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therand0mwriter · 1 year

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IDOL-Chapitre deux

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x Male!Idol!reader

When a young American idol and his band tours in France, every one in Adrien's class wants to go. Unfortunately for them, tickets sold out as soon as they were for sale. Fortunately for Adrien, his father was able to get him tickets, but with a cost. Even though theres an underlying reason on why he's going, Adrien decides to take his best friend Nino, and his other two close classmates/friends, Alya and Marinette.

When they all got to the concert and the idol started singing, it mesmerized Adrien, pulling him to the front of the stage. Seeing the idol perform made Adrien feel things he never felt before, and it didn't help when the idol lent down and kissed Adrien's hand. Now that caused quite the ruckus.

"𝐔𝐡, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭?"

[The song "Bad Habit" by Steve Lacy does not belong to me]

[Unedited]

*Time Skip, 6 Months*

*Adrien's POV*

"Are you guys excited or what?!" Alya shouted, grinning from ear to ear. Marinette enthusiastically nodded her head, "Of course! And I already have all of our outfits ready!" "Great! I can't wait see them!" Alya cheered. "Thats amazing, Marinette. It'll be cool to see what you came up with this time." I smiled at the blue eyed girl. Her cheeks turned dark and a nervous smile made its way onto her face, "Y-Yeah, h-hopefully they look good!" I laugh and smile, "It's you, I'm sure they will!"

Marinette had offer to make me and Nino outfits for Ensnare's concert, but we politely turned her down, not wanting to cause her too much trouble. Speaking of Ensnare, their concert was tonight, and it was the last one for the France tour. From the videos we've seen online, it'll be an unforgettable experience...

*Time Skip*

*Y/N's POV*

"We got two hours until showtime! Chop chop people!" I could hear Sheena practically screaming over the hoard of workers, clapping her hands, all the way to our dressing room. "Can she be any louder?" Kylian mumbled to himself. "You know she can," I chuckled. "Yeah, don't tempt her, especially tonight." Jiraiya added, rubbing his temples. Kylian mocked Jiraiya in a tiny squeaky voice, causing the ravenette to throw his water bottle at the brunette.

Kylian shot up to his feet, shoulders squared and ready for a fight. Jiraiya didn't hesitate to rise to his feet either. "Hey!" I yelled, deepening my voice and making both males immediately paused in their steps and look towards me. "Knock it off." I gritted through my teeth, no room for argument in my tone. Both males glared at each other before sitting back into their previous spots.

"Ooo, papa Y/N does not play!" Kairo laughed from his seat in the make-up chair. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, "That's enough out of you," He grinned mischievously but quieted down nonetheless.

*Time Skip, 1 hour*

*Adrien's POV*

Me and Nino were currently in Marinette's living room, waiting as she and Alya finished getting ready. Nino was dressed in a white t-shirt with a light brown button up shirt as a jacket, black jeans with a chain, black sneakers, a light brown flat cap, and his usual colorful bracelets he always wore.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Nino's outfit.]

I was dressed in a black t-shirt, a light blue button up as a jacket, black jeans, and white sneakers.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Adrien's outfit.]

"Would you boys like anything to drink?" Marinette's mom, Sabine Cheng, asked us from their kitchen. "No thank you, we're alright Mrs. Cheng." I answered with a smile, Nino nodding along. Just then, Marinette and Alya came downstairs. "Woah..." Nino breathlessly said as he saw his girlfriend. Alya was wearing a long sleeve, orange and brown dress that stopped at her mid thigh. The dress was almost a geometrical design, definitely making it an eye catcher. She wore brown boots and had a brown purse to match.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Alya's outfit.]

"I decided to go out of my comfort zone this time," Alya smiled, radiating confidence. "You look amazing, babe!" Nino cheered, going and hugging his girlfriend. He kissed her cheek as I added, "Yeah! You look great!" "It's all thanks to Marinette," Alya stepped to the side to show said girl (who was hiding). Marinette was wearing a soft pink sundress that stopped at her mid thigh, a red and white flower design along the dress. She had a white cardigan on, white flats and a matching white clutch purse.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Marinette's dress.]

"You look amazing, Marinette! Very cute!" I complimented her, making her face turn red. Marinette started to uncontrollably stutter, but Alya came to her side, "What she is trying to say, is thank you." I look back to Marinette and she rigidly nodded her head in agreement. "Alright! Let's go!" Alya cheered, grabbing Marinette's hand and pulling her along, me and Nino following behind.

*Time Skip, 30 Minutes*

*Y/N's POV*

We just finished our VIP meet and greet and got back to our dressing room, touching up our look and/or changing our outfits. Not long after, our manager came in, "Is everyone ready?" Sheena asked, looking around the room. "Yeah, Y/N just needs to get changed." Jiraiya said, motioning to me in the make-up chair. "Alright, everyone else, go get into your positions." Sheena said before quickly leaving the room, most likely to go check on multiple other things.

When the make-up artist was done, I stood up and called over my band mates, "Line up." Ever since our very first performance together, it's been tradition for them to line up and have me look them over. The twins were first, then Kylian and finally Jiraiya. The twins were wearing a white t-shirt, a tan jacket, dark green cargo pants, white sneakers and jewelry.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Kairo's and Loyal's outfit.]

I straightened out one of Loyal's pant legs, as one cuff was risen higher than the other, and gave him a nod of approval. I move onto Kairo and straightened out his shirt and jacket, giving him the nod of approval as well. I turn to Kylian to see him wearing a white sweater with the sleeves pushed up, gray skinny jeans with material missing at his knees, white sneakers and his jewelry.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Kylian's outfit.]

I straightened out his messy hair, getting a complaint from him. Once I was done I nodded in approval. When I finally turn to Jiraiya, he was waiting with a smile. I could tell he was nervous, so I smiled at him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, "Relax, you'll be great, you always are!" His shoulder relaxed but his face held... disappointment? Before I could ask what's wrong, he changed the subject, "Thanks, how do I look by the way?" I pulled away and took a look at his outfit. He was wearing a clean, white button up shirt, light blue ripped jeans, white sneakers and his jewelry. "Handsome," I simply said, nodding in approval.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for Jiraiya's outfit.]

It looked like he blushed but quickly turned his head to our other band mates, "Okay, let's go. Get dressed and meet us out there." He started pushing the other three members out the door. "See you guys there!" I called out before they closed the door.

*3rd Person POV*

There was an awkward silence among the 4 band members that just left their leader. Kairo opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Jiraiya was trying hard to ignore their concerned glances, focusing on heading to their instruments. That is, until Kylian spoke up, "Y'know, he's not going to treat you any different unless you tell him how you feel."

Jiraiya made a sound of annoyance, "You don't think I know that?" Kylian rolled his eyes, "Oh my god, just tell him!" "I don't want to ruin what we have." Jiraiya said. "Well, your looks of longing and sadness towards our dear leader is making me uncomfortable. So tell him and stop with your moping!" Kylian said, exasperated. Jiraiya halted in his steps and got into Kylians face, "If I tell him how I feel and he rejects me, it's going to be extremely uncomfortable for all of us. Not just you." He pulled away and sped off towards his instrument, leaving the three boys behind.

Kylian stared off in the direction Jiraiya went with a glare, Kairo coughing uncomfortably and Loyal shifting from foot to foot. "That was awkward for us," Kairo mumble. Kylian 'tsk-ed', "Shut up."

*Time Skip*

*Adrien's POV*

After we made our way through a metal detector and the security guard scanned our tickets, we were handed some glow sticks. We cracked them as we made our way into the venue and placed them on our necks and wrists. We scanned the place and gawked, amazed at all the lights and decorations. There was a stand selling the bands merchandise and a couple stands that were selling snacks and drinks.

"Okay! Let's grab the merch now! That way we can leave immediately afterwards! The line isn't that long too!" Alya shouted over the noise of the crowd and background music. "Smart! That way we won't be late for our dinner!" I also shouted. All three of them looked at me, confused. "Uh, what do you mean: 'dinner', dude?!" Nino asked. "Um, our dinner with Ensnare? Did I not tell you we have Deluxe VIP tickets?!" I said, starting to get confused.

Everyone had blank looks on their faces before they screamed/shouted in excitement. "Why didn't you tell us we had Deluxe VIP tickets?!" Alya screamed, shaking my shoulders. "S-Sorry I-I f-forgot!" I tried to say while being violently shook. "This is so exciting! We get to meet them!" Marinette cheered, jumping in her spot, Alya joining her not long after.

"Oh, wait! Let's hurry up and get in line for the merch!" Alya paused, taking Marinette's hand and speed walking towards the line. Me and Nino looked at each other and chuckled, following after the girls.

*Time Skip*

*3rd Person POV*

The concert was about to begin, the four teens waiting with anticipation. Adrien looked down to his hands to see the shirt and magazine he bought at the merchandise stand. The shirt was a long sleeve crew neck and it was white, Ensnare's most recent album cover on the front. The magazine also had the bands album cover on the front, but when you opened it, it was pretty much a picture book. It was full of photos of the members, together and separate. Occasionally, there would be paragraphs explaining what was happening in the picture or why they were doing a that specific photo shoot.

Adrien was embarrassed to admit it, but the main reason he got the magazine was because of Y/N. The vendor for the stand had the magazine on display, and he had it opened to a picture of just Y/N. Y/N was dressed in an all red suit, his shirt slightly opened to reveal his chest a bit. The background for the picture was all red too, making Y/N's head and chest stand out the most, making him eye catching. Adrien convinced himself that he just wanted Y/N to sign the picture and that's why he got it, but deep down, he knew he just really liked that picture and wanted it in general.

Finally, a drum roll started. "It's time! The moment you've all been waiting for!" Once the announcer started, the entire venue erupted into a cheer. "Please welcome, Ensnare's favorite set of twins! Kairo and Loyal!" Said twins ran out onto stage, Kairo going to the edge and high fiving a few fans while Loyal sheepishly waved.

Once they made it to their assigned instruments, the announcer started up again, "Next, we have the bad boy, the heart breaker, Kylian!" The brunette ran out onto the stage, winking and blowing kisses to the female fans. "Second to last, we have the cool, collected, Jiraiya!" He calmly stepped out onto the stage, also waving and making his way to his instrument.

The drum roll sped up, "And finally... the leader and amazing vocalist... Y/N!" Time seemed to slow down for Adrien, the sounds of the crowd drowned out, only the sounds of his breathing, rapid heartbeat and the slow steps of Y/N walking onto the stage were present. But when Adrien saw Y/N... everything went silent, it was like he was deaf. The idol on stage was glowing, his silky hair shined, his eyes were vibrant, his skin clear and smooth... and not to mention his outfit. The male was wearing all black, except for his thin white belt. His dress shirt had the first few buttons undone and was tucked into his skinny jeans, dress shoes and silver jewelry completing his look.

[A/N: Image does not belong to me. Something like this for your (the reader) outfit.]

When Y/N made it to the microphone and greeted the crowd, it snapped Adrien out of his trance, "Bonsoir, everyone!" The blonde male realized how heavy his breathing was and how fast his heart rate was, his face felt hot and his palms sweaty. He wiped his forehead and started to control his breathing, 'What's wrong with me? Why am I acting like this?' Adrien thought, genuinely confused.

If Adrien wasn't so focused on his breathing, he would have connected that his 'problem' was right on the stage in front of him.

"Thank you all so much for coming to see us tonight! We really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy the show tonight, and since it's our last one, we have something special planned for you all!" Y/N explained, a large smile on his face. The crowd screamed once again. "Now, let's get on with it!"

*Time Skip, 1 hour*

The band had just finished playing their final song off of their most recent album. The crowd was screaming, confetti was everywhere, balloons that the stage hand had threw out were bouncing around, it was a moment none of the teens would forget.

Ensnare was taking a break, wiping sweat of their foreheads and chugging water bottles. About half way through the concert the twins had taken off their jackets and Kylian had thrown his sweater into the crowd, a lucky female fan catching it. The male only had an undershirt on now, his bicep tattoo of his guitar with music notes showing.

Y/N took a deep breath before grabbing the microphone again, "Y'all enjoying the concert?!" He got excited screams in return. He laughed into the microphone, causing Adrien's heart rate to spike up once more. "Well, we have something special planned for you all. Since this is the last concert of our first out of country tour, we are going to play a couple of our most favored covers!" The venue erupted.

Y/N laughed once again, and turned to Jiraiya, nodding to start. Said male then started to strum an American pop tune. The band played two covers of songs, but before they played their third, Y/N spoke into the microphone again, "This is our last song for the night! We all really appreciate you coming out here to support us tonight... Y'know, when we started this band, we never thought we would be popular enough to tour across the world. We wouldn't be here without you! WE LOVE YOU, FRANCE!" The crowd went wild, a quarter of the fans even started crying.

Y/N looked to his bandmates and they nodded. He turned back to the microphone and took a deep breath.

"I wish I knew you wanted me." The band started playing and Y/N continued to sing. "I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. What you, ooh, uh, what you do? Made a move, coulda made a move. If I knew I'd be with you. Is it too late to pursue?"

Adrien didn't know what came over him. He mindlessly started to move through the crowd.

"I bite my tongue, it's a bad habit. Kinda mad that I didn't take a stab at it. Thought you were too good for me, my dear. Never gave me time of day, my dear. It's okay, things happen for, Reasons that I think are sure, yeah." Y/N continued to sing and dance. Whenever there was an opening, Adrien moved in, still moving forward.

"I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (oh), I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (yeah), I wish I knew you wanted me (oh). I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me." Adrien made it, he was at the front of the stage, so close to the siren known as Y/N.

Y/N saw something catch his eye, a mop of golden blond hair. He saw it belonged to a boy around his age, green starstruck eyes, tan skin with rosy cheeks... he was cute. The singer made his way to the boy, still singing. "Say to me (please just say to me), If this could wind up. I wish you wouldn't play with me. I wanna know (oh no),"

Y/N got right in front of Adrien and held out his hand. Adriens eyes were still wide with wonder as he placed his hand in Y/N's, still not fully processing the situation. No one knew what was going to happen next, except for Y/N. He lent down and kissed the back of Adriens hand, "Uh, can I bite your tongue like my bad habit?" Adriens face, ears and neck flushed red as Y/N winked and pulled away. The fans that were around them screamed in excitement, not ready for what just happened.

"Would you mind if I tried to make a pass at it? Were you not too good for me, my dear?Funny you come back to me, my dear. It's okay, things happen for, Reasons that I can't ignore, yeah. I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me. I wish I knew (wish I knew), I wish I knew you wanted me (oh)." Y/N continued to dance and sing, oblivious to the angry/pained look Jiraiya was giving him. The other three band members were just surprised about what happened, eyes wide.

Adrien snapped out of his trance when he felt his phone buzzing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a couple missed calls from Nino and Alya and multiple texts asking where he was. Adrien quickly typed back that he was on his way and looked to the stage once more. He didn't want to leave, wanting to be as close to Y/N as possible, but he knew he needed to get back to his friends.

He turned to head back into the crowd, but finally left the stage after one more longing look towards Ensnare's singer. The song ended when the blond reunited with his friends. "Dude! Where did you go?!" Nino shouted over the noise of the crowd. "Uh, bathroom!" Adrien shouted back.

Ensnare waved goodbye to the crowd, Loyal tossing his drumsticks into the crowd and Kylian and Y/N high fiving a few fans. The band was finally off stage and Jiraiya immediately went to his changing room without a word. Y/N noted that he would have to talk to him about what's wrong later.

Sheena came up to the rest of them, "Amazing work once again, boys! Now, go take a shower and get changed, your dinner is in an hour." They all went off and did just that. Y/N was now wearing a white t-shirt, black jeans, white sneakers and a black jean jacket. Kylian was wearing a black sweatshirt, black sweatpants and white sneakers. The twins were wearing a white t-shirt, dark blue jeans, white sneakers and a dark green jacket. Jiraiya wore a white button up shirt with black birds as the design, black ripped skinny jeans, and white sneakers.

The five boys met up after showering and changing (and a touch up from the make-up artists). Y/N instantly went to Jiraiya's side and whispered, "Whats wrong?" Jiraiya brushed him off, "Nothing."

Loyal cheered, "Let's go get our grub on!" At the opportunity to escape, Jiraiya left Y/N and questioned Loyal, "What dishes are you looking forward to?" He smiled. Loyal got stars in his eyes before going on a rant about certain dishes and how to make them. Before becoming a drummer, Loyal's dream job was to be a chef.

