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cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promise

Summary: Fred and Y/N have been rivals for a while, but no matter if it was pranks, or quidditch or something else, they always had their limits to not hurt the other. In fact, for the past few months Y/N and Fred have been growing closer, and even developing feelings for each other, but everything changes when one of Fred's pranks go to far, and he needs to find a way to fix it to save their relationship.

Warnings: Swearing, Fred being kind of a dick, Reader getting angry, confrontation, some angst, kind of a lot of angst actually, ends in major fluff though, also humor because I may not not how to spell but I’m hilarious.

Word count: 2.7K

A/N: comin at cha with ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FRED WEALSEY FIC??? Why am I so uncreative? Idk, anyways I hope you enjoy!

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You were beyond furious. You didn’t think there was a strong enough word to describe how angry you were, and you were pretty sure if you were any angrier steam would be coming out of your ears. And the reason for all this anger you may ask?

Fred Fucking Weasley

You stormed through the hallway, heading straight to the dining hall. It was late, and you barely anybody would be in there, but you knew he would be.

You stopped in the doorway, scanning over the tables until your eyes landed on a familiar mop of red hair. Locking your eyes on your target, you stomped over, clutching your bag tightly in your right hand.

“Oh shit- what did you do this time?” You heard Lee whisper to Fred, as you got closer, but you paid him no mind, eyes locking with Fred’s, who had that same stupid smirk that he always did. It made your blood boil.

“Good evening love, how’s your night going?” Fred asked nonchalantly, as if you were friends and not life long enemies.

“I have to say, it was going quite well, until I found this” You seethed, slamming your bag onto the table in front of him. “Say, does this bag look familiar to you?”

“Nope, can’t say it does” Fred shrugged, but the glimmer in his eye said differently.

“Really? Why don’t you take a closer look” You insisted, grabbing the bag off the table, flipping open the top, and flipping it upside-down, causing an eruption of water to fall from the mouth of the bag.

The water continued for what felt like forever, pieces of paper and pens falling out with it as the contents emptied out onto the floor, soaking yours and Fred’s shoes, but neither of you made a move.

After the water had finally stopped, you threw the bag into his lap, causing him to look down at it, a thoughtful hand on his chin.

“You know, now that I’m looking more closely at it, it does look a bit familiar” He said simply, and judging by the nervous looks on George, and Lee’s face when they saw you, you for sure had steam coming out of your ears now, but you kept your composure.

“Oh, well that’s good. You see, I’m trying to solve a bit of a mystery of who could have done this. Would you have any ideas?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.

By now, most of the cafeteria had cleared out. They have seen you and Fred get into heated arguments before. But this was different.

This was going to be fatal.

“No clue, but I have to say whoever thought of it is a bloody genius” He complimented, giving you a grin.

“Genius you say? So you think, flooding my one bag, and ruining all my homework, as well as my ten page essay that I’ve been working on all month, that’s due tomorrow... is Genius?” You asked, the calmness in your voice adding a coldness to the room that shot straight to everyone's bones.

And judging by the now terrified face Fred wore, he was feeling the effects of your voice as well.

“Oh, I see there's been a mix up, I’m actually George-”

“You are fucking not! Don't get me caught up in this” George interrupted, standing along with Lee to flee the scene

“So sorry about him, Y/N, he can’t be helped. Try not to go to hard on him-” Lee started, but a quick glance his way shut him up instantly “Actually on second thought, do what you see fit, see ya Fred”

With that, George and Lee practically sprinted out of the dining hall, leaving you standing over Fred, who suddenly felt very small.

“I swear, I had no idea your essay was in there, if I had known I wouldn’t have-” Fred started apologizing, but was quickly cut off when your hand slammed down on the table beside you.

“You see Fred” You said, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “I think you did know. We’re in the same class, you’ve seen me working my ass off trying to get this essay done, and you’ve even asked for my notes, which I refused because of this kind of shit you pull”

Fred swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest at your anger. He had seen you angry before, and he’s been cross with you a few times as well, but those died down fairly quickly, and most of the time there weren't to many hard feelings. And you were right, he had seen you working on that essay, both in class, and at two in the morning in the library.

“Now” You continued “We’ve had out little quarrels in the past, you prank me, I prank you, you hit me with a quaffle at quidditch, I hit one back at you, nothing too serious. But this” She paused, picking a sopping wet pile of papers off the floor, and plopping it in front of him “Is really really fucking low. Did you know, I was already failing this class?”

The question put Fred on the spot, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. He had always known you to be extremely smart and quick minded, so to hear you weren't doing so well in that class came as a surprise.

“Yeah, I’m failing because, fun fact, I’m fucking exhausted. I’m staying up till three in the morning every night, trying to get caught up in classes. I’m writing back and forward to my family constantly because they’re going through financial problems again, Umbridge is constantly writing me up for no reason, and on top of all of that, I still need to be worried about this”

Your voice was beginning to shake a bit, and you both knew you were about to cry, but you were determined to keep the tears in until you were done. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“So... Fred, consider this little rival, or fight, or whatever the fuck this is, over. I’m done, you win, just please, for the love of fuck, leave me alone”

With that, you stood up and left the dining hall, quickly wiping the stay tear that snuck out on your way. All the while, Fred sat in shocked silence. He had always seen your little back and forwards as friendly competition, and had even thought they were a bit flirty at times. In fact, you two had been getting a bit closer these last few months, and had even started hanging out as friends. But now, he had royally fucked that up, and he needed to fix it.

The next day, you were exhausted. You had spent a lot of the night crying, which you hated but all the pent up emotions just came flooding out. Yes, you were absolutely pissed at Fred, but most of all, you were hurt. In the last few months, you’re arguments had died down a bit, and you found yourselves hanging out from time to time, always accidentally, but you enjoyed his company none the less.

You had even begun to like him a bit, maybe even more than a friend. He was nice, and charming, and wicked funny, and always tried to make you smile, but now, after seeing how careless, and almost mean he had been, you knew you needed to shove those feelings down. So you did.

Your first class was potions, which of course you had with Fred. He sat behind you, and for a while, he made the class bearable, passing notes back and forward. But now you were absolutely dreading it.

Fred was sat in his usual seat, waiting for you to walk in. He had come in early, hoping to get the chance to talk to you, but when you walked in just as class began, he knew he would need to try a different approach.

Not even five minutes into the class, you felt a piece of paper land beside your elbow on your desk. You looked down, finding a folded up piece of paper, which you immediately knew was Fred's.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, but instead of turning around, you simply flicked the paper off your desk, returning your gaze to the chalkboard. A few minutes later, another piece of paper, this time on top of your notebook. Again, you flicked it off.

Finally, five pieces of paper later, you smacked your quill down and picked up the newest piece of paper from your desk, unfolding it and looking it over, Fred watching you closely as you did

Can we please talk? I’m sorry

You finally turned around to meet the boys gaze, his eyes instantly lighting up at the change, but his spirits quickly fell when he saw your face, not angry, or frustrated, but sad.

You had had enough, facing the boy, you placed the paper back onto his own desk right as the professor dismissed the class, quickly slipping out of the room before Fred could follow you.

You avoided him like the plague the rest of the day. You didn’t have many other classes with him, and the ones you did share you made sure to find an empty seat far away from him, you even skipped lunch, choosing instead to read in your next class.

You even skipped the class where your essay was due, not wanting to show up and hand over nothing, you decided to spend the rest of the day alone, and try to redo your assignment, even if you now only had a day to do it.

Fred only saw you again after class by the forbidden forest. He had found you pretty easily, you weren’t in any of your usual spots, so he knew this would be the next best spot to check. As he approached you, he found you had changed out of your uniform and were now in some joggers and a sweatshirt, sitting with your back against a rock as you scribbled in the notebook in front of you.

You chewed your lip as you tried to rewrite your essay, looking to your textbook and back every few second, before messing up on a word. Frustrated, you scribbled out the paragraph you had been working on and threw your notebook and quill to the side, resting your elbows on your knees as you held your head in your hands.

You quickly snapped out of it though when someone behind you cleared their throat, getting your attention and making you jump out of your skin. Panic surged through you, expecting a teacher, or worse, Umbridge, but the fear was soon replaced by irritation when you made eye contact with none other than the very red head you had spent all day trying to avoid.

“What do you want Fred?” You asked, turning back to face the forbidden forest, away from him.

He didn’t answer, instead you were met with the sound of grass shuffling beneath his feet as he got closer, taking a seat before holding something out to you, causing you to look over at him.

It was your bag from yesterday, but now completely fixed and dry. It looked like brand new.

You took the bag from him and looked it over, going over the seams and the straps before finally opening it, finding your notebooks, pens, and homework assignments all neatly tucked inside.

“How did you- When did-” you rambled trying to find the words and you shuffled through your belongings, finding them all intact and dry before finally turning to look at him “Why did you do this for me?”

Fred wasn’t expecting that question, but he still answered, looking down at the grass.

“I felt really bad after yesterday, and not just because of that stuff you... anyway, I know I went too far, and I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I wanted to have a reason to talk to you I guess, and I did it in the worst way possible, and I wanted to make it up to you. I’m sorry”

You looked at him, before turning back to the bag, noticing there was something missing, but before you could say anything Fred continued.

“I was also able to save your essay, it took a while but it was all there. I was going to give it to you in class, but you didn’t show up so I turned it in for you and said you were sick. I got to read some of it by the way, its really good and I would be surprised if you-”

Fred was cut off by you moving your bag to the side and turning to face him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug.

Fred was too shocked to move for a second, but quickly found himself returning the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you closer. You sat like that for a minute, your face buried in his neck as a thousand emotions flooded over you. Finally, you pulled away, looking him in the eye.

“I’m not saying I’m not entirely grateful” you started “But you could have just come and talked to me, why did you feel you needed to do that to talk to me?”

At this, Fred’s face began to heat up a bit and he looked back down, fiddling with the grass. He was hoping to fix your friendship and move on, maybe one day growing to be something more, but now he was faced with the choice to tell you his feelings, or lie, and he didn’t want to deny it anymore.

“We’ve always had our little competitions and stuff, ever since we were kids, and for a while we really hated each other. But then, these last few months I got to know you a lot more, and I always knew you were funny, but you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, and you’re super smart, and are always helping people, and you’re always kind to everyone you meet, and I thought I might have had a crush or something. And I didn’t really know how to interact with you in a not competition way, and I didn’t want to freak you out, but after the bag, seeing how it hurt you, it broke me. And I realized that I liked you a lot more than I thought I did”

Fred looked up at you, waiting for your reaction. Were you angry, upset, happy? Your face wasn’t giving him any signs, but then, a small smile crept to your lips, and despite how hard you tried to fight it.

You laughed.

“I’m sorry” You started, trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest “I’m not laughing at you, I’m not, it’s just-” Another laugh. “God were just a bunch of idiots aren't we?”

Fred was looking at you like you’d gone crazy

“What do you mean?”

“I like you too dumb ass” You confessed.

“You... oh... Oh!” Fred exclaimed, finally putting the pieces together. “Wow, I really fucked up didn’t I”

“Oh for sure” you nodded, causing Fred to let out a groan, shaking his head before looking back to you, a smile on his face.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips to his. Fred returned the action, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away, each with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Fred asked.

“Only if you promise to never do it again” you said

“Deal” Fred answered quickly, holding out his pinky to you, which you wrapped your own pinky around, shaking on the agreement.

“Wow a pinky promise, that's some hard core shit” You joked in a serious tone.

“Hey, if it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d pinky promise to anything” Fred replied, to which you gave him a feigned shocked expression.

“Anything?! Aww, you like me like me” you teased, laughing as Fred playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Shut up you like me like me too” Fred argued

“That is true” you nodded, before smiling and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss, smiling as he pulled you even closer.

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A/N: Heeey, so I was hit with the biggest surge of motivation today and I literally got two weeks of homework done, deep clean my room, and wrote this, so if I go dark for a few months its probably because I’ve used my adrenaline budget for the year lol.

But seriously, I know this fic gets a bit... deep ig? Idk, I’ve been going through it recently and I wanted some angst that would actually reflect how I would react in that situation if you know what I mean? Like I see a long of angsts where the love interest does something really mean, but a simple apology solves everything and yeah. No hate if that’s your writing style, its just not my thing, and I wanted to express my emotions through here, because nobody directly fucked up an entire month of my work but it certainly feels that way sometimes.

Anyways, rant over, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any feedback or recommendations you may have.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley headcannon #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley has me SOFT HOLY SHIT #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley request #fred weasley enemies to lovers

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mrsbrookegillespie · 3 years

Text

+Homework+ Luke x Fem!Reader

(Not My Gif)

Description:When Y/N’s progress report comes out it seems as though their mom isn’t happy with the letters that follow each subject. So when they have to cancel on her friends band rehearsal to do their assignments it leads to an interesting encounter with the brunette guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms.

Warning: Stress, school, bad grades, mild angst, mostly fluff.

+Homework+

Luke is not someone to judge another for having bad grades, considering what his report cards looked like, and the fact he dropped out of high school at seventeen. But, Y/N has two more years left in school, despite her age, and frankly… She’s struggling. “What’s this?” her mother asks, showing her an email.

“Those are… My grades?” Y/N shrugs, avoiding the small letters that labeled her as dumb, and lazy.

“Y/N! You need to start getting serious about this. You’re going to flunk out!” Y/N internally winces at her mother shouting at her. “I’m very disappointed about this…”

“Well,” Y/N starts. “I’ll do it!” She bites her lip, sliding away from her desk. “Tomorrow,” she adds, looking at the time. “I promised Julie I’d watch band practice today.” Her mom gives her a blank stare.

“Y/N! We’ve been very laid back with you, you’ve never been grounded or anything, but right now I want you to stay at home, and get your missing work done.”

“But--”

“No!”

Her mom closes the door on the way out, leaving Y/N feeling the stress of school. She grabs her phone, clicking Julie’s contact. “Hey! Are you almost here?” Julie asks.

“I can’t make it…” Y/N breathes out.

“What?!” Julie exclaims. “But, you promised to be here today, we’re performing tomorrow, you know?” The disappointment radiates through the phone.

“I know! And I will be there for that, because that’s really important, but I just can’t make it today.” Y/N is too embarrassed to say the reason why. Julie has amazing grades, and is insanely talented, and she might be a little jealous of that, mostly because she gets to spend extra time with Luke who Y/N has heart eyes for. But, his eyes are for someone else. Julie.

“No, she’s not coming,” she answers the muffled voice in the background. “I don’t know!” she groans. “The boys wanted me to ask you if you’re okay, which are you?”

“Yes! I’m fine, just go rehearse, even though you guys don’t really need it, I know you’ll rock tomorrow--” Y/N gets cut off by her door swinging open.

“Y/N! Homework! Now!” her mom orders.

“I’m just telling Julie I can’t make it,” Y/N argues. “I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay, well, we all miss you over here,” she affirms.

“Yeah, I miss you all too, but we did see each other today, so… I miss the boys.”

Julie laughs. “I’ll tell them that, especially you know who.” Y/N can sense Julie’s smirk when she speaks.

Y/N chokes on a bit of her saliva. “Julie! I-I have to go.” She hangs up. “Why me?” she asks whatever higher power could possibly be listening to the teenage girl.

She plops down on her desk chair.

“What to start with?” Her eyes scan her To-Do List she’s already made, it’s not as much as she thought, but it’s definitely time consuming and very boring. Some of her teachers have already reached out to her, but she chooses to ignore their offers of help. She’s scared she’ll say something they’ll find stupid, or won’t understand.

And so she has to skip her favorite part of the day, to do Algebra, and History and Biology, and…

“So, why couldn’t she come today?” Luke asks, tuning his guitar on the couch.

“Eh, I didn’t ask her,” Julie admits.

“Why not?” Luke gives her a pointed look, his movements faltering.

“She would’ve told me if it was that important,” she claims. She looks off, before seeing him go back to his previous state. “Luke, you've been tuning that guitar for half an hour, I think it’s good.”

He rolls his eyes.

“So, Y/N really can’t come today?” Reggie asks, saddened over the news. “But, she never misses a rehearsal unless it’s family, or school related.”

Luke finally stops, setting down his guitar. “Wait,” he starts. “Didn’t progress reports come out today?”

Everyone looks at him weirdly. “How do you know that?” Alex questions, spinning his drumstick.

“Oh--uh.” He scratches the back of his head. “When I visited Julie at school the other day, I heard something about it.”

Julie turns his head towards him. “Are you talking about when Y/N said something about it to Flynn? A couple feet away from us? Yeah I heard her too, because I was facing her.” She crosses her arms. “I think someone has a crush,” she teases, smiling widely.

“What?!” A subtle blush paints over his cheeks. “I don’t like Y/N like that, she’s--she’s just a good friend.”

“Oh come on!” Alex joins. “It’s so obvious, don’t think I don’t notice when you stare at her.” He sends a wink to Luke.

“Or when you talk about her,” Reggie adds. “Which is all the time.”

“Just tell her,” Julie advises.

“Tell her?” Luke repeats, giving her a look of disbelief. “I don’t think you’ve guys noticed, but I’m dead, and she’s very much alive.”

“So?! Everyone knows you two are completely in love with each other, so give it a shot,” Julie urges, also knowing her friend's infatuation with the guitarist.

Luke chuckles. “She doesn’t like me, she rarely talks to me, to be honest I think she hates me.”

“You rarely talk to her,” Julie points out. “And ‘to be honest’ I think she thinks you hate her.” Luke’s posture caves hearing Julie’s words. “Are we going to get started now?”

Everyone nods.

Throughout practice Luke found his mind wandering back to the previous conversations the band had. A warm feeling would build in his stomach for a movement when he would think about the fact that Y/N likes him, or at least his friends think so. “Luke!” Alex shouts, snapping Luke out of his thoughts. “Practice is over,” he informs.

"It is?!” His eyes widened when an idea popped into his mind. “Well, won’t you look at that, it is over, and I completely forgot I made plans, bye!” Luke poofs out, landing in a girly room, but has a certain vibe to it.

“Luke!” Y/N shrieks, putting a hand over her heart. “What are you doing here?” she whisper-yells.

“T-the--” he snaps his fingers. “The guys wanted someone to check in on you, and Alex is hanging out with Willie, and Reggie is Reggie so… I volunteered.” He sways back and forth against his ankles. “Sooo… How are you doing?” He strolls up to her smoothly, placing an arm on the back of her chair.

“Luke… You are a terrible liar,” she asserts. “But, if you really want to know. I’m not doing too well.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“School,” she sighs. “We got our progress reports, and I’m not doing too well.” She tries to hide the paper from Luke.

“Y/N, don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” He plucks the paper from under her arm. His reassuring smile slowly faded. “There’s… Room for improvement?” He shrugs.

“Get out,” Y/N mutters.

Luke’s heart plummeted. “What?”

“I said get out,” she repeats, harshly. “I get it, I’m dumb, and I’m lazy, and I don’t do my work. I get it. So, just leave.” Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I’m serious Luke.” Her voice cracks a little.

Guilt washed over him when he saw the effect his words take on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He reaches out to hug her, but he instead goes straight through her.

Y/N doesn’t notice his attempt of this action, instead boring her eyes at the paper in front of her. “Luke, I said just go.” She rubs her forehead.

He didn’t move though, he instead started looking over the paper she hadn't touched. “Twenty-three,” he answers.

“What?” she chokes out.

“The answer, it’s twenty-three.” He looks at her, a little self-conscious. “Look, just because I didn’t have the best grades, or didn’t do work, didn’t mean I was dumb, so stop telling yourself that. We’re not so different you know.”

She scrunches her face. “How’d you get that?” she asks. “The answer to the question.”

His eyes light up when she accepts his explanation, not asking him to leave again. “So… I just did…”

He talks through the problem, asking Y/N if she understands when her eyes widen. He noticed she does that when she’s getting confused, or is not fully processing the words. As they go through each subject, him helping her, or giving his opinion on things. She started to find herself smiling, and having fun? “Wow,” he whispers, reading a poem. “You just wrote this?”

She nods. “Yeah, I know, it’s not that great.”

“No! It’s really good for something you wrote in five minutes,” he compliments, rereading the poem in his head. “Who knew you were such a romantic?” he teases.

Y/N feels her cheeks warm up. “That’s actually the first time I’ve heard that.”

“So, who’d you write it about?” he asks. He partially dreaded asking the questions. He didn’t want to picture her ever describing someone that wasn’t him in such a beautiful context. “C’mon, you can tell me, what am I going to do? Tell my ghost friends.”

Y/N giggles. “I--uh… Someone?” It comes out more as a question.

“Name?”

