The blond smiled at him, squeezing the key between their hands: -Will I sleep with you?- -Of course, if you wish.- -Sure! Um... I need to get some boxes, mostly for my clothes.- -Do you accept, then?- -Yes.- He stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. -Let's try it!-

Now...

Cheyenne applied a piece of tape to the box that contained some of Billy's belongings: -And this is done. Are the T-shirts settled?- -Already done.- Billy, meanwhile, was deciding what to leave and what to take with him of what remained in the flat. Not too hard to do, since there was very little of his own property, but he wanted to still make a choice. -That's great that Jesse made you such a proposition!- the girl enthused, -Think that to my cousin and Joe took forever just to get together, let alone moving in together!- -Seriously?- -Yes, but only because they had their own personal reasons for holding them back a bit.- -How do you know when it's the right time for certain steps?- -Hmm?- -I mean... It took them some time, whereas me and Jesse...- -You feel like you're moving too fast, don't you?- she added in a sympathetic tone. -Just a little bit.- -You know, not everyone falls in love in the same way. Love lightning strikes or a relationship that grows over time, summer crush that can last a day or a lifetime, we don't choose it. We can only see where it takes us.- Billy nodded: -So, even though we've only been together for a month and a half, do you think it's a good idea?- -If you have doubts, why did you say yes?- He smiled: -Because... He makes me feel good. I haven't felt this happy with someone for a long time.- -That's why you love him? Because it makes you happy to be with him?- -For other reasons too, but yes. Broadly speaking that's how it is.- Cheyenne looked at him tenderly: -And isn't that reason enough to remove any doubt?- The boy smiled even more: -Thank you.- -And for what? When it comes to love, you can always count on me!- She took the box to stack it with the others and then lifted her arms and stretched: -When are Jesse and Frank coming?- -In a little while.- -Have you decided what to take with you, besides the clothes and the bedclothes?- -The lamp. The TV isn't mine, and it doesn't work, so it stays. And I'll also take that bowl with the candy, I've grown fond of it.- -Great.- -Oh, I almost forgot!- From a drawer in the wardrobe, Billy took a low cardboard box canary yellow, and placed it on top of the others. -What is it?- -One of my most precious treasures. You see...- Someone knocked on the door. -Are they here yet?- Cheyenne looked at her watch: -Brothers on time!-

Opening the door of the sweet shop, Billy hurried to get ready to welcome customers. The whole morning had flown by in settling into Jesse's house, despite the few things in the boxes, and after a quick lunch he had to catch up. Not even five minutes had passed when an all too familiar female voice made him jolting: -Is that the time to arrive, #@?! lazybones??- Mrs Jane didn't sound angry, but one could never tell. -Ah... hello...- -You said you were moving, but you took the whole building and relocated it?- -It took a while.- -You did well with the handsome guy, though. Congratulations, kiddo.- -Thanks.- He hung the sign on the door indicating the shop was open. -And to think you were a ducky, as they say in America, the first time I saw you! And now think you've got your own business and some guy drooling over you in love!- -What a beast of envy, eh, miss?- teased Billy, but she laughed and gave him a breathtaking pat on his back: -Go to work, brat! I'm waiting for my biscuits!- With sore shoulder blades, the boy waved her goodbye and went down through the trapdoor into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Jesse was at home studying a script that his new agent had brought him to consider whether or not to take the part. He liked that girl's method, after all she was a former student of Frank's. As he read the lines he walked through the house, and noticed a detail in the bedroom: a box had not been emptied, and on it was a lower, canary-yellow one. Intrigued, he walked over and stared at the box for a long time before lifting its lid. Inside was what looked like a photo album. "I shouldn't look at it... But I can't resist!" He lifted the dark red leather cover, and lingered on the first page with a picture of a woman with long, curly red hair, falling back in messy ringlets, blue eyes and freckled face, holding in her arms a child of about one year old, who looked very much like... Billy? Continuing to scroll through the next few pages, Jesse glanced at the boy's childhood, which as he had told him, had been spent near Provence. He watched with tenderness and amusement as little Billy frolicked in the lavender fields, rode his cycling, playing ball with other children and making messes in the kitchen. He stopped at one photo in particular: there was Billy, who must have been about ten years old, wearing a kitchen apron, his mother beside him and, in front of them, leaning over the table so that it could be seen clearly, a beautiful chocolate cake. It was too well made to be the work of a child, so Jesse assumed it was his mother's. They both looked very happy. Closing the album and putting the lid of the box back in place, the actor began to developing an idea, which led him to turn on the laptop on his desk and do some research.

The first thing that struck Billy, upon returning from work, as soon as he walked through the front door was the smell of pizza mixed with what seemed to be the smell of burning. Then, the lights kept low throughout the flat, even in the kitchen. -Jesse? I'm back.- He heard a clatter of clanging pots and pans, and from the doorway to the kitchen came out the actor: -Billy! Take a seat, dinner is on the table.- Taking off his shoes and leaving them in the doorway, the boy looked out into the room; in addition to the table set for two, with a couple of nice margherita pizzas served on large white ceramic plates, there was a strange mess in the cooking area: several splashes of what looked like something's dough were stuck on the wall tiles and the cooker top, and a few pots and pans, soiled with a dark, burnt substance, lay soaking in the sink. -We're celebrating tonight- announced Jesse, uncorking a bottle of pale ale and pouring its contents into glasses on the table, -I couldn't remember which way you prefer your pizza, so...- -That's fine- smiled Billy, sitting down in his seat.

Chatting about this and that, at the end of the meal Jesse wiped his mouth with his napkin and put on a cheerful expression: -I have something for you. And I hope it tastes better than it looks.- -What's that?- Getting up to go to the fridge, the dark-haired man pulled out what looked like a more than unmoulded chocolate cake: -I... baked this.- -You??- -Yes... Or at least I tried to. The last time I attempted to cook something more than a boiled egg I made a mess; it's a miracle the house didn't catch fire...- Wide-eyed, Billy had only caught part of the speech: -Did you make it...?- -Here...- He set the cake down on the table and went to find a couple of teaspoons: -I know I shouldn't have, but I took a look at your photo album.- -Ah... yeah. I forgot to put it away.- -I saw the cake you made with your mother, and... I wanted to surprise you.- He returned to his seat and extended a teaspoon towards Billy, who was moved and with a big ear-to-ear smile grabbed the cutlery: -Aw, daddy, you're the best!- Practically together, they took a small portion of the dessert to taste it, but as soon as they put the teaspoon in their mouths, they both assumed a disgusted expression, and swallowing the mouthful by coughing rather than spitting it out, they stuck to the glasses which still had some beer in them.