Kylian muttered to Y/N, "At least we know if the band ever breaks up Loyal has a fall back." He ended with a chuckle, Y/N joining him.

They made it to the private dining room and opened the doors. None of the band members were ready to see the people waiting for them... more accurately a specific person. Y/N halted in his step and his breath caught in his throat. In front of him was the blonde that he kissed on the back of the hand. He still had those rosy cheeks.

Y/N lightly blushed in embarrassment, 'I never thought I would see him again! Otherwise, I wouldn't have kissed his hand!' But he cleared his throat, stepped forward, and held out his hand with a kind smile, "My name is Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you! What's your name?"

#reader insert #x reader #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste x reader #adrien agreste #adrien agreste x male reader #x male reader #chat noir x male reader #chat noir x reader #chat noir #idol fanfic

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 month

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The Temptation Chapter 1

Summary: Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants. So why does this fallen angel tempt him so? You cannot serve two masters. Will he choose God, or his heart? Here's the Priest!Bucky x curvy!reader fic! I hope y'all like it. Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

“Father Barnes, I have some unfortunate news.”

Bucky turned towards his senior priest, Father Richards. “Yes?”

“Constance Y/L/N has just passed away.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed the news. “How sad. I mean, she was getting up there in age but, still, a great loss.”

“Yes, it is. Her funeral arrangements will be handled by her granddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N. She should be landing into town tomorrow, I was hoping you would be willing to pick her up at the airport and bring her to Constance’s home, then schedule a meeting about the arrangements and the service?”

“Of course, Father.”

That’s where Bucky found himself now, waiting in the baggage claim area of the airport with a sign in his hand that had her name written on it. He had no idea what she looked like or knew anything about her. As he looked around, waiting patiently, a woman came through the door that made him do a double take. She was beautiful, short and curvy, dressed in a long black dress that she kept stepping on, covered by an oversized, long, black and ripped sweatshirt that read “WOMEN RUN SHIT” in red embroidery, Converse sneakers that peeked from under her dress, with long pointy nails and her pink hair piled atop her head, held up by a black scarf. She had very little makeup on except for a dark, blood red lipstick that Bucky couldn’t seem to stop staring at. She looked around until her eyes fell on Bucky, read the sign, and gave him a polite smile as she headed towards him. Bucky gave her a polite smile back as he tried to hide the panic he was feeling inside.

“Father Barnes?” Y/N asked as she approached him.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That’s me,” she flashed him a full smile, making her teeth look stark against her lipstick.

“Is this all you have?” Bucky asked, looking at the purse and backpack slung over her shoulders and the large rolling suitcase she had.

“Yep, don’t have much. Thank you for the ride. I haven’t been to Brooklyn since I was a kid and I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle of a taxi or Uber.”

“It’s no problem.”

Bucky tried hard to not stare at her or even look at her too much. He had been a priest at his parish for 15 years, and had never had a moment where he felt like he was being led astray, like he’d always been warned about during his seminary years. He felt secure in his promises and covenants to the church and to God. And yet here was this woman, who just waltzed into his life on a chance, who he was feeling something very strange towards that made him question his life. And he didn’t even know her. Sinful.

“So what do you do for a living?” Bucky tried to break the ice as he drove silently, weaving through the New York traffic as best as he could.

“I’m a traveling photographer,” Y/N said as she watched the buildings and bridges fly by.

“Really? That’s interesting. How did you get into that?” he asked.

“Um, it just kinda fell into my lap, I guess,” Y/N answered, giving him a glance. “I grew up in Brooklyn, went to the church and everything with my grandmother, but at 16 I decided it wasn’t for me and went through a bit of a rough patch for a while. Started taking pictures as I went from place to place, posting online, and gained a following. Here I am, 16 years later, getting paid to go places and take pictures and give travel advice.”

“Wow,” Bucky breathed. “Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?

“Well, traveling as a plus sized person has its challenges,” she started, shifting in her seat. “The place that I felt most comfortable was the Leeward Islands, so Bora Bora, Tahiti, those areas of French Polynesia.”

“Very tropical,” Bucky commented.

“Ha, yes,” she giggled. “A big reason why I loved it.” She paused and looked at him. “Have you ever been on a beach like that?”

“No,” Bucky answered. “A beach at a lake when I was a kid, but nothing quite as pretty as crystal blue waters,” he glanced at her, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Hm,” Y/N watched him, a sad expression flitting across her face. “That’s too bad. There’s really nothing like it.” She paused again, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips. “A pretty thing like you on a sandy beach in Bora Bora would do wonders with the locals.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her compliment. He cleared his throat and swallowed as he tried to relax the blush that filled his cheeks. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Anytime, handsome,” she teased him, huffing out a laugh at his expense.

Bucky wasn’t blind to the fact that he had attractive features. He’d been hit on too many times to count by the women, and some of the men, in his congregation throughout the years. Some tried harder than others, the idea of a forbidden love or lust-driven “corrupting the priest” sounding appealing. He’d been able to squash those easily. He could of course see or recognize when people were attractive, and occasionally had the fleeting thought of “what if?” But it sounded different coming from her for some reason.

“I mean really, if the priests looked like you when I was in church I would have paid more attention.”

She said it in such a deadpan tone that Bucky couldn’t help but to fully laugh. She joined him in laughing as they finally pulled up to her grandmother’s brownstone home. Bucky helped her hoist her large luggage up the stairs. Y/N grabbed the key from the hidden spot that the estate lawyer had told her about and let herself and Bucky in. She wheeled the luggage off to the side as she looked around the foyer.

“Almost exactly the same,” she muttered.

“Y/N–”

“You know, it’s just very strange for me to call you Father,” Y/N interrupted him as she whirled around to face him. “What’s your first name?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, um, it’s James, but I always went by Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Y/N repeated it, looking confused.

Bucky silently reveled in how she said his name. “My middle name is Buchanan, don’t ask me why,” he joked, making her snort. “Bucky for short. I just always went by that rather than James when I was younger.”

“Well is it alright if I call you Bucky?” Y/N asked hopefully.

Bucky really should have said no, that it’s not appropriate for people to call him by his name rather than his title. Yet he found himself saying, “Yes.”

“Great. I’m sorry I interrupted you, what were you going to say?”

“Well, my senior priest, Father Richards and I would like to set up a meeting with you to go over the funeral arrangements. When would you like to do that?”

“Sure, um…” Y/N got distracted by something in the foyer. Bucky followed her eye line to the large cross her grandmother had mounted above the door. She sighed heavily before meeting his gaze. “How about tomorrow? 10 a.m.?”

“That sounds great,” Bucky agreed. “Well, is there anything else I could help you with while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Great, see you then.” Bucky turned away and out the door, unable to handle being in such a close space with her anymore.

As he got back into the parish car and drove back to the church he heaved a heavy sigh of his own. This is going to be dangerous.

***

The next morning Bucky found himself taking more time to get ready. He was trimming his beard, redoing his hair in a bun and repeatedly straightening out his Roman collar and his shirt. He knew why he was doing it but was in deep denial.

Father Richards was waiting in the main office as Bucky went out to the sanctuary to see if Y/N had shown up yet. When he walked in he easily found her sitting on one of the pews. Today she wore a long, fluffy cardigan with a sports bra and flowy lounge pants. She wore no makeup and her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bucky greeted her as he approached.

Y/N was staring at the large cross at the front of the sanctuary with the statue of Jesus hanging on it. Her eyes slowly turned to him, a frown on her face that she tried to hide quickly.

“Good morning, Bucky,” she greeted him, her voice sounding scratchy. “I’m sorry I look a mess, the jet lag is making me feel rough.”

“I understand, it’s alright,” Bucky gestured for her to follow him.

He led her back into the hallways of the church until they reached the main priest’s office. Y/N paused for a moment outside the office door as Bucky held it open for her, before she inhaled quickly and stepped through the door.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Father Richards,” Richards held his hand out, which she stiffly shook. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under more pleasant circumstances. May I offer my deepest condolences to you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said somberly. She sat on the chair in front of the large wooden desk. Her eyes settled on one scuffed spot on the desk as Father Richards and Bucky sat across from her.

“So, let’s get started,” Father Richards began. “I’m sure you know your grandmother was a big supporter of the church. She gave us some of our largest donations over her lifetime. She had some instructions she left with me but I wanted to make sure everything sounded good to you before I enacted them, or if there was something left in her will that I wasn’t aware of?”

“The will and everything else is stuck in probate court right now,” Y/N answered, her tired eyes trying to focus on him. “So honestly, whatever she told you is fine. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I see,” Father Richards said, sounding a little annoyed. Bucky glanced at him.

“Please don’t mistake my indifference for not caring,” Y/N retorted. “I loved my grandmother, I just didn’t love her religion. And that caused a rift between us. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in years, so I was pretty surprised when I got a call from a lawyer in New York telling me she’d died and left me everything,” she continued, her words getting more curt by the second. “No offense to either of you but me being here is highly triggering. So is there anything else you need from me?”

“Uh, yes,” Richards tried to recover the conversation, his tone sounding more jovial. “She did ask that you sing at her funeral.”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N spat, her eyes narrowing as she minutely shook her head.

“Oh, well, I mean that’s what she wrote here–”

“No.”

Bucky watched on in concern. He knew the church came with a lot of baggage for some people, that its history was unclean. He worried about what this would mean for them as she worked with them for this funeral.

“Hm, of course you don’t have to, but she always said how you had a lovely singing voice–”

“I said no,” she seethed. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she stood suddenly, Bucky and Father Richards copying her. “I need to go. Just call me if you need something else.” She rummaged into her cardigan pocket, pulling out a wallet and taking out a business card, flinging it at them on the desk. “Good day.”

She turned on her heel and hightailed it out of the office. Father Richards and Bucky exchanged a bewildered look. “Go,” Father Richards instructed.

Bucky jogged out of the office to catch up to Y/N. “Y/N, please wait!”

Y/N sighed loudly as she turned back around to Bucky. “I’m sorry for my rudeness, I just can’t stay here,” she said, continuing to walk away.

“Hey,” he jogged around her until he faced her. “Obviously there’s some deep problems you have with the church.”

“No shit Sherlock,” she dodged him, heading towards the front doors.

“And I don’t blame you!” Bucky walked alongside her. “There have been bad things that have happened in its history.”

Y/N stopped abruptly as she rounded on him. “To ME!” she pointed a finger towards herself. Bucky stopped, his eyes widening at her. She was shaking as she tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath and a step back from him. “I appreciate that the church has given you comfort, peace, a purpose maybe, but I grew up here,” she paused, stopping herself from crying. “Father Carmine was here before you two, right?” Bucky nodded his head slowly as he watched her. “He hurt me.”

Bucky felt his heart plummet. He had met Father Carmine many years ago as he and Father Richards were transferred in to replace him. He had had an amazing rapport with the community, his congregation seemed to love him. Now Bucky knew the reason for his sudden retirement.

Y/N scoffed. “That notch on the desk? In the office? That’s from the heel of my shoe,” she took a step closer to him as she peered up at him, a fury in her eyes that made him feel like withering on the spot. “My Mary Jane shoes, from my school uniform, when I was 15 years old.” Bucky felt like he was going to throw up as he digested this information. “So you’ll have to excuse me, if coming here to the place where I was abused and then unbelieved by the woman who raised me who I now have to bury, is dredging up some pretty raw emotions in me right now.” Y/N was whispering now, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at him. “Every cross, every Jesus statue, every rosary, every goddamn Roman collar,” her eyes flickered to his neck, “reminds me of that day. So the fact that my grandmother was willing to still hold her funeral here in this godforsaken place, and then have the audacity to throw her money at me and ask me to sing?” Y/N shivered violently as she grunted. “I can’t…”

Bucky didn’t know what to do as he watched her fight off an oncoming panic attack. “Y/N, hey…look,” he started to take off his Roman collar. She watched him hesitantly. “See? Look, just me. Not Father Barnes, not Father anything, just Bucky.” He held his hands up towards her in a sign of meaning no harm. “Constance was extremely devout, for sure,” Y/N scoffed again, rolling her eyes. “But that was no excuse for her not to believe you,” he took a step forward. Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him. “You deserved to be believed. You deserved justice, and you never got it. I’m so sorry,” he took another step until he could reach out and hold her arms. He lowered his face so he was eye level with her. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve it, no one deserves that.” Y/N’s tears finally fell as she shook in his hands. “And I’m sorry for Father Richards pushing you, he’s a very…no nonsense, regimented kind of guy. But he should have taken your refusal the first time.” He squeezed her arms and she took a shaky breath. “We’ll follow her instructions, get through the funeral, and then you can be done with this place. And go enjoy a long vacation on a beach in Bora Bora for me.”

Y/N laughed at that, her smile finally breaking the sadness etched in her face. She wiped her eyes as Bucky dropped his hands from her. He felt like his palms were stinging from the sensation of touching her. “Thank you, Bucky,” she sniffed.

“No problem,” he smiled at her. “I know this isn’t a great place for you, but I hope you know that I believe you, and I’m here for you.”

Y/N gave him a long look, her eyes roaming his face momentarily. She nodded and turned to leave, then suddenly turned back around and walked up to him. She wound her arms around his waist and gave him a hug, squeezing him. He barely had a chance to hug her back before she stepped away and walked out of the front doors. Bucky watched her leave, already missing the way she smelled.

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 1 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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landwriter · 1 year

Note

13!

Shut Up by Stormzy.

Hob is a literature professor. Dream is an underground electronic music artist who goes by Morpheus. They never would've met. Never would've even known about each other.

Except. Hob is bit addicted to Twitter. Except. Hob has a bit shit taste in music. Except. A student cancels her presentation because she got last-minute tickets to a Morpheus show and Hob looks him up and gets irrationally mad at a stupid skinny little goth that doesn't even play any real instruments or sing and whose photo of a sneaker drop, whatever that is, got a thousand retweets within hours.

This is the story of how Hob sends a petty tweet and then sort-of-accidentally starts iconic Twitter beef with Dream.

Death, acclaimed hip-hop artist and meddling older sister, is delighted by a random man in a sweater-vest rudely insulting her brilliant baby brother, and insists on catching up with Dream so they can collab on a diss track, because it'll be very interesting. Hob finds out about it at a lecture and plays it in front of his whole class. It's clever and funny and absurdly referential. He falls a little bit in love with the wrong person, because he thinks the lyrics are Death's.

He slides into Dream's DMs to tease him about his older sister to protecting him (and maybe ask for her number), and Dream cops to writing it. Hob reacts with so much earnest wonder that he has to swiftly follow it with calling Dream a pretentious cunt, just to balance things out. They continue talking, under the flimsy auspices of being mean to each other.

One day, Dream video calls him while stuck at an airport, wearing stupid glasses and a stupid hat like a some kind of celebrity traveling incognito - because he sort of is, Hob belatedly realizes - and that's when he sees Dream laugh for the first time. It's because of him. He realizes he wants to kiss the stupid skinny little goth. Wants Dream to be his stupid skinny little goth. Has no idea how to do that. He pines. Dream pines.

When there's a show playing near Hob, Dream sends him a VIP ticket, day-of, with no other message or context. Hob goes, of course, feeling tremendously uncool at the venue. But during the show he finally understands, in a way he didn't before, how Dream pulls whole worlds to life with his music, how he weaves something new and incredible from samples alone. How he tells stories without words.

After, awed, he goes backstage, and almost regrets it when he has to face half of Dream's entourage, whose ruthless teasing is absolutely secret screening to see if he's Good Enough For Our Morpheus, but he gives as good as he gets, and, unable to bear it any longer, Dream tells them all to fuck off. Then it's just them, and Dream makes some vulnerable little joke about whether Hob still thinks it's not real music, but Hob is just standing there, bluescreened before the sight of this man, who he wants to be his, who he's spent hours with online, who he's never even touched, so human and real suddenly. Dream is flushed and sweaty and a bit of his hair is plastered to his forehead. The energy of the crowd is still glowing underneath his skin. Hob is hapless. Hob can only think to ask to kiss him. So he asks, and that's how their first time ends up being in a shitty little greenroom in Manchester. And their second. The third, at least, is in Dream's hotel.

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tangledinink · 1 year

Text

Chapter Ten of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up! :0 Betraying my system and posting one chapter early because it was one of my favorites to write and I'm excited... the boys return to school for the first time in a while, and, of course, it goes VERY well... read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

(cw: depictions of panic attacks, a lil bit of blood and fighting)

Oh god. He could not do this. What was he thinking? What were any of them thinking?! This was going to be a complete disaster.