“Why you want to know so bad, huh?” she blurts, with a smirk. “Why? You jealous?” She knew he wasn’t, but the thought made her whole body catch on fire.

Luke, surprised by her sudden cockiness, sends her a smirk right back. “Well, what if I am?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, right,” she murmurs.

He tilts his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She gives him a ‘really’ look. “Luke, c’mon…” She waits for him to say something like ‘you’re right, I’m joking’, or anything along those lines, but he just stares back with the same intensity she has.

“What do you want me to say?”

The question lingers in Y/N’s mind. I want you to say you like me. That’s what she wanted to tell him, that’s what she wanted to hear. “Nothing,” she mumbles. “Absolutely nothing.”

He cracks a smile. “Just tell me!” After that he keeps repeating it over and over again.

“I want you to say you like me!” she shouts.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, he seemed in awe of the situation. “Why are you shouting?” Y/N’s mom asks, rushing in.

“Because I’ve gotten ten assignments turned in!” Y/N cheers trying to ignore Luke giving her a big smile, seriously, it’s scary how wide it is.

“I like you too,” he whispers, her heart dropping. It’s like he couldn’t contain his little secret for any longer, but now it leaves Y/N impatient as her mom stares down at her on the bed.

“That’s good! she assures. “Though it would’ve been better if you turned them in on time, but at least they’re in.” Y/N nods at her mom's backhanded compliment. “Anyways, dinners ready.”

“Ah, yes.” Y/N shuts her laptop. “I forgot humans have to eat.”

“Can I stay?” Luke asks.

“In my room,” she answers.

“You’re going to eat in your room?” her mom asks.

“Can you?” Luke perks up, hearing it. “Just say you want to finish your work, because you’re already in the groove, or something!” His eyes are pleading Y/N to stay with him, leaving her almost speechless.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters. “There’s a few more things I want to do before I call it a night, and I’m kind of in… ‘The Groove’,” she discreetly ridicules the boy next to her that’s invisible to her mom's eyes.

“Okay, just come down when you’re ready.”

Y/N sighs of relief when she hears the door shut quietly. “So, you like me?” She was slightly breathless from the beautiful boy so close to her.

“Yeah,” he responds. His eyes didn’t meet hers though.

“You don’t seem sure,” she judges.

His gaze locks with her. “I’m just nervous,” he reveals. “You make me really nervous. I thought you hated me just an hour ago, and now…”

She gapes at him. “I thought you hated me!”

“That’s what Julie said,” he adds, pointing towards her.

Y/N jolts her body away from him. “You spoke about me with Julie?” As if she summoned her, Julie’s contact lights up her phone. “Hello,” she answers.

“Is Luke over there?” she asks. “Sorry! Hi, it’s just the boys were worried.” Y/N sneaks a glimpse towards Luke who can’t seem to take his eyes off of her, it’s like he’s trying to memorize every single part of her body.

“He’s not, but I had a question for you.” Luke looks at Y/N confused as to why she lied. “Did you guys talk about anything earlier? He was acting weird, and you know with you being good friends with him, and us being the best of friends, I wanted to know.”

“Oh my God!” she exclaims. “He was out of it the entire rehearsal after we told him you weren’t going to be there, and he was all worried, and concerned, it was adorable. Dude is so in love with you it’s insane. I mean even Reggie and Alex were talking about how he talks about you, and how he stares at you, and how he’s so invested in you. I’d say he’s obsessed.”

Y/N lets out a victorious hum. “Good to know, well, I’ll let you know if I see him--oh wait, he’s right next to me, thanks for the info.” Y/N hangs up.

“She told you about rehearsal didn’t she?” He plays with the rings on his fingers, a nervous habit he picked up.

“Yep.” Y/N pops the ‘p’. “She said you’re obsessed with me.”

“Not true!” he argues. “Sort of…” He pouts. “Not in a creepy way though!” He tries to grab her hand, but it goes straight through. “This will be interesting.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agrees. “But, we’ll get through it…”

Luke then learned one thing about himself that night. He was touched-starved.

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innittowinit · 3 years

Text

Tommyinnit is going to be okay

summary: With lockdown, expectations and grades constantly seeming to be lower than desired, Tommy starts to give up on school. Luckily he has his makeshift family to help him out.

word count: 1778

notes: hhh im super sorry to those of you who were waiting for me to finish the next chapter to my amusement park fic, i was working on it but i'm feeling kinda :/ so i wrote this instead to get da feelings out. Updates should be back to normal next friday. also my birthday is soon!!! 22nd pog!!!!!!!!!! i'm gonna be 16 and i am :D about that

AO3

If you asked him, he’d say he didn’t care. He’d joke about how bad he was doing, call himself stupid, play into the grades and act like they were all he was capable of.

Truth is, he knew he could be better, he knew he was expected to be better, so when he was given his report card and saw that he was scoring mediocre in most subject and even failing a few, he swallowed the lump in his throat and laughed, telling his friends that he didn’t know what he expected.

School was tough but he was expected to be tougher, when he had pages upon pages of chemistry homework so hard that it made him cry, he didn’t tell anyone because that wasn’t what was expected of him. He stayed up for nights on end just trying to grasp at a passing grade but most of the time was spent panicking anyway, so why was anyone surprised when he started to give up?

When he stopped handing in assignments, when he stopped revising, when he stopped turning up to class, why were they all so surprised? They had watched his downfall with front row seats and now were gasping as they saw him drowning in the pool they put him in without teaching him to swim.

So here he was, locked in his bedroom, the shadows of the overly optimistic boy he painted himself as lingered as he looked around. It made him sick to his stomach, to lie to everyone like that. He knew for a fact if anyone from school watched his content they’d know he was lying. It was hard to differentiate himself sometimes, from the boy who just wanted to make his parents proud to the boy who roleplayed on minecraft servers. Now don’t get me wrong, they were both very much him, he just wished he could let his followers know that he wasn’t that happy all the time. It was only when he wasn’t being suffocated by his own academic failures.

Giving up was a stupid idea, it only made his grades worse but he justified it by saying that at least he was failing on purpose now. There could be no disappointment or shame if he didn’t try, if he told everyone that he just didn't care about grades and he could get better ones if he wanted he would be so much less pathetic than if he said that he had put in everything and still done badly. It didn’t work though, he was self-sabotaging. With every failing grade his self esteem fell further and further until he was sure it was gone completely. He didn’t feel stupid, he just felt like everyone else was smarter than him. He thought that maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could get himself out of this funk, but then again that required showing people that he was working hard and if he still failed after that he was sure he’d feel far worse than he already did.

Talking about this to someone was out of the picture too. Aside from the fact that he’d rather eat a live slug than make someone worry about him, he knew he’d just seem lazy and pathetic if he brought it up to anyone anyway. He just didn’t know how to explain that he’d got so overwhelmed that it broke him, it felt like his whole life he wished that people would stop overestimating him.

He just wasn’t good enough.

A knock on his bedroom door brought him out of his self-deprecating spiral, causing him to only curl in on himself, under the blankets, even further. No doubt it was his parents here to nag him about school again.

“Go away mum I don’t care! It doesn’t even matter” he huffed as he pulled his phone out,with the intention to ignore his family through looking at instagram.

“Tommy it’s not your mum” He heard a man’s voice speak from behind the door. “Look it’s me, Wilbur, Phil and Techno are here too. Your parents said you’ve been feeling pretty down lately so we just wanted to hang out. If talking is too much we can just play a game”

Silence.

Tommy took a moment to mull the words over, it stung that his parents had told them about what was going on but he could help but feel a little special that they had traveled so far to come cheer up him specifically. Especially Techno, he wasn’t sure if he should feel honoured or guilty that he had to fly out, deciding that both was probably the best option, he made a metal note to pay him back for the plane ticket.

“Listen Tommy” He heard another man’s voice as he silently walked towards the door “It’ll be okay in the end, I don’t know what you’re going through right now, and you only need to tell us if you want to, but I promise it’ll be okay. Life has a way of making things fit into place in the end”

Biting his lip,Tommy twisted the key to the left, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He knew he looked terrible, his hair was greasy and all over the place, he had a pepsi stain on the shirt he had been wearing for three days straight, and he knew for a fact he smelled unpleasant. Despite all these less than ideal features, the three men all gave him a hug as soon as they saw him. Each one of them had sincere smiles on their faces, they didn’t look like they were here to pity him at least.

Still without saying a word, Tommy stepped to the side to invite them into his messy room, before going to sit on his bed again. Coke and Pepsi cans were overflowing from his bin and he knew the plates of half eaten dinners were starting to smell, still though, they weren’t judging him. Techno and Phil sat either side of him and Wilbur sprawled himself out at the foot of the bed, as much as he wanted to keep up the silence and grumpiness, he couldn’t help but gasp a little, feeling his throat go tight and his eyes heat up with fresh tears, when Techno wrapped an arm around him.

How long had it been since he was hugged like this? It wasn’t like the greeting hug he had just gotten, it was so much more sincere and heartfelt. A ghost of a smile hinted at his lips.

As more silent tears dripped down his cheek, Techno rubbing his arm soothingly, he finally realised that he just wanted someone to genuinely care about him. He didn’t mind high expectations if they came from a good place; whenever Wilbur spoke about how Tommy would be so much bigger than he already was, he didn’t feel pressured, he felt motivated. He knew Wilbur genuinely believed in him and more importantly would still care about him if he didn’t live up to what he expected, in contrast to his parents who he honestly wasn’t sure if he had unconditional love from or not.

That’s what the problem was. Finally, he had Techno, Phil and Wil all here because they loved him, and he knew they wouldn’t judge him. They wouldn’t hate him for failing an exam, they wouldn’t mock him for getting overwhelmed, they certainly would love him no matter how bad he messed up.

Right in that moment, he stopped caring about whether or not he’d make people worry, he stopped caring about any possibly negative opinions of him because he knew he was safe, and he leant his head against Techno’s shoulder, crying out all the stress and insecurities that had lead to his spiral in the first place. It wasn't long before Phil joined in, wrapping an arm around him from the other side, and then came Wilbur, who was practically laying against all three of them as he tried to hug him from where he had been sat.

“It’s a lot of work and it’s a lot of expectations…..y’know I’m just not smart enough to live up to what they want me to do”

The blonde choked out his words, it felt great not to have to hold back his feelings for once, to finally have people who would listen. Really though, they had been there all along, his judgement had just been too clouded that he hadn’t realised.

“Listen Toms”

He heard Phil sigh sympathetically,

“You’re a smart boy, if school is making you feel like this, maybe the way you’re learning is the problem, I know it’s super generic advice but if you can find a teacher you trust you should be able to talk about what alternatives there are. As for expectations, fuck ‘em. You’re doing your own thing and you’re doing it well. You’ve already surpassed everyone's expectations.”

He felt Phil move over so Wilbur could sit with them properly, with pretty much 4 men all sitting on the same section of the bed, it was a squish but they made it work.

“Tommy man, I was a massive nerd in school. I was such a perfectionist that I’d panic about any grade lower than like 95%, I didn’t even have any expectations I was trying to live up to, I just wanted to be the best at everything. Anyway I’ve had more ruts like what you’re going through than I can count so I’m speaking from experience when I say, I promise you it’s gonna be fine. Tommy you’ll be okay”

Tommy didn’t bother replying, he was too choked up from the sheer vulnerability and love that he didn’t want to open his mouth and risk any noise coming out.

“Big T,” Wilbur chuckled as he practically climbed over Phil to see him properly, “I failed half my GCSE’s and I’m doing great. Try your hardest but if things go tits up just know that you’re life won't just be over”

Tommy just nodded, wiping at his eyes as he leant his head against Techno. For the first time in a long time he felt loved.

“We actually had a plan.” Wilbur had taken Phil’s spot, on the bed, completely now, and the man was left to crouch next to it. “We’ll clean up in here while you go take a shower and then we can watch Up. We made Techno bring some of those American sweets over and we also got a load from Tesco on our way here. How’s that sound?”

Again, Tommy nodded his head. He was going to be okay.

#tommyinnit #wilbur soot #Philza #technoblade #sleepy bois inc #sbi #fanfic #Emotional Hurt/ Comfort #school

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juyeoniemyhoney · 4 years

Text

can this morning never end

Namjoon is the most beautiful human being to ever walk the earth. It is natural that you have a crush on him. You expect that eventually, your feelings will die out but then, you find yourself squealing uncontrollably outside of the library that you and Namjoon had agreed to meet at for your pair-work assignment. You have always watched Namjoon from afar. It surprises you when you find out that Namjoon has been observing you too. Well, there’s a first for everything.

-pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

-genre: FLUFF, a lil bit of angst, high school/secondary school au (where i live high school is called secondary school;-;)

-warnings: vulgarities, pretty self-depreciating writing if im gonna be honest so be weary, Namjoon is a little bit of a simp for oc in this one, the ending is lowkey shit rip im sorry

-word count: 3208 words

-A/N: hi hi im back, this time with a Namjoon fic. i havent been writing a lot because im so preoccupied with my exams. in all honesty, i shouldnt be writing at all but i have absolutely no sense of self control, so i wrote this. it’s not my best but i really like how joon’s so soft in this so i decided to post it anyway. don’t be afraid to tell me how you liked (or didnt like) this imagine! and requests are open! hope you enjoy this one:)

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As you approach the entrance of the library, your heart starts beating a mile a minute.

You stall outside the automatic sliding doors, mind racing with a million scenarios. You freak out a little and silently squeal, earning you disapproving frowns and judging eyes from passers-by. But you don't care. You've waited a whole week for today.

A week ago, during English class, you were busy writing instead of paying attention, as usual, when your teacher had given the class the assignment to write a scenario, of any genre but it had to contain the writer's techniques she had taught in class. And she made the whole class pair up. You, too lost in the world of fanfiction, had not been listening and frankly, you didn't really care, passing her words off as just more homework.

The next thing you knew, Kim Namjoon had turned around in his chair, calling your name in that deep, gravelly voice. At the sound of his voice, your head immediately shot up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Do you want to partner up?" he had asked, lips slinging into an easy grin, eyes curling up and that goddamned dimple making itself made known on his left cheek. He patiently waited for your answer, eyes periodically glancing down to your desk that was in disarray, pieces of paper containing your words messily covering every corner of your desk. You pray that he didn't catch a peep of your (admittedly) cringeworthy fanfic as you tried to subtly gather the papers before he could read too much.

"Um, partner up for what?" you questioned, confused, head tilting ever so slightly to the right in question, brows furrowed in misunderstanding. He mirrored your actions and your heart had unwontedly skipped a beat. A beat of silence passed, "For the assignment?"

Before you could ask what assignment?, your teacher had interrupted your conversation with a satisfied clap and a smile. "Alright, I assume you have all found your partners. I'll give you time to work on your assignment right now. Remember that planning is the most important stage of writing. Do approach me if you have any questions."

Namjoon had turned back to you with a wry grin that looked a tad bit awkward, saying, "Well, I guess we're partners now."

Which is how you find yourself freaking the fuck out in front of a library on a Saturday morning, mind racing with different, absurd scenarios and outcomes of this meeting. You decide to take another minute to compose yourself.

You wouldn't say that you like Namjoon per se. You just think he is the most handsome man to walk on this godforsaken planet. But seriously, that man is far too beautiful to be real. From the first time you met him til now, you have no doubt that that man is a celestial being, gifted to the world from the gods, purely to cleanse the eyes of us, mere mortals. To make matters worse, he is smart too; of a wisdom thousands of years beyond his age. You still can't believe you've had the god-given opportunity to meet someone like him.

Okay so, maybe you kind of like him a lot, more than you let on, but you're not really sure if you like him because he's Namjoon or if it's because you are lovelorn, touch deprived, or both.

You reckon it has taken more than a minute to compose yourself because by the time you snap out of your daze, you are five minutes late when you had actually arrived five minutes earlier than the agreed timing. You sigh and finally walk through the doors that welcome you into the cooling library, cold blasts from the air conditioning cooling down the fierce blush that had taken refuge on your cheeks.

You immediately proceed to find a seat but Namjoon texts you, telling you that he's already a step ahead of you, having secured a seat in a room with tables on the second floor.

When you reach the second floor, and make your way towards the rooms, you can see Namjoon through the glass walls, sitting down and silently reading a book as he waits for you. The closer you draw to the room, the faster your heart pounds in your chest. The sound is deafening and distracting and you don't even realise how fast you had walked until you are finally knocking on the glass door, sending Namjoon a small smile when he looks up at you.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets, smile widening into a grin so wide that it hides his eyes. Your heart stops but you hide it with a small smile as you settle down your things and yourself opposite him.

"So, what genre did you want to write about," he asks as you take a pen and a piece of paper out from your bag. You freeze when your brain registers his sentence. "The assignment is to write a story?"

Namjoon stares at you wordlessly for a while, speechless that it's been a week and you still don't know what the fucking assignment is. You, however, have no idea that he is thinking about how stupid you are and happily stare back at him, taking in his mono lidded, almond-shaped eyes and the dark brown of his irises. His nose bridge is straight and the tip of his nose is a little flat, like a koala. You have never wanted to boop a nose so bad in your entire life.

"Yeah, that's the assignment," he responds patiently, giving you a gentle smile. You can't help but feel that it seems a little tight and forced, like he is regretting asking you be his partner, and regretting that he didn't have enough time to reconsider. You ignore the feeling of dejection that slowly bubbles up inside of you.

"I thought that it'd be easiest to write romance since you're so well versed in that.". You freeze. Time seems to have stopped and your ears refuse to register the rest of what Namjoon is saying, tuning everything out but your deafening thoughts. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

"You know that I write?" you interrupt Namjoon. He stops and fixes you a look of confusion, like it is so obvious that you write. It's not that you've been trying to keep it a secret. The thing is, for most of your stories, Namjoon is the main male character. In most of your stories, you have described every single part of him in excruciating detail, his eyes and lips especially. When your friends had first read your stories with Namjoon as the male protagonist, they had caught on quickly, almost immediately asking you if you were describing Namjoon because of how well you had described him. A bad feeling washes over you.

"Yeah, you're always scribbling away during English so I got curious and asked a few of your classmates," he responds, flashing you another lopsided smile. If this were any other situation, your heart would have been absolutely eliminated because of that smile but in this situation, all you can think about is if he's read any of your work. Because if he has, you're done for.

"What did my classmates say?" you question hesitantly, still deciding if you want to know his answer.

"Well they said that you've been writing since forever. They also said that a lot of people know that you write. Oh, and they also said that you had some published works so I went to check them out—" Namjoon's voice fades out as he continues to talk.

This is it.

It's the end of your social life. Namjoon is going to tell his loud ass group of friends that you write stalker-esque stories about him and then one of his friends is going to accidentally tell their girlfriend and then the girlfriend is going to spread it across the school and you'll be known as the loser who writes creepy stalker stories about Namjoon—

"It was amazing," you hear Namjoon say in between your mild quarter-life crisis. You pause and look him square in the eye. You want to come off as serious but you falter slightly when Namjoon stares back at you, irises a whirlpool of dark brown and glittering fascination, a swirling vortex that draws you in with a vicious intent of drowning.

"Yes?" Namjoon questions you after a beat of silence passes. You want to ask him if he knows that he is reading about himself but you stop yourself. "You like my stories?" you ask instead, feeling a tad bit shy now that you've realised that Namjoon likes what you write about him.

He lets out a small laugh, "Is it that hard to believe that I like what you write?"

"I was just surprised." He flashes you another wide grin and there it is, those cursed dimples show themselves again, grinning tauntingly at you and your heart commits the highest act of treason when it starts to beat faster. You gulp.

"You shouldn't be surprised. It was really good. I really liked it when you described the male character. It felt like I was looking at him myself. That's why I asked you to be my partner. I'm sure with your talents, we can get a really good mark on this assignment."

Your heart thuds a little faster when Namjoon tells you that his favourite part was reading about how you described him. But it falls to your stomach when he tells you that he picked you solely for your supposed talents. You don't know why, but a part of you had thought that maybe Namjoon wanted to get to know you better, and was using this assignment as an excuse. You thought that it was finally happening, someone you like has finally noticed you. But it looks like you thought wrong.

"Thank you," you say meekly, flashing him a half-hearted smile that you're sure he notices from the way he stiffens. "So, you said that you thought that romance would be a good genre, but what do you want to write about?"

Namjoon is silent for a while, lips pursed in ponder. You wait patiently for his answer.

"Well, I thought that I'd wanted to write romance too," he answers flashing you an awkward smile. The silence that follows is palpable and suddenly, you feel so very exhausted. "Well then, that's settled. Now we just have to think of a situation."