-That's awful!- exclaimed Jesse, catching his breath, -I'm sorry, that's absolutely disgusting!- To his surprise, Billy burst into a fat laugh: -Yeah, it's totally disgusting! It's all charred!- -Delicate.- -Oh no, sorry!- Taking the other man's hand in his, he added: -You saw the picture with me and my mother with the cake, right?- -That's right.- -And you thought she made it, I guessed?- -It wasn't?- -No, because it was the first cake made by yours truly?- -But how? It was perfect!- -She said so herself when she tasted it. Let me tell you a secret: she may have taught me how to how to cook, but she was always burning the cakes!- -You're making fun of me.- -No, no! She was good at everything else, but cakes and biscuits were always baked by my father; he passed the talent on to me!- Without letting go of his hand, he got up to sit on his lap: -I congratulate you, daddy: if your goal was to bake like my mother, you have hit the mark!-

Chuckling, the actor pulled him close: -My aim was to surprise you, actually!- -You succeeded, rest assured!- He gave him two or three kisses on the face and wrapped his arms around his neck: -That was a really nice thought. It doesn't matter if the taste is horrible.- -I promise I'll try harder next time. I'd better wash the pots now, though.- -They can wait until morning, I think.- -Uhm?- Giving him a soft kiss on the mouth, the boy continued in a low voice: -I still crave the dessert.- Jesse perceived no malice in that sentence, so he asked: -Would you like some biscuits?- Billy sulked in his funny way: -You don't get it! I want to go to the bedroom!- -Oh... Oh! How naive!- He took him in his arms like a bride: -I'll do it immediately.- -What are you doing? Put me down!- complained the blond, but did not insist further. They reached the room, however, as Jesse put him down on the mattress, Billy grabbed his torso and dragged him down with him: -I got you!- He laughed, despite the weight of the other on him. The actor pulled himself up on his arms: -I don't think so!- Sitting on top of him, he tried to tickle him, but Billy grabbed him by the wrists and stopped him: -Don't you dare!- Rolling over the mattress and unravelling the sheets and bedspread, laughing they continued the "fight" for a while until the boy managed to tackle the other by placing himself on top of him: -I told you so!- Jesse did not react, letting himself be held back, but smiled amused: -Really? Now that you've got me?- -Uh...- Billy sat astride his companion: -I thought it was clear.- Pulling himself up and grabbing him by the hips, the dark-haired man gave him a passionate kiss: -A crystal.- They looked at each other in complicity.

Placing his hands on the other's shoulders, Billy was ready to kiss him back. Since they had been together he had overcome his extreme shyness, though it had not entirely disappeared, thanks to what Jesse had, so to speak, taught him. So he did not protest when he felt his partner's hands slipping under his sweatshirt as the kiss took on passion, limiting himself to a slight murmur. And even when Jesse hinted at grabbing his buttocks from above his jeans to bring him closer, he said nothing, going along with it. Interrupting the kiss, the boy murmured: -Can I stay in this position?- -Of course... But if your legs fall asleep, you have to tell me.- -I don't think there will be such a danger tonight.-

A bell rang in Jesse's head: could it be...?

It was Billy who took off his sweatshirt, his cheekbones red and his expression a little uncertain but with a smile: -The good thing is that we just had dinner, so I'm at full strength...-

Another bell for the actor.

-So if... that is, if you want to do more than usual... It's not a problem...- Turning even more redder, the blond nevertheless tried not to lose confidence. -I don't have to be the only one who wants it, Billy- replied the other in a sympathetic tone, -you have to want it too...- However long he had been waiting for that moment, he would never have jumped on him like an animal. -I want it, but... Be honest: does it hurt?- Biting his lower lip, Jesse circled around it a bit: -It depends... A partner has to be good at it, but being the first time I'm afraid it won't be entirely painless...- -Mh. Yes, I thought so. He wrapped his arms around his torso: -But I want to at least try.- -Maybe there's a way to make it easier. Look in my nightstand drawer.- Without abandoning his position, Billy reached to his left and executed, grabbing first a comb and then a long transparent plastic bottle with a purple liquid inside, with the name of a popular brand on the label. -What is it, lubricant?- -Yes. Just leave it on the piano.- -When the time comes, though, can I stay like this? I don't know why, but I like this position.- -As you wish!- He ran a hand through his hair: -I understand the language of your kisses, and you understand the language of mine. Henry IV, act three, scene one.-

Without a word, Billy pulled him close again and kissed him on the neck, a little awkwardly, then huffed and pulled away again. He lifted the other's long-sleeved blue shirt and undressed him calmly, before hugging him again, bringing their skin into contact. Then he smiled: -Much better!- Jesse had willingly let him, but took control of the situation by starting to kiss the young man's neck, who tightened the embrace even more in an involuntary reflex, hiding his face against the other's shoulder. In addition to the kisses, the actor then began to tease him with small bites, which he had discovered he liked very much.

That time, however, Billy felt something different: a slight pressure at the base of his neck, near his own shoulder, and a little pain that made him exclaim a sudden "Hey!" -Excuse me. Too much pressure?- asked Jesse in a velvety voice, that voice capable of sending hot shivers down the spine of the the boy: -A little bit...- -I'll see if I can make it up to you.- He moved down with his hands to stimulate the other's sensitive areas, and in response Billy began to do so as well. Exchanging yet another kiss, the younger man then realised that his companion was struggling to restrain his eagerness. With his breathing becoming more and more laboured, Billy interrupted their contact asking softly: -Is everything all right... daddy?- -What do you mean?- -It almost seems like... Are you holding back?- -I... Yes, I am.- -Why?- -Because I want you so bad.- -Huh?!? If you want me what are you holding back for? I don't understand!- He was right to be confused, and the actor knew it. So he exhaled and tried to answer, but the other stopped him with a firm stimulation on his nipples, so that he let out a hoarse sigh. -I want you too, dummy, so cut it out!- Puffing out his cheeks, Billy gave him a peck on the lips: -Got it?-

Jesse did not respond, but reciprocated with a less chaste and decidedly smothering kiss, returning to moderately stimulating his companion's body, who gasped harder as the touch became bold. -I feel something against my abdomen...- whispered the dark-haired man with veiled malice, -Do you want me to take off your jeans?- -Yes... daddy...- He should not have called him that and in that irresistible tone. Without much ceremony he unbuttoned his trousers, unzipped them and lowered them down to his knees. It was Billy who slipped them off leaving them at the side of the bed. Jesse placed his forefingers in the elastic of his pants, but did not pull them down, and continued in a warm voice: -Do you want me to take care of you first or would you rather try it together?- -The second...- -Then I need the lubricant.- Only then did he pull off the last garment, exposing the other man's erection: - Will you help me undress? I can't with you on.- -Of course.- With more difficulty because of the position, Billy began to take off the rest of the other's clothes, and the actor was no help as he kept giving him kisses on his neck and sternum. -I can't see, wait...- He finally succeeded in the task; left both bare Jesse continued: -Take the bottle, and pour some of the contents here, on my hand.- -You look like an instruction booklet- the blond joked, executing. When he opened the cork he smelled a strong floral scent, which intensified when he poured the lubricant. Rubbing his fingers together, Jesse brought his hand behind his companion: -It will be a little uncomfortable at first.- He let his middle finger slip between the young man's buttocks, who gasped at the intrusion but held back, emitting only a stifled moan.

Slowly, so that he could get used to it, the actor began to move back and forth. He frowned slightly: it was really tight. He hesitated for a few minutes before also inserting his index finger, noting that he had to prepare the boy, who was shivering, very well. The latter, who could not articulate a word, took the initiative, and pouring himself a dose of lubricant on his hand began to massage his companion's erect organ, who emitted a low moan from his throat, almost a counter-chant to the other's higher ones. Suddenly Billy emitted a higher moan, and Jesse realised he had found the right spot to insist. Since his companion with his unexpected and welcome manoeuvres was making him reach his limit, he stopped him: -I think it's time...- -Ok...- Lying down on the mattress, Jesse grabbed the other by the hips so that he was well positioned: -Are you ready?- Red up to his ears and eyes shining with excitement, Billy nodded. The dark-haired man allowed himself a moment to look at him, panting and sweating above him, before continuing.