Leo's sneakers were still pointed in the direction of the school, and he was walking towards it, but he wanted oh so desperately to turn tail and run. He wouldn't. He wasn't gonna back out or ditch his family... but oh pizza supreme in the sky did he want to.

He really, really hoped that this was worth it.

They had all agreed to the plan days ago, discussing it at length and reviewing the pros and cons. And when they had that original conversation, Leo had been all for it! It seemed like a good idea when Donnie pitched it... at the time.

"Right. So. As you all know, I've been doing some research on the mystic artifacts that we recovered from Dad's room. There's not a ton I can find online, which I was expecting, but I've been doing some analysis on the actual items themselves and some of the readings they're giving, and--"

"You found something?" Raph interrupted, his eyes widening. Donnie had hesitated.

"Well. Not exactly," they had explained, wincing a bit. "There is definitely a pattern in what I'm seeing, and it seems like most mystic energy has a particular molecular build, if you will, so to speak. I mean, it's really not quite as simple as that, it sort of is less molecular and more next-to-molecular... It's pretty fascinating, actually, I mean, I can't imagine that anyone would notice these kinds of signatures unless they were actively looking for them, it’s really on detectable via--"

"Donnie!"

"Right. Sorry. The point is, I have a foundation. I have the buildings of an equation here, but I don't have any values to input into it yet, so I can't do anything with it. And that," they swiveled in their desk chair to point, grinning big. "Is where Mikey comes in."

They had all turned to look at their youngest brother, who absolutely beamed in response, oozing sunshine in a way Leo hadn't seen in nearly two weeks.

"Did you guys know he can see auras?"

"I'm sorry, he can what?" Raph echoed.

"Well, 'aura' is the placeholder term I'm using for ease of communication at the moment. I'll label it with a proper term later. Mikey likes to call them ‘life colors.’ But the point is, according to Mikey, at least from what he can tell, pretty much everyone in the world has a unique 'life color.' I wasn’t really sure if I was gonna be able to go anywhere with this at first, but after discussing it at length and running a few tests, I’m fairly certain it is, in fact, a measurable mystic quality that I could figure out how to sample. So, in other words, a unique signature. In other other words..."

Donnie had paused, expecting someone to finish the sentence. His family stared at him blankly. Donnie huffed a bit in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"In other words, gentleman, (and April,) we have our values. If we know that everyone has a unique 'life color' signature associated with them, in addition to knowing that mystical energy itself has a unique signature associated with it, and if I’m able to detect and read both these signatures with my tech, I can, theoretically, generate a tracking algorithm capable of sweeping and zeroing in on these specific data points, and--"

"And you can find Dad!" Raph finished the sentence this time, his eyes absolutely alight. Wait, really!? They had a lead? They had a lead! Leo had all but jumped up from his seat on Donnie’s bed, bounding over to join his twin at their computer.

"Alright, Dee! I knew you could do it!" He cheered. "So what are we waiting for!? Let's go get Dad already!"

"Well," Donnie held up his hands, and Leo paused. Wait, well? What was the problem?

"I can generate a tracking algorithm and software with a margin of error. And right now, the data pool we're working with is not especially impressive," Donnie muttered, turning back to the monitors and gesturing to a bunch of charts and numbers that none of them understood. They had all gathered and leaned in to look anyway. "As it stands, anything I build will likely not be especially accurate, if it works at all. I've already spent some time with it, and it turns out that there are... a lot of people in New York City," he said dryly. "Which makes this difficult."

"Then... what do we do?" April questioned, frowning.

Mikey had grinned, puffing out his chest. "We get more data!"

Leo had originally suggested that they just go camp in Times Square and people-watch, and collect a shit-ton of data that way, but as Donnie had explained it, it wasn't quite so simple. Just inputting the life colors of random people from off the street wasn't really going to train the AI he was coding to do much of anything. The software he was hoping to build wasn't going to have the same 'gift' as Mikey, and wouldn't be able to just 'see' people's life colors. They'd have to teach it how to do so by associating 'colors' with other data points, such as blood type, birthdays, thermo-magnetic signatures, and a bunch of other fancy words Leo didn't recognize, in order to try to find a pattern that could be used to identify and track such things. So it could learn to ‘see’ life colors on its own. In other words, they could only use the 'life colors' of people who they could find again and collect further data on. People who they could reliably locate over a period of time. People who they were able to access other records for...

And Donnie could hack into the school's database in his sleep. So.

Here they were.

At the time, it had seemed like a reasonable plan. Go to school, Mikey can collect a list of kids and their life colors, Donnie pulls data from the school's records, and the rest of them fill in the blanks with whatever weird tests Donnie said they needed. They were all sneaky enough that they could scan a kid's magnetic energy or whatever incognito. It was a good plan. They had even managed to convince Carol that they were ready to go back to school after several long conversations, insisting that staying home and not seeing any of their friends were just making things worse, etc etc.

But oh my god. Now they were here, walking up to the building, and all Leo could think was this is a horrible idea. He kept trying to tell himself maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe not that many kids knew, maybe no one was gonna say anything, but who was he kidding? He was sure the whole ass school had taken notice of their two-week absence and knew perfectly well by now that their dad was missing. It had only been circulating through the news and every social media platform that had ever existed on repeat since it happened.

Everyone was gonna be looking at him with those sad, sorry-for-you eyes that he couldn't stand. It was gonna be awkward. And he was not even a little bit excited about it. Dammit, he had had his phone on 'do not disturb' for the past two weeks for exactly this reason.

But he had said he would do it. So.

Here they were.

"Alright," Raph said, turning to face the rest of the group, just outside of the front doors. Leo could already feel other kids watching them. He thought back to his and Mikey's conversation that one time when they went to gymnastics. How things were normal, but also weren't at all, and just let them all in the lurch in this uncanny-valley sort of space. "We all know the game plan?"

"Yes sir," they all responded, though not with quite enthusiasm or coordination as they usually did. Leo could tell that everyone was nervous. I mean, jesus. He couldn't blame them.

"Alright," Raph bit the insides of his cheeks. Also nervous. "Everyone keep your phones on. And text the group chat if anything happens. We can always leave if we gotta, I mean, if you guys wanna go home--"

"Oh-ho-ho!" Leo remarked with a grin. "What happened to ‘no skipping class?’"

"Leo--"

"This is a great change of pace," he continued, desperate to break the tension. "But don't worry! We're gonna be fine-- we got this! And if anything happens, we'll just ninja our way out of here, no problem."

"No, if anything happens, we call April's mom to pick us up--"

"Same thing! We've got this one-thousand percent until control. Right, Magic Mike?" Leo teased, nudging his brother, who forced a half-hearted grin in response. "See? He's all over it. Okay, now what's that thing Raph always says? Don’t do anything Raph wouldn’t do? Don't be late to class? That thing! Everyone go do that!" He said, grabbing Donnie by the hand and promptly marching off.

Oh, he could feel the eyes on the back of his head. But soooo worth it to end the awkward, anxious air. If this was what the entire day was gonna be like, he wasn't gonna make it. He could tell you that right now.

He wasn't sure Donnie was, either. Was he, like, legit shaking? Crap. Okay, come on. We can fix this.

"I mean it, you know," he said, slowing his pace slightly and releasing his grip, shifting into an easy stride next to his twin rather than dragging them along behind him. "You've got this, Dee. If anyone can figure out this whole mess, it's you, right? Once Mikey has all that data stuff, we'll be all set."

"Yeah..." Donnie said, not sounding anywhere near as confident as Leo was used to, staring down at his boots. Aw, man.

"Oh, come on. Where's your enthusiasm? Where's the brother I know and love?" Leo bade, elbowing him slightly, but failing to make any actual physical contact with him. He had already pushed it by grabbing his hand, no need to pile on top of that... "Where's your... your thing! Your emotionless passion!"

"Here," Donnie mumbled in a tone just barely one step above a whine, hunching his shoulders slightly. "It's fine. I do have this. Today is just gonna suck."

Leo sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"... Yeah. I know. We just gotta... get through it. Keep our heads down, muscle through, and once today is over, it's over. No biggie!"

Even he didn't believe it. Regardless, the pair made their way to homeroom-- though at an admittedly much slower pace than usual, with no racing, jumping, leaping, or flipping. It almost felt foreign, and Leo was half tempted to tag his brother and take off running. Muscle memory begged him to. But he knew that neither of them really felt up for it, and besides, the last thing they needed were even more eyes on them. Leo tried to emit his very best, 'do not look at me, talk to me, or fuck with me,' vibes as they entered the classroom, sticking close to his twin. That wasn't usually his forte-- it was more Donnie's, if anything-- but it was at least enough to ward off the masses until the first official bell of the day rang.

Leo's stomach was in absolute fucking knots. 'Cause he knew that he had geometry first period in the upper east wing of the school... and Donnie had history in the west.

For a moment, he felt like a second grader again, terrified of his twin brother moving on without him and leaving him behind to go to school all by himself. He swallowed hard, lingering in the hallway just long enough to give Donnie a grin and sign a reassurance that he could text him if anything happened. Donnie had frowned, nodded, and they had parted.

It did not feel good.

He was trying to talk himself down from the ledge, resisting the urge to run after his brother and tackle him and cling to him, like, no, don't leave me alone!, when he rounded the corner and caught sight of a face across the hall that made him freeze.

"Leo!" Chase immediately called out when they made eye contact.

Dammit. He knew he was forgetting something. Actually, you know what? Fuck geometry. Who needs geometry? Leo made an immediate about-face, spinning on his heels and going exactly back the way he just came. Opting out of this conversation, thank you very much.

"Leo!" He heard his despite-not-talking-in-literally-two-weeks-technically-still-boyfriend shout from behind him again, no doubt in pursuit, and Leo cursed in every language that he knew, picking up the pace. No no no no. He was so not in the mood for this. This was the last thing he needed. He barely even liked Chase that much on, like, a good day, he was just kinda cute and had decent taste in music! He had no intention of discussing any bit of, like, this whole situation with him.

Gymnastics lessons, don't fail me now. Leo ducked and weaved past students as fast as he dared, dancing around, over, and occasionally through them, not really caring that much if he bumped or elbowed anyone. Sorry, he had priorities! A quick glance over his shoulder told him that, no, somehow, he still had not lost Chase, who was, in fact, living up to his name at the moment, and oh my god, was he panicking? He was pretty sure he was panicking, great, cool, no problem! Let's run with it! Mikey said that feeling emotions was healthy or whatever, and wow, was he feeling it!

He nearly wiped out a couple of freshmen as he flung himself around a corner and down a side hall, his sneakers sliding noisily against the linoleum as he all but smacked into the nearest door he could find. Okay, running wasn't working, how about hiding? Just had to duck away somewhere for a minute and lay low, and it'd all be fine, and he wouldn't have to deal with this or talk about any of this or talk to him--

He blanched when the door failed to budge. What?! No, no, no, come on! Open, you've gotta open! He glanced around frantically for an alternative exit plan, but there was nothing around that he'd be able to get to before Chase caught up.

"Come on. Come on. Open, open, open, move, dammit, move--" He hissed under his breath, rearing back before shoving against the door with his entire weight.

He yelped in surprise when he fell flat on his face, gravel stinging his cheeks and shifting beneath him, a shocking blast of icy cold wind cutting through him like a knife. What the--? Leo sat up quickly, brushing the dirt and pebbles from himself with a splutter as he glanced around at his surroundings.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

The good news was that he had lost Chase.

Bad news was that he was on the roof.

Okay... so we can definitely rule out sleepwalking.

---

Donnie had learned years ago, though admittedly a bit later than most, that the internet couldn't always be trusted. He knew by now that it wasn't reasonable to always expect things to go the way they were described on online forums or in web articles, and understood the concept of 'expectations VS reality...'

But that didn't make the reality any better.

Because he had come prepared, right? They knew that this was going to suck, and they did what any good scholar would do in such a situation-- research. They had Googled it, had looked up 'what to expect when returning to work/school after a personal tragedy,' (because Googling 'after your Dad gets kidnapped' hadn't yielded any good results and Donnie figured it must have been too specific,) and he had read the WikiHow, the reddit forums, the Quora threads, and all the other articles in between. He had prepped!

But jesus christ. None of them had mentioned how much touching there was going to be.

So far he had been subject to no less than four overly emotional hugs that he had not consented to, (what were they emotional about, anyway?) eleven hand grabs-slash-squeezes, and so many shoulder rubs and gentle arm touches that he had lost count. And every single time, he had to resist the urge to shove them away. And every single time, the touch absolutely lingered, sticking to him like tree sap and covering him up like mushrooms and spores and burning him.

God. They hated this. Hated this, hated this, hated this. They were trying so hard to keep their mind focused, to concentrate on the task in front of them and the reason they were here, but their head was already all fuzzy and thick, feeling as though it had been stuffed full of fountain grass. Everyone kept coming up to them to talk to them, to say that they were so sorry to hear about their dad and if there was anything they can do and they hope things work out soon and blah blah blah, all these stupid, pointless, unpleasant emotions that they just kept dumping over his head until he was soaked and shivering and freezing cold, drenched down to his bones. The entire school was getting louder and louder by the second. Had the teacher's heels always clicked like that? And had the lights in the classroom always been so goddamn bright?

The kid behind him in his third period class popped their gum and Donnie stood up, grabbed his stuff, and walked out.

He was pretty sure his teacher said something, but he was not even listening to her a little bit. Sorry, nope, nu-uh, not today, they were leaving, or else they were absolutely going to vomit. They had no idea where they were going but they just-- they had to be-- not here.

Please, just somewhere else.

They quickened their pace through the hallways, eyes darting around, looking desperately for a place to just hide for a little bit, just somewhere else, because they were about to lose their mind. Their tongue was all thick and swollen and stuck to the roof of their mouth and their head was buzzing like it was filled up with wasps and their joints were all tight, like they had just run a marathon, like they were being chased-- they knew there was somewhere to go. He knew this. Come on, Donatello, think. You've studied the blueprints of the school. Calm down, focus-- where are you going?

One left and a right, third door from the left. Supply closet. This is where he’s going.

Donnie practically threw himself into the closet, yanking the door shut behind him, flicking off the lights, and sinking down to the ground, curling up into the littlest ball he could become and burying his head between his knees, because no, no, he’s not having a panic attack. Not right now. Not before he even makes it halfway through the day, goddammit, no, he’s fine. Everything is fine.

It's... it's fine. Donnie swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and wiggling his wrists back and forth, anxious and jittery, just barely tapping his knuckles against the sides of his head as he tried to focus on breathing. Yeah. No. Things were totally fine. He was not freaking out. He was not sitting here, absolutely fucking terrified that someone was going to burst in through the door looking for him any second now.

Nope. Not him. He was... all good.

Please, for the love of the known, observable universe-- and even the unknown, unobservable parts!-- just leave me alone. Just let it be quiet for a while.

He swallowed thickly, biting the edges of his tongue, fighting to settle. He pressed his shoulders up against the cold, hard metal door behind him, trying desperately to ground himself, to be here, in reality, and not float off and spiral. The sound of approaching footsteps just barely breached the protective net of his headphones, and he bristled, every muscle in his body tensing, poised to run-- only for his hackles to lower again when the sound passed on, walking past the closet without disturbing him.

They’re gonna look for you, an unwelcome little voice in his head warned. Donnie frowned.

No, they’re not. It’s fine.

They are. You ran right out of class. Everyone already thinks you’re crazy even on a good day-- let alone today. They’re looking for you. They’ll find you.

People don’t think I’m crazy. They’re not looking for me. It’s fine. We-- we have time. We just need to calm down, and we’ll go back. They’re not gonna find us.

They will. They’re gonna show up any second.

They’re not. You don’t know that.

You don’t know that they won’t.

They won’t. It’s fine.

You don’t know. How could you know? There’s no way of knowing.

Things could still get worse!

They could be here any second!

You don’t know!

The click and clatter of metal-on-metal cut through Donnie the same way he imagined being stabbed would be like, and he absolutely froze. But to his surprise, the door didn’t fall away behind him. No harsh light or chiding voice invaded the space. Everything remained… just as it was.

So what was that noise?

After taking a moment to build up enough courage and clarity to give in to curiosity, he slowly unwound all his muscles, sitting up properly and looking around. And, in fact, it took almost no time at all for him to identify the source.

Looped firmly around the door handle was a small padlock that had most certainly not been there before, constructed entirely, it seemed, of violet light in a very familiar shade.