"How about this one?" Namjoon asks immediately after you finish your sentence. He says it rather suddenly and it startles you a little. You can't help but hear a certain extent of desperation in this voice. He wants to get this over with, you tell yourself.

"How do you mean?"

"Kinda like us now," he starts but stops to think about what to say next. You remain silent. "We should just write about us but make it a love story. For example, the two main characters are supposed to do a project together so they meet at a library," he pauses to gesture to the shelves surrounding the both of you.

"Then they start working on the project and they start talking. Then, somehow, the boy confesses to her. And the girl tells him she's always felt the same way. We can come up with how he confesses since I myself haven't come up with that yet," he continues, softening the last part of his sentence into a mumble that you barely hear, but still do. You pause. What the fuck?

"What did you say? I didn't hear you," you ask against your better judgement, curiosity getting the best of you. "Huh? Oh, it was nothing."

A furious blush begins to spread on the apples of Namjoon's cheeks, and for some reason, your body begins to mirror him, heart pumping hot blood to the blood vessels that lay beneath the skin of your cheeks. Namjoon shyly directs his gaze to his lap, dark brown bangs, the colour of his eyes, coming down in luxurious curls and waves to hide his eyes. You can't help but think that you like to see Namjoon like this; soft and shy and vulnerable because he is usually so confident and suave. It feels like he is showing a new side of himself to you, like he is peeling back the layers of masks and personas he has built until he is left raw and natural, allowing you to see everything that he is. The thought of that leaves you feeling winded because it is exactly what you want. And suddenly, you don't feel bashful or shy because of his words. Instead, you are determined, hellbent on making something out of this and you hope with your whole being that it is a relationship.

You are about to say something, to question him, bombard him until he is spilling his feelings in fumbled words and sentences of desperation and want, clawing at you until you too, are raw and vulnerable. But he beats you to it, speaking in a soft, hushed tone, as if you are a stern silence that he is afraid of interrupting.

"I think you're amazing, Y/N. What do you think of me?"

He stares meekly at his lap, too afraid to even spare you a glance. You remain silent, building his desperation like you are some professional flirt. In all honesty, you really just want to tell him you like him too but you're just so scared. The evidence that he at least feels something for you is right in front of you and yet your brain rejects it like a vending machine rejects a bill, walls built far too high and thick that words are no longer enough to convince you. He has to show you. And you think he knows that too.

Namjoon's head shoots up to stare you in the eyes, a new found determination and confidence burning in his eyes. The way the light finds his dark brown irises makes your heart do a million somersaults. They light up and turn into a golden brown you can't help but compare to a sweet, caramel syrup that coats your tongue in golden, sugary gratification. You swallow so hard, you feel the sides of your throat rub together painfully.

"I think you're freaking amazing, Y/N. Every time I look at you, I always want to make myself better. For you. I want to become the best version of myself in hopes that it'll satisfy you and garner your attention. And I really like that you do what makes you happy. I absolutely love it when you write in English because you're always so focused and serious, plus, you make that really cute face when you're concentrating and it always makes my heart beat a little faster and it makes me hate that I sit in front of you because I have to keep finding stupid reasons to turn around just to look at you and I just think you're the most amazing, admirable, lovable person ever," Namjoon lets out. His words are rushed and desperate and you melt like goddamn candle wax.

"I'm— Wow, I'm— thank you, Namjoon. That really means a lot to me," you stutter, not really knowing what to say at first but finding your words soon enough. "Oh, and I feel the same way," you add, somehow missing the main point of your response. It doesn't matter anyway. He knows now. That's all that matters.

"Wait, really?"

You let out a laugh. "Yeah, Namjoon. Is it that hard to believe that I like you too?" you reply, a homage to your previous conversation.

Namjoon smiles a small smile, then it widens, and widens, and widens, until he is flashing you a blinding grin that could outright beat the glare of sunlight. "You said that you like me," he points out, eyes shining.

It is your turn to blush in embarrassment, cheeks feeling hot as you begin to sink into yourself, hair falling from behind your shoulders to hopefully make itself useful as a curtain to shield your red face from Namjoon. Something in Namjoon's chest begins to splinter at the sight. He is so very tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture of you but he holds himself back at the thought that he is positive he has many more chances to do so. His ribs nearly break in half because of how hard his heart beats.

"It's a good thing that I like you too," he says gently, smile now gentle instead of blinding. "Also, we have a plot now!" he exclaims in excitement as he slides the pen and paper closer to himself, ready to start on your assignment.

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"So, we're, are we? You know... Um, dating now?"

Namjoon's eyes widen in horror and he deflates himself, a disappointed frown pulling his eyebrows together at the centre and turning the corners of his lips down. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't ask— I just assumed—" he cuts himself off, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asks. Somehow, he still feels nervous even though he knows that you answer is a resounding, "Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend."

Namjoon lets out the breath he didn't even know he was holding and it comes out in a relieved sigh. "Thank God because if not our story would have a horrible ending," Namjoon comments, picking the pen back up and clicking it open.

"Let's write that," you cut in before he can say anything else. "Write a sad love story?"

Namjoon is going to tell you no, to completely disapprove of your idea because writing a sad love story is one thing but writing a sad love story that will be handed up to your teacher for her to grade is another thing. But then, he sees your eyes glisten in determination and he dispels his thoughts immediately, folding into himself like a goddamn lawn chair. He can't believe he was just about to say no to you. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"Please? I'm better at writing angst. Plus, we have a happy ending and that's all that matters," you press, trying to convince him. You don't have a real reason other than the fact that you write angst better. You also don't really know why you want to write angst right now when you feel as if you could fly. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. Namjoon is your's now.

Namjoon flashes you a dimpled smile, eyes curling up and glittering with mirth and unadulterated belief in you. You can't help but think that you want him to never stop smiling like that, looking at you like you are some sort of celestial being, hailed from the sky solely to bring him every sort of merriment known to mankind and the heavens. The thought of him thinking of you like that scares you, because you are always afraid of not being enough. But Namjoon diminishes all of your worries with a short sentence, manhandling them by the throat and shoving them off a cliff.

"Okay, I believe in you."

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livesincerely · 3 years

Text

it’s beginning to look a lot like... ch. 2

Also on Ao3. Chapter one here.

00000

The Third Christmas

“You’re making the left side all crooked!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are, it’s all ugly and lopsided!”

“Well, maybe if you’d stop hogging all the blankets⁠!”

“Well, maybe if you’d shut your face⁠!”

Jack’s got one eye on the chaos currently taking place in the living-room-turned-construction-site, the other on the pot of Easy Mac he’s got working up on the stove. The boys are in the middle of building the Christmas Pillow Fort, though it’s been stop and start all morning, with the two of them pausing every few minutes to argue about how the other is doing it wrong.

Jack only tried to intervene the once⁠—Tony and Charlie had called a temporary truce to team up against him instead, shooing him away with the explanation that he’s too lame and too tall to help and that ‘we’re not babies, Jack, we got it!’ Though, given that their efforts have since devolved into an impromptu pillow fight, with shouts of ‘you suck,’ ‘your face is stupid,’ and ‘because Jack said so!’ punctuated by the soft thuwmp of cushions hitting bodies, Jack thinks he can be forgiven for assuming they might’ve needed his help.

But all in all, this Christmas is looking to be one of the best ones yet, and certainly the best one that the boys can remember. Jack had finally turned sixteen at the beginning of the month, and though it was late in the season, he’d managed to pick up some temp work covering holiday rush shifts at the grocery store, so there’d been extra money for better presents and better food this year. And, judging by the wide smiles and overjoyed thanks he’d received when handing over the presents this morning—Two presents each for both of them! Jack had actually managed it!—the boys were more than pleased with their haul.

Though, really, if Jack’d had it his way, he’d of already been working somewhere—an actual part-time job, not just scrounging for seasonal work—but Snyder wouldn’t let him start working until his last birthday, afraid that if Jack had a job too young it would ‘make him look bad,’ the bastard.

Because the underfed children in his care were nothing to worry about, obviously.

Jack’s distracted from his lunch efforts by a sharp rap! rap! rap! of knuckles knocking against the front door, followed by a pause where he thinks whoever it is must’ve tried the doorbell, only to realize that it doesn’t work. He wipes his hands on a dish cloth and turns the burner down, figuring that Tony and Charlie won’t be able to kill each other in the time it takes for him to answer the door, probably, and wanders over to check it out.

He can’t imagine who’d be knocking on Christmas of all days, and especially in this weather, but when he opens the front door he finds Davey standing on the doorstep, bundled up in several layers with a large canvas bag thrown over one of his shoulders.

“Dave!” Jack says, startled but pleased. “What’re ya doin’ here?”

“Hi, Jackie,” Davey says, voice muffled by the scarf covering the bottom half of his face, bright blue eyes peeking out from underneath a woolen hat. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jack greets back automatically, then flushes, shaking his head. “Or, no, sorry, Happy Hanukkah.”

It’s hard for Jack to read his expression but he thinks he sees Davey’s eyes crinkle up at the corners⁠—an indication of a smile. Jack’s heart does a funny little hop-skip in his chest.

“Thanks,” Davey says.

“Here, come on in,” Jack says, opening the door a little wider.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude⁠—”

“You ain’t intrudin’,” Jack insists. “And besides, we’re lettin’ all the warm air out.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” Davey says, stepping into the entrance hall.

“Can you stay a while?” Jack asks, eager to keep Davey in his space for as long as he can, a soft feeling fluttering in his stomach. “I can take your coat, fix you somethin’ to drink, or get you a snack if you’re hungry?”

“That sounds nice,” Davey says, and he sounds like he really means it. “But I can’t stay for long. I had a hard enough time convincing my Ma to let me come out in the first place, what with the snow and all. If I’m not home soon she’ll be worried.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack says, disappointed, and then feeling stupid that he’s disappointed in the first place. What, was he gonna serve Davey up a bowl of Easy Mac? Show him the wonders of the pillow fort?

Davey, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice the dip in Jack’s mood. “I just wanted to make sure I got these to you,” he says, letting the canvas bag he’s carrying slip off his shoulder and into his hand, holding it out to Jack in offering. “I didn’t want to bother you over break, but you weren’t at school on Friday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack says lamely, not wanting to get into how Charlie and Tony’s school had a half day on Friday because of the holiday, forcing Jack to cut class so he’d be able to pick them up on time. “What is it, my makeup work? Thanks for pickin’ that up for me, I really can’t afford to miss any more English assignments.”

“No, it’s not that,” Davey says. “Or, well, actually it is, but it’s not just your homework…”

Davey keeps talking but Jack doesn’t hear the rest of the explanation, though he doesn’t need to once he peers into the bag. Because it’s stacked full of presents, each wrapped in shiny blue paper dotted with silver snowflakes, tied neatly with white ribbon.

“Merry Christmas?” Davey offers, and he looks a little uncertain, fidgeting nervously with the fringe on his scarf.

“You got me a Christmas present?” Jack asks, numbly.

“You and the boys,” Davey confirms with a nod. “Just a little something for the holiday.”

“You didn’t hafta do that, Dave,” Jack says, still not quite processing. “I don’t wantcha to waste your money on me.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Davey says. “I wanted to.” Then he reaches out and swats Jack across the shoulder with his gloved hand. “And it’s not a waste of money, it’s a gift.”

“But…” Jack’s face feels hot, some mix of surprise, embarrassment, and joy. “But I don’t got nothin’ for you.”

“Jackie, just take the presents,” Davey says, in that fondly exasperated tone that Jack has quickly gotten accustomed to over the last few months, “and don’t worry about it. I wanted to. And it’s not like I need a Christmas present.”

“But Hanukkah—“

“—Isn’t the same thing,” Davey interrupts, kindly but firmly. “We exchange presents, sure, but Hanukkah isn’t, like, the Jewish version of Christmas. Really, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Jack says, and his voice a little raspy as he chokes back a sudden wave of emotion, but if Davey notices he’s nice enough not to mention it. “Hey, are you sure ya can’t stay for a sec? Race and Charlie would love to see ya.”

But Davey shakes his head. “I really do need to get home,” he says, apologetic, turning back towards the door. “But tell them Merry Christmas from me, okay?”

“Will do,” Jack says. “And tell your folks Happy Hanukkah from us.”

“I will,” Davey says with a soft smile. “Have a good break, Jackie.”

Jack really wants to hug him, but he can’t with the stack of presents in his arms. He settles for a nod and a sort-of wave. “You too, Dave.”

Jack stands there for a short while, watching Davey’s trek down the sidewalk through the window until he disappears from view. Then he makes his way into the living room.

“Hey, Racer, Charlie,” Jack says. “Time out for a second.”

Tony’s head pops up from where he’s lying half on top of Charlie, pushing his brother’s face against the floor. “I didn’t do it,” he says.

“Well, I didn’t do it,” Charlie retorts, his indignant pout muffled somewhat by the carpet.

“Did I say anyone did anything?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Keep this up and you're gonna make me think I shouldn’t give ya these nice presents...”

“There’s more presents?” Tony exclaims, jumping to his feet. “Where?!”

“Slow your roll there, conejito,” Jack laughs. “They ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He gestures to the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Davey stopped by,” he explains. “He couldn’t stay but he brought us some Christmas presents.”

He waits for the boys to gather around, then hands out the presents: one for each of them, and a final one for Jack. Tony and Charlie tear right into theirs, gleeful, but Jack takes a moment to just look at his own gift⁠—inspecting the shiny foiled paper and the neatly folded corners, the curly white ribbon and the cheery holiday tag that reads ‘Jack’ in precise, rounded letters.

It’s been years since he’s gotten a Christmas present. It’s almost like his body doesn’t remember what to do with one.

The boys have no such qualms.

“Ooh!” Tony exclaims, pulling a mass of cherry-red yarn out of his package. “Jack, look!” It’s a hat, scarf, and mitten set, perfectly sized for a eight year old, soft and warm and perfect for New York winter.

“I got one too!” Charlie says, uncovering a matching set, this one done up in pine green. He tugs the hat onto his head, then wraps himself up in his scarf, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Oh, and look what else!” Tony says. There’s a pair of DVDs tucked in between the knitwear: a copy of ‘The Lion King’ and ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.’ A second glance into Charlie’s present reveals copies of ‘The Princess Bride’ and ‘How to Train Your Dragon.’

Jack takes a shaky breath, a lump settling somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Jack, aren't cha gonna open yours?” Charlie asks, innocently clueless.

“Yeah, of course I am Choo-Choo,” Jack says, and he’s glad the boys are distracted by their gifts, because while he’s managing to keep his voice steady, he’s not sure he can hide the wetness pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Cautiously, he rips the paper off his own gift. The first thing he finds is another hat, scarf, and mitten set, this one done in a rich, charcoal gray. It’s soft as anything, thick and plush, and Jack can already imagine how useful it’ll be in the coming months.

He feels something hard nestled underneath, and at first he thinks it must be another pair of DVDs⁠—he’s sensing something of a theme with all of this. But when Jack investigates further, he instead finds a sketchbook. It’s a simple, solid thing, with a sturdy black cover and creamy white pages. The label on the back tells him that the paper is weighted for pencils, charcoal, inks, and water colors⁠—all of Jack’s preferred mediums, except that he’s sure he’s never told Davey any of that.

“Jack, can we watch this?” Tony asks, holding up the copy of ‘How to Train Your Dragon.’ “It’s s’pposed to be really good!”

“Sure we can, baby,” Jack says, running a trembling finger along the first page of the sketchbook, basking in the texture and scent of the fresh, crisp paper. “Go set up the DVD player and get the fort finished up. I’ll dish up our lunch and be right there.”

Slotted inside the book’s front cover is one last surprise⁠—a $25 dollar prepaid phone card for Jack’s cell phone. There a sticky note stuck to it that simply reads:

So you can actually call me back :)

Jack huffs out a laugh, then slips the note safely into his pocket, packing his gifts carefully back into their box. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, smiling to himself. “I think I can make that happen.”

00000

Chapter three here

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #javid #*the writing desk #*editor's note #*final cut #the domestic au

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years

Text

the beard and the boyfriend.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), age gap (reader over 18), everything consensual

word count: 4.0k

a/n: tbh i needed an excuse to dedicate a chapter to oscar isaac’s beard. this literally exists to satiate my thirst for the beard, so if you feel the same way, this one’s for you!

finn and rey on deck. we’ll start moving things along again. just had to get this out of my system. special thanks to “clean shaven, five days ago” from this video for the beard love.

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

You weren’t entirely sure how things got to this point.

Poe had wrapped up class earlier than usual and, after emailing the entire class the details of their next big assignment, brought up some Youtube video that someone had mentioned in an offhanded comment earlier. Students lingered to talk with him, some left already, and some were hanging out just having conversations.

A loud kid who sat in the front, you were pretty sure his name was DJ, started asking about the assignment Poe had iterated twice that D’Acy wanted them to do. You rolled your eyes and started to leave, not interested in sticking around to listen to him complain. He was a cocky loudmouth who liked to party and sweet talk his way into others doing his homework instead of doing the work himself.

“Is there anyway we can convince you to not make us do it?” DJ asked. You stole a glance at Kaydel, both of you admiring the nerve this guy had. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and certainly wouldn’t be the last. You could tell Poe was getting a little annoyed too.

“Probably not.” Poe said with a tone of finality.

“What about a bet?” DJ persisted. “You win, we’ll do the assignment. I win, we don’t and everyone gets 100%.”

That caught everyone’s attention, even Poe’s. You and Kaydel stopped by the door. The room was silent as they looked between Poe and DJ. Poe leaned back in his chair, tapping the butt of his pen against the desk.

“Well, it depends.” He finally said. Everyone desperately hung onto his every word. “What did you have in mind?”

DJ contemplated, his hand on his chin. No one thought Poe would take him up on his offer, so he was quickly trying to come up with something.

“Beard-off.”

“Beard-off?”

“Whoever can grow the best one wins.”

Poe tapped his fingers against his knee. The offer was tempting, mostly because Poe knew he could win.

“You’ve got me interested,” Poe said. “You’re on.”

The class erupted in quiet chatter, mostly in excitement about this bet. DJ suddenly looked towards the back of the room.

“Snap man, you can grow a mean beard. You want in?”

Snap nodded as Poe brought the attention of the class back to him.

“Wait, how many people are going to be in on this? It has to be fair.”

“Just me and Snap, promise.” DJ said. “No more.”

You could practically see the gears turning in Poe’s head. He never was one to back down from a challenge, and even though he was now outnumbered he really didn’t want to give DJ the satisfaction. He bit his lip in consideration. He looked around the room, gauging the reactions. When he locked eyes with yours, you gave him a raise of your eyebrows.

“Alright, here are the rules.” Poe finally said, looking back at DJ. “We start tomorrow, clean shaven. We’ll see who can grow the best beard by class on Tuesday. Six days. No shaving, no grooming, no products or at home remedies to try and make it thicker faster. DJ wins, I’ll waive the assignment and give everyone 100%. Snap wins, I’ll waive the next test and give everyone 100%. I win, everyone does both the assignment and the test plus something extra.”

The room held it’s breath as DJ considered the terms. He looked across the room at Snap, who shrugged and nodded.

“You’re on, Dameron.” DJ said, approaching the desk to shake Poe’s hand.

“Class votes on Tuesday.” Poe said. “And I know you guys don’t want the assignment or the test, but please try to be fair. It’s not going to be any fun knowing I kicked their butts if you’re going to vote for them anyway.”

The guys in the classroom hollered at the challenge. A proud smirk grew on your face.

This was going to be fun.

》》》

The week went by fast.

You saw Poe Thursday evening, his stubble already darkening. You had plans to visit Tallie that weekend and he refused to send you pictures of the progression of his beard, citing that you should be impartial in judging in class. You told him you’d vote for him regardless, to which he chuckled and said he’d want you to be surprised.

Poe wasn’t in class when you got there, which was odd to you considering he was always about ten minutes early. DJ and Snap were both early, talking to their admirers who were already buzzing with excitement.

“So, what do you think?” DJ yelled across the room as you walked to your seat.

“I think I never want to see either of you without facial hair ever again.”

For as long as you’d known Snap, you’d never seen him without his beard. To say you were disturbed by a smooth baby-faced Snap was an understatement. And DJ, well, you never paid much attention to him to care, but it was still a weird sight to see. You’d seen them both with thicker beards, but the beards they had after a week were coming in pretty nicely, though they were short so you could still see the skin of their face underneath.

“Oh, come on!”

You glanced over at DJ, who had thrown his hands up in the air in frustration. You followed his line of sight and your jaw dropped.