When he felt him enter, Billy put his clean hand over his mouth so as not to scream. It had gone slow, but he had felt some pain, so much so that a small tear escaped from the corner of his eye. -I'm sorry... Are you all right?- asked Jesse, expectantly, having restrained his voice for the friction. Certain that the pain was gone, Billy murmured: -Yeah... It was just a moment...- -So shall we go on?- -What do you say?- Taking it as an affirmative answer, Jesse slowly began to thrust, calmly. The blond began to moan and pant again, and soon forgot about the unpleasant moment just before, because something more pleasant had replaced it. Not bothering to hold back his voice any longer, he began to comply with the thrusts of the other, who had also begun to caress him there underneath with his much more experienced touch. Jesse tried not to go too fast, because the friction in that tight channel was driving him crazy. A slightly harder thrust reached that spot that had earlier made the young man cry out, and consequently drew another sharp moan from him followed by a hesitant: -There... Right there...- The last of the brakes removed, they both increased their pace, the bed slats squeaking from the movement. Looking into his partner's eyes, Jesse thought he saw a light in them, but perhaps it was an effect of the over-excitement that had dampened them. With one last thrust of his pelvis he came into the body of the other, who, feeling himself being filled in this way and struck more intensely at that point within himself he in turn reached orgasm. Catching his breath, he then let out the relaxed organ of his companion and lay on top of him, the belly of both of them sticky with his semen and lube. -I love you so much...- whispered the blond in the other's ear, who responded by caressing his back: -I I love you too...-

The first to wake up was Billy, lying with his arm around Jesse. Silently he got up and retrieved his own underwear that had ended up on the floor. He went into the bathroom to wash his face and belly and looked at himself in the mirror: something was different. The night before had almost seemed like a dream, but from the slight pain he felt in his backside and the strange, small round bruise at the base of his neck, he knew it had really happened. Continuing to look at his reflection, for once he did not see that childlike face he was trying so hard to make at least a little older, but that of a young man who slowly smiled as happiness returned to him along with the memory. He went to the kitchen to get rid of the horrible cake and the leftovers from dinner and prepare breakfast. As the coffee rose in the small mocha on the cooker (Jesse liked it Italian style), he began to washing the pots. Someone put their arms around his waist from behind and gave him a soft, tender kiss on the shoulder: -Good morning, Billy.- -Good morning, love.-

#lucky luke #joyau #joe dalton #modern au #fanfiction #spin off #candyfloss #billy kid #jesse james #morris #writeblr

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mercisnm · 2 years

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Rant: she fidgets

Upon rewatching this scene I've just realized that Tissaia has started fidgeting with things (the rings on her fingers) when she is nervous, as in this scene here where Stregobor tried to frame Yennefer as a betrayer.

You can see in the previous shot her right hand fingers were just resting on her left hand, but once Stregobor started accusing Yennefer of betraying the Northern mages, Tissaia started turning the rings between her fingers. The gesture was more clear to see as she studied other people in the room.

I, for one, still hate the addition of golden jewellery to her look with a passion, simply because they look gaudy as hell. Her complexion and overall character goes better with silver, like in the Ascension ball outfit; mother-of-pearl or ivory would also fare very well - but gold jewellery, and as crude as those the costume department added, would not. Then throw in the partly questionable partly enigmatic character development this season where she gave up the role of a simple school teacher, got tangled in politics, got laid with [fax machine noises] [AK-47 firing] [Ciri screaming], I cannot help but making a bad joke about midlife crisis behaviour, or worse (*).

I think it counts as half a win for book enthusiasts since Tissaia's OCD in the book was quite apparent. I have always thought it a shame that they did not make her that way in season 1, did not utilize an interesting trait of her that deserved to be translated on screen, I kept hoping anyway that they would add something subtle about her disorder in season 2. The rings could be to show her OCD. Since MyAnna's acting Tissaia-wise is precise and concise, I don't think the fidgeting is unintentional, especially when it started only when things started not looking so bright for Tissaia.

imho it is not too late to make Tissaia more book-like, yes, but symptoms of such disorder does not stop at, does not have to be just the fidgeting - it is plenty other kinds of compulsive behaviour. So while the rings might be a thoughtful enough addition (they are not impossible to spot, but neither they are in your face) - they do not seem particularly creative either, plus they do clash with her previous characterization. Remember, this is the woman who, on the most formal, dress-up kind of events, as shown at the Ascension ball, donned simple earrings and her everyday pendant and that was as far as jewellery went for her, no rings were to be found on her hand that day. I used to interpret that detail as a crucial trait of Tissaia: she is aware of her good looks, but she is practical, she is serious, she is stoic; and while she does not force herself to quit the small pleasures of life such as packing and lighting a pipe every now and then, frivolity and Tissaia are strangers grown.

So in short, am I pleased that they seem to include some book!Tissaia's traits to show!Tissaia? Yes, quite. Am I pleased at their execution? No, not at all, could have been done a lot better, the rings and her OCD were just a small part of book!Tissaia that they tried to bring into the show but seems not to go very well, but since Tissaia's story has not come to a close yet, I'll not draw any conclusion except for:

Damn, those rings are ugly.

(*): When you think about it that only after Yennefer had gone missing/been assumed dead and Tissaia had started having a relationship with [Roach neighing] that she started wearing tons of jewellery, the detail about the rings does not sit well at all. It looks as if a dick could make someone as intelligent and stoic as Tissaia dull and frivolous. To be honest I am quite close to calling that a sexist move from the writers, or a move so lazy it actually seems detestable, but again who am I to judge. Let's all hope Tissaia has been playing every side this season. Fingers crossed.

Do NOT bother to leave a reply I don't know how replies on tumblr posts work and cannot be arsed to learn, so if you want to feed me to sharks please do it with the reblog.

#the witcher #personal rant #tissaia de vries #the witcher spoilers #kind of meta? no?#the amount of braincells i waste on this fictional woman i swear to god #should i be mad over fictional characters? probably not worth my time #am i going to do it anyway? yes it's christmas i can afford this kind of stupidity #also i got to see rene lalique's jewellery the other day #coincidentally as i watched the show #and man it got me fuming THOSE are what she deserves not some ugly crude things

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

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Some Kind of Way (My Hero Academia)

ShinDeku AU

Summary: Shinsou begins to realize he may have feelings for Deku, and it makes him act so out of the ordinary that his crush decides the best way to help him relax is the very thing that kickstarted his feelings in the first place.

A/N: I am so unbelievably excited to finally share this with you! This one has been waiting in the wings for quite a while! Welcome to the first fic in my official ShinDeku AU! This story takes place after the events of "Say Mercy" and creates an entirely new storyline. While these two remain good friends in the Primary Universe, in this AU, things go a little differently.