Fascinating... Did I make this?

Donnie leaned in to examine the item, running his fingers along the edges of it, investigating, testing it a few times and tugging at it lightly. It was a fairly primitive thing, from what he could tell, but it was most certainly doing its job, keeping the door firmly shut and not giving way when he pulled. Well. He supposed he was going to be in here for a while. Not that he really minded. Sighing deeply, he sat back down, pulling his bag off of his back and quickly retrieving his laptop.

Thank god. Data collection.

---

It wasn't that people weren't being nice. They were. Everyone was being super nice! Several of Raph’s teachers had taken him aside to tell him not to worry about any missed work or his grades right now. In every single class, classmates took the time to offer hugs and words of encouragement. Members of the football team and basketball team alike sought him out in the halls to present him with a Build-A-Bear gift card that they had all pitched in to get with a promise that they could all go out together whenever he was down for it. He had, admittedly, teared up a tiny bit.

It was really, really lovely. It was wonderful to know that so many people cared about him and were concerned about him.

So why did he still feel so awful?

Raph felt almost ungrateful, plodding through the school with this big weight on his shoulders, his entire frame feeling like it was rotting rapidly beneath his skin. He was absolutely surrounded by people; swaths and seas of them, and half of them knew him, half of them were concerned about him. So why did he feel like he was all by himself in a big empty cavern?

I wonder if the others are okay, he had thought.

Are people being cool with them, too?

But what if they are? Leo might not like it. He loves attention, but not that kind. It might freak him out. Donnie too.

What if people are giving Donnie hugs? He hates that. He'll be miserable.

Are all their teachers telling them not to worry about their grades, either? Are Mikey's teachers letting him get off without make-up work? He already tries so hard with school as it is. What if he ends up having to do a bunch of extra on top of it all?

And what if their grades slip? That's really important to Donnie. They're gonna be devastated if their GPA gets tanked.

Is April good? Is she getting overwhelmed? Are people asking her lots of questions? People aren’t pestering me so far for details, but what if they think it’s okay to pester April like that because she wasn't, technically speaking, a Hamato? She was. It wasn't okay. What if people were looking to her for answers?

What if this was a horrible plan?

Well, technically, it wasn't even your plan. It was Donnie's plan.

But it was your plan to use Donnie's plan! And you're the biggest brother. You're responsible.

Man, why the hell are you here right now?! You should be with them! You should be taking care of them!

Why? You've been with them all week, and the week before that, and ain't helped at all!

Raph could feel a twitch developing in his eye, much to his annoyance. It did very little to soothe him as he moved through the day, and every five minutes, Mind-Raph asked, 'is it time to panic yet?'

He got through to nearly fourth period before the answer was yes, it is, in fact, time to panic. Not the ideal answer.

He wasn't even sure what set it off, actually. He only did about half the time, which was by far the most frustrating part, because when he didn't know he just felt like he was floundering blindly at nothing for no good reason. He had been in the hallway, moving between classes, a raindrop in the ocean of other students all doing the same thing, and some younger kid had darted past him, seemingly in a rush, sort of knocking into his arm-- maybe that was what did it. He wasn't exactly sure, because usually, that wouldn't bother him at all.

It did today.

This didn't happen often, really, but every time it did, it was like, oh, great, here we go again, and he'd brace himself for the coming ride. Because it fucking sucked. The room was spinning and his legs were going out from under him and his chest was compressing and his throat was closing up and his eyes were fucking deteriorating in his head.

Not really. He was okay. He could still breathe, or, well, hyperventilate, at least. He was still on his feet, even if he was shaking.... But it wasn't like he could tell. Fuck. The world was ending, maybe? No, it wasn't. Get it together. Get a grip, Raph, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine, except no, it's not, I can't breathe, why can't I get a goddamn breath?! He hated doing this.

People were still moving around him, and he grabbed the nearest locker he could get to as an anchor, pressing his palm against it as he tried to remember how to breathe. Cold. Smooth. Hard. Grounding, right? Donnie taught you this. He was vaguely aware of a few kids lingering, taking notice of his panic, touching his back and asking if he was okay. Raph didn't have it in him to speak right now, but he wanted so badly to snap at them to leave him alone. Couldn't they tell he was already using all of his energy to not completely lose it, flip out, and punch a hole through the wall? Again?! It had been a nightmare the first time when Dad had to deal with that, he did not want to put that on Mrs. O'Neil's plate.

"Hey, come on, back up, give him some room to breathe, would ya?"

This voice was loud enough that Raph could hear it over his own shuddering, and he shifted slightly, his eyes darting to the side. He knew this guy. Jason-- they skateboarded together sometimes. He was really good. He had a pet leopard gecko he had seen many pictures of. He was Mikey's age; more his friend than Raph's own, but regardless, he had been over to their apartment a few times. They weren't crazy close or anything-- but they were friends.

That was more than enough for him right now.

"You good, dude?" Jason said, softer now, leaning in towards Raph just a tiny bit, but still keeping his distance. "I mean-- do you want me to text your brothers or something?"

Raph squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard before giving a short shake of his head.

No. No, he'd be okay. He just needed a minute. He didn't want to make them all worry about this when they had a job to do.

God, he just hoped that they were all having a better day than he was... and not getting themselves into any kinds of messes.

---

Mikey could feel hot blood splatter across his knuckles as his clenched fist made contact with Zach's nose, a satisfying crunch echoing through his hand, up his wrist, and then bouncing around in his ribs. The martial arts tournaments he competed in were great. He loved them, really. But they felt nothing like this.

Wait. Sorry. We're jumping ahead.

Was the first day back at school after nearly two weeks off stressful? Yeah, of course, it was. Mikey had been pretty jittery when he got to school this morning, dancing on his toes and fidgeting with his spinner ring, fussing with the beads in his hair, and worrying the corners of his lips between his teeth. But it actually hadn't been as bad as he had thought.

They had said they wanted to 'get back into the routine' to Mrs. O'Neil as an excuse to get her to let them come, but honestly, it was almost kind of good? Yeah, things were still weird, and he was still worried and scared, but it wasn't like with gymnastics. When he was at gymnastics, it just felt like they were there to be there-- just as an excuse to ignore what was going on and pretend like it wasn't happening.

But they were at school for a reason. They had a lead. And, more importantly, Mikey had a job to do.

He had latched on tight to his assigned task-- dug his fingers in like he was burrowing into clay, pressing in until his entire fist had sunk inside, and then took off running. Really, he liked being occupied. ADHD was a bitch sometimes, but today, the stars must have aligned because it was all systems go. He knew exactly what he was doing, and his brain was completely and utterly focused on this task. Yes, it was genuinely nice to see all his friends and teachers again after so long... but that wasn't the point. None of the fear and anxiety and stress was touching him right now because he had a job.

Because he loved getting to see Rebecca again and discuss how her hamster was doing at home, and because she was this deep, dark, rich turquoise color, ever so slightly bluer than it was green. And because getting to see his favorite teacher, Mr. Ovin, was great, and he was all sweet and reassuring, and he was a deep, warm gray, like fog in the summer. It was great because Timothy was indigo, just edging on violet. It was great because Dale was yellowy-orange like cantaloupe. Because Taylor was hot pink. Because José was golden-brown. Because Mona was midnight blue.

His list was already fifty-strong before they even hit lunch period, and Mikey was absolutely giddy. Yeah, baby! If this wasn't enough data to get them started, he swore he'd eat his own watercolor set. Surely this was, if nothing else, a good start, and he was already just chomping on the bit to tell the rest of his family. Donnie was gonna be thrilled, he was sure--

"Mikey!"

It was not the first time that day someone had yelled for his attention. In fact, the day had been absolutely littered with them-- Mikey could hardly take a step without someone looking to speak with him and check in with him now that he was in school. So he paused in his steps, his eyes chasing after the sound of the calling voice until he found Zach, dodging through throngs of students to make his way over.

"Hey, Zach!" Mikey greeted, offering a grin-- a genuine one, too, all wide and toothy.

"Hey! Hey, Mikey. Uhhh. Good to see you back."

"Thanks," Mikey replied. Not the first time he heard that today, either, but it was still nice to think that his absence had meant something to people.

"Yeah, yeah. So, uh, do you have that commission done yet?"

Mikey blinked.

"Commission?"

"Yeah! Yeah, remember, you were gonna do a portrait of Abby, for her birthday?" Zach laughed nervously. "I was kind of worried you were gonna miss it, you were gone so long, but--"

"No?"

"What?" Zach paused, his eyebrows raising, and Mikey frowned, hesitating a second before he found new words, quickly scrambling, re-evaluating, and re-writing.

"Uh, sorry," he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't have it done yet. I've kind of got commissions on hold right now? So... I dunno when it's gonna get done. Sorry, dude."

"... But her birthday is on Wednesday."

"Sorry," Mikey repeated.

"And I paid you in advance."

Mikey grit his teeth. Oh, yeah, paid him a whole twenty dollars in advance...?

"Yeah, sorry, but--"

"Well, what am I supposed to give her?"

"I dunno. Figure something out?"

Oh. Oh, actually,

"What do you mean figure something out? I did! I paid you!"

Actually... Maybe the stress,

"Do you want your money back?"

Was still here, actually.

"No, I want my portrait! Do you know how pissed she's gonna be if I don't have anything to give her on Wednesday?"

His head was suddenly remembering how little he had slept over the past two weeks.

"That's really not my problem."

His eyes suddenly remembered how many tears they had shed.

"Dude, are you serious?!"

His throat remembered the ache of howling.

"Are you serious?! I dunno if you've heard, but I'm a little bit busy right now! Your girlfriend's birthday commission isn't really a priority right now!" Mikey snapped, feeling himself bristle.

"You've literally not shown up for school for two weeks, what do you mean busy!?"

"I'm not on vacation, Zach! I've been with my family!"

"For two weeks!?" Zach protested. "Look, dude, I'm really sorry your dad died, but this was really important to--"

Mikey froze.

"Excuse me?" He hissed. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Come on, Mike, this was really--"

"My dad isn't dead," Mikey whispered. His head felt all hot. He felt like a goddamn candle. The rest of his body was melting, but his head was just heat and nothing else. "He's missing. He's not dead."

"Okay, look, I didn't mean--"

Mikey shoved him. Not hard. But not soft, either.

"Leave me alone," he spat, and even though he was all heat, all bright reds and oranges and yellows, he felt his voice was cold and white like ice, like the month of December. Zach stumbled a bit, his mouth gaping dumbly like a fish, and Mikey watched and waited with absolutely bated breath to see how he would respond. Zach was a junior. He was a lot taller than Mikey was. Bigger, too. And his color was orange, too, Mikey noted in the back of his mind. Bright, dazzling, almost scarlet orange.

He could feel students nearby pausing, lingering, beginning to turn heads and slow their footsteps in order to watch and see what was going to happen.

Zach's face contorted with indignant fury, and he stepped forward to shove Mikey right back. Mikey let his body take the momentum with absolute grace-- let his feet be forced back a few steps, falling into stance once they found the ground again. He lowered his body slightly, squaring his shoulders, finding his center of gravity, and taking it in both hands. Suddenly, he felt very calm.

That was exactly what Mikey was hoping he would do.

---

Jeez Louise, at this rate, I'm gonna give Taylor Martin a run for her money...

April was rapidly growing annoyed with the number of people who, up until now, didn't want anything to do with her, but were now suddenly quite concerned about both her well-being and the state of her brothers. She had gotten just about as many questions as she had condolences, which she had no idea how to receive. I mean, god, what's the appropriate response to people asking those kinds of things? Were they doing okay? Uh, I dunno, that's sort of a loaded question!

She was also suddenly becoming uncomfortably aware of how many kids in their grade had a thinly-veiled crush on Raph, which she was not too pleased with. Like, good for him or whatever, (not that she thought he had the slightest clue,) but she didn't need to know all that, thank you! Yes, Melissa, I'll tell him you said hi, but don't you two have bio together!? Jeez! Stupid giant quarterback little brother...

April grumbled as she made her way into chemistry class, making a beeline to her usual seat and immediately laying her head down in her arms with a scowl. Maybe if she was lucky, people would get the hint and not bother her. Not that that had worked out so far...

"Bad day?"

April took a long, deep breath, and then slowly let it back out, picking up her head just enough to watch Sunita take her seat next to hers, offering a weak, sympathetic little smile in her direction. She had almost forgotten there was someone she actually liked in this class.

"Something like that," April said with a wry smile, wrinkling up her nose a bit before laying her head back down. "I know how this sounds, but I am soooo sick of people caring about me and my brothers."

"Uh oh... Kind of a lot, huh?" Sunita mumbled, wincing a bit, and April nodded a little, wrapping her arms around herself and frowning.

"I know people are just trying to be nice or whatever, but it's just... I dunno. Can you just let us breathe?! I hope they're not being this pushy with the guys because it's a lot for me and it's not even technically my dad, I mean, they're a total mess, I just--" She caught herself, biting her tongue. "Sorry. I'm just a little worried about them. And kind of annoyed," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "It's fine."

Sunita didn't respond right away, and when April glanced over at her again, there was this funny sort of expression on her face that April couldn't quite place. She frowned, about to say something, when Sunita nodded, biting the insides of her cheeks.

"Yeah. I get it. I mean. Gob. I can't imagine... I'm sure it must be stressful…"

April hesitated a second before she responded again. "It's a lot. But. You know. We're... handling it," she said, readjusting her glasses quickly. "Sorry. Can we just, like, talk about something else?"

"Oh! Right. Right, sorry, I'm being just as bad as everyone else!" Sunita gasped, her face flushing. "Sorry. Uh. What do you wanna-- uh-- did you… see the new episode of that barbecue show that just came out? I think Mikey would like it, uhm, they made some really bold choices..."

If April was being honest, she wasn't really listening. Sorry, Sunita. But she appreciated the white noise, at least, allowing herself to tune out for a while, scribbling black zig-zags and wriggles aimlessly in the margin of her notebook until class started properly. And, actually, even after class started properly. She was usually pretty focused at school and took her studies seriously. I mean, not as seriously as some people, but she got good grades! She just wasn't really feeling it today. Whatever. Her notes may suck, but at least she had something. She was sure Donnie could teach her whatever this was later.

Class seemed to last a millennia, dragging along as April doodled and tried to keep her mind off of the rest of her family. God, she really hoped that this plan worked... if it did, it would be worth a million of these shitty school days.

She just really hoped that this wasn't for nothing.

She could see Sunita repeatedly giving her anxious, worried looks out of the corner of her eyes, fidgeting with her headband and frowning to herself. Honestly, she knew that their opening conversation had been a bit awkward, but it wasn't worth Sunita stressing over like this. Ugh. Maybe she should apologize or something later... It wasn't like she was mad or anything, she was just... tired.

She was just really, really tired.

April wasted no time at all in swiping her books from off the desk when the bell finally, blissfully rang, dismissing her from this class and shuffling the whole school on to the next. She didn't expect that the next class would be any better, but at least she'd be that much closer to the end of the day... Before she could get very far, however, she felt a hand clamp around her wrist.

"... Sunita?" April questioned, raising a brow. "Uh. Is something wrong?"

"Yes! I mean. No! I mean. Oh..! Hang on, just... just... c'mere!" Sunita bit out, chewing nervously at her fingernails as she yanked April from the classroom, moving with such fervor that April nearly lost her footing, giving a surprised little yelp as she stumbled after the other.

"Sunita! Whoa, girl, hang on!!! Where the heck are we going?"

"Somewhere... else! Just, just, hang on! You've just gotta trust me, okay?" Sunita hissed, quickly ducking around a corner, all but shoving April into the first empty classroom that they found, hurriedly shutting the door behind her.

"Wha-- girl, what is going on!?" April spluttered, looking around frantically. She really liked Sunita, but this had better not be her coming onto her or something, 'cause it was so not the time--

"I just-- oh, gob, I'm going to get in so much trouble. What am I doing?! This is so so so against the rules... Okay. Okay. Buck up, Sunita," the other girl squeaked, seemingly pep-talking herself, pacing out several rapid back-and-forth laps across the linoleum floor before she suddenly whipped around to meet April's eyes, grabbing her firmly by her shoulders.

"I know where Mr. Hamato is."