Poe was barely recognizable. His beard was dark and thick, tremendously superior to DJ and Snap’s. It filled his face nicely and just looked natural. They gawked at him and you could see a smug grin on his face. You propped your elbow up on your desk and rested your chin in your palm, shaking your head in disbelief and openly gawking at him like everyone else in the room. Poe set his stuff down and glanced at you before looking at his two competitors. You made it very obvious to him that you were checking him out.

“That’s not fair.” DJ said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Look at that thing! That’s after a week?” Snap asked incredulously. Poe grinned smugly and Snap shook his head in disbelief and put his hands up in defeat as he walked to his seat. “Damn. That’s beautiful, man.”

“You had to have used something to make it grow fast.” DJ accused. There would be no vote. He knew he lost. Hell, everyone knew he lost.

“Nope,” Poe said, propping up on his desk and crossing his arms. “I didn’t do anything to it except let it grow.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Some students voiced their complaints about what he said, telling him to give it up and accept defeat. It was just a stupid bet, after all, even if DJ’s pride was wounded.

“Call my girlfriend,” Poe said simply with a shrug, knowing DJ would never actually do anything to make a case against him. Your head snapped in his direction. “She can vouch for me.”

You bit the end of your pen to stop the big grin that was starting to form on your face. You could practically hear the groans of disappointment of the girls around you. As his eyes swept over where you sat, you gave him a soft smile.

“Good effort, guys. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured out the extra thing you’re going to do for me.”

It was the longest hour and a half of your life. You could barely concentrate with Poe looking the way he did. You couldn’t concentrate in the class you had after his either. You were getting too excited to see Poe. You forced yourself to write down whatever was on the slides even though the words didn’t translate into learned knowledge. You had just left the building when the music you had just turned on for your walk home was interrupted by your ringtone, Poe’s name flashing across the screen.

“I thought you had student meetings all afternoon?”

“I’ve got about twenty minutes before my next one.”

You checked the time on your phone. You weren’t too far away from Poe’s office, so you decided to make your way over there.

“What’re you doing?”

“Heading home to get started on a paper so I can go see my boyfriend tonight.”

Poe smiled even though you couldn’t see him. It had been a slip of the tongue and he almost dreaded seeing your reaction in case it was too fast. You’d only been dating a week and hadn’t even had a second date yet. But the smile he saw on your face sent a wave of relief through his body.

“You have a minute to stop by? I want to see you.”

“Aw, did you miss me this weekend?”

“I might’ve.”

“I might’ve missed you, too.”

‘Might’ve’ was a lie. You definitely did. The honeymoon phase was going strong and you found yourself wanting to spend as much time with him as possible, especially since the relationship with your roommates was still strained. But you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t be that girl who dropped everything and everyone for a boyfriend.

“Have you talked to your roommates?”

“If you count mumbling ‘hey’, ‘please’, and ‘thank you’ as riveting conversation, then yes. I don’t even know if they’re mad at me.”

“Are you still mad at them?”

“I don’t know. It was never their reaction that bothered me. It was the fact that they think I’d whore around for a good grade and that I’m not smart enough to think of the consequences if people were to find out.”

“I could talk to them, if you want.”

You knew Poe was joking, but you also knew he’d probably do it if you asked. “I can’t imagine that going over well, but thank you for the offer.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay with me and Beebs if it gets too much.”

“I know. And I so appreciate that.” You said fondly, careful to climb the stairs up to his floor without him hearing your voice echo. “So the beard…”

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“I like it, you look really good with it. The only thing is that hides the dimple you get when you smile that I’ve grown so fond of. But once again, you’ve proven you can pull something off that only a handful of men can. You’re perfect and it’s so annoying.”

Poe’s loud laughter could be heard from down the hall.

“You kind of look like a hipster with it. All you need is a beanie or a fedora,” you teased. “Oh, and some skinny jeans and Ray Bans. You walk down the street with those plus your guitar and people could mistake you for a handsome yet douchey indie singer.”

“Make fun all you want,” Poe said, his voice low. “I don’t think you’ll be doing much teasing when you feel it between your thighs later tonight.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your body and settle straight in your core. You glanced around to make sure no one was around.

“Such a shame I have to wait until tonight, unless…”

“Is that a challenge?”

You stood in Poe’s doorway, admiring the leisurely way he sat back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk.

“If you want it to be.”

The look on Poe’s face when he heard your voice in his doorway rather than through the phone made you laugh. You shut the door and locked it, tossing your backpack, coat, and phone onto one of the chairs in front of his desk. You thanked your lucky stars you didn’t have to worry about windows looking out into the hallway, instead there was just one that looked outside three stories up from the ground.

You met him in the middle of his office, pulling him into a hug with your arms around his shoulders. Poe’s arms circled his arms around your waist and he buried his head in your hair, breathing deeply as he swayed you both back and forth.

“Having you in class sucks,” he said against your hair. “You’re right there and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“You’re telling me. It was really hard not just stare at you all throughout class, especially when you came in with this.” You brought a hand up to cradle Poe’s jaw, making him lift his head so he was looking down at you. You tilted his head so you could get a closer look. “This really does look good. I don’t know what I was expecting to see today, but I was notdisappointed. And thank youfor shutting DJ up.”

“Hopefully he’ll think twice about being a pain in the ass for the rest of the semester.”

“Doubtful, but I admire your optimism.”

Poe smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“By the way, I accept your challenge.” Poe suddenly swung you around, leading you back to his desk. You nearly tripped on your feet, the back of his desk hitting your lower back. “Want to see what I can do in ten minutes?”

You nodded eagerly, the ache between your legs becoming uncomfortable. Poe brought you in to meet his lips by the back of your neck. It was teasing, light as a feather. He applied more pressure and traced his tongue along your lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access and he immediately invaded, exploring your mouth like he was searching for treasure. The beard against your face tickled, an unfamiliar but entirely pleasant feeling. You nearly shivered thinking about how it would feel between your legs.

Poe made quick work of pulling your jeans down to your ankles. He dragged two fingers through your folds, swirling your collected arousal around your clit. He knelt on the ground in front of you, nipping the insides of your thighs and soothing the sting with his tongue. The friction of his beard against the soft skin of your thigh was indescribable. It was soft and rough at the same time.

“Poe, you have—fuck—you have seven minutes.”

Poe removed his fingers and lowered his mouth onto your pussy, his tongue flat and licking a long stripe from your opening to your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk, your teeth biting your lip so hard you were sure you’d draw blood. Poe laid an arm across your lap, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue against your clit, a soft moan coming from your chest. One of your hands found his way into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He glided his fingers back in, sliding them almost all the way out before adding a third and curling them. A loud groan tore from your throat. Poe stood up and removed his lips, stilling his fingers. You let out a whine of protest.

“You have to keep quiet,” Poe smirked against your lips. “Or I stop. Understand?”

You nodded.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Good girl,” Poe muttered, quickly pecking your lips before kneeling down again. The dominating tone of voice practically made you quake with arousal. Poe’s fingers started pumping into you at a quick pace, his tongue returning to your clit matching its pace. His fingers brushed against the sweet spot inside you, your legs trembling as the white-hot burn in your belly flared.

Poe brushed his fingers by your spot again and, with firm pressure against it, wrapped his lips fully around your clit and sucked. A swore under your breath and a soft cry fell from your lips as you fell over the edge, riding Poe’s fingers as he lapped up every last bit. Your head dropped forward, a breathless giggle leaving you as you got your breathing under control. Poe removed his fingers slowly, sucking them into his mouth obscenely with his eyes on yours and that smug grin back on his face. He grabbed your hand and pulled you upright. Your legs were a little shaky beneath you as you pulled your bottoms back up.

“I am sopaying you back tonight,” you said, buttoning your jeans before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Remind me to never everbet against you.”

“I always win.” Poe smirked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He leaned down to kiss you when a knock on the door interrupted him. You scrambled quietly to make yourself presentable and quickly put your coat on. You sat down in the vacant chair to play the part as Poe opened the door, his whole hand over the lock to make sure he masked the sound of it unlocking.

“I’m finishing up a private conversation with someone, can you hang out for minute or two and I’ll wrap it up?”

You stifled a giggle as the student agreed. Poe shut the door again and you stood up, grabbing your bag. With both hands on your face, he pulled you into a sweet kiss.

“I’ll see you later,” he muttered, placing another quick peck on your lips. You bit your lip. “And don’t do that, it drives me crazy.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, which he kissed away. You opened the door and paused. “Since, I’m here…”

You opened your backpack and took out the book you had borrowed, handing it back to Poe as the student entered his office.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow it. It really helped.”

Poe nodded in acknowledgement before shutting the door behind you. A giddy smile was on your face the entire walk back to your apartment. It was a slow walk, the burn of his beard on your skin rubbing uncomfortably against the denim of your jeans. The first thing you did when you got into your apartment was change into a looser pair of lounge pants, the sting a painful and pleasant memory you’d replay in your head over and over again.

You had a plan: a couple of hours of homework before Poe would text you to let you know he was finally home. You settled into the love seat in your living room with your laptop on your lap and a textbook leaning up against the arm of the chair. You were comfy and, with the relaxing music coming from some random Spotify playlist you found to help you concentrate, also on the verge of sleepiness.

Movement caught the corner of your eye but you paid no mind to it. You had heard rustling when you walked in, so you knew at least one of your roommates was home. You only glanced up when Karé sat on the coffee table in front of you next to your propped up legs. You looked back at your down at your laptop when she spoke.

“Can we talk?”

You saved your work, closed your computer, and marked the page of the book and set them all aside, pausing the music on your phone as well.

“I’m sorry,” Karé said. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“You had every right to be shocked,” you said quietly. Karé shook her head.

“I’m sorry for making you think you were stupid and that you didn’t know what you were doing.You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I know this isn’t a good enough reason, but I only said what I said because I care about you. Jessika does too. I know she feels really bad.”

“Good. She should.”

“We both meant well. Jessika just doesn’t always have a filter and will say whatever’s on her mind, consequences be damned. We just don’t want you getting into any kind of trouble. Professor Dameron either, I mean he’s a great teacher.”

“I know, but you know me. I know the risks and Poe does too. That’s why we’re being careful,” you explained. “Besides, it’s not like Poe’s going to be hanging out here or spending the night like Snap does. There are a lot of things we can’t do. Which is fine, I’m not complaining, but you guys don’t have to worry about being uncomfortable with him here.”

“I know. I trust your judgment.” Karé said. “I really am sorry.”

You leaned forward and brought your friend into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly. And that was all she needed to know everything was ok between you two.

“For the record, I don’t think I’d be uncomfortable having him here,” Karé said, pulling out of the hug. “It might be a little weird at first since he’s a teacher and all, but you have just as much a right as either of us to have a boyfriend over. Boyfriend, right? Or are you not labeling it yet?”

“Yeah, boyfriend. Today, actually.”

Karé smiled at the way your eyes lit up.

“You’re clearly happy. I’ve seen it when you talked about him even before your date last week and when you come home after seeing him. We’re your friends and we should support that as long as he treats you right, so you have mine. And I know you have Jessika’s too, she just needs a little more time.”

“Thank you.”

There was a comfortable silence that settled over the two of you.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing Karé’s attention. “I have to finish telling you about my date.”

“There’s more?”

“We went back to his apartment after. He had made dinner earlier, there was wine and candles and dancing…Karé we freakin’ danced, like it was straight out of a romantic comedy.”

“Damn. I’m going to have to tell Snap to step it up.”

You laughed, glad that things were cleared up with at least one of your roommates. Karé had always tried to remain the levelheaded, neutral one, so you were thankful things with her were back to normal.

“Oh! You have to tell me what happened with Ben.”

“There’s honestly not a lot to tell. He just texted me out of the blue. Just ‘hey, how are you?’”

“Did you text him back?”

“Not right away, but yeah. We were friends before we dated. We didn’t end on the best terms but it wasn’t hostile or anything.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“When we broke up four years ago. He’s been abroad ever since.”

“Are you going to tell Poe about him?”

“If he comes up in conversation or if he asks about Ben, then yeah, I’ll tell him. I don’t have anything to hide. Like I said, Ben and I were friends for a little bit before we dated. My dad and his dad were good friends.”

“What about his mom?”

“I’ve never met her. She wasn’t in the country when we dated.”

Karé gave you a look. “Well, I hope he doesn’t try anything.”

“I’m not worried, but don’t worry I’ll tell you if anything happens.”

“Good. So…do you want to order in food tonight?” Karéasked. “We have a lot of catching up to do from not talking for the last week.”

“I was going to go to Poe’s later tonight, but I can cancel—“

“No, god no, I can’t ask you to do that. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s perfect.”

Karé patted your leg before she stood. You brought your computer and book back up onto your lap and dove into your work, feeling better and more content about everything.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #smut #poe dameron x y/n #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fluff #back to you series #poe dameron x reader insert #poe dameron fanfiction

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years

Text

He´s a good guy

Word Count: 2,895

Pairing: Tendou x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, hurtful words, SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA, Semi is an asshole (Semi stand don´t come at me)

A/N: this is a mess, idk how this happened, i seriously have no Explanation

Summary: You, a former Manager for Karasuno´s VBC graduate with your classmates and run into Tendou at college

Graduating was weird, you had to admit. It felt like a part of your life was over just like that and yet you weren´t sad about it at all.

Instead you were looking forward to college, finally being able to chase your dreams and do the things you´ve always wanted to.

You were sad to leave all your friends and especially the volleyball club you and Shimizu managed, you were lucky to have found Yachi before you graduated, she did a great job too.

But still, it was hard for you. You got very attached to them, being very empathetic.

Especially the first years were your most treasured students, not that you´d ever tell them that. They just brought so much energy and that seemed to really help the team, everyone was suddenly so much more motivated, everything was coming together.

And then it was over just like that.

You tried to stay in contact as much as possible, but that wasn´t always easy since studying and exams were harder and more time consuming than in high school.

Besides, the club was busy as well.

Before starting college, Daichi, Suga and you decided to be roommates since you would attend the same college. Asahi wanted to study abroad.

Luckily that worked out, all three of you took part time jobs to make sure to be able to pay the rent. You worked throughout the whole summer, saving up enough for a nice place near campus.

The last week of the break before starting college was spent in moving in, you underestimated how much time it took to get all of your stuff and to figure out everything else that was important.

You were all so proud when you managed it and everything was done.

While Daichi was studying to be a police officer and Suga to be a teacher, you were majoring in music. In the past you were pretty insecure about your abilities to sing and play instruments, but your friends and even your teachers motivated you to chase your dream, they convinced you to just go for it.

And you were glad they did since it was what brought you the most joy in life.

Still, you had to take more classes than just music to pass and get the major, which wasn´t the nicest thing in the world. Especially not the exams.

Daichi, Suga and you were all together in the same psychology class and in one of the first lessons you were assigned partners for a project.

That´s when you met Tendou. Sure, you noticed him before, how could you not? He caught your curiosity since he was so quiet and read JUMP. But you never had the guts to talk to him, being too shy to just intrude him like that, asking what his favorite characters were, now, that´d just be awkward.

So you didn´t. You were glad to be partnered up with him since you hoped you could get to know him that way.

Daichi and Suga noticed him too ever since the first lesson, but they couldn´t put a finger on it. They of course knew who he was, but it was strange to see how different he was from the boy they played against back in high school. They wondered what the cause of that change was.

“Hey, um...Tendou-san, was it?” you approached him after the lesson to discuss the project, Daichi and Suga closing in on you.

He nodded, feeling anxious, he knew he shouldn´t have attended college. It was just like when he was a kid, people were staring at him again, but why did it bother him again? Maybe it was because he didn´t have any friends anymore, he hated new places like this. He was better off on his own, couldn´t bear the looks people gave him, for fuck´s sake, it was as if he could hear their thoughts about how weird and creepy and ugly and hideous and utterly disgusting he was and goddamn, he knew. He fucking knew already. All of the confidence he worked up so hard in high school was suddenly gone again and it dragged him down more than he´d like to admit.

“Hey guys, you wanna go to the library together? We could maybe do a study group together” Suga smiled.

“Oh yeah! That´d be great, let´s go” you answered, smiling back and slightly touching Tendou´s shoulder to which he reacted jumpy.

You quickly apologized, the four of you walking to the library together.

“Man, the world sure is small! I never thought we´d see you again and now we´re in the same class” Daichi laughed, addressing Tendou. “Wait...you know each other?” you were pretty confused.

“Oh yeah, he used to go to Shiratorizawa, we played against their team when you were sick” Suga explained and you nodded knowingly.

“Aw man! I wanted to see that game so badly, I can´t believe how unlucky we were sometimes” you whined, getting sympathetic looks from your friends.

“You guys really gave us hell, we barely won” Daichi chuckled, reminiscing about how hard it was to beat them, with players like Ushijima and Tendou on their team.

“Yeah, it was so unfair too, with Ushijima as your ace and all your tall players and you… argh… you really made it difficult for us” Suga added.

“What position did you play?” you asked Tendou who hadn´t said anything to this point.

“Middle blocker” he said quietly.

“Like Hinata and Tsukki” you giggled.

“They are nothing in comparison to him!” Suga groaned to which Tendou blushed a bit in embarrassment, he wasn´t used to getting compliments.

“I wouldn´t say that… Wakatoshi was the true star of the team, he´s the one who deserves the praise, not me” Tendou mumbled.

“Don´t sell yourself short, we had a lot of trouble because of you. You were amazing at blocking, it was like you always knew where we were gonna be before we knew it ourselves and you were so fast...it was incredible” Daichi smiled at him widely.

“Aw, damn, I wish I could´ve seen that! Do you still play?” you asked to which he shook his head.

After that you started working on the project, setting up a group chat for your new study group.

You met up every time when there was homework or a new project, well, when everyone of you had time.

The last part proved to be quite difficult for you personally because you were busy with your band project in your music class.

Still, you somehow managed to do both.

You were in a band with Semi, at first you didn´t like him, his silent nature irked you, it seemed like he was always judging you, but over time you learned to appreciate him. He was very hard working and you two worked well together.

Actually you talked about doing the band after college too, you liked the idea.

In the course of the next months you got closer with Tendou too, getting him to talk more and exchanging opinions on the recent JUMP volumes and other things that interested you two.

It was fun hanging around him and it was true, like Suga and Daichi said, he really was quite quirky and open when he felt comfortable around people, it was nice seeing him be himself around you, it made you feel special.

You had worries at first that you texted him too much, replied too much, annoyed him or were boring to him. Luckily he was always quick to respond to you as well, texting you just as much which made you happy and when you told him that you felt you weren´t worth his time, he couldn´t disagree more.

Tendou told you how amazing you were, how you were the first person in a long time he didn´t scare off, how he could talk about everything with you, no matter how stupid it was, how you would laugh at his jokes and it made him so happy because nobody laughs at his jokes, Semi always tells him to shut up, Semi´s his roommate by the way. Oh you know him? That´s amazing, maybe you should hang out sometime!

And that´s how you ended up in this situation. It was very awkward to say the least.

You knew what Semi thought of Tendou, only that you didn´t know it was Tendou at the time. You thought it was obnoxious how Semi always talked about his annoying roommate, he got quite rude talking about him, stating what a child he was and that it was no wonder that all girls ran away screaming from him, that nobody ever would want to be with him and that he only lived with him because he had no other choice, because he was scared what would happen if he told him how much he disliked him.

You shrugged it off at first, but knowing now that he was talking about Tendou the whole time made you fume with rage. How dare he talk about him like that? Tendou was such a sweetheart, he was so kind and funny and fun to be around. You loved his antics and quirks, the little tunes he sung throughout the day about random things stuck in your head all the time.

Hell, you even had a chant together about your favorite ice cream.

How could anyone not like him?

“SemiSemi, that´s (Y/N)! I told you about her, remember?” Tendou was so excited that you were coming over, he even cleaned his room for you.

Semi sighed, hoping he´d just shut up for one fucking second. He should´ve never agreed to this. Honestly, he felt so bad for you to be in the same class as this creep, he should´ve said he had band practice or something and dragged you along.

“Yeah, you never fucking shut up about her, of course I remember. And she´s my bandmate, so I know her already. But I told you that too” he groaned, you didn´t like his tone at all and shot him a glare.

The tension between them made you really uncomfortable and you wished you and Tendou could go somewhere else.

Somehow the fact that he seemed to talk about you made you blush, you had to admit, you had a giant soft spot for him, or a crush as Suga put it.

“Why are you always so mean to me?” he whined, you could see the sadness in his eyes, this wasn´t fair.

“Because you´re annoying as fuck. Like, seriously, you never stop talking and it´s driving me crazy. I don´t care about your stupid magazines and whatever other weird shit you´re into. Honestly, I wish we never met!” Semi yelled at him, he was enraged, so furious and you never heard him raise his voice like that.