I will admit this is pretty self-indulgent, but I know I'll want to keep writing for these boys, and what better excuse than to create an alternate reality in which they get together? Cute boyfriends and lots of tickling - what more could you want? I hope you enjoy! <3 <3

Word Count: 2,275

~~~

Midoriya: Video games at my place! Kaminari and Todoroki are coming – do you wanna join??

Shinsou stared at his phone screen for so long it went dark on him three times. He’d nearly forgotten that at some point he and Deku had exchanged numbers. Their spring break had just started; today was Monday, which meant that Deku’s mom was probably at work right now, as it was just after ten in the morning.

It really shouldn’t have been this hard to reply to a text. Yet here he sat, struggling to do just that.

It’s video games, Shinsou berated himself. You’ve played video games with him before. That’s what you were doing the last time you hung out. Just answer his text!

Shinsou: Yes. I don’t know where you live, though.

Midoriya: I’ll send you the details! Can’t wait!! :D

Shinsou set his phone aside, heart racing. This is ridiculous. What’s happening to me? He rubbed his eyes tiredly, his mind flashing back to the last time he’d hung out with Deku. They’d gotten into a tickle fight, which he’d ultimately won, but there had been a…a moment. When he’d pinned Deku for the last time and ordered him to beg for mercy. The way Deku had screamed the word over and over through hysterical fits of laughter…

He swallowed. It had been so satisfying, but more than that, it had been…cute. No, adorable. Completely, utterly adorable. Deku was adorable. And for the first time, Shinsou was noticing.

He tried not to think about it as he gathered up his things and walked out the door, heading to the destination the green-haired boy had provided him with.

Seeing him in person was so much worse.

Deku opened up the door with a bright smile and an invitation to come inside. It was the first time Shinsou had seen him without his school uniform or hero costume on. He wore a bright yellow All Might t-shirt and blue shorts, and he was barefoot. Shinsou awkwardly took his own shoes off in the entryway and followed him into the small living room, where Todoroki was already seated on the floor.

The icy-hot hero raised a hand in greeting. Shinsou nodded at him, then took a seat as well.

“Kaminari should be here any minute,” Deku said, pulling out his phone to check for a text from the blonde. “It’s so cool to finally have friends over at my place! Make yourselves at home. We’ve got juice and soda in the fridge if you want some, and later we can have lunch together, too.” Deku smiled so brightly it lit up the whole block. “Plus I’ll get to introduce you to a racing game that’s not Mario Kart for once!”

Shinsou couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He found himself noticing things more and more. The particular shade of green that his eyes were. The spattering of freckles across his face and arms. How scarred his right arm was. How muscular he was despite his smaller stature. Shinsou noticed all of it, and it made his heart beat faster and faster. Crap, crap, crap, he thought frantically. I…I’ve got a—

Someone knocked on the door, Deku hurried to answer it, and the spell was broken. Shinsou blinked several times. Seriously, what was happening to him?

“Heyyy, it’s my man Shinsou!” Kaminari greeted enthusiastically, slapping him on the back. “And Todoroki, of course. Ready to lose some video games?”

Shinsou let out a sigh of relief, then smirked up at him. “The joke’s on you, Kaminari. Midoriya says we’re not playing Mario Kart.”

“Dude, what?” Kaminari whipped around to face Deku. It was so much easier to look at him with Kaminari in the room as well. “You can’t take my crown away like that!”

Deku grinned. “I’m introducing you to a different racing game. Kacchan and I play it sometimes – Team Sonic Racing!”

“Sonic has a racing game?” Kaminari asked, then hummed. “Well, he is a speedy little guy. I guess it makes sense.”

“Team racing?” Todoroki asked. “What does that mean?”

Deku lit up at the question, then launched into a long, rambling explanation of all the ways it differed from Mario Kart, and why it was superior, as well. After a little while they finally got to the actual playing part of it, and before they knew it, the morning hours were long gone.

Getting lost in the world of Team Sonic Racing did wonders for Shinsou’s mind. He was able to focus on something that wasn’t Deku, for once – even if Deku’s character of choice did cause him a lot of trouble during the races. It gave him a chance to calm down, clear his head, and get back to his normal self. At least, until a couple of hours later when it was lunchtime.

Kaminari had announced early on that he had lunch plans with some others from their class, so it was expected that he’d leave after a couple of hours. But it was a surprise to both Shinsou and Deku when Todoroki announced he was also leaving.

“My apologies,” he said, “but I got a text from my sister that asked me to meet her downtown for lunch with her and my brother. I’m…trying to get back in touch with them, as it were. I can’t really do that while I’m at the dorms.”

“That’s okay,” Deku said, sounding sincere. “I understand. Go have fun with your family.” Then he turned to Shinsou. “Do you want to stay, or do you have somewhere to be?”

Shinsou’s heart was racing again. He was about to be alone with Midoriya again.

“I…I can stay,” he said, nodding. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course!”

After bidding farewell to their other friends, Deku led Shinsou back into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, pulling out various things they could use to make sandwiches. Shinsou got the bread out of the pantry (after struggling for a few moments to even find the pantry), and soon they were both at work making lunch for themselves.

“How’s your spring break so far?” Deku asked.

“It’s…fine,” Shinsou murmured. He didn’t really have anything exciting to report on. “You?”

“Great! I kind of took it easy this weekend because All Might insisted I actually rest, but we trained together this morning before I invited you over for video games. We’ll train again tomorrow, too.”

Shinsou glanced at him. “It’s spring break.”

“I know, but I don’t want to stop training. I’ve got to work as hard as I can to get even stronger.”

“Rest is important, too, you know.”

Deku smiled. “You sound just like everyone else.”

“Because we’re right.”

“I’m resting more than I’m training this week. Don’t worry, Shinsou. I won’t burn myself out.”

Shinsou nodded. “Good.”

“So,” Deku continued, expertly changing the topic as he finished up his sandwich, “want to play some more after lunch? Or we could watch a movie or something instead. What do you want to do?”

“Um…” Shinsou hesitated. Again that image of Deku laughing and begging entered his mind. He shoved it away. “I…I don’t know. Midoriya,” he added quickly, before he lost his nerve, “why do you want to hang out with me so much?”

Deku went silent for a moment. “Because you’re my friend? And you’re really cool! I think it’s so awesome that you want to join the hero course, and your quirk is so useful, especially with that voice changer thing you have now, and—”

“Useful?” Shinsou turned to look at him, surprised. “No one’s ever called my quirk useful before.”

“Then no one’s really known you before,” Deku replied confidently, taking his first bite of his lunch. “Mmm, this is good! What’d you make?”

Shinsou glanced down at his half-finished sandwich and reached for some lunch meat. “To be determined.”

When they’d finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, Shinsou and Deku went back into the living room, where Team Sonic Racing sat waiting for them on the screen, should they continue to play it.

“Are you okay, Shinsou?” Deku asked, his voice gentler now. “You seem bothered about something.”

Dear god, was he really so easy to read? Shinsou cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I’m just…” He searched for the words. How could he explain to Deku that he was pretty sure he had a crush…on Deku? “I’m just…I don’t know. Fine.”

“You know, if you’re not up for video games anymore, we could play a different game,” Deku said. Shinsou glanced up at him, hearing the teasing tone in his voice, and his eyes widened when he saw the green-haired boy wiggling his fingers and smiling wide.

Instant. Blush.

“Uh, I-I mean…I mean, i-if you…want to, then…” Shinsou stammered, hating every word he tripped over. It had never been difficult for him to speak to Midoriya before. Why was it suddenly the hardest thing he’d ever done?

“Actually, maybe we shouldn’t have a tickle fight,” Deku announced even as he lunged for Shinsou and tackled him to the floor. “Maybe I should just tickle you! You really need to relax, Shinsou. You act like I’m about to bite you or something.”