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnow fic #sorrywhatnowau #tmnt human au #tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #fanfic #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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harley-sunday · 1 year

Text

Feels Like Home [02]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 4.3k

AN: So... The idea was to post a new chapter every week but fuck it. It’s race week, bb’s and all the Daniel content is making me feels all sorts of things so here we are. Hope you like it ♥

Masterlist

It’s after his meeting with Blake and Michael, where they decided to decline the offers Alpine and Haas have made and Blake said he'd try to see if they can schedule another meeting with Red Bull in Singapore, that Daniel finds himself wandering around the house a little restless. He’s supposed to look at race data, promised his engineer he would before their online meeting tonight, the time difference between here and the UK meaning the meetings are always either shit early in the morning or late at night, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to concentrate enough to take notes. Plus, he’s finished outside of the points the last four races so is there really anything else to say except that they need to improve and up their game?

He decides he’ll look at the data later and instead grabs his car keys from the kitchen island, hoping that maybe a visit to Oscar will help clear his mind. There’s something about the way his elderly neighbour always seems to know exactly what to say, always ready with some solid advice or helping him to put things into perspective, that he’s come to appreciate greatly over the years.

The drive over doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes and when he parks his truck in front of the house he catches himself looking around, looking for her. She doesn’t seem to be outside and so he makes his way to the front porch instead, where Oscar’s dog Homer greets him with an enthusiastic bark. Daniel pets his head carefully, because even though Oscar has told him time and time again Homer is all bark and no bite he’s still cautious around him. When the dog settles down again, Daniel knocks on the door, three short knocks like he always does, before he opens the door and lets himself in, “Oscar?”

“Hi Danny,” Oscar greets him from somewhere inside the house. “I’m in the living room.”

“Of course you are,” Daniel teases, toeing his sneakers off before he walks to where he can hear an old rerun of ‘The Price is Right’ playing in the background. Oscar’s sitting in his favourite chair, his right wrist sporting a cast and a nasty looking cut above his eyebrow and to hide his shock at the sight of the old man Daniel plasters a smile on his face and greets him with an enthusiastic, “Jeepers! What have you gotten yourself into, mate?”

“Took a bit of a tumble,” Oscar shoots back with a grin, holding up his wrist. “Doctor said it was one of the finer looking breaks he’s seen in his career.”

“I bet he did,” Daniel says as he sits down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles. “How you holding up?”

“Good, yeah. I mean, the doctor said I have to wait until the cast comes off before I can start physical therapy and even then it can take a few months before I have full use of my hand again. And don't get me started on the hip replacement-”

Daniel chuckles, knowing exactly what it is Oscar is getting at, “Going batshit crazy already, huh?”

“Like you have no idea,” his neighbour agrees with a grin. “I mean, it’s great to have the girls here, you know, to help out and keep the farm going but if I have to watch Larry Emdur-” Oscar nods towards the TV, “-stumble over his words every day for the next six weeks, I might throw myself off a cliff.”

“There must be something else you can watch?”

“It’s this or Neighbours, Danny, and you know how I feel about Karl Kennedy.” Oscar lets out a dramatic sigh, “Nah, I’ll just have to take it, mate. It’s what you get when you’re an old cunt like me.”

“Oi,” Daniel sits up and throws Oscar a warning look, “you’re not that old.”

“I’m seventy-eight,” Oscar counters with a grin, “and I ain’t getting any younger. I just hope it won’t be too hard for-”

A cry from upstairs interrupts him and Oscar immediately reaches for his phone, smiling at Daniel apologetically. When the person on the other end picks up his message is short, “I think Ellie’s awake, sweetheart.” He stays silent for a second before he nods, “Yep. Ok. Will do.” When he ends the call he shrugs, “Doctor says I can’t walk up the stairs for a while yet, so-”

“No, yeah, sure,” Daniel says, even though he has no idea what’s going on right now.

***

You’re in the chicken coop when Granddad calls and so it doesn’t take long to get back to the house, where you kick your boots off at the back door and hurry past the kitchen and living room to the stairs, realising too late that he must have a visitor because you can hear him talking to someone. You’ll see who it is later, you figure, your priorities elsewhere for the moment.

When you walk into what is now your bedroom but used to be your grandmother's painting room you are met with two bright eyes looking up at you from over the edge of the cot you’ve set up in the corner and you can’t help but smile at the way your daughter's hair is sticking up in every direction, “Hey bub.”

She drops her stuffed Koala and stretches her arms up at you. When you lift her up from her bed she lets out a content sigh, “Momma.”

Carrying her to the changing table on one arm you pat her hair down with your free hand, “Looks like you had a good nap, huh bub?”

Ellie nods and claps her hands together when you lay her down so you can change her nappy, whispering a quiet, “Pop-Pop.”

“Yeah, we’ll go see Pop-Pop in a second, sweetheart,” you tell her as your fingers make quick work of her diaper. “Let’s get you dressed first though.”

With a clean diaper, her favourite pink sweater and a pair of dungarees that your Granddad gifted Ellie for her second birthday, together with her very own pair of Blundstones, you carry Ellie downstairs and to the living room where- “Daniel. Hi.”

Something passes over his face for just a second or so before he flashes you a big smile, “Hi. It’s good to see you again.”

You want to tell him likewise, really you do, but you think you know the look he so carefully tried to hide because it’s the look every man gives you when they find out you have a daughter, and so you’re cautiously polite, “Nice of you to come visit Granddad.”

"I always keep good on my promises," Daniel says, a sincerity to his voice that makes you relax a little. He nods to Ellie, who's eyeing him suspiciously, no doubt having picked up on your mood, "And who's this lovely lady?"

"This is my great granddaughter, Elisabeth," your granddad offers with a kind smile. "We call her Ellie."

Daniel waits until you've put Ellie in your granddad's lap, whispering a quiet, "Gentle," when you let go of her to remind her Pop-Pop is still injured, before he holds out his hand to your daughter, "Hi Ellie, I'm Daniel."

Ellie studies his face, her little eyebrows knitted together as she tries to decide whether or not she likes him, before she pats his wrist, "Danny."

Daniel lets out a quiet laugh and if you didn't know any better you'd think he sounds relieved to get her approval and maybe, just maybe, you've been too rash in your judgement of him. He scoots forward then and tugs on the pant leg of Ellie's dungarees, "I like your pants, Miss Ellie. Very stylish."

You see Ellie spot the rose tattoo on his hand, her eyes widening in awe as she reaches out and traces her finger over the lines, whispering a quiet, "Flower."

"That's right," Daniel agrees with a nod and a proud grin. "It's a rose."

"Rose," Ellie repeats back to him, looking extremely pleased with herself and you can't help but smile.

"I'm going to make Ellie her bottle," you say then, knowing your girl will get grumpy real quick if you don't get on with it. "Granddad, a cup of tea for you?" Your granddad nods and so you look at Daniel, "Daniel? Tea? Coffee?" Then, with a cheeky smile, "A beer?"

He laughs and shakes his head, "Coffee's fine, thank you."

"Coming right up," you tell them as you turn around and head to the kitchen. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the kitchen window as you're filling up the kettle and curse quietly when you see how bewildered you look and is that a leaf stuck in your hair? Great. It takes a few tries but then you finally get it out, letting your fingers run through your hair then in a futile attempt to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Once the kettle is on and the coffee maker is running, you warm up some milk for Ellie and rummage around the fridge to see if there's any Lamingtons left over from the batch you made earlier this week. You come up empty on your first try and so you open the door of the fridge even wider and stick your head in, sure that the container must be in there somewhere.

A chuckle and a, "Are you trying to get to Narnia, or-" scare the shit out of you and you hit your head on the top shelf as you try to stand up, cursing quietly as you pull out, "Ow. Fuck."

"Oh shit," Daniel holds out his hands to you, eyes wide, "are you ok?"

You pull a face as you rub the top of your head, a little taken aback by how worried and guilty he looks, "I'm fine. I just didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, shit, sorry," he says and runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck. "I just wanted to see if you needed any help?"

"Unlike everything else around here, I think I've got this." You're not sure why you said that, don't even realise you did until you see his eyebrows knit together, but it's too late to take it back and so you give him an apologetic smile, "Sorry. That came out- I didn't-" You wave your hand around, hoping he won't push anything, "It's fine."

He doesn't say anything but instead pulls out a kitchen chair and points at it, waiting until you've sat down before he gives you a kind smile, "You just sit there, I got this."

You watch him as he walks around the kitchen with confidence, pulling three mugs from the cabinet and finding everything else he needs with ease and it's then you realise he must have been coming over more than you thought. The microwave beeps then but he seems unsure what to do with the now warm milk and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, and so you point towards the cabinet over the sink, "The bottles are in there. Once you've filled the bottle,you should test-"

"Test it on the inside of my wrist to see if it's not too warm." Daniel laughs at the surprised look you must give him and explains, "My sister has two kids."

"Gotcha," you reply with a smile. "Must be fun to have an uncle who's a world famous racecar driver."

“I hope so,” Daniel says with a sad smile. “I’m gone most of the year so I’ve missed quite a lot already but they seem to enjoy coming to the races every now and then-”

“We do what we can,” you offer with a shrug. “Right?”

He nods but then throws you a look that you’re not sure how to read, “We sure do.”

***

After about an hour or so Oscar lets out a loud yawn and Daniel takes it as his cue to leave, knowing his neighbour doesn’t let anything or anyone come between him and his afternoon naps. Daniel says goodbye to Ellie by teaching her how to fistbump and then tells Oscar he’ll come around again tomorrow, just for a chat and to save him from having to watch ‘The Price is Right’ all afternoon. When he turns towards her he finds her smiling at him with a kind smile and so he returns it, “See you tomorrow, neighbour.”

She nods in reply and then tells Ellie they’re going outside for a bit so Granddad can take his nap and they can finish feeding the chickens and clean out the shed.

He’s not sure why he hasn’t noticed it before, maybe it’s the way the light falls on her face, but she looks absolutely exhausted. He doesn’t want to hoover, doesn’t want to make her feel bad about noticing it and so he doesn’t say anything but by the time he gets into his car he thinks he knows a way he might be able to help.

The first person he calls is Michael, “Hi mate.”

“Mikey, hey,” Daniel greets his best friend as he drives onto the main road. “Listen, you know my neighbour Oscar, right?” He waits until Michael hums in reply before he continues, “Well, he fell down a couple of days ago, broke his hip and wrist, and so he needs some help. I figured maybe you could hook him up with some prepped meals? Make sure at least he’s eating right, you know?”

“Of course,” Michael agrees easily enough. “Anything he doesn’t like?”

“I don’t think so but- Could you have them make two-person portions?” Daniel isn’t sure why he says what he says next, isn’t sure why he doesn’t just tell Michael about her. Maybe it’s because he wants to keep her to himself a little longer even though she definitely isn't his to keep. Still, he adds, “Oscar’s a big eater.”

Michael chuckles, “Will do, mate. Do you want me to ask if they can deliver it to-”

“Nah, I can pick it up. Just let me know when it’s ready, ok?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Daniel means it when he says, “Thanks, mate.”

“No worries.”

The next call he makes is to Blake, who sounds a little rushed when he answers on the third ring, “Dan, can I call you back in like five minutes? I’m in the checkout at Woolies.”

“Yep, no worries.”

He gets the call right as he turns onto his driveway and as always, Blake cuts right to the chase, “Alright, what’s going on, mate? What do you need?”

Daniel laughs, “Can’t I just call you to hear how my best mate’s doing?”

Blake doesn’t say anything and Daniel’s sure he can feel Blake’s eye roll from all the way on the other end of the line.

“Ok, fine,” Daniel says with a grin. “Is there any way we can clear my schedule from like six to nine until we leave for Singapore?”

“I don’t think-” Blake starts but then seems to change his mind. “Why?”

“I-” Daniel hesitates, not sure why he just doesn’t tell Blake about her. In the end he tells him what he told Michael, “You know Oscar from next door?”

“Yeah-”

“Well, he fell down a few days ago, broke his hip and his wrist, so- He needs some help around the house, so I got Michael organising some prepped meals for him and I figured I might as well be there to help out a bit, you know?”

It stays quiet for a second too long and Daniel knows Blake doesn’t quite believe him and is about ready to tell him the entire story but then he hears Blake sigh and can just imagine the way he pushes his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Just for the record, I know you’re not telling me everything here, Dan but- I trust you. So please, don’t fuck it up. I don’t want to have to explain to Zak why you’ve broken a leg dirt biking or something.”

“I won’t.”

“Ok. Give me an hour and I’ll send you your new schedule, ok?” Blake clears his throat, “We’re still keeping the morning sessions with Michael, right?”

His morning workouts run from nine until twelve so as far as Daniel’s concerned that’s fine as is, “Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll come up with something to tell the team and I’ll let you know, ok?”

“Thanks, mate.” Then, because it’s true, “I owe you one.”

Blake chuckles, “Add it to the list, mate.”

***

Ever since you got here there’s been a certain monotony to your days, where you do chores around the house in the morning, so you can keep an eye on Ellie at the same time, and then move outside after lunch, once you’ve put Ellie down for her nap. Granddad calls you whenever she wakes up, which usually is right in time for afternoon tea, and you’ve come to take her outside with you so she can play for a bit and you can do some smaller chores. After you’ve made dinner Ellie goes to bed, which frees you up to go check on the Alpacas before you’re back in the house for the dishes and whatever else needs to be done.

Saturdays are no exception and so here you are, ready to head outside with Ellie.

“Out,” Ellie says, clapping her hands in excitement. “Out, out, out.”

“Yep, let me just-” you say as you try to wriggle her foot into her rainboot, “-get these on, bub. And then we’re ready to go.” Once both feet are in you hold out your hand for her to take and lead her outside, Homer following you without question. The dog’s been retired from his working duties when your granddad sold the fifty or so cows he still had a few years ago, but he still accompanies whoever’s working on the farm whenever he feels like it.

A quick glance at the sky tells you there’s rain clouds building in the distance but you hope it will stay dry until after dinner, or at least until you’ve finished your work in the vegetable garden.

You give Ellie her own tiny spade and tell her to have at it while you set out to dig some holes for the potato plants you’ve picked up at the agrishop earlier this week.

You’re almost finished when you hear a car pulling up to the house and when you look up from where you were hunched over, trying to keep Ellie from eating yet another handful of dirt, stretching your back as you stand up straight, you’re a little surprised to see it’s Daniel. When he told you yesterday he’d come by again today you didn’t actually expect him to do so but-

“Danny!” Ellie exclaims when she spots him, pushing herself up from the ground and wobbling over to the fence.

You see Daniel’s smile grow wider when he sees her and he quickly makes his way over, holding out his fist to her once he reaches the fence, laughing then when she bumps hers against his. “Hello Miss Ellie. How are you today?”

“Tatoes!” Ellie says, pointing at the ground with a proud smile.

“We’ve planted potatoes,” you explain, using the back of your wrist to wipe the hair from your face, your hands still covered in dirt. “Well, I did,” you add and laugh when you nod at Ellie, “this little troublemaker was more interested in eating dirt.”

Daniel chuckles and winks at Ellie, “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Ellie holds out her arms to him then and Daniel looks at you, only picking her up after you’ve nodded to let him know it’s ok.

“Granddad should be done with his nap,” you tell Daniel as you pick up the spade again. “So if you want to head inside-”

“Oh no, that’s ok,” Daniel says and opens the gate that leads into the garden, Ellie resting on his hip. “We can hang out here for a while, huh? Wait until momma’s finished?”

Ellie pats his cheek with one of her dirty hands, leaving a trace of mud just above his beard, whispering a quiet, “Danny.”

“Aw,” Daniel coos, a warm smile spreading across his face. He looks at you then, “So I uh- I wanted to run something by you.”

“Ok,” you draw out, not sure what he’s getting at.

“I’ve known Oscar for a long time, right? And well, he’s always helped me out whenever I needed help over at the farm so I wanted to return the favour.” He waits until you’ve stand up before he continues, “I talked to Michael, he’s my personal trainer and he does all my meal prep and-” he waves his free hand around, “Anyway, he knows someone in Perth who can help out with that and I went there today and picked up some prepped meals for you guys. They’ll last you until next Sunday and I can still pick up the next batch because I don’t leave for Singapore until next Tuesday a week from now anyway, but this way you won’t have to worry about dinner so much. You just pop them in the microwave and you have a healthy, balanced meal for you and old Oscar.”

Your first instinct is to tell him that it’s fine, that it isn’t really necessary, but honestly, not having to worry about dinner would save you so much time and so you tell him, “Thank you.”