His words hurt Tendou, you stood up and wanted to confront Semi, but he just kept on going.

“I don´t even get why they let you into high school! Just look at you, you´re disgusting! I always hated you, like everyone else. How can we not? You´re still the same fucking weirdo from your childhood, you haven´t changed, no matter what people tell you. You wanna know why people tolerate you? Why they smile at you? Why they even bother to be nice? Because you fucking scare them. I bet even your own mother can´t look at you, hell, she probably still is ashamed of ever giving birth to such a hideous monster” he spat, Tendou was crying at this point, his words struck something deep inside of him, returned his childhood trauma to the surface and left him shaking.

You rushed to his side, grabbed him by the arm and left to go to your own place.

You didn´t utter a word to Semi after that ever again.

Tendou was still crying when you arrived at home, Daichi and Suga left a note saying they were at the gym and would bring take out later.

You gently sat Tendou down the couch and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close to you in a soothing manner.

His heart calmed down at that, but his sobs continued as he allowed himself to hug you back, desperately clinging onto you and crying into your shoulder.

You cradled his back until he stopped, you sat there for a while and he was still shaking when there were no tears left.

Tendou couldn´t speak, he was too shaken up by Semi´s words, he was asking himself what he did wrong, what he did to deserve this. A little voice in his head told him that Semi was right about everything he said.

“Satori?” you softly called out his name, making him look at you. The broken expression in his eyes broke your heart.

“I´m so sorry, you didn´t deserve this. Please don´t listen to what he said, don´t believe one single word of it. You´re wonderful and that´s all that counts. You´re such a great person, he would never understand that, so please believe me and not him. He had no right to bring up those things, he did it all to hurt you and yet he called you the monster. I can´t believe I was in a band with that asshole...I´m definitely reporting him tomorrow!” you got worked up but you couldn´t help it, nobody came for Tendou like that. Not on your watch.

He looked away when he started crying again, his shoulders slouching. You noticed how small he looked, how frail and hugged him again.

“There will always be people like him, but there will also be people like me, people who like you a lot. And people who think you´re amazing, people who know that chocolate ice cream isn´t always the same and people who know that manga aren´t just magazines and anime aren´t cartoons and cup noodles somehow taste real good even though they shouldn´t. There will always be people who look forward to text you, who smile like an idiot whenever you reply to their texts, who look forward to seeing you every day in psychology class, who want to binge watch Naruto with you, who want to try out that weird complicated looking cake recipe you found, who want to make you happy no matter what...” you talked so much you didn´t even realize what you were saying, somewhere along the lines you thought he wasn´t listening and got bolder with your statements but he was listening closely.

You weren´t quite finished but you noticed his weight pulling away from you and stopped talking to see him smile at you dreamily.

It made your heart flutter.

“My mom was right” he giggled, continuing after seeing your puzzled expression.

“I told her about you and she said you were someone really special and when I talked more about you, she agreed that you were super cute and when I told her that I like you, she said that you liked me back because you and I are made for each other” he didn´t care about how cheesy it sounded, his mother was always right. She was right about him getting friends, about him being able to be happy.

You smiled at him, this certainly wasn´t what you thought your confession would look like, but this wasn´t some chick flick.

“Your mother´s a smart woman, then” you smiled at him, making his eyes light up. He nodded at that, smiling widely at you.

He was staring at you lovingly, unsure of what to do, he´s never done this before, he never liked someone the way he liked you…

“Satori? I really wanna kiss you right now, is that okay with you?” you softly caressed his cheek, he was melting into your touch and nodded, hooded eyes looking up at you in anticipation.

You slowly leaned in, grabbing a hold of his head, massaging his scalp as you pressed a soft kiss on his lips, making him moan surprised.

This felt good, he could do this all day, even though he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

With shaking hands he pulled you into a hug, he liked hugging you.

You deepened the kiss, swiping your tongue along his lips, earning a gasp and slipping your tongue in to play with his. He smiled into the kiss, relishing in the new feeling he liked very much.

“(Y/N), we´re back, we got food” Daichi announced and Suga snickered when he saw you and Tendou.

“Well, hello you two lovebirds, about time!” he smiled. Ever since he saw how you two looked at each other he wanted to see where this would go.

“Sorry, we didn´t mean to interrupt” Daichi chimed in, he too was glad to see that you ended up together. Tendou was a good guy despite what the others thought.

“It´s alright, what kind of food did you get?” you pulled away from him, still having an arm around him.

He blushed, being embarrassed by being caught like this.

You went ahead and explained what happened earlier and asked if it was okay that Tendou could stay with you, of course Daichi and Suga agreed.

You watched a movie and had dinner together, cuddling with Tendou the whole time and the next day you reported Semi and he was banished from college.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu tendou #tendou satori #tendou x reader

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cassandraramos · 3 years

Text

HUMILIATING → HEADCANON

who: cassandra ramos, lauren zizes (@the-lauren-zizes)

when: february 20th 2021

where: lauren’s room

warnings: unfinished, HCed in the end!

Lauren Zizes

To say that Lauren was excited for her scene with Cassandra was an understatement. The Switch was bristly but that just meant she was a challenge that the Domme would enjoy facing up to. And something told her a humiliation scene was the exact thing to knock her into place. “Kneel,” She instructed when the girl arrived, “Go over your limits, safeword and which boundaries we cannot cross today for me.”

Cass Ramos

This was bullshit. She'd taken the classes she had to learn more about the topics since she apparently had to learn something, not to be on the receiving end of it all. So to say her expression was icy when she arrived at Lauren's was putting it lightly. At her order, she raised an eyebrow, seconds ticking by. A very, very big part of her wanted to refuse -- but an equally big part of her didn't want to prolong this any further than needed be. So with an eye-roll and a huff, she finally settled onto her knees, crossing her arms anyway just because. "Safeword is cinnamon, I'm not here for the body fluids shit or feet. Or anything that takes longer than an hour and expects me to be nice, honestly."23. Februar 2021

Lauren Zizes

Lauren watched with a blank expression as Cass almost seemed to refuse orders before they even began the scene, smirking when the other girl finally caved, getting onto her knees. "Cinnamon, got it. I'm not surprised you're not into that shit, especially seems like someone pissed in your cheerios this morning. Off putting for anyone, really," She decided, "Look, this is just a homework assignment. It won't take longer than an hour and I promise you, if you hate it. If this is the worst thing to have ever fucking happened to you, you safeword. I check in with you mentally, and we can stop." The Domme promised her. She wanted Cassandra to know that she was taking her feelings about this seriously, because she didn't want the Switch to feel forced into it, not outside the context of the humiliation scene anwyay. "But you're going to have to give it an honest try, okay? You wouldn't have initially agreed if there wasn't a part of you, no matter how small, that wanted to try it, right?"

Cass Ramos

Cass just made a non-commital noise in the back of her throat in response to Lauren. In theory, she didn't even have a real problem with the kneeling and the whatever else may or may not be involved. And in theory, Lauren's reassurances that her feelings would be honoured should comfort her. But in reality, it was exactly this -- the talk of feelings and things of that sort that put her on edge. It was the vulnerability of it all that had her generally hesitant to engage in scenes either way but especially in her apparently newfound submissive facet. She didn't like it. It made her want to crawl out of her own skin. "I want to try not to get kicked out of this school," she settled on, tone slightly exasperated. "Which is probably easier if I do some of my homework and nobody goes complaining to the teachers about lack of participation or whatever."26. Februar 2021

Lauren Zizes

Lauren stood patiently as Cassandra seemed to have an inward battle with herself, fully preparing to have the scene cancelled, and work on an alternative to get the assignment done. But the Switch's answered surprised her, especially the reasoning behind it. The Domme wasn't one to judge people on their appearances, or first impressions, but the idea that the girl before her even cared a little about school work seemed too good to be true. "Well, if that's the thing going to get you through it, hold onto it," Lauren encouraged, "I have an outfit for you to wear today, inspired by our first ever conversation." She then added, with a smirk, "Straighten your back, kneel properly, and stay perfectly quiet and still as I go get it."5. März 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass's eyes narrowed at Lauren immediately, suspicion painted all over her face. Images of vampire merch flashed before her eyes and she wasn't sure whether that was just ridiculous to even think of. Surely, this had to be something better. The glare stayed in place at the further orders, dropping her crossed arms with a roll of her eye. Still, she didn't make much of an attempt at getting into perfect position as her hands flopped into her lap. She had to hold onto some defiance, after all.

Lauren Zizes

Whilst Lauren did toy with the idea of making Cass dress in full Twilight getup for her own amusement, she decided to start with something much more simple in terms of humilation. A classic Dunce cap. It did the job of being something embarassing for the Switch to wear, even in the privacy of Lauren's room, as well as imply Cassandra was not as smart as she was, and though they didn't know each other that well, Lauren knew her intelligence was something Cassandra didn't want mocked. "Don't you look just pretty as a peach?" Lauren mused when she returned, placing it on her head after showing the girl what she'd be wearing. "Now, this is only the start of your outfit, I can make it much worse for you if you don't follow the rules."6. März 2021

Cass Ramos

If looks could kill, Lauren might very well have dropped dead with the daggers Cass was glaring at her. She hadn't decided yet whether was offended or whether this was just ridiculous -- maybe both. Somewhere in her mind, the fact that this being ridiculous might be part of the point registered but that didn't mean she liked it any more. Or at all, really. It was only with the appliance of her entire self control that she didn't reach up and take the stupid thing off again. Instead, she rolled her eyes, staring back at the other girl with a deadpan expression. "What is this? 1900?"17. März 2021

Lauren Zizes

The daggers Cass shot at Lauren made the Domme smirk, because clearly, this was working. “Sarcasm gets you nowhere,” She said with a click of her tongue, motioning for the Switch to stand. “Now I think I might quiz you, since you’re a good little know it all for me. If you get all the answers right, I’ll let you take the hat off. If not, I have a whole closet of items you’d look adorable in, which I’ll put on you with every wrong answer.”21. März 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass didn't waste much time to get to her feet once allowed, even if the movement was accompanied with an exasperated huff. "Fun," she commented drily once she stood, arms crossing over her chest again mostly out of habit at this point. "I've clearly always been a huge fan of playing school."4. April 2021

Lauren Zizes

"Did you often have trouble in school?" Lauren asked, curiously, tilting her head slightly, "It's not part of my quiz, I'm just curious, because you always seem so against it. Maybe it's...insecurity about your grades? Intelligence?" She let out a hum. "Anyway, question one; who plays Bella Swan in the film version of Twilight?"5. April 2021

Cass Ramos

Cass snorted, eyes narrowing slightly. Admittedly, Lauren hat hit a sore spot there, although maybe not for the reason she expected. She wasn't necessarily ashamed about her lack of High School degree -- but she did hate when people assumed it was because she'd been lazy or stupid and she could feel that anger bubble under her skin now. It was only barely that she managed to bite her tongue on the cuss that almost slipped past her lips. If she just held her tongue long enough, she'd be out here on no time. "Kristen Stewart," she bit out, more venom in her voice than the simple answer might have warranted. "She's hot, at least she got that going for her."

HEADCANON (SUMMARY)

Lauren continued to ask Cass questions, occasionally making quips on her attitude. For every right question, she would praise her within her comfort level, and for every wrong question, she would add another piece of embarassing clothing, such as Twilight T-Shirts, fanmade necklaces, etc. Cass did end up rather decorated due to her need for witty comebacks but they did manage to get through the scene well enough. Lauren provided aftercare, trying to remain as neutral as possible in that (as Cass didn’t seem to be very into the softer approach) while still taking care of her overall mental health.

#hc #lauren

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darlinglissa · 4 years

Text

no rest for the wicked

steph is just. so tired. and the batboys are so insufferable. just some shenanigans for 4,503 words.

summary:

steph is a tired college student, just trying to make her way to her bachelor’s degree at least. doing this simultaneously with her nightly vigilantism is difficult and exhausting, but she makes it work dammit. she doesn’t even mind too much that her aforementioned nightly vigilantism comes with strange bat people that she isn’t fully convinced are people. but if one more tights-wearing, creepily-looming bat climbs through her window on her night off to actually complete an essay for once she’s going to make them write the six page essay for her, or so help her.

big big big thank you to @wisdom-walks-alone for being the best beta this girl could ask for!!!

read it on ao3!

Stephanie Brown is having what she likes to call a Shit Day. She’s just tired all around, and when it starts affecting her nightly hobby she starts to rethink her priorities for the first time in—she can’t remember when. Which then causes an existential crisis that she, at the ripe age of 21, should not be going through yet. Her crisis turns into an absolute nosedive of a tailspin when, of all the people in her life, Bruce “I’m Batman” Wayne notices that her help on the case is turning hindrance instead and tells her to take the next few nights off the case.

“It’ll still be there when you come back,” he says.

She may or may not stare at him for five minutes too long, and he may question his stance on asking her to work with them on the Falcone case of the week, but she goes home either way. Steph is not about to look this gift horse in the mouth, even if her entire view on life has shifted a solid eighty degrees to the right in less than two minutes.

And boy, does she not regret her decision to go home. A full night’s sleep, an actual breakfast that isn’t from a drive-thru on her way to her eight am class that she’s always been perpetually late to, and she is on time to her class for the first time. In all honesty, Steph is living her best life in the first two hours of her day.

And it didn’t stop there: she’s on time to all three classes she has, she’s actually awake for the classes, and her notes are helpful instead of hopeless scribbles of random key words and names of people. She’s feeling like the student she always knew she could be, but was always too tired to be.

When she gets home after her last class, she takes her time to shower and put on her comfiest pajamas, and make a dinner that isn’t frozen solid. The dinner is on the table, her books are opened and scattered around her, and Steph is feeling that ripe sense of productivity that has eluded her since she started offering the bats her help. With no risk of interruption—surely Bruce knew what a night off was when he offered her to take some—she eats lazily while working on some chemistry problems.

She abandons the chemistry homework when she’s finished eating, and cleans her plate instead of throwing it in the dishwasher without a care. This productivity shtick ain’t so bad, it at least keeps her apartment cleaner—not clean, but cleaner.

Her planner is propped up against her bag, the day’s assignments actually written down neatly instead of rushed abbreviations that take an hour to decipher, and she gives it a look-over. Steph realizes that with this new downtime she’s been given she can actually get a head start on an essay due in a few days. “Head start” is used loosely, but starting it two days in advance is a new experience for her. She usually rushes the day of due to late nights on the streets and hopes it doesn’t actually look like it was rushed.

Blanket on, pillows fluffed behind her, and laptop fully charged, Steph settles into her couch to start this thematic essay that’s been gnawing at her mind since it was assigned. The introductory paragraph is slow to set up, but she can feel her brain gaining momentum as she puzzles out her argument. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers are flying across the keyboard, with the backspace having the most hits. She’s getting there, she is, her thesis is coming together so nicely and her ideas are flowing freely, she hasn’t felt adrenaline from something other than freefalls in...months? Years? Her fingers stutter and she rereads her thesis. This is such bull—

A knock on her window almost has her sprawled on the floor, and her hands catch her laptop at the last possible second. Her head snaps over to the window and there, in all his black and blue spandexed glory, was Dick Grayson, in his stupid skintight spandex suit and his stupid sheepish but pained grin, bleeding on her fire escape. Which she just cleaned her own blood off of.

Irritated didn’t cover the slight boiling she could feel in her veins. She gives one last look at her document as she places her laptop on the coffee table, and another knock resounds through her living room.

“Okay! Okay. You win this round, Night-dork.” Steph goes over to her window and opens the hatch, letting the first Boy Wonder climb—more like fall—into her apartment. Her eyes follow his form as he all but crawls to her kitchen’s island, his domino being tossed onto the counter carelessly. She follows slowly, trying not to hate the man before he’s done anything other than exist, and maybe breathe, in her apartment. “Thanks for not bleeding on my carpet, too.”

Dick glances up at her before going back to his search for her first aid kit. “My pleasure, courtesy is my middle name.” His voice is strained, but his demeanor is purposely relaxed.

“Your middle name is John.” She watches him struggle, eyes darting from him at the cabinet above her fridge, where he’s reaching up even though it’s obviously hurting him, to the drawer beside her sink where her first aid kit is tucked away.

“It’s close enough,” he says with a tight shrug. He continues to search through her baking sheets and cooling racks.

Realizing he won’t be leaving that cabinet for a while, Steph sighs and pushes his body to the right drawer. He turns that sheepish-but-pained grin at her again, and she just pushes it away from her with a groan. Dick takes a heavy seat on one of her island’s stools, opening the kit with his non-bloody hand.

“It’s my day off. Do you know what that is?” she asks him, eyeing the needle and thread in his hands with mild interest as he misses the needle’s eye twice before taking it and threading it herself. Exasperation bubbles to the surface, and after Dick starts stitching his side she shuffles away to the couch. That grin seems permanently fixed on his face whenever she looks at him, so she stops looking at him and busies herself with folding the blanket that fell to the floor with her. “It’s this really cool thing where I stay home and not do what I would normally do. Like deal with your blood in my apartment.”

For a brief moment only Steph’s defeated sigh and Dick’s pained breaths are all that can be heard, and then Dick breaks it between stitches. “Yeah, sorry about this.” That grin is facing her and she looks at the blanket like it has a map that will lead her out of this conversation. Hell, out of this entire interaction. “You were the closest safe house, and I had a bit of a...situation.” He gestures to his side meaningfully with his head, as if Steph has no idea what situation he could possibly be referring to. “Hey, can you hand me the scissors?”

Dropping the blanket on the couch, Steph grabs the scissors from the other side of the island and hands them to him. He thanks her softly in that Earnest and Sincere Dick Grayson way, which makes it increasingly hard to be irritated with him, which in itself is irritating. He cuts the thread and ties it off a little sloppily, but effectively.

“There, all done and no one’s dead.” Dick stands up, grunting only slightly as he does so, and sets everything back in the first aid kit.

Steph notices that he puts it all in more neatly than it had been to begin with—she’s always in a hurry to get it back in the drawer and get to bed, don’t judge—and begrudgingly takes it when he hands it to her gently. She can feel Dick’s eyes on her as she puts it in its drawer, then she turns to face him, leaning against the drawer as it shuts. “Okay, you’re no longer in danger of dying, and I have an essay to write, so shoo.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands.

Her weight is fully being supported by her counter and Dick is looking at her with his kicked puppy eyes that make her give in sooner than she would like to admit. Steph slumps down a little more, legs stretched out in front of her and feet flat against the floor. She meets his gaze head on, feeling all the productivity and triumph from the day drain out of her so fast she’s a little dizzy. “What.”

His pout deepens, and she can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I feel bad, Steph.” Dick leans into the stool’s back and flattens his hands on the island’s counter. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

And there’s the Dick Grayson Guilt Trip.

Steph’s eyes trail over to her laptop one last time, the screen gone black from inactivity. She huffs a laugh, because this is her life, and it actually feels more real with a newly-stitched up dude in her kitchen than writing an essay early. For the second time in less than two days she finds herself having a mini crisis, but Dick’s puppy dog eyes snap her back. Steph rolls her eyes, dragging herself to her fridge. “You’re not intruding, Dick.”

Dick’s grin goes from sheepish to genuine with a touch of triumph, and he leans his body forward against the counter. “Great! So how does a nice midnight snack sound?”

She looks away from the orange juice she’s pulling off the shelf to stare at Dick in distrust. “You aren’t going near my stove, Grayson. I don’t need a small fire to deal with on top of my bloody fire escape.” A glass is taken from the shelf beside the fridge, and as she pours the juice into it she lets herself grin at Dick’s spluttering.

“I wouldn’t burn your kitchen down this time! I’ve gotten better,” he promises, pointing a red stained finger in her direction. Steph continues to stare at him with that deadpan expression she practiced from Alfred, though she knows hers isn’t half as successful as the stern butler’s. “I’ve been practicing!”

“Well, you can practice somewhere that isn’t my kitchen. I’ll make us pancakes if you stop looking at me like I took Jason’s gun to your favorite suit,” she says, bringing her glass to her lips.

Dick nods, pointedly looking away from her and over at the laptop on the coffee table, and wisely stays silent for the moment.

Steph whips the batter up as quickly as she can, flour settling on her shirt and the counter despite her careful measuring and whisking. The stack of pancakes towers on her chipped plate, and when the batter runs out she splits them between the two of them.

They eat in relative silence, until Steph breaks it when she finishes eating, feeling exhaustion seep into her bones. She eyes the clock on her microwave, the green numbers flashing 12:45; her 9:30 class crosses her mind like a neon sign saying go to bed, dumbass. Tense hands rub at her eyes before she pushes her chair back.