“I d-dohohohohon’t – I cahahahahan’t help it!” he giggled, the light pinches along his sides and ribs enough to help him loosen up a little, but not enough to really make him panic just yet. He fell onto his back on the floor, letting Deku tickle all over his torso, drawing giggle after much-needed giggle out of him.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me,” Deku continued, oblivious to Shinsou’s struggle. “We’re friends! If you want to talk about something, I’m happy to listen.”

Crap, crap, crap! Shinsou brought his hands up to cover his face, growing really, truly flustered now. “I’m sohohohohohohorry, I cahahahahan’t – I cahahahaHAHAHAHAN’T!! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The violet-haired boy shot his arms down to try and shove Deku away when he reached his hips, squeezing with a wicked smirk on his face. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO!! MIDORYA!!”

“Relax, Shinsou~” Deku teased, swinging a leg over to straddle his friend and pin him more firmly in place, still squeezing his hips. “Sometimes it’s best to just laugh it all out, right?”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, MIHIHIHIHIDORIYA!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Shinsou cackled, twisting and writhing on the ground. “YOU KNOHOHOHOHOHOW IT’S BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD THEHEHEHERE!!”

“Why do you think I’m tickling you there?” Deku laughed, too, finding his hip bones and pressing in deeply. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T!!” Shinsou cried, flustered and embarrassed but also having a lot of fun despite himself. He let out a loud shriek and kicked his legs when Deku focused on that one spot that drove him absolutely crazy. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! MIDORIYAHAHAHAHA!!”

Deku chuckled. “Feeling better? Feeling relaxed yet, Shinsou?”

Shinsou squealed, prying his eyes open just enough to see Deku’s huge smile, his bright eyes, his looming form over him, and the boy from 1-C simply could not take it anymore. “PLEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! MIDORIYA, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! MERCY!! MERCY MERCY MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

Deku stopped, but didn’t climb off of him. Shinsou gasped for breath and looked up at him, still giggling, surprised to see a tiny blush on the boy’s freckled cheeks. He blinked a few times. “M-Midoriya?”

“I…I’m s-sorry, I, uh…” Deku stammered, blinking as well. His cheeks got even pinker. “Oh! I’ll let you go—”

Shinsou reached up faster than either of them could think and grabbed onto Deku’s arms, stopping him from climbing off just yet. He forced himself to make eye contact with the smaller boy, and when he did, what he saw there gave him the encouragement he needed to finally get this off of his chest.

“Midoriya,” he said quietly, “I think I need to tell you something.”

Deku swallowed. He suddenly seemed nervous, too. “Y-Yeah?”

Shinsou’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. “I…I kind of…like you. Like…you know. That way.”

Deku let out a little gasp in response, but he never broke eye contact. His cheeks went from pink to red. “I…I t-think I like you, too, Shinsou…”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Shinsou finally moved to sit up, wrapping an arm around Deku’s back to keep him from falling over as he did so, and when he was upright again the two of them were face-to-face. Shinsou’s eyes flicked all over Deku’s blushing features, from his shining eyes down to his lips and back up again. Then he brought his free hand up to scribble against the smaller boy’s side.

Deku immediately smiled wide, giggling slightly, and Shinsou’s suspicions were confirmed. “Ugh, you’re adorable,” he muttered, pulling him into a bear hug and burying his face in his shoulder. “You know that? Adorable, Midoriya.”

“I-I think you’re cute, too,” Deku stammered, sounding incredibly flustered.

“Only cute?” Shinsou teased, digging his fingertips into the boy’s ribs, feeling him jolt in his arms but holding him tightly all the same. “Wow, and after I just poured my heart out to you.”

“Ahahahahaha nohohohohohoho! I’m sohohohohohorry!” Deku squealed, giggling and squirming but unable to go anywhere or protect himself. He tossed his head back and laughed freely. “You’re adohohohohohorable, too! Plehehehehehease, Shinsou!”

“Too late, Midoriya,” Shinsou replied, grinning into his shoulder, feeling more confident now. He slid one tickling hand down to Deku’s hip and laughed with him when he spasmed so hard they both fell to the floor. “You said I was just cute. Now you’ll have to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Nohohohohohohohoho!” Deku cried, giggling hysterically, but it was obvious to both of them that he didn’t really want any of this to stop, and neither did Shinsou.

So it didn’t.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #hitoshi #shinsou #izuku #midoriya #deku #shindeku #shindeku au #crushes #cute #confession #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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golbrocklovely · 3 years

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remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

#colby brock #colby brock fic #colby brock story #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock oneshot #colby brock angst #sam golbach #sam and colby

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zemosreader · 3 years

Text

make believe ⎛ oneshot ⎠

MAIN PAIRING: Zemo x reader.

summary: in a fit of madness, you ask Zemo to be your date to Tony's wedding.

warnings: fake!dating, mentions of past Tony Stark x reader (implied).

word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

You bounced on the balls of your feet as you went over the argument in your head once more. It was probably the fifth or sixth time you had done so, just this morning, but the invitation to Tony’s wedding was burning a hole in your countertop in your flat and you had to have a response for the RSVP by the end of the week. Better to get this over with now, and then you could move on to someone who might actually say yes to being your date to your ex’s wedding.

It was stupid, it’s not like you had to ask him, but once the thought had occurred to you… you couldn’t get it out of your head. Now it felt imperative. You had to know what he would say. Shaking your head, you laughed softly to yourself, you already knew what he was going to say. It was a fool’s errand to ask him, but here you were, hovering outside of his office, early on a Wednesday morning.

His secretary was giving you the side-eye, but you were here so often, that she didn’t make you leave. That, at least, was a relief. You weren't sure you could stand the embarrassment of being escorted out of his office before you had inappropriately propositioned him. At least if it happened afterward, it would possibly be justified.

“Good morning, Baron Zemo,” his secretary chirped as the whoosh of the lift doors sounded from behind you. You turned and tried to smile at him, but you were sure it came out as a grimace. Especially when he sighed heavily at seeing you.

He nodded at his secretary, but only had eyes for you. “What can I do for you so early this morning?” He didn’t sound pleased to see you at all, and your anxiety ratcheted up.

“Can we speak in your office?” you asked, giving him a tight-lipped smile. His eyes narrowed as he swept them over you so quickly you weren't even sure it had happened. He held out his hand, indicating you should proceed before him into the office and you did so. You weren't sure, but it felt like his eyes may have strayed to your arse. You hoped so. You were wearing your tightest dress today in hopes that it would give you the confidence boost you needed. Or, maybe persuade him. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt, you had decided that morning as you put it on.

The door shut with a soft click and he passed by you so closely, you could feel the breeze of his body. He settled into his seat behind his desk, propping his arm up against the solid, oak desk and indicating you should sit in one of the visitor’s chairs.

You did so, but sat right at the very edge, ready to spring to your feet the moment he said no.

“Well?”

“I… um…” you swallowed hard and looked down at your hands, trying to remember the speech you had prepared.

“Spit it out, dear. I haven’t all day,” Helmut Zemo said sharply.

“WillyougowithmetoTony’swedding,” you said so quickly to your hands wringing in your lap.

“Pardon?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at a spot just over his left shoulder. “I need a date for Tony’s wedding. And it’s stupid and you’ll say no, but will you just pretend to be my date?”

Your entire body braced for his rejection, you were poised to stand, but no rejection came. Instead, he asked when the wedding was.

As if on autopilot, you gave him the relevant details.

Zemo hummed thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over you again. “I’m not sure I know how to pretend to be someone’s date,” he said finally.

That statement startled you enough to actually look at him. You could detect amusement in his eyes, but also interest. You opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out and you closed it again.