“And-” he puts Ellie down then and runs a hand through his hair, almost as if he’s a bit unsure of himself, “-I’ve cleared my schedule in the evenings so if you want I could help you out for a bit after dinner. I know you have the alpacas to take care of and-”

You’re at a loss for words for a moment, a warm feeling spreading somewhere deep inside of you at the kindness he’s showing. If you’re honest, really honest, it’s all been a bit much and while you didn’t necessarily want to ask anyone for help, not even sure who you could ask, Daniel offering to help out for a few hours every day would make all the difference.

He must take your silence for something else because he quickly adds, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, if it’s the dishes, or just sitting with Oscar for a bit, or-”

“Daniel,” you say, putting your hand on his arm to let him know it’s ok. “Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”

He shrugs, “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s more than you have to,” you reply with a smile. “I really appreciate it.”

***

“Ok, so this is Barbra,” she says as she pets one of the lighter-coloured alpacas, “but we call her ‘Babs’.”

They’re out in Eagle’s Nest, the paddock bordering his dirt bike track, and she’s taken it upon herself to introduce him to the three alpacas that are huddled together near the feeder. She nods, encouraging him to pet the animal but he’s- Hesitant. Babs looks very innocent, all long eyelashes and fluffy hair but he’s sure a well-aimed kick could take him out in seconds and so he prefers to keep his distance.

She laughs and grabs his wrist, “Come on, you drive fast cars for a living, Ricciardo. Don’t tell me you’re scared of an Alpaca.”

“I’m not scared but there ain’t nothing wrong with being cautious,” he shoots back but his voice is a little too high-pitched to make it sound convincing. He flinches when she guides his hand closer to Babs but when she makes him touch her fur and he feels how soft the wool is he relaxes a little.

She laughs and lets go of his wrist, “See? That isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Hmm,” he agrees half-heartedly, not wanting to spook the animal. “It’s ok.”

“It’s Betsy you gotta look out for anyway,” she says with a nod towards a dark-brown alpaca, a mischievous smile tugging on her lips. “She tends to bite when you get too close.”

“Good to know,” he says, still keeping his voice low, still stroking Babs’ back. “And who’s that?”

She holds her hand out to a white alpaca, the animal immediately going in for a head scratch, “This is Blanche. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She turns to him then and whispers, “She ain’t the brightest of the bunch, most of the time the light’s on but there’s nobody home, if you know what I mean, but we love her just the same.”

He laughs, “Gotcha.”

“Ok, so,” she opens the gate and allows him to step inside before she closes it again, telling Homer, who has come along in the back of her ute, to stay. “We’ve got their feeder here but I keep a bucket of grains in the back of my ute to keep the mice out and once every two days or so I bring them a fresh bail of hay.” She motions towards the shed a little bit further down, “They can seek shelter there at night and tend to huddle up whenever it rains, so I make sure to clean it out every day so it’s a nice place for them to be.”

He nods, trying to pay attention but he’s too distracted by the way she keeps touching his arm whenever she shows him something and finds himself wishing she wouldn’t let go. When she’s done with her tour of the alpaca paddock she looks at him expectantly and he can’t help but smile back at her.

She wiggles her eyebrows at him, “You sure you still want to help out?”

Daniel has never been more certain of anything in his life, “Yes ma’am.”

#Daniel Ricciardo #F1 Fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo x reader #F1 Imagine #DR3 #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo #Feels Like Home

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ginnysgraffiti · 14 days

Text

basketball player timothée

new york.

your new home.

the wheels of the suitcase clattered on the sidewalk as you watched the taxis whizzing by, the drivers accompanying the guide with a few curses, the girls bouncing with twenty different bags of clothing and some tourists looking at the map from the wrong side.

you could breathe the new york air deeply.

a few groups of black break-dancers altered one choreography after another, their steps large, loose and flexible while the crowd filmed them cheering.

the hotel was still far away, but going on foot offered a coming and going of full life that you enjoyed.

the blue glass skyscrapers were tall, dizzying, and you felt extremely small and helpless.

you passed a few more newsstands and a luxury shop along the avenue when shouts of encouragement and the screeching of sneakers caught your attention.

a group of boys were immersed in a lively game of basketball, their shoe soles burning on the playing field every time they ran.

a tall guy with a grey loose and wet sweat t-shirt and some blue shorts intrigued you.

his sweat-soaked brown curls fell across his forehead, glistening in the harsh sunlight.

his movements were impressively quick and his reflexes were excellent. his team had the lead and you were lucky enough to see him score four baskets in a row.

then everyone stopped, complimenting each other with pats on the back or friends-like hand gestures that you couldn't imitate.

the players sat down panting and out of breath, some had already drunk the entire bottle and some were wringing a wet cloth over their foreheads.

then, the intriguing guy spotted you behind the green iron fence network of the playground, a smirk swinging on his lips.

you felt a knot in your stomach tighter than the towels tortured to wet their forehead.

he then got up, walking towards you and getting out of the playground.

"tourist?" the boy asked with nonchalant.

"yeah...actually, i was planning on moving here." you managed.

"cool. enjoyed the match?"

"yes, i...you were very good."

"training, that's all."

you were about to make up an excuse to say goodbye when he offered his hand for you to shake.

"timothée, timmy for friends."

"it sounds pretty french."

"i'm half french, but the pronunciation is up to you."

a small wink reached you.

you could tell your knees were pretty jelly.

"well...i don't want to bother you but...do you happen to know how to get to the fifth avenue? my hotel should be nearby."

"of course i do, and it's no bother, really. just give me a minute, don't move."

you watched him run back to get his package and phone, but the next moment you were already walking together, barely touching each other's arms.

anxiety was eating you alive and gastric juices burned inside your intestines. you wanted to thank timmy for his availability but the throat was sealed.

fifth avenue wasn't that far away, but with that tangle of alleys and crazy taxi drivers you were grateful to have a guide.

you looked at the hotel address and noticed that it was right in front of you. it was much nicer than the photo in the online booking, and the thought of fresh sheets tickled your back.

"well...i don't live far from here. If you need directions I'm always here." his laughter interrupted your thoughts.

"yes, thanks..."

he quickly offered you his number, maybe he even surprised you looking at his lower lip.

you would definitely have called him, but not for directions...

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x reader #basketball #&. TIMOTHEECHALAMET #&. TIMOTHÉECHALAMET

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

lilith

[obsessed with this ask, first of all. second of all, lilith pov from footy au for @unicyclehippo.]

you meet beatrice for the first time when you’re fourteen, and she’s thirteen. you’re in different club academies but you vaguely, before this, had heard of her: girls around you talk, hushed, when she walks in, because she’s the youngest and everyone is already saying she’s the best, a generational talent — beatrice xin, the next great center midfielder, the future of football. that’s what you want to be, so badly you can taste it, so badly that when you miss an easy tap in the first day of camp you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you draw blood.

it’s not your first time at national team camp, but it is hers. maybe because you’re serious and driven, or maybe because you don’t find enjoyment in the pranks other girls like to play, and you don’t eat the junk food they sneak in in tampon boxes, they have her room with you. you were the youngest once; you remember.

you’re both reserved and careful, not particularly friendly, but beatrice’s stems from awkwardness, from a split second of figuring out how to read social cues around her while everyone else laughs. she’s thin and kind of small, her face full and young. she has freckles and braces and little wisps of her hair escape her bun; she unpacks efficiently into the little dresser on her side of the room: simple underwear, sports bras, joggers, hoodies. she pulls out a little leatherbound journal and a book in a language you don’t know and a pen and lines them up with military precision on the desk. she sets her little shower caddy on top of the dresser and neatly places her toiletries in it: acne cream, shampoo and conditioner, a fresh bar of lavender soap, lotion, sunscreen. ‘i’m going to freshen up before dinner,’ she says, impossibly formal and a little funny, honestly, but it doesn’t seem kind — not yet, anyway — to tease her about it.

you wait for her to come out of the bathroom at the end of the hall and back to your room. her black hair is in a neat braid, the wet ends darkening her t-shirt, which she’s tucked into a pair of joggers, which, for some reason, hurts you a little bit.

‘ready?’

she seems surprised when you’re still there; you’re in a hoodie and shorts and slides, and you wait for her to neatly tie a pair of — admittedly, very cool — sneakers and then nod. ‘lilith,’ she says, gently and tentatively touching your elbow, ‘thank you.’

‘for what?’

‘for waiting for me.’ i’m used to being alone, she means, and she’s quiet throughout all of dinner, only adding into the conversation when someone brings up a type of bird they saw this morning, which she knows the latin name for and all of its characteristics, and she eats with the most exacting bites you’ve ever seen.

i’m used to being alone, she means, as you both settle in your small, twin beds later — ‘goodnight, beatrice,’ you say. you’re not alone, and neither is she.

‘sleep well, lilith.’

beatrice is, you can admit by the time you’re sixteen, the best in the world. maybe not yet — although, some days, when you play with her and watch her beat players twice her age without breaking a sweat, one after another through the midfield, or in a tight space around the 18, or even on the touchline if she drifts for a give and go — you think maybe she already is.

her time on youth sides is running out, you know, because she is a generational talent, because everyone wants her already. she seems, mostly, unfazed by it all, still stoic and focused and brilliant. she gets her high school diploma at fifteen; she tells you, quietly while you juggle together in the courtyard of the hotel you’re at one tournament when neither of you can sleep, that she’s enrolled in online college classes and has enjoyed the challenge so far: she’s learning german, and she’s taking a revolutionary chinese history course, and her favorite is calculus iii. she’s kind of bizarre, but you’re fond of her. sometimes she texts you pictures of her cat between camps, and you send her any meme that makes you laugh privately.

you’re a little surprised when she’s on the u-20 world cup squad with you, mostly because you had honestly thought she might get pulled into the senior squad, at least for some friendlies, but you’re glad she’s here: you’re nervous, and restless. when you had told your mother that you’d gotten called up, tamping down any expectations for excitement as hard as you could, she had said, ‘as we expected of you,’ and continued on with her day.

‘do you have a boyfriend?’ you ask into the dark.

you hear her roll around in bed for a few moments, probably turning to face toward you, and then she says, ‘when would i have time to have a boyfriend?’

you shrug. ‘i don’t know; seo-jun and nora have boyfriends.’

‘i guess.’

‘so that’s a no, from you.’

she laughs. ‘do you have a boyfriend?’

‘ew, no. have you met sixteen year old boys?’

‘i know. disgusting. i don’t know what the point is of boys, anyway. i’m too busy with football.’

you understand the point of boys, in a way: you like looking at mohammed’s arms when you’re training together, the way they press and cut when you’re doing push-ups. you’ve kissed him; you kiss him often. ‘yeah,’ you say, because it’s not your truth to name for her. ‘gross.’

it’s unsurprising to you when you get signed to the same club team beatrice debuted for two years ago, when she was sixteen. they’re building a franchise around her, bringing in young talent and trading for the world’s best veterans. she’d been on loan abroad for a spell, came back even more lethal, even more deadly — she’s taller, now, and still thin enough trainers are always on her to put on muscle. she spends extra time in the weight room — she spends extra time doing everything — and you’d never tell, but beatrice is the best in the world because she doesn’t allow herself anything else, even when she’s hurting and exhausted.

you have nothing better to do, and you’ve, admittedly, missed her, so you agree to spot her while she does more squats. when you see the weight she racks up you’re glad for the state of the art recovery facilities they have, and for the rest day you have tomorrow.

she pushes through her first set, her face turning red but her expression perfectly calm, her quarterzip neatly tucked in, and it’s kind of terrifying. ‘you’re kind of terrifying.’

she racks the bar and steps out from under it, takes a big deep breath, shakes out her shoulders. ‘i’m small.’

‘you’re eighteen.’

she considers it. ‘i have to get bigger.’

it’s a razor’s edge, football and greatness: beatrice will train until she can’t; beatrice will eat exactly what she’s supposed to; beatrice will run until she throws up; beatrice will sleep exactly as she’s supposed to, and take all of her recovery seriously, and —

‘after this set, do you want to get a drink?’

‘a drink?’

you laugh at her indignation. ‘yeah, one drink. dinner, maybe? i don’t know any good spots around yet.’

‘oh,’ she says, ‘i don’t really go out, and i don’t drink. but —‘ it takes her a moment — ‘yes, we can. mary and shannon like a place across from the grounds.’

‘is it quinoa bowls?’

she blushes, steps back under the bar.

‘i want a burger and a cocktail, beatrice. please.’

she does her other set, straining for the last two, unable to keep it off her face. ‘fine,’ she says, out of breath once she finishes, ‘fine.’

you’re twenty-one, at a celebration after a championship, and you’re drunk. beatrice is laughing, her hair somehow pulled out of its bun; she’d won the golden ball, which, since the first touch of preseason, seemed inevitable: she is, very concretely, the best in the world.

‘come dance!’ ashante says, tugs on her hands, and she shakes her head but when you say, ‘yeah, beatrice, come on,’ she sighs and follows you out onto the dance floor. there are plenty of hot boys, and beatrice is beautiful, you can easily admit. she’s weird and a huge nerd — she has a bachelor’s degree in ecological anthropology, which she’d worked on for fun — but you love her. she’s your friend, and you want to celebrate with her. she hasn’t been drinking, so she’s stiff and awkward, even more than usual, in loose slacks and a collarless button down which she lets you unbutton down to the middle of her chest without any fanfare. a few guys walk up to you — beatrice xin, holy shit — and then you’re dancing. it’s easy, after a few shots, to close your eyes and let everything drift away around you.

but then you hear beatrice say, ‘stop,’ and the guy she was dancing with doesn’t, not quick enough, not immediately, and you see red.

you get kicked out, which only avoids the media because the bouncers let you leave through the back. beatrice clenches her jaw and her hands and your knuckles smart, already bruising.

‘i can handle myself,’ she says, although you see the way her body is trembling.

‘i know,’ you say, because you do. ‘but you don’t have to, not all the time.’

you wait in the alley, shivering, for a car; it’s silent and just after a spurt of rain, and, after a beat, she laughs. ‘did we get into a bar fight?’

you grin over at her. ‘who says we don’t know how to have fun, huh?’

‘are you gonna do the pride thing?’

beatrice looks far too calm for being in an ice bath. ’no, not publicly.’

‘yeah, that’s cool,’ you say. ‘mary and shannon are, like, the couple, anyway. marketing has an easy out there.’

she snorts. ‘easy out.’

you roll your eyes.

‘i’m —‘ she takes a deep breath — ‘i’m a lesbian.’

‘okay,’ you say, and fight the desperate urge to laugh and say yes, beatrice, everyone and their mother knows, that’s why i asked if you were going to be in the pride campaign. ‘obviously, that’s cool with me.’

horrifyingly, she starts to cry. ‘i’ve never said it out loud before.’

she’s twenty-one, so, fair, you guess, but it also makes you so sad. ‘well, now you have. in an ice bath, no less.’

‘yes.’ she sounds a little in awe of herself. ‘i have.’

‘do you, like, want me to hug you?’

she wrinkles her nose. ‘no. but, thank you.’

‘anytime.’ you pause, then try your luck, ‘so can we find you a girlfriend now, or —‘

she splashes you with a flick of water and you could kill her, you really could.

‘beatrice!’ you shout into her intercom. ‘let me in!’

it takes about a minute, and you’re about to, like, scale her giant fence or something, but then the gate opens and you drive through. it’s not that you care about her — she makes it hard; you make it hard right back — but she’s your captain and you’re not going to win a fucking world cup if she’s not recovering from surgery.

‘lilith,’ she says, dry, even though it’s a little slurred and she looks wobbly on her crutches.

‘mary and shannon sent me.’ you hold up a bag of food, stupid healthy shit she insists on eating, even when she’s on pain meds. ‘i can knock you over, right now, so you have to let me in.’

‘fine,’ she says, lacking its usual precise clip. you follow her to her kitchen, slowly, while she carefully crutches, exactly how a physical therapist showed her, you’re sure. she’s exhausted, you can tell, her hair down and a little messy, her hoodie crooked on her shoulders, just in a pair of tight nike boxers and a sock on the foot opposite her cast, as if you’d woken her up from a nap.

‘were you sleeping?’

‘i’m on — a lot of medication.’

‘you can go back to sleep, if you want. i can put the food in the fridge and warm it up in a bit?’

she seems to weigh her options, slowly, but her eyes are drifting closed and she sways a little. ‘okay. you can watch anything you want. or leave, if you don’t want to wait.’