“This has been a lovely, if not bloody, visit,” she says, picking up her plate and stealing Dick’s even though he still had a couple bites left.

“Hey!”

She ignores this maturely, cleaning the plates and feeling satisfaction in her petty revenge. “But it’s getting late and I’m tired. You know the exit.”

Without waiting to make sure he actually leaves, Steph drags herself to her bedroom and kicks the door shut with her foot. In the next moment she’s face down on her bed and passes out when her head hits the duvet.

Surely tomorrow will be better is the last thought that dashes through her sleep-muddled mind.

---

Tomorrow isn’t better. She sleeps through her alarm, and misses her first class. She curses Dick’s name her whole drive to campus while she chugs coffee. She doesn’t even like coffee.

The one class she’s able to make it to sucks the joy of life out of her, and when she tries to heat up the leftovers she brought with her for lunch the microwave went up in flames.

(Yeah, Bruce will be the one getting that bill.)

Steph trudges into her apartment and just as she closes the door she realizes that she still has that essay, and she really doesn’t want to have to do it all on the last day possible. She doesn’t even have a complete introduction paragraph.

So she makes a nice batch of waffles to help lick her wounds, and when she’s full and feeling slightly better she sets forth to spite-finish her essay.

Her essay is actually coming along, one body paragraph finished and her argument set in stone, and she’s feeling that satisfaction building in her gut. A smile is tugging at her lips, and the idea of finishing it early is seeming more plausible.

But then her window is being slammed open and a small body is shoved through.

Stephanie most definitely does not scream, and she will forever deny it.

Timothy “Pain in Steph’s Ass” Drake climbs in after Damian—who’s becoming increasingly feral by the second—and the laptop is abandoned once again. Unlike last night, Steph has no hopes of getting back to the document and has resigned herself to her fate of finishing it all tomorrow.

Steph eyes the feral child practically vibrating with rage, then looks over at Tim, who appears to be as calm as can be when paired with a murderous child. After shutting the window behind him, Tim gives a little wave, pulling his domino off with the motion. “Hey, honey, I’m home?”

All that satisfaction left her in droves, and she stalks over to her laptop and shuts it with a snap.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tim flinch just barely, and a smidge of satisfaction returns, but it’s quickly taken away when she notices Damian’s glare has settled on her. The sigh that leaves her body is heavy and tired, but she pushes forward and leans against the back of her couch to stare them down nonetheless.

“Tim, babe, what the hell do you want on my night off?” Steph crosses her arms over her chest, resting her chin in one of her palms. She glances over at Damian again but looks away from his piercing green eyes that promise pain. “And why does the bat-brat look ready to put me in a real grave?”

Tim turns to Damian with a grimace, and tries to start explaining, “You’re the only one technically available tonight, so—”

Damian cuts him off sharply. “So you need to help us with this lead so we can leave and attend more pressing matters. After all, crime doesn’t take nights off.”

Tim hides his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “I told you to let me do the talking.”

The smaller boy turns on his heel, his cape fluttering behind him, making him look just like Batman after a scolding for a night gone worse than it should have. “I agreed to nothing of the sort, Drake.” He walks like he’s commanding the room, rummaging through Steph’s fridge as if he has the right. Like he’s Bruce Wayne and could buy her out of house and home.

(Well, he actually could, in all likelihood.)

Steph doesn’t like the comparison her mind is making, so she interrupts before it can go any further. “I don’t care who does the talking, just give me the info so you can leave faster.”

Tim’s hands run down his face and he looks at Steph pleadingly. “I know it’s your night off, but no one else would answer their comms and we really need an extra pair of eyes on this case. We’re driving ourselves crazy looking at the same clues over and over.”

Steph sighs, and takes in the bags under Tim’s eyes and Damian’s tensed shoulders. She lets out a groan, leaning against the couch back even heavier and getting a sense of deja vu with this feeling of defeat. “Okay.”

Damian scoffs from his place at her fridge before he moves on to browsing through her cabinets. “Of course you will, it’s your duty.”

Tim interrupts before Steph can retaliate with her, arguably, witty and biting remark. “Great, thank you, I love you, please look at the file.”

She begrudgingly takes the folder from her boyfriend’s hand, moving to plop on the couch. Papers are strewn about within seconds, and as Steph scans the information her mind is happy to have something more familiar to focus on.

It’s quiet aside from pages shuffling and Damian finally finding suitable tea bags, filling her kettle with water. Tim settles down next to her, relaxing for what must be the first time tonight.

“Got stuck with Bruce Jr.? What’d you do to get that sentence?” she asks, eyes not leaving the pages.

Tim scoots in closer. “I was the only one who didn’t have an excuse not to work with him.”

Steph’s pen circles and connects a few sentences, and she hands the paper to Tim. She moves on to the next paper, scanning for pertinent facts, adding more circles and lines. “Dick wouldn’t take him tonight?”

He looks over her shoulder, taking papers as she passes them off and connects the dots she’s connecting. “He’s on medical leave. Stab wound, I think?”

Her pen stops mid-circle before she forces herself to finish the marking. “Yeah, that was a thing.”

“‘That was a thing’?” Tim asks as he leans back, staring at Steph in mild confusion.

“Yeah, he used my needle and thread last night. Didn’t think it would actually be an issue for him,” she says as calmly as she can, very aware of the unhappy child pouring boiling water a few feet behind them.

Sensing her forced nonchalance—and glancing back at Damian before looking back at her—he drops it.

“It’s the bodyguard, he’s the link,” she declares, pushing the papers into the folder and the folder into Tim’s lap. “Good luck, he’s built like a linebacker.”

Damian sniffs derisively, sipping his tea like the snooty brat he was raised to be. “If I had had another half hour—”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” Tim says loudly, giving Damian a look. Damian just huffs and turns back to his tea. Tim gives Steph a kiss on her cheek before standing and putting his domino back on. “Damian, we should get going so we can get some intel before we have to head home.”

Steph jumps up and slides the window open, happy to let the two walking headaches exit her premises. “Yep, you should get going, little demon.”

Damian sneers at her, but finishes his tea and puts his mug in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality, brat-girl.” He walks past her to the window ledge, sliding out to the fire escape. “The state of your fire escape is appalling.”

“Yeah, whatever bat-brat, go annoy that bodyguard for a while,” she replies, giving him a slight push as she walks by to go put his mug in the dishwasher and avoiding the right hook thrown back at her. She passes Tim and gives him a quick kiss while pointedly ignoring Damian’s age-appropriate hiss of disgust.

“See you Friday?” Tim asks before he follows Damian out the window.

Steph looks back from the sink, and smiles. “Yep, as always.”

Tim disappears from her fire escape and Steph’s shoulders fall slightly. After the dishwasher is turned on because she’s a responsible adult and chores are her bitch, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow, she thinks, is another day, huh?

---

Steph wakes up to sunlight filtering through her curtains and 11:14 on her alarm clock. The light bugs her into getting up, but she feels rested enough as she stretches her joints. She takes a hot shower, and gets into comfy sweats and a sweater.

Thursdays will be her favorite day for the next two months. No classes make for a relaxed and mostly productive day, if not wonderful for her sanity.

So she takes her time making a nice breakfast of eggs and toast, and after unloading the dishwasher and putting her breakfast dishes into it, she’s feeling happy and productive. Her laptop is open and ready, and she settles in for the long haul to finish this goddamn essay.

She’s working at a steady pace, getting into the zone of writing about themes and connecting ideas and only semi-hating it. The time passes quickly, and she’s halfway to her six page minimum and mentally screaming because she’s gotten this far, she can finish it on time for the first time in years.

It’s when she’s just reached the middle of her fourth page that her window is smashed to pieces, glass littering her floor.

Steph is ready to cry.

But she’s been taught—well, she inferred from a few grunts—to use emotion as a driving force and grabs her slugger from under the couch and swings it at the figure, who is distracted by trying to avoid the shards of glass underfoot. Through his lapse of attention, he doesn’t dodge fast enough.

Jason now has a bruise blooming on his right shoulder blade, his face contorted in pain before twisting into a scowl aimed at Steph. Normally, it would have been effective, and it would have been if Steph wasn’t so angry and stressed. She drops her bat, and it rolls under her coffee table.

“It’s the middle of the fucking day, why the everloving fuck are you running around in your furry suit, you jackass?”

Jason’s scowl deepens, offense written over every inch of his face. He brushes glass off his shoulders, letting the pieces clatter against their kin on the floor. “I am not like the bat-freaks, Brown. I was trying to go undercover in a drug gang’s meeting, but I was found out. I lost them a few blocks back, so I had to move to a safe location before they caught my trail again. I caught sight of one of the guys just as I was climbing up so I was a bit rushed. You were closest, don’t be thinkin’ anything of it, you wouldn’t be my first choice if I had a choice.”

“Oh boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special, Todd.” She stalks over to the closet in the hall, and when she’s back in front of him she hands him the broom and dustpan.

He takes it and just stares at it for a second before looking back up at her with an eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding me.”

Steph shakes her head. “Nope.”

Jason heaves a sigh, but starts sweeping the glass into a pile. As he cleans his mess, Steph looks over at the microwave clock. 4:06. She curses under her breath, rubbing her eyes for a moment to relieve the headache coming on.

“Did I interrupt something?”

She lowers her hands, crossing her arms, to see Jason looking up at her questioningly. She shrugs with one shoulder, glancing at her laptop. “Only an essay that the universe doesn’t want me to finish on time. No biggie.”

Jason hums lightly with a nod, brushing the glass into the dustpan, but doesn’t say anything more. An idea sparks in Steph’s muddled brain, and she eyes Jason’s hunched form with more interest.

“Hey, Jay, you like literature, right?” A content smile plays on Steph’s lips.

Jason glanced up, but stopped his motion as soon as he caught sight of the cat who ate the canary. “I...dabble.” He hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to finish his thought, but he does anyway. “Why?”

“Well, you see, my dear Jaybird—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—this essay is on Persuasion, which I didn’t actually read? Anyway—”

“—didn’t actually read, what the fuck is wrong with you—”

“—I’m writing about the theme of appearances, and my argument is actually kinda strong?”

Jason throws the glass into the trash can, then moves to sit on the couch and grabs her laptop. “All right. Open the doc.”

Steph grins, taking the laptop and doing as he asked. It worked. It was the longest of shots and it fucking worked. He reads what she has and gives honest—and really harsh?—critiques, picking her essay apart.

“Then fix it!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. She can only take so much criticism before it gets on her nerves. “How do I structure it, oh, master writer? If my quotes are so stupid, what quotes would be better?”

Off the top of his head, Jason lists three quotes. And she has to admit it: they fit her argument perfectly. She grumbles as she flips through the book to find the quotes.

As he rambles on about the theme and effective arguments, Steph absentmindedly reflects that this would have been a great punishment if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so damn much. In fact, it makes her connect school to Jason, and how he was a really good student from what Alfred says.

His borderline monologue is cut off as Steph sits up and looks at him curiously. Jason realizes that she hasn’t been listening and gives her an unamused look. “Really?”

She ignores him. “Why didn’t you go on to college?”

Taken aback by the random question, Jason looks more like a deer in headlights than the terrorizer of Gotham’s crime syndicate. “Uh, because I’m legally dead?”

Steph rolls her eyes. “Please, your dad’s the wealthiest guy in Gotham, he can pull some strings in the right places.” She stops at the angry fire building in his eyes at the mention of Bruce and backtracks like the expert she is. “Or you could literally make a fake identity? You’re a crime lord, you aren’t above fake identities, are you?”

Jason looks lost in thought for a moment, before seamlessly returning to his essay argument-turned-rant as if he hadn’t even stopped. Steph notes the sore subject and actually pays attention this time around, fixing the essay with his help.

---

For the first time in weeks, Steph barges through Jason’s window with a crazed grin on her face.

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jason asks from his stove, water boiling beside him.

She doesn’t reply, just walks over to him with a bounce in her step, shoving a stack of papers in his face. The red A is clear as day, and Jason will forever deny the proud grin and high five that overtakes him in that moment.

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starker-stories · 4 years

Text

The Cold, Chapter 2 - The Messages Series

This chapter on AO3

By @thestarkerisobvious and @starker-stories

New chapters in the series post every Thursday.

All links are to AO3. You don’t need to be a creator to have an AO3 account. You can have one solely as a reader. But to read anything at all in this series, you can just be an anonymous reader and/or commenter.

The best way to keep up with The Cold is to subscribe to the story on AO3. And the best way to keep up with the Messages Series is also to subscribe. Click on the ‘subscribe’ button on each of the above links.

Tags: Tony Stark Feels, Peter Parker Feels, College Student Peter Parker, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Arc Reactor Kink, Peter Parker is a Mess, Spider-Man powers, Communication, They Finally Communicate!, And Fuck Of Course Look at Who It’s Written By Of Course They Fuck, Avengers Compound

The entire Messages Series. All links are to AO3.

Messages Unsent (complete & posted)

Nothing More Than A Machine (complete & posted)

Tomorrow (complete & posted)

My Virgin (Revisited) (completely & posted)

The Cold (completely written) posts every Thursday

Untitled Book 6 ( in progress )

Untitled Book 7 ( in progress )

Chapter 2: Fencing Left Handed

As they neared the compound Peter asked him for the time, then resumed his position leaning against Tony’s arm and tracing patterns on his sleeve. He took a deep breath.

“Okay, so, things have been changing with me. Like, a lot. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for months, but there was never a good time. That’s not your fault, there were times I could have brought it up but I… like I told you, when I had to chose between sex and talking, I always chose sex. And it’s hard to talk about. I guess it’s... I could have tried to talk about it over the phone or emailed you... anyway.

“I guess I’m… scared. That you’re going to say ‘Oh Well, Yeah, That’s Just Growing Up’ and I don’t… and that’s stupid…”

“Please don’t do that,” Tony reached over and brushed his fingers over Peter’s hair, interrupting him. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Pete. Nothing you say is stupid. Nothing you’re going through is stupid, okay? A self-deprecating exterior can turn quickly into an interior one. I’m kind of an expert at tearing myself up with that.”

“Ok, but it is stupid. Like asking to be treated like a virgin in your bed and then still being too proud in the middle of it. Now I really wanted your advice and I’m also afraid of getting it… fuck.” He pressed his face into Tony’s arm.

“I won’t say it’s ‘just growing up’, whatever it is,” Tony said. “At fifteen you were more of a grown up than a whole lot of people I know.”

“Okay… okay.” Peter’s shoulders sagged for a moment in relief. Then he took a deep breath and tried. Again.

“Did you ever… “ He sat up in the seat. “I mean I know you didn’t because you went to MIT way early… so maybe you don’t. Because in the old days they let you skip grades. They wouldn’t do that with me, they had a whole long talk to May and Ben about it and I understood, at least I tried to. I pretended I did. But high school was like…

“In high school I stayed as busy as I could, with band and academic decathlon and all my totally illegal chemistry studies, and I guess it was okay. Not nearly as okay as it was when I got the spiderbite and I really had something to do, had a million brand new things to learn and a real reason for all those illegal chemistry studies, that was a good thing. That made it so much better. But every time I walked into class…

“Okay I know you hate it when I do this but I don’t know how else to describe it. You know that old movie where the man becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts and now he’s the best fencer in the world and he meets the OTHER best fencer in the world and they are both fencing left handed and they’re both going at it hot and heavy and they both tell each other, one at a time, that they’re not really left handed? Because both of them were trying to take it easy on the other guy, because they both know they’re the best and that’s just the kind of Good Guys that they are? I saw that on TV and that really stuck with me. That you don’t have to be the best in the business, the smartest guy in the room, the whatever. The big shot. You can play it dumb and maybe write your notes backward to slow yourself down or read your textbooks upside down or maybe never study for a test so when the test comes you aren’t the first one finished and faking writing down answers so your neighbors won’t feel so bad. You can fence left-handed. So you won’t be an asshole. Be like Westley and Inigo Montoya and give everyone else a break.

“So I did that. I fenced left-handed and invested most of my time in massive Lego sets and told myself it was the right thing to do. And then the spiderbite happened and I got a whole new life and that was amazing and then you came into my life and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And all my schoolwork came in a distant third but at least it was slightly interesting the way an old video game can be interesting. If you haven’t played it in years. You know, for about half an hour.

“But I didn’t worry about that because I was going to Columbia. And when I got to Columbia it would all be different. And I could go to real classes that were really hard and I could finally just start fencing regular.

“And Tony?”

He took a deep breath before he looked at his lover.

“It’s not getting harder. I spent my whole first semester going… wait… what? The fuck? And then I thought no, no, this is okay, this is all freshman crap. This is supposed to be like this. Not everybody gets through all four years, right? Except instead of like boot camp where they are trying to get rid of you maybe… I don’t know… maybe they water it down to make you feel good about yourself and ramp up the info later… I don’t know what I thought. And now I’m well into my third year and I don’t get it Tony… when does it get hard? The best part is doing my assignments online — I do them in my dorm room with the keyboard upside down just for fun. Swear to god I’ve been doing my Differential Equations work hanging from my dorm room ceiling because that’s how I test the dissolve-time of my new web formula. And there is so much group work, I mean it’s just fucking constant. I should be glad because it does slow me down but really all it does is give me more time constraints which interferes with my patrols. Homework, at least, I can do from New York rooftops. I can’t do group work that way.”

He laughed ruefully, gazing out the helicopter window. “At least none of this is pissing my professors off. I stopped righteously fighting to NOT be the first person in class done with the work. Fuck that. Now I just turn it in when I’m done and get on with my real job.”

“Don’t ever be ashamed of being the smartest person in the room, Pete. What’s happening with your education, that is a whole ’nother conversation we need to have at a later date. Because it’s wrong, avoidable, and most of all, solvable. I can fix it with a phone call, but I doubt you want me to do that,” Tony said, smiling. “What I’ll do instead is teach you how to fix Columbia. Because, as brilliant as you are? Your professors should be pissed off at you.”

“Okay… okay,” Peter groaned. He pulled Tony’s arm around him and snuggled into his shoulder. “Don’t swoop in and save me just yet because there’s more. I know that sounds like the main thing but it isn’t.. and I’m not ready to… there’s more. This is what this weekend is about… you can swoop in and save me later, absolutely, and then we’ll have awesome sex to celebrate. But please…”

He looked through the window, glaring at the view instead of glaring at himself. For weeks, for a month really, he had planned this conversation, and now that it was here he was doing everything he feared the most — sounding pitiful.

“Please just let me… this is hard.

“There’s… something else.”

Peter took a deep breath and tried again. The fields around the compound were coming into sight, maybe this would be easier to explain if they were walking down there? Peter craned his neck to see the landing pad from the window, judging the distance before he started speaking.

“People at Columbia, they aren’t… bad. The average person walking around Columbia isn’t bad. They’re just slow. I don’t know… maybe I’m just pissed off that Columbia isn’t everything I dreamed it would be.

“But the criminals of New York City? They’re just the same as they’ve always been. Only I’m beginning to… they’re starting to look different to me now.”

He sighed, almost growled, in frustration. Tony dealt with international terrorists, and here Peter was about to complain about street-level thugs. At least the landing pad was getting nearer, but now he feared this wouldn’t solve his problem. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to use the term ‘The Cold’ out loud, not with Tony. It made sense in his head, but it sounded ridiculous now.

“Remember when you called that press conference to announce to the world that I was the newest Avenger? And I asked you not to at the last second? Because I told you ‘someone has to look out for the little guy’? That was stupid. That was…” he choked on the hated word, but he forced himself to say it. “That was naive.

“On the streets when I’m patrolling, god, I used to get so… pissed. It seems so distant now. I was filled with all this righteous indignation, this anger that someone would pick on the ‘the little guy’. Now, I’m beginning to think that ‘the little guy’ is probably a piece of shit too.”

He didn’t have to say anything else after that. They had arrived.

The helicopter landed itself. New-Cap came to meet them. Tony and Peter stepped off the landing pad, as the helicopter was powering down, to where they could hear Sam. He asked why they were there. Tony didn’t know, so he didn’t answer, leaving his question hanging. He figured Peter would say, but when he didn’t either, Tony didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t unexpected of him to simply ignore whichever Avenger tried to engage him. To not speak or do something until he was damn good and ready to, rather than explain and justify himself to one of them.

Peter, usually ever-cheerful and friendly, looked decidedly uncomfortable. His eyes kept scanning the distant, grassy fields beyond the central cluster of buildings. When Sam asked again what they were doing there, with a little more annoyance in his voice due to Tony’s disregard, Tony simply said, ‘we’ll be in later’, and guided Peter in the direction of his gaze, letting him take over their destination as soon as they’d left New-Cap behind.