“However, if you would like me to actually be your date, I think I could fit it into my schedule,” he added magnanimously. One corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Are you joking?” you asked, completely unable to tell.

Zemo frowned. “No,” he said slowly, “are you? Is there really no wedding?”

You shook your head. “Yes, of course, there’s a wedding… but why would you agree to go with me?”

His face became carefully blank. “Why would you ask me?”

“Because I thought you would say no,” you said in a rush. “I never thought you would agree. I…”

He leaned further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning deeply at you. “Is this some sort of prank?”

“I…” you shook your head, trying to come up with an answer. “Sorry, no it’s not a prank. I got the idea in my head to ask you and then I couldn’t not ask you, but I was convinced you would say no. Why did you agree?” you peered up at his blank face, searching for an answer.

“I’m free on that date,” he replied with a shrug. “It seemed as if you wanted some sort of moral support for your friend’s wedding. Besides, it would upset The Winter Soldier.”

You frowned. You hadn’t thought about how it would make Bucky and Sam feel if you showed up with Zemo. “I— thank you for agreeing, but you’re right, it would anger Bucky. I don’t want to do that. I’m afraid—”

“Ah, you can’t take it back now, my dear,” Helmut said with a smirk. “You’ve asked, and I’ve agreed. It appears I will be your date for Tony Stark’s wedding. Who is he marrying again?”

“Pepper Potts,” you replied, wrinkling your nose. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from doing it, even though you tried. It was ridiculous, feeling upset that Tony was marrying Pepper, but there it was. And that was the crux of the reason you had decided to ask Zemo.

“The CEO of his company?” Zemo asked with a slight pucker between his brows.

You nodded. “Yes, the very same. But you’re right abou—”

“Well then, I shall have to accompany you,” Helmut said as if the matter was completely settled.

“What? No, you—”

“Are you really going to rescind my invitation? How rude,” Helmut said, lifting his nose into the air and glaring down at you.

You bit your lip. He was right. It would be the height of rudeness to ask him and then uninvite him, but he was also right that it would rile up Bucky. And Tony, your brain helpfully supplied. That was the crux of it. You wanted to rile Tony up. You hoped he choked when he saw who you were with.

“Fine,” you said ungraciously. “The wedding is at two in the afternoon and my invitation allows a plus one. Shall we meet at my apartment?”

He nodded and waved his fingers in dismissal as he began sorting through the correspondence on his massive desk. You frowned at him while standing stiffly and marching from the room. You weren't sure why you asked him beyond knowing that it would annoy Tony. You firmly refused to think about how good he looked last month in that coat of his. Nope, that was definitely not why you asked him.

––––

Six Weeks Later

You couldn’t quite believe that you were actually going through with this. You had barely seen Zemo since you stormed into his office and asked him to be your date all those weeks ago. You had almost hoped he had forgotten all about it, but just yesterday he had sent you a text confirming the time he was to meet you at your flat. Now you were all dressed up and rocking in your heels as you tried to calm your anxiety.

How in the world were you going to explain this to anyone?

How had that thought just occurred to you? Horror filled you as you realized you were going to have to explain this to Bucky and Tony and the rest of the Avengers at some point. What on earth were you going to say? That you and Zemo were dating? Bile rose up just as a knock sounded on your door. You hurried to answer it, your fear and apprehension heavy on your face.

He looked amazing, just as you expected him to and you waved him inside your apartment. It seemed even smaller when he was standing in your living room. You turned away from him and took a few deep breaths. What on earth had you been thinking? Inviting Helmut Zemo to your ex’s wedding had to be the most self-destructive thing you could have done.

“Are you alright?” Zemo asked. You could feel him behind you, your living room suddenly feeling smaller as the tension between the two of you grew.

“I fear I’ve made a mistake,” you said in a small voice. You took a big breath and turned to face him. “I can hardly show up with you on my arm,” you said, refusing to meet his eye. “How on earth would I ever explain it?”

“Explain what?” Zemo asked, taking a step closer to you.

You felt your cheeks warm, he was really going to make you say it, wasn’t he?

“Explain you,” you said. “Explain to my friends and family how I ended up on the arm of Helmut Zemo. The Baron Helmut Zemo. The one who hated the Avengers so much he did everything to destroy them.”

“Perhaps,” Zemo said slowly, “it was less about destroying the Avengers and more about getting even.”

You gaped up at him and half-laughed when you saw the smirk on his face. You couldn’t believe he had just made a joke at his own expense.

“There’s nothing to explain. Two consenting adults are dating. What’s to explain?” He shrugged so nonchalantly, you almost believed him.

“Dating? Now we’re dating?” you asked, your eyes widening. You shook your head. “I’m not sure I can pull off fake dating now too.”

You looked down at your hands, realizing you were wringing them, as you always did when you fretted like this.

Zemo cleared his throat and you forced your gaze back up to his. He had a very calculating look on his face. “Of course you can. You wouldn’t have suggested I ‘pretend’ to be your date if you didn’t think you could pull it off. We can tell them it was a whirlwind over the last few weeks.”

“That was madness,” you shook your head, “asking you like that.”

“So why did you?” he peered down at you and your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. You knew exactly why you had asked him. Your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip and you pulled it into your mouth, biting down on it gently.

“Why does anyone ask one out?” you whispered, your gaze darting from his, unable to watch whatever emotions would flit across his face at that admission.

“Indeed,” he replied, sounding amused. “Shall we?”

Within half an hour you were across the town, Zemo slid an arm around your waist, holding you close as the two of you entered the wedding hall.

“Steady, there,” Zemo whispered into your hair just as you entered and a group of wedding attendees turned to see who had just arrived. Even from this distance, you could see eyes widening and tongues wagging.

You lifted your chin and Helmut left his palm on the small of your back as you took that first, scary step forward and greeted the guests.

The wedding was mostly fine. You received some looks from the rest of the Avengers but decided that ignoring them was your best bet. It wasn’t the ceremony you were worried about anyway. Nobody was going to track you down and corner you, expressing concern about your choices while Tony and Pepper were saying their ‘I do’s.’

You weren't ambushed until almost an hour after dinner, which you thought showed remarkable restraint on the part of your friends. You weren't even all that surprised by who did the ambushing. Zemo had stepped outside for a minute and promised to return with drinks and you found not just Bucky, but Sharon as well. Oh, well, they must be concerned if Sharon was getting involved.

“So glad you could come,” Sharon said, pulling you into a hug. You may not have ended up both working for Shield, but Sharon always felt like your sister. Bucky reached in to give you a side hug as well.

They dispensed with the pleasantries quickly. “So, Zemo?” Sharon asked, her eyebrows rising high on her head. “He’s a bit old for you, isn’t he?”

You bit your lips to keep from laughing. “Would that be your only objection to him?”

“Ah, well, not that it’s our place,” Sharon stuttered.

“We just want to make sure you’re taken care of,” Bucky said emphatically. You were wringing your hands, almost unconsciously, and gave both of them a tight smile.

“Of course, he has been wonderful,” you replied. Your brain was working overtime trying to figure a way out of this conversation.

A moment later, Zemo slid his hands between your, threading your fingers together and the tightness in your chest eased as your palms pressed together.

“James, Ms.Carter,” he rumbled, with a dip of his head in their direction.

“Zemo,” Bucky replied looking as though he were trying not to sneer, you thought it just looked like he was constipated. “So kind of you to make it to Tony's wedding.”

“Well, how could I say no when my dear asked?” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You beamed up at him, completely unaware of what this looked like from the outside. Perhaps asking Zemo to be your pretend date wouldn’t be the disaster you had been dreading all these weeks.