‘oh, i’m fully taking advantage of your gorgeous house and your giant tv. i’m not crazy.’

she had ankle surgery two days ago, so you know she really is exhausted. disgustingly, she was watching what looks to be like game film on her tv. ‘disgusting,’ you tell her, and she doesn’t seem to really pay you much mind because she situates her casted ankle on top of a few pillows and then pulls a soft blanket over herself and snuggles down into the couch. she’s asleep almost immediately, and you put on schitt’s creek, just in case she drifts in and out and wakes up. she doesn’t; you have to shake her awake two hours later at a normal dinner time. you warm up her food for her, as promised, and eat your bowl beside her, then get her water and her next dose of pain medication.

‘we’re signing ava silva,’ she says, marginally more awake for a good five minutes.

ava silva, wunderkind with the worst injury you’ve ever seen; a 9 too. ‘i thought i was replacing shannon.’

‘i’m sure you will,’ beatrice assures you. ‘we need a sub, at least.’

‘you think she’ll be good.’

‘we both know she’s good, lilith.’

she settles back into the couch. ‘you think she’ll be great.’

she smiles a little absently, but genuine all the same. ‘let’s hope so.’

eventually, you wake her up and help her to bed, despite the fact that she tries to do it herself, even up her steep stairs. i’m used to being alone, you understand still.

she gets situated in her giant, gorgeous bed in her perfect house, all gossamer curtains fluttering in the salt breeze off the ocean. ‘thanks, lilith.’

‘sleep well, beatrice.’

(and ava silva, it turns out, is great, although you’d rather die than say it out loud. beatrice stands in front of the full length mirror in the fitting room and smooths down the non-existent wrinkles in her traditional chinese wedding outfit, bright red and embroidered in gold. it’s probably the most incredible piece of clothing you’d ever seen.

‘what do you think?’

it’s an insane question, really. ‘you look… you look really beautiful, beatrice.’

she smiles, shyly; you’re thirty, now, old enough to be able to feel an easy fondness. ‘thank you.’

‘you owe me a burger and many, many cocktails after this, though.’

‘sure, sure.’

if you cry at their wedding while ava stands in a wispy, open-backed dress and smiles so big her eyes almost close and, with steady hands, promises everything to beatrice, to, maybe, your first friend — well, no one says a word.)

#footy au #wn #prompts #warrior nun fic #avatrice #but mostly bea & lilith honestly just... being weird horribly soft friends #i WILL post ch4 by the weekend sorry !!!!!

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jaemified · 10 months

Text

sunshine - kwon soonyoung

“you’ll always be my sunshine in the rain”

pairing; kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

genre; fluff, drama, unrequited love

warnings; minimal mention of drinking, soonyoung and reader get rained on in the middle

wordcount; 1.6k

synopsis; the one who stayed by your side no matter how many times you got fired from different jobs, tells you no matter the outcome, you’ll always be his sunshine in the rain.

read below the cut !

you had just been fired from your third job within a span of 7 months. not that you really did anything, you were always a competent employee, just the fact your overly.. energetic (to say the least) friend group would always seem to forget they are in public when they visit you. and once your boss found out they were yours, you paid the price no matter how much you tried.

“im sorry. i know it’s not you whos personally at fault, but we’ve been getting to many noise complaints from both owners next door. so we have to let you go, im really sorry again.” your boss, minnie, had told you before firing you from the bakery.

i mean, it made some sense that there would be noise complaints as the people next door were a tutoring company and a book store, but why would you have to be the one to take the blame?

at the end of the day, they were still your best friends, so you tried to see past it. but you really needed the money with rent due soon, not to mention the bills on top of all that. ‘i really might need to cancel my netflix and hulu subscription..’

you do have a roommate, sana, who you of course are close with, but with her being in law school, she was barely home.

of course she paid her share as she was pretty financially stable not to mention she still slept there (sorta) often, yet you never could ask her for money. though you went to high school and finished college together, it still felt weird asking for money.

so you sucked it up and went job hunting online, texting some of your (other) friends if they knew any available positions in the retail industry.

after 3 hours, you gave up. it was about 5pm now, and you had been rejected by around 15 different stores.

you decided to take a break to eat, and made a quick sandwich.

you scrolled through your phone mindlessly, before you received a notification from the one and only tiger lover (you really cringed when he told you to make that his contact name), soonyoung.

hoshi; r u ok

hoshi; srry me and kyeom got u fired

hoshi; picking u up

hoshi; dress nice

hoshi; jk u always do

hoshi; be there in 25

you sighed at his sad attempt to cheer you up. of course, him and seokmin were your best friends (among other things) yet you seriously had no idea how to move forward career wise.

you thought of just not telling them where you worked but they always found out one way or another.

even so, despite the desperate need for money you appreciated all soonyoung did for you. if he wasnt able to support you financially, he definitely always would mentally/emotionally.

with a heavy groan, you drag yourself off the couch to get dressed as you realized the minimal time you had left before he’d arrive.

you put on a yellow dress with yellow frill short sleeves, as well as a random pair of white sneakers before grabbing your bag and phone just as soonyoung texted he was parked outside.

“is that the dress i bought for you a while back?” he questioned while he backed out the parking lot.

“yeah. just never really had the chance to wear it since i was always working.”

“im sorry about that, again. i know you aren’t exactly the most financially stable but just know you can always come to me if you need-”

“soonyoung- weve been over this, i cant just ask you for money. i could never impose on you like that.”

“its not imposing if im the one offering it to you. but really, i don’t mind. im more then comfortable money wise right now.”

“only cause you live in cheols basement.”

“its not a basement- its a bedroom below the main floor. and josh literally has his own room on the same level as me! you know what thats besides the point. but you get what i mean!”

“yeah- you’re a group of 5 grown men living in a small technically one story plus a loft house with a.. not-basement because none of you wanna pay bills on your own.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you let the wind blow in your face through the crack in the window.

“hey! you’re saying that like we all don’t pay our own fair share.”

“whatever. where are we going anyway.”

“somewhere.”

“no way. are you kidnapping me?” you dramatically gasped, putting a hand over your chest.

“stop talking or im dropping you off at the nearest insane asylum.”

—

after a good 15 minutes of driving, you realized soonyoung had taken you to the old park you used to always visit together, recalling all the fond memories while the rushed back to you when you first stepped out onto the grass.

you noticed soonyoung taking a smallish basket out the trunk before you connected the dots it your head — he had taken you onto a picnic.

“you coming? this basket isnt getting any lighter.”

soonyoung had brought all sorts of your favorite comfort foods, ranging from strawberry shortcake, to tteokbokki, and even spam musubi.

as you took a bite out of your slice of cake, you let out a little gasp as a bee danced around your fork, before eventually flying to crawl over your dress.

you immediately stood up to shake it off you, sighing in relief as you saw it fly away (thanks to soonyoung swatting it but youre an independent person)

“you’re that freaked out over a small bug?”

“it was a bee! i dont want it to sting me or get in my cake.”

“it only stings you if you attack it first.”

“you’re lucky i didn’t attack you. why are all the bees coming towards me and not you anyway?”

“guess the bees know who the real flower is.” he smiled, before digging back into his own food like it was nothing.

your heart melted at the little comment, but it was expected from soonyoung. you shouldn’t get all worked up from something so usual/normalized, you told yourself.

but if it was so normal, why was your heart beating so fast?

“that was a little sudden. what was that all about?”

“oh that? yeah i like you.” he shrugged like it was nothing, the words rolling off his tongue so naturally as if he was responding to the most obvious question in the world. like, what color is the sky, or, how the hell do you respond to your super cute best friend that you find attractive, saying he likes you but he just got you fired thrice??

you felt the air being knocked out your lungs, absolutely speechless.

“i only said it so naturally cause i know you don’t feel the same, you know,” soonyoung mumbled, seemingly reading your mind. “just kinda needed to get it off my chest.”

“soonyoung..”

“no i get it. i mean i can’t expect you to love me especially ive been such a bad friend. i knew you were struggling and yet i still got you fired. from three different jobs.”

“im really sorry.”

“no need, if anything i should be sorry.”

“you know i still really care about you, right.”

“course you do, its only natural, anyway”. he forced a smile, though he wasn’t quite sure what else he expected.

though, he supposed a small part of him was holding onto something, wishing maybe you could’ve been a little more.

coincidentally, you began to feel small raindrops against your finger tips. you looked up to see the once bright blue sky had turned gray and gloomy.

“that’s weird.. I don’t remember seeing any rain in the forecast..”

soonyoung immediately packed up everything as soon as he could the moment he felt the rainfall coming down harder and faster.

by the time he was done, you both were pretty drenched.

he dug through the neatly packed basket to grab his black denim jacket to wrap around your shoulders as he guided the two of you to the car through the rapidly shifting winds.

soonyoung was meant to drop you off, but you invited him in. despite all his personal protests, he still went in anyway.

you poured yourselves some red wine, sitting on the floor by the warm fireplace after the cold rain soaked you both.

“i dont know if it’s the wine talking but you are really attractive, even if i don’t see you the way you see me.” you slightly slurred.

“well. you know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.” he awkwardly chuckled.

“im sorry.” you drunkenly mumbled, your head tipping over to fall onto soonyoungs shoulder.

he quickly took your wine glass to put onto the coffee table behind you in order to avoid staining the fluffy white carpet.

“what for?”

“i still really care about you.”

“well. you’ll always be my sunshine in the rain, even if it’s only ever just as friends.” soonyoung whispered to you, pulling his jacket tighter over your shoulders while you let yourself be absorbed by your own dreamland.

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ginnyluvstimmy · 2 months

Text

basketball match (timothée x f.reader)

New York.

Your new home.

The wheels of the suitcase clattered on the sidewalk as you watched the taxis whizzing by, the drivers accompanying the guide with a few curses, the girls bouncing with twenty different bags of clothing and some tourists looking at the map from the wrong side.

You could breathe the New York air deeply.

A few groups of black break-dancers altered one choreography after another, their steps large, loose and flexible while the crowd filmed them cheering.

The hotel was still far away, but going on foot offered a coming and going of full life that you enjoyed.

The blue glass skyscrapers were tall, dizzying, and you felt extremely small and helpless.

You passed a few more newsstands and a luxury shop along the avenue when shouts of encouragement and the screeching of sneakers caught your attention.

A group of boys were immersed in a lively game of basketball, their shoe soles burning on the playing field every time they ran.

A tall guy with a grey loose and wet sweat t-shirt and some blue shorts intrigued you.

His sweat-soaked brown curls fell across his forehead, glistening in the harsh sunlight.

His movements were impressively quick and his reflexes were excellent. His team had the lead and you were lucky enough to see him score four baskets in a row.

Then everyone stopped, complimenting each other with pats on the back or friends-like hand gestures that you couldn't imitate.

The players sat down panting and out of breath, some had already drunk the entire bottle and some were wringing a wet cloth over their foreheads.

Then, the intriguing guy spotted you behind the green iron fence network of the playground, a smirk swinging on his lips.

You felt a knot in your stomach tighter than the towels tortured to wet their forehead.

He then got up, walking towards you and getting out of the playground.

"Tourist?" The boy asked with nonchalant.

"Yeah...actually, I was planning on staying here." You managed.

"Cool. Enjoyed the match?"

"Yes, I...you were very good."

"Training, that's all."

You were about to make up an excuse to say goodbye when he offered his hand for you to shake.

"Timothée, Timmy for friends."

You smiled.

"It sounds pretty French."

"I'm half French, but the pronunciation is up to you."

A small wink reached you.

"Well...I don't want to bother you but...do you happen to know how to get to the Fifth Avenue? My hotel should be nearby."

"Of course I do, and it's no bother, really. Just give me a minute, don't move."

You watched him run back to get his package and phone, but the next moment you were already walking together, barely touching each other's arms.

Anxiety was eating you alive and gastric juices burned inside your intestines. You wanted to thank Timmy for his availability but the throat was sealed.

Fifth Avenue wasn't that far away, but with that tangle of alleys and crazy taxi drivers you were grateful to have a guide.

You looked at the hotel address and noticed that it was right in front of you. It was much nicer than the photo in the online booking, and the thought of fresh sheets tickled your back.

"Well...I don't live far from here. If you need directions I'm always here." His laughter interrupted your thoughts.

"Yes, thanks..."

He quickly offered you his number, maybe he even surprised you looking at his lower lip.

You would definitely have called him, but not for directions...

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee imagine #timothée imagine #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #timothée x reader #new york #Spotify

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colosplash · 3 months

Text

—IZUMI FUKUHARA! 🍧

“You like my bracelets? Hehe. Thanks, maybe I’ll make one for you someday.”

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

APPEARANCE

PERSONALITY

TRIVIA/DYNAMICS

GALLERY

APPEARANCE:

Izumi’s appearance is very gentle and can be described as a messy look. He doesn’t put much effort into it, with ocean-combed hair that goes everywhere. It’s a light, slightly dull, but pink tinted white with peach colored bangs which are similar in color to seashells. Izumi has a mullet and lopsided bangs, the long right side being tied into a messy braid. The braid is tied off with a purple bead, and the shorter, left side of his bangs are simply let free, hugging the side of his face.

His eyes are gentle and soft, with long lashes drooping off of them. Izumi’s eyes are big and amethyst purple with pink highlights, complimenting his hair. The bead in his hair matches his eyes and shines alongside his many piercings, two piercings on the left ear, and one on the right. He wears a long string of shiny silver on his left, falling along the two pierced areas, with a simple stud alongside a cusp on his right. Along with these, Izumi wears many bracelets, three on his right hand and one on his left. The bracelets on his right consist of a blue stringed one, a simple set of small pearls along a string, and a bigger pearl bracelet with a clam charm. The bracelet on his left is a simple string, forming an X shape around his wrist. His last accessories are three rings on his left hand, one on his middle finger and two on his index finger.

When wearing his club/SEKAI wear, Izumi keeps all of his jewelry, and wears a pretty simple outfit. He wears the Colorful Splash! varsity jacket in a normal fashion, with the exception of him scrunching up the sleeves to his elbows. Underneath, he wears a simple white t-shirt that’s lopsided at the end, leaning towards the left. Izumi wears washed out, straight black jeans and lavender sneakers.

PERSONALITY:

Soft spoken and quiet, Izumi, alongside Naoto isn’t too well known across Kamiyama High. Well, not as well known as he used to be. Even still, he spends his days around the popular kids of Kamiyama, just following them around and listening to their conversation. Many students see this and find it weird though, considering the fact that Izumi seems like more of an outcast rather than a popular kid.

Overall, Izumi is a very kind person who holds no hostility to anyone unless he has a reason to. He enjoys seeing people happy, even at the expense of himself. Most times, he’ll do favors for others as long as he’s prompted. He’s the type of person to enjoy sitting back and watching people laugh, only chiming in when he has something to comment on to make the mood of the room even brighter. Izumi’s personality is very neutral, and he doesn’t have any overly loud points.

In Colorful Splash!, Izumi is the one who’s more so in the background. Ashi and Naoto often banter, Via gets her comments in every once in a while, and Izumi gets them in even less. Though, out of everybody, he’s the most willing to get close. He’s honest and authentic compared to the others, and he’s the one who reaches out and drags them close. Colorful Splash! and it’s members mean a lot to him, and he wants to see them happy and comfortable with each other. Izumi included… of course.

Even still, Izumi likes to think of himself as the group’s support, the pillar in a way. It’s enough to just see the others smile for him. The group notes him as a very selfless person who needs to learn how to be more selfish— Everybody shoots jabs at him for it, and Naoto always complains about it as it’s Izumi’s main fault. But slowly, through the support of Colorful Splash!, maybe Izumi will learn to put himself first rather than others.

TRIVIA/DYNAMICS:

Izumi doesn’t have any strict gender or sexuality, but like Naoto, it’s safe to say he likes men. Pronouns are he/him.

Izumi used to be very invested in making jewelry, and previously had an online store and online accounts where he sold it. Now, he’s on an indefinite hiatus.

His reason for stopping the business is due to the fact of overproducing that he lost the reason behind creating. His passion started because people he cared for enjoyed his creations and utilized them, but overtime the people who bought his goods started mistreat his things as trash. Because of this, his work went downhill in quality and his happiness regarding the craft did as well, resulting in Izumi closing the stop.

Izumi hangs out with the popular kids because they found him and his skills for jewelry making very interesting. Before, they would be all over him because of it, but recently they’ve started to interact with him less. They don’t necessarily hate him, but they don’t think he’s very valuable anymore.

Izumi always has a small smile on his face. It never ever falls, and the reason is unknown.