As they walked, it seemed like it wasn’t a serious conversation that was going to happen, but that Peter needed to talk about something difficult. The location might’ve been less than desirable, but being there to listen to whatever was bothering Peter? That was exactly what he wanted, what they had talked about a couple of days ago. Tony’s defensiveness fell away. He slipped his hands casually in his pockets as they walked companionably side by side across the lawn, heading out to the farther fields of the compound grounds.

“The else?” Tony asked, trying to bring their conversation back to where it ended when the helicopter landed.

Peter nodded, but didn’t answer that question. He seemed to be looking for something in what was nothing but open fields. Tony remembered, before the fall of SHIELD and the Avengers’ split, he and Cap and Fury discussed expansion plans into the empty land. But things happened. Then the world was gone. His world was dust. Tony walked away from all things Avengers.

“Where are we headed?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll know it when I see it. Thanks for this, by the way. Sam’s an asshole now. I don’t remember him being an asshole.”

“It’s not Sam, I don’t think. It’s the position. But I don’t know Sam. The only thing I know about him is that when he rolled in flight, Vision’s beam went straight through where Sam should’ve been and knocked out the War Machine armor’s arc reactor and Rhodey fell to the ground.” Tony stopped talking for a bit while they walked together. It was irrational to blame Sam. Of course he’d try to avoid the hit. But irrational or not, he blamed him as much as Vision.

“Sam and his inherited shield and his inherited HYDRA assassin can go…” Tony shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck,” he finally said, shaking it off, literally, with a shrug. “They’re not why we’re here. So they’re a distraction. Irrelevant. We’re here because here is where you wanted to be. I’m here because you have something you need to say and I want to hear it. Pete, I’m interested, okay? In you. In everything about you. Even if I have to hear it here.”

“Ok. I’m not… god I’m not trying to be all mysterious, really. I just need some… distance. There it is,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s still there.”

They had rounded the south wall of the main building Peter seemed to find what he was looking for — although it looked mostly like an empty field to Tony — and they set out.

They walked for some time in silence.

What Peter had told him in the helicopter was important. But it was clearly not the ‘why’ for why they were there.

“Peter, if all that was wrong was what’s happening at Columbia… or your feeling frustrated by the lack of challenge in your life… or even the inevitable disillusionment of realizing that the world is massively full of blurred shades of grey… we’d be talking about this in bed.”

Peter only nodded.

Tony paused and they walked a little farther. “There’s something else. And… if you think you’re ‘stupid’ for feeling a certain way… you’re not.” He paused again briefly. “I would love to know what’s going on with you. Baby, you are the most important thing in my life. There’s nothing going on with you that I don’t want to hear about.”

“What if it was bad?” Peter’s voice was small, breathless. Looking at his feet.

“Still want to hear it. Just as much.”

“I’m getting cold, Tony,” Peter’s voice broke on the word. “Really cold.”

That puzzled Tony. It was a bright, sunny day, and for early autumn, quite warm. “We can head indoors, if you’re cold.” His brow furrowed. There was something about the way he said the word ‘cold’. “That’s not what you mean, is it?”

“It’s me, Tony. It’s not Columbia or the Gangs of New York, it’s me. It’s in me. That’s why we’re here. I’m changing. I know it’s not just in my head. I need the training ground equipment to quantify some things… and I guess that will make it Avengers business. I don’t know, maybe it is Avengers business, at least it will be. But I needed to tell you first. I’m not… the same. And it’s affecting everything.”

Peter veered them right and Tony saw what they were headed to, a white berm that stood alone in the field of green.

“With MJ and Ned, we can still relax and goof off… they’re not studying the same things I am so it’s easy not to… let them notice but… they’ve noticed. I guess I don’t make the same kinds of jokes I used to. And word on the street is New York has noticed too.

“I used to talk to criminals, I guess I was famous for it. I mean you’re the king of Snark and Banter but I guess I did pretty good. And I couldn’t help NOT lecture them. But I never hit them, because I’d hurt them, that’s why the webbing. But god I can’t talk to them anymore — I don’t feel like making jokes. I feel like punching them — so I just stay away from them. Tony, I can’t trust myself to get close to any of them now. If I need to take someone out I have to do it from a distance, sometimes from a block away, if I’m any closer I have to, I have to web them up and keep moving. I can’t stop to talk. I’m not… safe anymore. Everything’s changed.”

#Starker #Messages Series #Messages Cold #Von writes stuff #thewitchway writes stuff

19 notes · View notes

living-dead-parker · 5 years

Text

Fighter - T.S (dad!Tony)

Summary: Tony would never let anyone hurt a hair on his daughter

Warnings: sexual harassment (ass grabbing and rubbing one’s crotch on someone else without consent), consent, BAMF Tony and good bro Nat!!

Word Count: 2.6k

Something that everyone seemed to forget was that you quite literally grew up with the Avengers for some time. That your father is, quite literally, Tony Stark. The same man who puts on a very high-tech suit of armor to kick bad guy ass. So, there should not be a doubt in anyone's mind that you're trained to fight someone off. You were taught a mixture of fighting styles from Natasha, Steve, and Clint. You'd spar with them a lot, as your old man didn't like the idea of having to fight his daughter. Even if it isn't real.

"I could never lay a hand on my precious girl," Tony whines as Steve and Clint give him a certain look. Almost as if asking him if he's serious. Which he is. Dead serious.

"It's just sparring, not actually-"

"Yeah, well she's my kid and I'm not comfortable with-"

"But you're comfortable with us fighting your kid?" Steve quips. Natasha seemed to remain neutral in the argument, finding it endearing how adamant Tony was not to fight you. She appreciates the kind of father he is, given that he didn't know you forever.

"Because it's not me! I trust you guys not to hurt her but still teach her what she needs to know. So can you do it or not?" Tony inquires, eyes casting a glare on the three across from him. It's not that they mind, because they have the time and patience for it. They just don't see why Tony doesn't do it. Natasha already knows he's not much of a fighter outside of the suit. So, he's really not the one to teach the girl to fight.

"We'll do it. If these two don't then at least I will. God knows we can't let that girl go through life unable to defend herself," Natasha speaks up, walking away from the three men. Tony turns to Natasha and offers the woman a genuine smile, earning a sly smirk in return. The closest anyone will get to a genuine smile from this woman.

You sit in the class, waiting for the bell to ring to signal lunch time. Chemistry is boring and you've already learned a lot about what's being taught.

Just one more month of this horrid routine and I'm out of here for good, you thought.

From across the class, you notice some kid, Eric Stanley, staring at you. The prolonged staring and the focused scowl make you a bit uneasy, but being Tony Stark's daughter does tend to bring up some unwanted attention. Midtown is a breeding ground for unwanted attention. Well, any school is, really. Eric Stanley is one of those guys you don't consider popular, but he's very well known. He has a ton of friends, while you, on the other hand, tend to hang out with the same three people every day. Not that you mind.

The familiar blue eyes create holes at the back of your head, making you feel uncomfortable now, but there are only three minutes left of class. You just gotta sit it out and you're done with dealing with him for the day. The bell will ring and you'll be in the cafeteria with Peter, Ned, and Michelle. Ned will ask you for the nasty school pizza -which you will gladly give him-, Peter will begin rambling on and on about something that happened in class, and Michelle will just absentmindedly nod along to it all. Just like every other day.

As your mind drifts, the bell finally rings. The synchronized sound of books slamming and backpacks unzipping can be heard. Chatter fills the room as the teacher yells what homework assignment is due tomorrow. In a matter of seconds, your items are packed away and you're darting out of the class, sights set on the cafeteria before it gets full. When you reach the line, you see Peter and Ned already in it, so you walk up to them, pulling out your phone as the three of you wait for Michelle in line.

Scrolling through Twitter, you feel someone standing behind you, a little too close. Your eyebrows furrow as you know it's not Michelle. She knows a lot about personal space. So, you turn your head and see Eric standing right behind you.

"Hi," you mumble, seeing him smirking at you. Oh, so he's actively being this close, not incidentally. "Do you think you can take, like, a step back? Personal space," you add, giving the kid a kind -and very fake- smile. Peter and Ned turn to see you talking to this dude as Michelle approaches.

"I think I like being this close to you," he jokes, his group of friends snickering at his response. Do they really think that was funny? "You know, you're really cute."

"Thanks," you say sarcastically, drawing out the 'a'. Sighing, you look up at Eric, seeing the stupid smirk. "But, cute people sure do like their personal space, so, please. There's enough room for you to take a step back or something."

"I think I like this," he quips back, beginning to get on your last nerve. Instead of stepping back, however, he takes the small step forward and his chest is to your back. He rests a hand on your hips, far too close to your ass for your liking. Not that, but you can actually feel his crotch on your back.

"I said get the fuck away from me!" you exclaim, looking over at the kid right behind you. The smirk on his lips grows wider and you feel disgusted. He just rubbed his junk all up on you. You gently push him away, but his hand slips down to your ass and you feel him squeeze it.

You notice Peter about to interfere while Michelle and Ned look around for someone to help. However, you're quick to grab Eric by his hand. Everyone watches intently as you twist his arm, spin him around and kick him to the ground, tugging on his arm as you step on his back. Ned and Michelle smirk at each other while Peter steps closer to help you. However, you pull on Eric's arm a bit harder, hearing a slight pop. That's when you let go of his arm, but your converse-clad shoe remains on his back. In your angry flare, you don't notice CA's enter the cafeteria and approach you.

"Don't ever touch me like that again, or I'll break more than just your arm."

Before you can say another word or make another move, arms are looping in yours and you're being pulled away. There's a teacher, one who had been standing there the entire time who helps Eric up, checking

"No wait-" Peter, Ned, and Michelle's voices are heard yelling as they follow close behind. You smile at them, a heavenly smirk on your lips. You're not going down easily. You're a Stark.

"It's fine, guys. Eat without me."

Half an hour passes by and Tony is entering the principle's office, Natasha in tow. There's a look of concern and anger on his face, but when he sees you leaning back on the chair and smirking at the principle, his face falls into a confused frown. Natasha, on the other hand, looks around as if she's bored. Nat tagged along, acting almost like a mother figure. Tony sits on your left-hand side, Natasha sitting on your right side.

"Mr. Morita, what brings us here today?" Tony asks, looking at the principal, a confident smile on his lips. Mr. Morita looks between you and Tony, shaking his head as to get out of a confused daze.

"Mr. Stark, your daughter, Y/N is not a disruptive student. For someone of her background, she's very quiet and to herself. Excelling academically and she's a very open-minded and opinionated student," Mr. Morita says, his tone genuine and soft. "However,"

There's the stinger. The fuck up. Tony's already beginning to ignore him.

"Today, she exhibited behavior unlike her. I've had discussions with ms. Stark, but never did she strike me as a violent person-"

"She's not a violent person, and I would know violent," Natasha cuts in, already annoyed with the direction in which this conversation is headed. Principle Morita nods, pausing for a second. He looks up at the three across from him as the door is being opened.

In walks in the teacher from earlier, Mr. Nicks. With him, enters Eric. You roll your eyes, glaring at Eric as he smirks. Tony takes notice of the stupid smirk on the stupid kid's face. Natasha keeps her anger at bay, showing no visible sign of anger. In an attempt to scare him, you lean forward as if you're about to attack again. He jolts back, a look of fear taking over his stupid features.

"I understand Y/N isn't violent," Principle Morita says softly, looking up at the two Avengers and the girl in between them. "But, she did attack a student during lunch. As far as we know, it was unprovoked, as Y/N refuses to say why she attacked. As far as we know, from Mr. Stanley's account, he was just telling her a joke and she lashed out."

Tony turns to look at you, eyes laced with concern. When he turns to look at you, he takes in your slumped form, you scowl, and the way you cross your arms over your chest. You don't look at anyone, you just glare at the desk.

"Y/N, what aren't you telling us?" Tony asks. You sit up, removing yourself from your trance. His eyes are fixed on you, waiting for an answer.

"There's no use, the only ones here who would believe me are you and Nat," you say as you turn to your father. His concern is amped up a notch as he looks at you, there's a disapproving scowl on his face, but it's not aimed at you. He's never seen something deter you like this. "The CA's didn't believe me, Mr. Nicks doesn't believe me, who's to say Mr. Morita would. Just give me suspension and let me go home."

You feel the tears welling up, knowing that there's no way you'll win in this situation. Eric is well-known and well-liked among everyone. Even if he were to get in trouble, you'd be the one getting ridiculed. Even if some action was taken against him, you'd still be the one getting judged. And there's still the suspension. Even if Eric got what he deserved, you'll still be getting suspended. However, you don't let them fall. Your breathing gets labored as you grow more upset at the situation. But would you rather this blow over quietly.

"Y/N, Eric's parents can file a charge against you for assaulting their son, we want to get to the bottom of this," Principle Morita responds as you shake your head.

"He fucking harrassed me!" you blow up, earning a surprised gasp from Principle Morita. Not because he's upset Eric would do that but surprised more so. "I was standing in line for lunch with my friends when I felt him standing in right behind me. When I asked him, kindly, to take a step back and respect my personal space, he took it as a joke. He stepped closer, in fact, and he placed his crotch right on my ass if you're so concerned. He groped my ass and I blew up. All I did was push him to the groun-"

"You broke his arm," Mr. Nicks cut in. Tony and Nat stand up, glares on their faces as they stare Mr. Nicks down.

"That's what you're concerned about?" you ask the teacher, your tone oozing with venom at the blatant disrespect. "You saw everything that happened, you watched the entire interaction from beginning to end. I was expecting you to stop it before it escalated."

"Ms. Stark, please calm down-"

"No! I allow my daughter to come to a public school so she can get the education she wants and so she can be with her peers. I didn't sign her up to get harassed," Tony cuts in, leaning over the desk. Principle Morita looks terrified. "And you," Tony says, turning to Mr. Nicks. "Why are you siding with my daughter's abuser? He sexually harassed a fellow student under your watch. Instead of butting in, you let it happen?" Tony asks.

"It didn't look like she was in any present danger-"

"She doesn't have to be kicking and screaming for it to be danger," Natasha cuts in, the temperature in the room dropping once she spoke. "She was being sexually harassed by that kid, and it sounds like she was trying not to cause any trouble. Why are you defending the stupid kid so bad?"

"Ms. Romanov, ma'am if you wouldn't insult the children plea-"

"I wouldn't have to if you idiots knew how to treat these kinds of issues. She just said he was being a creep, she had every right to flip out on him-"

"There are two sides to every story, Ms. Romanov," Principle Morita sighs, standing up.

"Then ask other witnesses and compare stories, because I know my daughter. She would not cause trouble unless she absolutely had to. She's not a fighter unless she absolutely has to be. Something's not adding up."

"We can't just pull other students out and disrupt their learn-"

"So fuck her, right? She justifiably lashes out and she doesn't deserve to be in class?"

"I didn't mean it like that, Mr. Stark. Look, we can reach an agreement-"

"Actually, here's the agreement. My daughter is no longer continuing her, studies at this institution from now on. You will be hearing from my lawyers about this situation, and if that kid's parents want to press charges, let them. We'll fight right back because this is unfair and my heart goes out for all the other young women at this school who have not voiced any harassment that has taken place in this campus. With how this school seems to run, I refuse to believe this was an isolated case. Stark Industries will cut ties with Midtown Tech, so forget about any donations. In fact, Stark Industries will open a school for research and technology to outdo Midtown," Tony says, his anger radiating. Natasha smirks and you can feel the trembling inside of you, enjoying the look on Principle Morita and Mr. Nicks' faces. Eric looks astounded and slightly scared too. "Now if I can have my daughter's files in the next minute, that would be great. We have some homeschool that needs some enrolling."

Principle Morita nods, turning and rummaging through a file cabinet, pulling your file out in record time. It was a rather thin one, only filled with the enrollment necessities, unofficial transcripts, and copies of certificates you won from AcaDec, scholarships, and humanitarianism awards on behalf of the school. You have a clean record. Midtown just lost their best student. He hands the folder to Tony, damn near shaking in fear. Iron Man is terrifying on the battlefield, but Tony Stark is terrifying for business.

"It was a pleasure doing business," Tony says, grabbing your arm and helping you up. Natasha leads the way out, holding the door open for you and Tony. On the way out, you raise a hand, flipping the three guys off, a cocksure smirk on your lips. You won't give them the benefit of taking anything away from you.

However, when you're in the car with Nat and your dad, you finally let it out. You won't give Midtown the satisfaction of your tears, that's yours to keep. Tony wraps his arms around you; Happy peeking from the rearview mirror.

"It's okay," Tony coos as you wrap your arms around him. Hugs from dad are the most comforting thing ever.

"Just let it out, princess. I'm not letting anyone hurt you again."

Send me feedback or requests!! Come talk to me or send me asks!!

#tony stark #stark!reader #stark!daughter #Tony Stark imagine #iron man #iron man imagine #natasha romanov #natalia romanova #black widow #tony stark x platonic!reader #peter parker #michelle jones #ned leeds #avengers imagine #avengers endgame literally never happened #nat and tony are alive #idc

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problemic-characters · 5 years

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Harry Potter: Percy Weasley

Percy Weasley is my favorite Harry Potter character. He’s intriguing, his plot is compelling, and really, he deserves more attention.

NOTE: This post is not in any way intended to disparage the rest of the Weasley family. I think that all of them are great people, yes, even Ron.

A lot of people, when looking for redemption arcs in Harry Potter, like to point to Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. But why does almost no one look at Percy Weasley? There are legitimately more fanfictions, headcanons, and so forth about how Voldemort is secretly a great dude who just wants to help the Wizarding World than there are about Percy Weasley. Can we just... talk about him for a minute?

Percy Weasley grows up in a very much Gryffiindor family, “it doesn’t matter how much money we have as long as we have love” type of home. But Percy Weasley is ambitious. He’s not particularly brave. Any House would fit him better than Gryffindor. He’s ambitious, studious, hard-working, but not brave. And growing up in this Gryffindor household, his best attributes, the things he wants to be, are being constantly put down by his family. Certainly none of the other Weasleys value ambition, a consummate Slytherin trait. Arthur Weasley is content with his low-paying position at the Ministry. Percy Weasley is constantly teased and mocked for studying, for wanting to get somewhere in life. His family’s values are not Percy Weasley’s values and it shows. Fred and George Weasley continually mock him for being a Prefect and striving for academic achievement. While Molly Weasley doesn’t do anything to encourage this, she’s not discouraging it very effectively, either.

So Percy Weasley goes to Hogwarts, and it is a fantasy to him. His parents and older brothers have told him stories and built up its image until Hogwarts isn’t just a place, it’s a dream. So Percy Weasley goes, and he puts the Sorting Hat on his head. And the Sorting Hat says to him, Slytherin. Or, Ravenclaw. Or, Hufflepuff.

And Percy Weasley thinks back to the Sorting Hat, Please, no. Gryffindor, Gryffindor, what will make you give me Gryffindor?

And in response, the Sorting Hat tells him, Are you sure? Gryffindor will not bring you happiness. Gryffindor will not advance your dreams. Gryffindor will not encourage your search for knowledge.

Yes, Percy Weasley thinks.

“Gryffindor!” it yells, and Percy Weasley joins the red-and-gold-clad table amidst cheers.

But his year-mates laugh when Percy Weasley asks them to go to the library with him and mock him for writing out essays three days in advance. When he gets an O on a paper, people look down at him and ask why he invested so much time into a random assignment.

Maybe Oliver Wood is his mortal enemy, obsessed with Quidditch and constantly ignoring homework in favor of flipping through Quidditch magazines. Maybe he ignores Percy Weasley, the quiet studious bookworm hiding in the corner, and in return, he ignores Oliver Wood, the bright laughing kid constantly pestering the Quidditch team. Maybe the duo becomes friends, bonding when Oliver spends hours reading books on Quidditch strategies. But in the end, it doesn’t matter.

In his fifth year, Percy Weasley makes Prefect. Some part of him expects his family to be proud, and his mother is. But the twins mock him about it, and the rest of his family simply don’t care. And seeing his mother chastise the twins, Percy Weasley wonders if his mother only cares about his achievements in that they can be used to pressure his (better, the vicious, nasty part of him whispers) siblings.

When Bill and Charlie made Prefect, he thinks with a touch (more than) of bitterness, the rest of the family cared. But I’m not the brave Gryffindor, I’m just good old studious Percy, and therefore it’s expected.