After the ambush by Bucky and Sharon, the rest of your friends had to make their voices heard. Some were more subtle about it than others. Tony, for instance, yanked you away from Zemo to have a heated debate behind the bar that you were sure everyone could hear. That was confirmed once you'd finally pulled yourself away from him and returned to find people studiously ignoring you.

Steve, at least, was better about it, just asking if everything was alright. Sam wondered, in front of Zemo, no less, if someone had put something in your drink. Strongly hinting that ‘someone’ was Zemo and that ‘something’ was a type of drug.

Zemo was a courteous guest and danced with you just the right amount. When things finally began winding down, the moon was up and it had been dark for at least three full hours.

“How do you feel about leaving?” Zemo asked, his hand straying to the small of your back. You leaned into him, loving the way it felt to do so. Somehow, despite his age, his body felt firm beneath his dress suit.

“I’m ready. Irish goodbye?” you asked, looking up at him.

He smirked down at you. “The best kind, really.”

You slipped out of the hall, hopefully unseen, and Zemo drove you to your apartment. You were glad to kick off your heels and poured a nightcap for both of you. You settled onto the sofa.

“Cheers to making our way through that unscathed,” You said, clinking your glasses together.

“I hope I wasn’t too terrible of a ‘pretend’ date,” Zemo murmured, looking at you over the top of his glass.

“I thought you didn’t know how to be a pretend date?” you asked, tipping your head to the side and trying desperately to hide a smile.

Zemo hummed. “Perhaps not. Shall we go for round two? Perhaps lunch at that new restaurant near my place?”

“Oh, yes, I would love that,” you said with a grin. Zemo put his glass down and lifted your hand, kissing the back of it.

“It’s a date then,” he said a sly smile on his face. Then he stood and was out your door with a, “See you at noon,” tossed over his shoulder.

You leaned back against your sofa, drinking the rest of your brandy and smiling absently at your door. Asking Zemo to be your pretend wedding date was looking like the best idea you'd had in ages.

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #tfatws #zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x y/n

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ybangtannies · 3 years

Note

Hiii💜💜💜i just want to start off by saying i love your blog, your stories are really good. I just got through reading the bts profiles and i don't know if you are taking request but if you are i was wondering if you could do a scenario where yandere namjoon and y/n are best friends and one night he comes over and they end up doing it, but the next morning they just joke around because it was a mistake and they are good friends, then two weeks later she calls him tells him she is pregnant, and namjoon try to talk to her about keeping the baby because he secretly love y/n and is crazy about her.

[Here it is! I'm sorry it took me months to write this, but I hope you enjoy it! I got a little carried away and it's way longer than what I intended to be lol]

Masterlist

Word count: 2.7k

Namjoon’s eyes open wide suddenly, and frantically starts looking for your figure, and even though he doesn’t find it, he knows you’re around and awake because he can hear the shower from your en suite bathroom. He lets out a sigh and savours the memories coming to him from last night, your moans and whimpers, how good he felt being completely embraced by you and your scent; every single detail about last night and you both enjoying and pleasuring each other is engraved in Namjoon’s mind.

He knows you usually take around fifteen or twenty minutes in the shower, so he relaxes on the bed and starts thinking. What does this mean for your relationship? It surely changes everything, right? This must mean that you love him too. He knows you used to sleep around -much to his dismay, he still doesn’t understand how he put up with it, maybe because it was just sex with strangers and you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing with them- but it’s been a long time since that and if you decided you wanted Namjoon, your best friend, someone you clearly know and have already a bond formed with, to be the person you had sex with after such a long period of time, then there must be a reason behind it. Maybe you weren’t sure on how to tell him you love him too for fear of being rejected and thought sex would be the way to let him know without words? Namjoon smiles at the thought, his sweet and pretty girl, if only you knew how crazy in love he is about you. He’s been waiting for this to happen for way too long, have imagined it millions of times but reality surely does exceed fiction and now that he got a taste of what it would be really like to be with you like this, he doesn’t think he’d be able to give up this feeling for anything in the world; there’s no way, he would be insane to turn down his other half.

His stream of consciousness is cut off by the door of your bathroom opening and your figure emerging from it, you stand on the threshold and look at him with surprise.

“Oh, good morning! I didn’t think you’d be awake already, it’s pretty early and you always sleep until it’s almost lunchtime” you chuckle while entering the room, going to lift up the blind and open the window a little.

Namjoon is looking at you in awe, you’re not wearing anything he hasn’t seen on you before -a shirt and some worn out shorts- but he can perfectly see the hickeys he gave you last night on your neck since you’re wearing your hair on a side plait plus you’re still yawning even if it’s been surely more than half an hour since you woke up and adding that to the fact that now he is your boyfriend... he wonders if you’d be up for round two before having breakfast.

“Hello? Earth to Namjoon! Are you sleeping with your eyes open again or what?” Your voice is once again bringing him back to reality, your glance focused on your phone rather than on him.

“No, no, sorry, I guess I’m still a little tired. What’s up?”

You roll your eyes playfully while looking back at him, “I was asking if you wanted to have breakfast now, but you can keep sleeping if you want, I have things to do anyways.”

Namjoon accepts your offer and accompanies you to the kitchen to make breakfast; he loves how he knows his way around your apartment and how domestic it feels waking up together after having been making love all night to have breakfast and spend the morning at home, like a long-term couple.

He is about to open his mouth and address the elephant in the room once you’re both seated at your table and drinking coffee when you beat him to it.

“So, I don’t want to make things weird after last night and I don’t really think this need to be said since we’ve been friends for quite some time now and already know each other and where we stand,” Namjoon doesn’t like where this seems to be going, “the sex was really good and I think we both needed it after the stress from college but -and don’t get me wrong please- I don’t think it’s a good idea to make it something common, you know?”

Nope, Namjoon is hating this. He is quite lost, what is happening right here? What do you mean you don’t want to have sex with him anymore? Are you already breaking up with him? And what do you mean by ‘making things weird’ and ‘we’ve been friends’? What the fuck are you even talking about? Is he still sleeping? Is this one of his nightmares? That must be it, a nightmare, the worst he’s had so far.

You must sense his confusion because you chuckle a little and even blush; Namjoon wants to smile at the sight, you just look way too cute, but your words have him very confused right now.

“The sex was good, really! Amazing even, Joonie! All I’m saying is that we both know each other too much to have a friends-with-benefits relationship without fucking it up -no pun intended by the way” you laugh again lightly while sipping from your mug and grabbing a toast from the plate in between you both.

Namjoon is really thrown back by your behaviour but as much as he’d like to talk back and confess how ardently he loves you, he realises maybe now is not the right time; he is already sure about his feelings for you and what he wants but you don’t seem to be on the same page just yet and he, being the gentleman he like to think he is, will of course give you some time to figure out your feelings for him. Because of course you must be in love with him too, but maybe you’re more stubborn than he thought you to be and preferred to think your feelings for him were only of lust and not love. It’s okay, you’ll come to your senses and if not, he’ll help you find the right way to his side.

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it, y/n. I know what you mean.”