Even if he does always smile, a good full out smile and giggle fest with Izumi is very uncommon. So is a look of disgust or any negative expression.

Izumi joined Colorful Splash! for fun. No further reason why, but he stayed because he felt something special with the group.

After the groups first performance, Izumi made each of them their own special bracelets. This is when the group first found out about his hobby.

Izumi likes to call Naoto “silly”. It’s a term of endearment, promise.

Izumi is more protective over others than himself.

As Izumi learnt more about Mirei, she’s come to be one of the very few people that he dislikes. It’s very difficult to get on Izumi’s dislike list.

Izumi knows a lot of random info and gossip around Kamiyama High, due to who he hangs out with. He tells many people info, but because of the fact that it’s gossip, it’s hard to tell whether it’s true or not.

You can barely ever tell when Izumi is lying or being honest.

The name Colorful Splash! came from Izumi, after realizing the fact that everyone in the group liked beaches. No member ever told Izumi about their like towards beaches, and it’s still a mystery to this day how he found out.

Izumi is in class 1-B, meaning he shares a class with Naoto, Nene, and Touya. Besides Naoto, who he talks to very often, he’s just acquaintances with Nene and Touya.

Out of the Colosplash members, Izumi is the best at reading people. He doesn’t tell his observations unless he thinks it’s necessary.

Alongside Ashi, Izumi is very good at fanservice when performing.

Izumi is the weakest dancer of the group.

Izumi is the one in Colorful Splash! who helps Naoto regarding his problem with relationships. He helps him realize that it’s fine to experiment and try new things— you don’t have to tie yourself down to something before you get to see anything else.

Izumi has dated before.

Izumi’s all-time favorite holiday and time of year is Christmas. He enjoys it so much because everyone is happy and he’s able to give the people he loves gifts and affection.

Izumi goes out every year for Christmas. Though, since his burnout, it hasn’t been as exciting lately. Colorful Splash! reignites his jolly fire in a later event.

Back when Nightcord was still being formed, Kanade attempted to recruit Izumi through his online store and accounts. She found his use of colors and compositions within thumbnail photos and jewelry arrangements as a possible benefit in MVs, but he declined.

Izumi and Kanade are still in touch online, though they haven’t talked in a while. Both of them are always open to making conversation again, one day.

Izumi’s online handle is “izu-MIN”.

His favorite food is shaved ice, but much like Via, it can turn into his least favorite thing if it comes out incorrectly. If the syrup is too sweet, he doesn’t enjoy it.

Izumi doesn’t like jellyfish due to being stung at the beach when he was a kid.

When Izumi faces artblock and is unable to produce anything he likes, he stays home from school and rots in his room until he’s ready to create again.

Izumi prides himself on giving and producing, and if he cannot fulfill that, he feels useless, like he’s nothing.

Izumi enjoys going to beach because he finds it relaxing, and he likes to find shells and shiny things he’s able to use in his jewelry.

Izumi is an only child, and only has a mom and dad.

Izumi’s voice is soft and light, and slightly elegant. His voice has the same tone as Mina from TWICE.

More to come!

GALLERY:

#prsk #prsk oc #proseka #proseka oc #project sekai #project sekai oc #izumi fukuhara #Colorful Splash!#oc #fansekai

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lawrites · 1 day

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2022!Oswald Cobblepot x Female Plus Size Reader

(NSFW) Oswald Cobblepot asks you to drive with him, bringing you to the local makeout point. You both discuss insecurities, past high school experiences, and your love for each other (while getting into the mood of the area, of course).

CW: body insecurity, some talks of high school, and semi-public sex (not really because Oz bought out the place 😭), dry humping, praise

Thank you for exchanging fics with me @finniestoncrane!!! I was so honored to write this for you. Hope you enjoy. 💙💙

Oswald had a specific request for you, tonight.

“Sweetheart, wanna take you somewhere nice. Can you put on that pretty, short skirt for me? You know the one.”

You do know the one. You had found it online, somewhere, at one of his favorite high end sites. A flared tennis skirt that boasted it was for bigger bodies like yours, longer in the back and accommodating for wider hips. You had tried it on when it first arrived, in front of Ozzie as usual, and his eyes darkened instantly when he saw the way it highlighted your wider hips, the waistband digging into your plush middle and making a bit of flesh round out over the top. He had gotten up, reaching for your waist instantly and tracing the softness there.

“Angel…that one's a keeper. Want me to get you more? In different colors?”

“Thank you, Ozzie.” He looked elated, as he always did when you thanked him, “But I don't think that's necessar-”

He had put one hand in his pocket to reach for his phone while you were talking, and was now holding up a hand to interrupt you. “I'm already buying you more. You deserve only the best.”

Giving you a winning smile after a minute of tapping around on his phone, his attention returned to you, he continued, “And believe me, honey, this is absolutely more of a present for me.”

So now you find yourself rushing around, trying to pull together a cohesive outfit from your admittedly massive closet. The man spoiled you, but after spending most of your life without access to anything pretty at your size…you are secretly ecstatic to have such a selection at your fingertips. The only issue is that, after years of not having access to the best clothes, trying to put together an outfit that isn't just jeans and a tee is difficult.

Eventually, you land on the skirt in a pale blue color, a simple white tank top, a soft blue cropped cardigan, and some sneakers and thigh highs. Deciding to be a little bit extra, you put your hair up into some cute space buns, wrap them in a white ribbon, and grab a minimal amount of makeup.

Making a peace sign at yourself in the mirror, you take in your smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's not necessarily that you are unexcited for this date…you're just nervous. Even now, after more than a year of being with Oz…living with him, even, you worry that you just aren't what he truly wants.

He's proven time and time again that you are, but unfortunately years of insecurity over being fat don't just go away thanks to sweet compliments and proof of attraction…but they do help. You hold your hands at your sides as you walk to the grand staircase, but can't keep them from fiddling with the edge of your skirt when you see him.

He's dressed admittedly casually for him. Dark, high quality jeans that are imported from Italy, a nice, designer cotton shirt, and a vintage leather jacket. You haven't seen him like this before, and he looks good. His chest hair peeks out from the v of the shirt, his patent leather shoes are shined, and everything is tailored perfectly.

Your hands run along and edge of your skirt and you clear your throat, gaining his attention. His eyes instantly turn your way, with a charming smile. The smile drops into an open-mouthed gaze of wonder as he takes you in. “Oh, Angel…” he starts, then stops, then starts walking towards you.

You begin to hurriedly flounce down the stairs, trying to match his own impatient pace. In your haste, you manage to trip on the last step, only to be caught, handily, by Oz. His hands grip yours, and his charming smile is back. “Woah! Where's the rush, beautiful?”

He carefully winds a hand around to the small of your back, gently nudging you towards him until you are pressed right against his front. His other hand moves to cup your chin. “Got someone special you're trying to meet?”

You blush and try to disguise how flustered you are (how flustered he makes you). “I am! Have you seen anyone special around?”

He knits his eyebrows together in an exaggerated expression of contemplation, smirking at your tease and releasing your chin to rub his own. “Hmmm, can't think of one. ‘Cept me, of course.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Well, you're certainly handsome enough to be someone important.”

Oz, almost like he can't help himself, surges forward and kisses you. It wasn't fast enough to disguise the way his cheeks turned red at your admission, however. His tongue lightly traces your lips, demanding entry, and you open up. He groans and his hands move to your hips, trying to somehow get you even closer than you already are.

Eventually you both need air, and separate from each other as you catch your breath. Your face shows the astonishment you feel, “Well, that was…unexpected. Good unexpected, though.” You grin at him and he almost sheepishly runs a hand through the hair on the back of his head.

“What can I say, Angel? You drive me crazy. I can't help myself.”

He holds out his hand, and you gladly take it. By the gentle guidance of Oz, you eventually find yourself at the entrance of his garage. The sheepishness is gone, and he looks you up and down with a dark glint in his eyes, “Whaddya say, sweetheart? Up for a late night drive?”

—-------------------------

Oz made you feel cared for, in almost every aspect of your relationship. He was a secret romantic at heart, which was part of the explanation for his behavior…but the other part was his need to show off what he has earned. What is his, and his by hard work and smarts.

And, while saying that you're his may be archaic, you certainly feel like you're his as you're driving through Gotham, his big hand on your bare thigh, tracing the bit of flesh that spills out of your thigh highs. He's casually chatting, of course, telling you about this place or that in Gotham, the history behind it, occasionally making you giggle with his stories. He looks over to you when you do, briefly, his eyes shining.

“Never going to get used to the feeling that I get when I make a pretty girl like you laugh. It's a privilege.”

You are floating, happy, maybe slightly aroused at the feel of his hands on you, when he suddenly releases your thigh as the car stops, moving to put it in park. Trying to take in your surroundings, paying attention to them properly, now, you are instead confused to see just greenery, trees, and darkness surrounding you. You turn to Oz to ask him a question, but he is already getting out of the car and moving to your side, ready to open your door.

You thank him, accepting the hand he offers and trying to see if anything around you was worth the drive. And then, you see the drop off ahead in the ground, rocky, sharp, and guarded by a crumbling fence. Still holding his hand, you look from the drop to Oz. He brings your hand up, kisses it, and then releases it, gesturing for you to investigate.

You rush forward, hearing him yell out, “Be careful, though, Dove! You don't have wings even if you are an Angel.” Pausing well within a safe distance from the edge, you peer down and see the entirety of Gotham spread out before you. The twinkling of the lights, the giant buildings, but without the noise. It's quiet, even if you can just barely see a police car with sirens on, the shrill tone doesn't reach you, here.

“Oh Oz! This is gorgeous! I've never seen Gotham like this! How did you find this place?”

You feel his hands on your shoulders, his soft front pressed against you, “This place isn't a secret. Been aware of it since high school. Would come up here and look at the city and just…think sometimes.” He turns you around so you are facing him, placing a hand under your chin. “Wanted to see your gorgeous face light up like the city when you see it from here.”

Blushing, again, you swat his hand away. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Cobblepot.” He snorts at your teasing tone, and you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “I bet you said that to all the girls when you brought them up here back then.”

His grin falters, and he seems to almost deflate in stature. “W-well I-” he cuts himself off, struggling to form a sentence. “Actually, you're the first.”

You roll your eyes, “Sure, Oz.” He holds out his hands, “No! I'm serious…I…Doll, I wasn't much of a looker in high school.” His arms drop to his sides at his admission.

His face falls, and you see a familiar expression, one that you have on your own face when you talk about high school bullies and your insecurities over your weight. Softening, you move towards him, gently bringing him in for a hug. “Oh. I didn't mean to tease you, Ozzie. I know how that feels.”

He grumbles above you, “Yeah, I know, because I have trouble believing an Angel like you had any trouble in high school, myself.” Maneuvering you so he can look at you at arms length, he whistles, “I mean, with your plump, soft body and those rosy, plush cheeks? I have a hard time believing you even want to be with me now.”

You move forward, out of his grasp, and cross your arms, hugging yourself. “Oh, I don't know about that Ozzie. I was such a nerd in high school, and I still am!” He chuckles, and looks like he's about to argue, but you continue, anyway. “I know if you went to high school with me, though, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He looks confused. “Really? No joke?” You shake your head, “Absolutely no joke, cross my heart. You're charming.” You bite your lip purposefully, drawing his eyes which start to darken, “You're so romantic, it makes me swoon sometimes.” Moving closer, you wind your arms around him, one at a time, looking up with big, shining eyes, “And you are exactly my type. I love your strong nose,” you kiss it, “I love your dark, gorgeous eyes,” you get on your tiptoes to flutter your eyelashes against him in a cute move that makes Oz actually giggle.

“I love your body, even if you don't,” you press yourself right against his front, making him let out a grunt, “And I guarantee that if we were in high school together, I would have let you take me up here and show me-”

His arms pull you closer, desperately, and he slams his lips into yours, effectively cutting you off. You let out a surprised sound, but then soften and let him lead. Feeling the effect you have on him, you grind against him, making him release your lips with a groan.

“God, Angel.” He's out of breath, his hands crumpling the fabric of your skirt from where he had dug them into your hips. Releasing them, he smooths it down with his hands slowly, almost worshipfully. “The idea of you, in this outfit, showing little old, ugly me in high school a good time…”

You cut him off, “We probably would have both been considered ugly in high school, then, Oz. Two weirdos together. But look at where we are now, huh?”

You reach down to hold his hand, using it to lead him to the back of the car, where you hop up onto the trunk, slightly ungracefully. Arms spread, you invite him into your embrace and he accepts, sucking in a breath as you spread your plush thighs so they surround him.

Using your arm to bring his head down, he dutifully follows and sniffs at the juncture between your shoulder and neck, moaning and beginning to nibble marks into your skin. With a breathier tone, you whisper into his ear, “King of Gotham, my King of Gotham. So powerful and smart and those idiots in high school didn't know what they were missing.”

With that, he whimpers, and his hands dig into your thighs once more, moving your skirt up and pressing, grasping, digging into the plump flesh available to him there. His hips begin to piston, slowly at first, rubbing against your center and making you choke on air.

Then he releases the spot where he had been worrying your flesh with his teeth, nuzzling his nose up the column of your throat and whispering in your ear, now. “And you're the King of Gotham’s Sweet Dove. You're my gorgeous girl.” You whine, and he starts to move even faster against you, the both of you panting.

“Ozzie! Please!” You stifle your cry as much as you can, unsure what exactly it is that you want, but the heat in your belly is removing your ability to think. You feel your wetness soaking into Oz’s front, and he just groans, “Oh, good girl. So wet for me, yeah? So pretty and plump and all mine.”

You bite your lip, self conscious, still, especially being out in the open like this. “M-messy,” you whimper, unable to voice your worry more fully. He almost coos at you, trying to calm you down and comfort you as his hips continue pressing against you in a steady rhythm, sending sparks through your body. “You think I care about a little mess, sweetheart?”

You're the one who nuzzles your head into his neck, now, unable to hold back the small pleas and whimpers and whines that are all coming from somewhere deep inside of you. Somewhere in the mess of words, you say, “K-king!”

It makes Oz stutter in his rhythm, letting out a sound like he's been punched. “T-that's right, Angel. And a King doesn't let those peasants decide who he is or what he does.” With that, he snakes a hand around between you, maneuvering until he is under your panties, circling around your bundle of nerves and making you throw your head back, moaning out more pleas.

He chuckles. “Always wanted to hear a pretty girl scream out my name up here. Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?” The next word comes out desperately, like he needs to hear it, “Please.”

You start to chant his name, which makes him finally press his finger against your clit. “Oz! Ozzie! Oh! Oswald!” Your legs spasm and your mouth easily forms his name, your thighs hugging hard around his sides and forcing him to press right against you. He groans out, “God, my Angel,” and you feel him still as he grunts and growls against your neck.

Catching your breath together, you eventually separate a bit, the heaviness of the summer air and the stickiness combining to make you both feel a bit…gross. Chuckling, Oz removes his leather jacket. What little light exists around you highlights the sweat on his soft, strong arms, making your legs press together again.

He sees you, and lets out a moan. “Sweetheart, I love yah, but you’ve worn me out.” He throws his jacket casually in the back of the car and you collapse onto your back on the trunk, the exhaustion finally reaching your body. You let out a squeak as you feel Oz press against your thighs, removing your panties and cleaning you up with a wet wipe.

Sitting up, press a sweet kiss to his nose and thank him. He smiles serenely at you and you both contentedly sit, for a moment, before you remember where you are. Your heart seizes with anxiety and you push him away getting off the trunk and gesturing wildly with your hands, “Oz! We did that in public! Where anyone could see! What were we thinking! I-”

He laughs, a full belly laugh, and you turn to him with your hands at your hips. “What's so funny, Oz?”

He wipes a tear away, “Sorry, doll, didn't mean to mock you.” He looks fairly proud as he admits, “I own this place, and most of the place around it. I usually open it up to others but tonight…I made sure no one else would be up here.”

Your demeanor shifts to one of relief. “Oh, thank God.” He brings you to him, pressing your back against his front and hugging you from behind. “Oh, I'm not God, Sweetheart, but I'll take the thanks all the same.”

You swat at him, and he chuckles. Then, he groans and presses his head against your shoulder. His voice comes out hesitantly, “Besides, I didn't need anyone seeing me coming in my pants like a fucking teenager over a pretty girl.”

You join him when he laughs, and his wandering hands go to your sensitive spots, seeking out ticklish areas to make you giggle with glee even more. Two weirdos, indeed.

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....anyway hope you enjoyed! 💙💙

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