Days goes by, then weeks and before Namjoon realises it’s been almost a month since that beautiful and extraordinary night he revives almost every day in the solitude of his room. It’s during one of those moments when he is remembering the way your voice sounded asking him for more, to please don’t stop thrusting into your tight and velvety walls and he is about to climax, saying your name like a mantra, that his phone starts vibrating making him jump on his bed and let out a groan, who the fuck? He is tempted to ignore it, too occupied with his hard and leaking cock on his hand to bother with answering the annoying prick that is calling him right in this moment, but then he takes a glance of your name on the screen and it’s physically impossible for him to ignore you. Namjoon sighs and tries to even his breathing and even covers his naked body with the sheet of his bed even though it’s just a regular call.

“Hello, babe, what’s up?”

“Namjoon,” uh oh, you’re using his full name plus your tone is way too plain, this cannot be good, “are you busy right now?”

He looks down at his now less hard cock and shakes his head slowly, “not at all, why? Do you need something?”

“Could you please come over?” Namjoon is already out of his bed and looking for his underwear and clothes, he doesn’t need for you to give him more details about wanting him to go to your house, but he still asks.

“Sure thing, but is something the matter? You sound serious”

A silence follows his question and Namjoon stops his movements altogether, looking straight to the wall with a frown adorning his face, “y/n? Is everything okay?”

“Just… please, come quickly, okay? I need to tell you something.”

He is about to interrogate you a little more or even ask if he needs to bring you something, but you don’t give him time and hang up just as you finish speaking. He looks at his phone with a deeper frown now and hurries up out of his house and into his car.

Namjoon arrives in record time, he’s been thinking about what could have possibly happened for you to be that dry on the phone; yesterday evening when he last saw you everything was okay, and even this morning you sent him an audio telling him how excited you were because the books you bought online finally arrived and were going to start reading them. So, what happened?

You open the door as soon as he rings the bell and without any words, sign for him to come inside. Namjoon observes your attire: sweatpants, a Superman t-shirt and your part of your hair is on a cute little bun, you look adorable and if it weren’t for the frown on your face and your apparent inability to look him in the eye, Namjoon would be cooing internally at you.

“What is happening, y/n? You’re making me worried,” he is now sitting next to you on the sofa in the little living room of your apartment.

You sigh for what seems to be the tenth time since Namjoon got here and start fidgeting with your fingers, “I don’t know how this happened… well, I know how it happened, but I don’t know how we both could be so irresponsible…”

“What happened? What did we do?” Namjoon is more nervous with each passing second, several scenarios running through his mind.

“I’m pregnant”, you guess the best way to tell him is by just doing it at once, to rip off the band aid.

A few moments of silence follow after your words, nothing can be heard, and it feels as if the world has completely stopped. You look at him cautiously and find Namjoon looking at you with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth like he was a fish. The image is funny, cute even, and you would have laughed have it not been a moment like this.

“What?” It’s the only thing that Namjoon manages to say, he’s not sure he heard you right and doesn’t want to get his hopes up like he did before, just in case.

You mumble a little ‘wait here’ and leave the room, in the direction of your bedroom. Before he can decide if he should follow you or not, you’re back with several sticks on your hands. Your face doesn’t show the same worrisome it did when Namjoon first got here but the frown is still present, and he has to physically restrain himself from softening it and give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Here, these are the pregnancy tests. I went out this morning to get them, they’re all positive. I’m three weeks pregnant, Namjoon.”

He takes them and indeed, they all show two lines, one of them even stating what you just said: 3 weeks pregnant.

“This… this is…” Namjoon is trying to find the words to describe how he’s feeling right now; he wants to cry, to scream, to jump, but overall, he wants to hug you and kiss you silly. He is going to be a dad! And you’re the one carrying his children! He could marry you on the stop. Actually, he should start looking for rings and think about a proposal. Would you prefer to wait until you give birth? Or maybe you’d like to do it quickly before your tummy starts showing. Either way, Namjoon doesn’t mind, that’s your decision to make.

“I know it’s not ideal, don’t worry. I’m going to start looking for abortion clinics today, I want to get rid of it as soon as possible. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, I think we should both pay it since, you know, we both did it.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Namjoon can’t believe what he’s hearing, ‘abortion clinics’, ‘get rid of it’?

“We’re not gonna keep it. I’m not gonna have it, Namjoon.”

You are both standing now in the middle of your living room, looking at each other, both with a surprised look in your eyes albeit for very different reasons.

“Why not? I want to be a dad; I want to keep the baby.”

“What? Since when you want to be a father?”

“Since always?” Namjoon is trying not to raise his voice and keep his cool, he doesn’t want to upset himself more than he already is and doesn’t want to upset you either, that wouldn’t do your children any good.

You scoff and roll your eyes at his answer, “you don’t have time for that. You barely have time to eat with how busy you are with college; how do you plan on making time for a baby? You surely won’t drop college; how would you find a job then? Look, if you don’t want to pay for it that’s okay, I can afford it, it’s no biggie”

“It’s not about the money, y/n. I don’t want you to abort our baby because I want to have it with you. I’ll make time for it, we have nine months to figure it out, okay? We’ll both see how we can manage it. Maybe next year I can take fewer classes at college, and you could stop your studies for a year until the baby is old enough to leave them in a nursery without too many problems. Let’s just focus on celebrating and making an appointment with your doctor, darling, don’t worry too much” Namjoon is making his way to hug you and finally kiss you, but you take a few steps back looking at him with wide eyes, as if what he has been saying is insane.

“What the fuck? What the fuck am I supposed to be celebrating? I don’t want to be a mother; you know that I’ve told you several times before. Once I get a fucking abortion it’s when I’ll be celebrating. Look, I’m sorry if you want to be a father right now, but I don’t and I’m not gonna do it.”

Namjoon is starting to get angrier with the moment, he doesn’t understand why you have to be so stubborn. Surely, you’ve told him before about your reticence towards being a mother and how you’d rather abort if you were to ever get pregnant, but he always thought you were saying that referring to carrying the children of another person, not his.

“There’s no need for that, baby, if you just…”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, Namjoon! My word is final: I’m having an abortion whether you like it or not. Now leave, please”

That’s it.

He snaps.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not fucking getting an abortion, and that’s final. Do you understand? You’re gonna carry my children and this is just going to be the first of many to come so you better get used to the idea, is that clear, baby? I gave you enough time to fucking figure out your feelings for me, but this is way too much, I’m not gonna let you murder our children just because you are way too stubborn to realise, you’re in love with me. Now stop fucking talking nonsense before I made you myself.”

With each word that abandoned Namjoon’s mouth he got closer and closer to you until he had you trapped against the wall. You’re looking at him with horror in your eyes and his chest is heaving. He raises his hand, and you flinch and close your eyes, a yelp escaping from your mouth, but the hit never comes. Instead, you feel his fingers on your stomach softly while his other hand goes after your neck in order to bring you closer to his body.

“We’ll be okay, baby. I get that you’re nervous, but we’ll figure everything out and be the best parents to our children.” His words are disturbing, but what scares you the most is the smile on his face and how his eyes are shining with excitement and utter happiness, as if just a moment ago he wasn’t screaming and threatening you. Namjoon is finally able to give you a kiss on the forehead and you can’t do anything but stay still and feel tears falling down your face.

#yandere namjoon #yandere bts #yandere jin #yandere yoongi #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere hoseok #yandere jhope #yandere suga #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere au

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

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