He starts dating Penelope Clearwater, and the rest of the year passes by in a blur of prefect duties and watching out for Ron Weasley.

Percy Weasley’s sixth year starts with a clandestine kiss in a secluded corner from Penelope Clearwater but quickly devolves. His younger sister, Ginny Weasley, is deteriorating, and his other siblings are doing nothing. So he offers her a Pepper-Up Potion, stays up late nights to assist her with homework, and reassuring her that Ron Weasley won’t get expelled. He thinks about taking her to Madam Pomfrey more than once, but Ginny Weasley insists that she’s fine and Percy Weasley does nothing.

He’s on the brink of just reporting her to the school nurse anyway when suddenly Penelope Clearwater is petrified, and his days devolve into a frantic mass of fear and chaos.

Suddenly, his little sister is taken (dead, his mind supplies), and Percy Weasley is writing a letter to his parents. telling them that the youngest Weasley has been taken by the Heir of Slytherin. And then, just as suddenly, Harry Potter rescues her and rescues Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets; Percy Weasley is left reeling in the wake.

The seventh year, there’s a mass murderer on the loose, and Percy Weasley is paranoid. His parents asked him to watch out for both Ron Weasley and Harry Potter because really, a Prefect and the eldest Weasley remaining at Hogwarts? They ask him to keep an eye on the two. And, well, maybe they don’t outright ask him to watch Ron Weasley, but it’s implied, isn’t it? His younger brother is close to the Boy-Who-Lived and therefore a target. Percy Weasley is certain his parents know this and assumed he knew it as well. After all, Sirius Black didn’t discriminate between the Potters, Peter Pettigrew, and the innocent Muggle bystanders, did he?

When he makes his rounds of the Great Hall after Sirius Black tries to break in, he doubles back a few times to subtly check on his siblings. All of them, even the twins. Percy Weasley is terrified, and he hopes to Merlin that Sirius Black is caught soon. Normally, he hates the Dementors with a burning passion, but tonight, he’s grateful for their presence.

He decides that he needs to put more effort into ensuring Harry Potter and Ron Weasley’s safety. Harry Potter, he follows around obviously, trying to discourage Sirius Black from attacking when an older, well-trained student is in the vicinity. For his brother, he focuses on keeping a subtle eye on him, and ensuring that Ron Weasley isn’t following Harry Potter around. For all that Percy Weasley likes the Boy-Who-Lived, he knows that Harry Potter is a magnet for trouble and danger. He tries to watch them, he really does, but then Sirius Black breaks into Gryffindor Tower, almost killing Ron Weasley, and all Percy can think is, I failed.

When the news comes that Sirius Black is caught, Percy Weasley breathes easier. They’re safe. He feels this for all of two hours, right up until Sirius Black escapes. Harry Potter is raving about the mass murderer’s innocence, the innocence of the man who killed his parents, and Percy Weasley wonders a tiny bit about the boy’s stability. But not for too long.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Percy Weasley has his dream job. He’s overjoyed. Not only that, he’s working under Bartemius Crouch. For Merlin’s sake, the man is a legend! So Percy Weasley ignores it when Crouch calls him “Weatherby,” and the sneers of other Ministry workers who look down and say, “Just like your father.” He knows it’s not a compliment, and a tiny part of him burns with anger at his father. But it’s not very large, and he ignores it.

At the Quidditch World Cup, everything goes wrong so quickly. Percy Weasley stands back to back with his father and fires off Stunners towards the mob. He gets a bloody nose for his trouble, but in the end, his family is safe, and that’s all that matters.

As the year progresses, he slowly finds that he’s taking on more and more responsibilities for his boss. But this is a good thing! It just means that his idol trusts Percy Weasley more and more. And then Percy Weasley is judging at the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and all he can think is this: Merlin, Ron? So he runs down to the lake and drags his younger brother to safety. And he knows it’s foolish and stupid, but he thinks, just to himself, that if Ron Weasley had stayed away from Harry Potter, this never would have happened. And it’s true, isn’t it?

But everything is going fine for him, right up until Harry Potter finds Bartemius Crouch wandering the Forbidden Forest in a daze. And then all of Percy Weasley’s dreams are spiraling down a drain, disappearing into the fog. Sometimes, he can barely breathe, barely think, and he’s been demoted so many times that he might never even reach up to his father’s rank at the Ministry.

The Boy-Who-Lived stumbles away from the Portkey holding the corpse of Cedric Diggory. Percy Weasley doesn’t know what to think, what to believe, but then Cornelius Fudge is right there, telling him that Harry Potter is insane. And, well, Percy Weasley doesn’t want to believe it, but there are tiny little things that have been adding up over the years. And Cornelius Fudge is the Minister. Shouldn’t he be right, then? So Percy Weasley believes the Minister for Magic.

In the wake of the debacle, he gets a promotion. He exhales, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It’s fine. He can still accomplish his dream. So he returns home, ready to tell his family the joyous news. But when he does, they don’t care. And then his father tells him that it’s all a trick, that Percy Weasley could never achieve something like this on his own merits, no, the Minister is manipulating him.

His throat tightens, and suddenly, he can’t breathe again. Percy Weasley screams at his father instead and storms out of the house. If his father doesn’t think that he could accomplish this on his own merits, then his father is a fool. And Dumbledore is going down, because that’s what the Minister said, and if the Minister is wrong, then his father is right and Percy Weasley didn’t get anywhere because of him, no it’s all because of his father, everything for the Ministry, for his dream, comes back to Arthur Weasley-

When Percy Weasley finds out that his youngest brother is consorting with Harry Potter, he writes Ron Weasley a cautionary letter. Because family is still family, and he doesn’t want his siblings to be hurt. And perhaps no one truly knows what went down in Harry Potter’s first year, not besides Harry Potter himself and Albus Dumbledore, but what they do know is that Harry Potter was involved in an incident with Quirinius Quirrell, and then Quirinius Quirrell was dead. And in his second year, Harry Potter made his way to the Chamber of Secrets, where Percy Weasley’s sister almost died and his younger brother was trapped in a rockfall with an amnesiac idiot. In his third year, Ron Weasley was kidnapped by Sirius Black because he was standing next to Harry Potter and had his leg broken. And then a werewolf attacked him (not that Percy Weasley blames poor Professor Lupin, it’s not as if he could control it, but he would hope that at least Dumbledore would have had better containment measures than simply releasing a werewolf into the Forbidden Forest each full moon) and Ron Weasley could have died or been inflicted with lycanthropy. Then, in the fourth year, Percy Weasley’s brother was pulled into the Black Lake and attacked by the merpeople because he was Harry Potter’s friend. And then Harry Potter disappeared with Cedric Diggory and Cedric Diggory came back dead. So, no, Percy Weasley does not want Ron Weasley associating with the Boy-Who-Lived, because their continued association will get him killed. He writes a letter. It goes unanswered.

Down in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, Percy Weasley can’t deny the fact that Voldemort is back. But if Voldemort is back, then his father was right. And if his father was right, then Percy is useless. His entire career amounts to being manipulated by a man who couldn’t remember Percy’s name and then as a convenient pathway to try to spy on his family.

So Percy Weasley runs, and runs, and runs, and doesn’t go back to the Burrow. Not until Christmas, when the new Minister for Magic drags him there. And upon arrival, he knows that Rufus Scrimgeour only wanted to go to talk to Harry Potter. Percy Weasley is a tool, a way for the Ministry to try to reach Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. That’s the only reason anyone keeps him around anymore, as a stepping stone to get somewhere else, to someone more important.

He’s standing uncomfortably inside the Burrow, watching his family like strangers. Molly Weasley embraces him, but, well, his mother has always been the most accepting of his dreams out of all his family. Even if he still wonders if it was for the standard that she could hold his siblings up to. But either way, the rest of his family are staring at him, and then Percy Weasley is being driven out of his former home with mashed parsnips. Outside the house, he stares at his polished black shoes and waits for the Minister to come out.

The Minister is unhappy, and Percy Weasley knows that his negotiations with the Boy-Who-Lived did not go well. Some part of him is viciously happy at this, but the rest is worried because while he might only be a tool, Percy Weasley is still a higher-up of the Ministry and very much aware of the situation. The war is turning in the Death Eaters’ favor, or it always was, and it doesn’t matter because if the Ministry can’t regain the public’s favor, the Death Eaters can start swaying it to their sides. So he returns to the Ministry with piles of paperwork and a wand holster up his sleeve.

He attends Dumbledore’s funeral. Even if he didn’t approve of many of Dumbledore’s actions, he was still a great man. Percy Weasley can recognize that now, at least. None of his family approaches him. The feeling is mutual, and he ignores them as well.

The Ministry is overthrown, and everyone knows it. Perhaps Percy Weasley keeps his head tucked low and recites the pureblood lines, this sham of a government. Perhaps he forges Muggleborn paperwork that proclaims them to be halfbloods. Perhaps he smuggles Muggleborns and their families out of the country. Perhaps he throws himself into work for the Death Eaters, secretly sabotaging them the entire time.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Instead, what matters is that he makes his way to Aberforth Dumbledore and joins the Battle of Hogwarts. Percy Weasley joins the Order of Phoenix and fights side by side with his siblings. When he makes a joke, Fred Weasley laughs, and he wonders if maybe the twins aren’t so bad after all- his younger brother is dead, and Percy Weasley can’t help but wonder if there was something he could have done. If he had seen the explosion faster and pushed Fred Weasley out of the way. If he hadn’t distracted his brother with the stupid joke. If he had traded his own life for Fred Weasley’s, because, well, Fred Weasley is loved. George Weasley needs his twin. They have a joke shop. Countless people would be (are) devastated if (because) Fred Weasley died (dies). And Percy Weasley is not.

After the battle, he returns to the Ministry. He rejoins under Kingsley Shacklebolt’s administration in the Department of Magical Transportation. But, well, Percy Weasley will always wonder if he could have saved his brother.

Fin

This turned into more of a character study than a list of reasons. Percy is my favorite character because he betrays his family. In the series, he had this extremely compelling storyline and background that was never fully explored. And not enough fanfiction writers explored that either, so I wrote this about why he is honestly one of the most interesting characters in Harry Potter.

#percy weasley #oliver wood #character study #harry potter #arthur weasley #molly weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley

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blushypetey · 5 years

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friday night lights (au)

summary: you offered peter help & you slowly started to fall for each other.

paring: popular!peter x shy!reader

warnings: swearing & flash being flash

word count: 3,872

a/n: its a football!au so i decided to write peter as a popular football player, a cliche concept but not when it comes to our boy peter parker. i’m actually proud of this imagine & it’s an au so i hope you guys like this concept.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thursday | 7:30 am

HE WALKED, down the football field with confidence heading to morning practice — simply Peter Parker was the star quarterback of Midtown Highschool, a heart-throb to his fellow class mates. His personality was unforgettably sweet — his looks did him justice with his beautiful smile, messy brown curls, & charming smile. He was nice to everyone and always filled the room with joy & kindness.

Now on the other hand you weren't known throughout the school like Peter. You thought you were nothing special being super introverted with your only friend being Michelle — until you crossed paths with Peter Parker.

You had first met him in English class during the start of the semester you sat next to him & he wasn't doing so great in the subject although he was great at Chemistry & Algebra. The semester continued with Peter still struggling with his writing. He wasn't failing he just had a C- which was still unacceptable because it was on the verge of a D meaning he wouldn't be able to play football. He wasn't proud of that the main reason he had that grade was due to him failing an essay.

He had gotten a 45% on the essay Peter couldn't bear the grade anymore. He went to the teacher to ask for help & that's when you offered to help.

“Ms.Willams, is there anyway I could fix my grade. Or revise my essay?” Peter asked as the students left the classroom.

“Currently No, I could set you up with a tutor or you could attend homework center & ask for help there.” she simply replied as she started packing her things.

You heard the conversation & felt bad for Peter, you had an A in the class thinking maybe you could help him. To your defense helping would benefit Peter to continue playing his games — you picked up your backpack & walked to the teacher's desk.

“I — um can't go to homework center I have practice.”

“Okay let me see what I can do,”

“I — um could tutor you Peter,” you quickly responded.

This caught Peter by surprise he knew you, you were the best in the class & he knew couldn't pass up this opportunity this could really benefit his grade. He was also relived for once — a girl was talking to him not because he was Peter Parker.

You waited for his response awkwardly, “Really?”

he said after being lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah of course,” you lightly smiled.

“Okay then it's settled Y/n, you will tutor Peter. You'll have your next writing assignment soon. See you guys tomorrow.”

That's how it all begin Peter really benefited from your tutoring — his next writing assignment went up to a 75%. You both actually worked great together & he didn't feel awkward around you. He hadn't felt pressured to keep an image up — surprisingly he was nervous around girls.

Peter finally caught up to all of his friends on the field & got is shoes ready & tied for practice. He greeted his teammates while doing his usual warm-up with them. Although almost everyone at Midtown respected him Flash didn't — he was jealous of the individual being the most popular student at the school & star quarterback.

“Hey what's up Parker,” Flash remarked as he was warming up.

Peter's other friends rolled their eyes knowing what was going to happen — this often happened where Flash would tease the quarterback. Peter would honestly care less & Flash always ended up embarrassing himself.

“What do you want Flash?” Peter said annoyed.

“Oh nothing just wanted to know if you passed the 5 page paper we just did. Or did you need Y/n to write it all?”

He was usually calm towards situations with Flash but when he brought up you he was more tempered.

“She didn't write it for me. Just fuck off already.”

“You seem upset Peter did I offended you.” he said teasingly.

“No can you just leave me alone.”

Flash looked at him with a challenging look Peter had stayed straight faced. One of Peter's friends spoke up, “Dude honestly none of us like you so would you please just fuck off.”

“No one asked you,” Flash remarked.

That was until a whistle was blown & all the boys huddled back up to their coach. This had focused the boys back to practice instead of Flash.

You were currently on the bleachers waiting for Peter's morning practice to end. It wasn't something new to the both of you — the first time it had happened was because he had forgotten his paper. Since then you had both of you had spent time together before 1st period.

You didn't know that his other teammates had started to realize that Peter had a soft spot for you. They honestly could've care less who he was with but the rest of the school was to question your friendship.

Peter had finished up early & he started walking off the football field noticing you from the corner of his eye. You approached him, “Hi Peter,” he looked up at you.

“Hey Y/N. Is that coffee for me?” he laughed in response seeing the two cups in your hand.

“Indeed it is. You said you stayed up finished that reading so I thought I'd help you out.”

“Thanks, I don't know what I'd do with out you.”

You both sat down at a table with a few minutes to spare before class. Then a few of Peter's friends had approached the both of you — knowing a few of his friends but for some reason you were still nervous around them you felt that they judged you. They had actually never judged you & just had wanted to get to know you better but you were just very closed off.

“What's up Peter!” Lucas had said. He was one of Peter's closer friends besides Ned which was his closest.

“Hey Y/N.” he said afterwards.

“Um Hey,” You has said they looked back down at your phone to avoid further conversation. A few of his other friends came to sit by you at the table finally Ned had took seat next to you.

One of his friends grabbed Peter's cup of coffee & took a sip, but it was before he could say anything he knew his friend would hate it. “Dude this is disgusting why would you get this,” Peter just laughed.

“Hey it's not even that bad,” Peter remarked.

“When did you have time to get coffee,”

Peter had looked at you then he saw that you were a bit uncomfortable surrounded by his friends. You had just been sitting there. “Oh I didn't get it Y/n did,” he replied.

“Wow next get me something Y/n.”

“Sure just tell me what you want.” you said back at Peter's friend.

“Hey — No she's gets me coffee losers,” Peter budged in.

“So am I only you barista,” you looked back at him.

You heard his friend chuckle & focus on Peter. He seemed shocked “What! No your my friend your just super nice & always get me coffee,” he quickly responded to save himself.

“Sure Parker.”

“What I was kidding—”

“Jeez I know you were.” you laughed back at him.

The bell had rang & you quickly retrieved you stuff too get to class. Peter's friends just looked at him Ned was the first to speak up, “Dude you so like her.”

“What No I don't,” Peter quickly denied.

Lucas raised his eyebrows at him, “Um it's pretty obvious we're not judging you I actually think it's cute.”

“Okay but I don't think she would like me back.”

Ned just looked at Peter, “Are you serious dude of course she likes you, you're Peter Parker! “

“Okay yeah but I don't know she's different.”

“Different how?”

“She doesn't care for my popularity, looks, or that play football.”

“Yes Peter & that's good,” Lucas informed.

“Okay yeah but then how do I know that she likes me.”

“She just does man. Now let's get to class.”

Although Peter may have seemed to be a confident kind he actually wasn't when it came to you. He didn't think you liked him he thought you were too good for him. When in your situation you thought he'd ever like someone like you.

— 12:30 pm

Michelle was waiting for you to show up at your usual lunch table in the back. She constantly had to wait for you due to your 4th period being across from the school. She never minded though it gave he a few minutes of quite to focus on her book before you came & started a conversation.

“Michelle today I got my English essay back & I got an 100% I'm so happy,” Michelle looked back up at you unimpressed.

“You always get good scores what is there to be happy about?”

“Oh — Peter he got an 87% so I'm really happy so now he can play at the homecoming game.”

“I feel you only talk about him now. It's always Peter this & Peter that. I'm pretty sure you like him. Actually I know you like him,” she confidently said.

You weren't shocked that she had picked up the fact that you liked Peter. You just didn't want it to be brought up you were trying to avoid the fact that you liked him. You were hoping your stupid crush would go away but at this point it developed into something more.

“Okay you caught me I like him,” you looked down avoiding eye contact with her.

“Hey what's wrong I honestly don't care that you talk about him. I think it's cute,” she was to quickly respond avoid hurting your feelings.

“You did nothing wrong it's just I really like him & I never really expected it.”

“Isn't that how it works?”

“Okay yeah but at first it was a stupid crush & I wanted to push it alway. But then I just kept spending time with him & now I'm here stuck.”

“You're not stuck unless he doesn't like you back.”

“That's the thing I know he doesn't like me.”

Michelle just looked at you in disbelief how you had such little faith in yourself. She knew it would be something unheard of at Midtown specifically Peter to be dating someone like you. But the thing was to Michelle it wasn't impossible she saw something between you two.

“You don't know that.” she had smiled at you then went back to her book.

You hadn't bothered responded back you knew Michelle — when she started reading there was no way to have a conversation with her. It gave you time to think about what she said. Could Peter actually like me?

Peter was at the other side of the cafeteria crowded by the rest of his friends. They had been talking about the upcoming game, “Peter can you play at this game?” one of his friends asked.

They had known about his grade in English the coach had purposely told him he needed to pass his most recent essay to play.

“Actually yeah I did I got a 87%”

“What the fuck, that little tutor of yours is helping you big time.”

“Um yeah she helped a lot,” he lightly chuckled.

Ned was one to speak up, “Okay now Peter cut the bullshit how are you gonna ask her out to Homecoming?”

Peter's friends have been dying to know all day how he would ask you out. Peter each time would just avoid the topic or say it wasn't going to happen.

“Look dude I don't know. I don't even think she likes me.”

“You should ask her to wear your jersey to this game,” Lucas suggested.

“What why?”

“Because last game you let Gwen wear it. Plus if you are going to be with Y/n other girls should see that so they could — you know back off.”

“Look Gwen asked me that one time & I didn't want to be rude,” Peter admitted.

“Yes & people thought you were dating now you should ask her to wear yours.”

“Okay fine I'll ask her after school,” Peter finally agreed.

All his friends all smiled at him while Ned high-fives him. They were surprised that Peter was actually going to make some sort of move finally. In that moment you saw his friends smiling & cheering no idea why but you saw Peter. He looked somewhat uncomfortable trying to fit in that moment.

He saw from across the room — he gave you a smile. His smile radiated through the cafeteria you smiled back it him it gave you butterflies through your stomach knowing Peter saw you for that split second. It was probably pointless to you in his mind but to you it left you breathless.

— 3:00 pm

You had quickly left your last period thankful the day was over. You were waiting for Peter in front of the school he had texted you during your 5th to meet up after school. You had wondered what it was about though you were eager to see him again.

“Hey Y/n I wanted to ask you something,”

He had just came out of P.E you remembered him telling you that was his last period. But you could also see the bit of exhaustion over his face presented while speaking to you.

“Hey what did you want to tell me?” you smiled back at him.

“Well first I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” you had no idea what he had been thanking you for. You had always been a thoughtful person you often were surprised when people personally thanked you.

“You know for all the help this semester.”

“Oh that's no problem. I love helping you out plus you're a pretty cool guy,” he laughed back at your response. You had always been too sweet of a person & he almost forget he was going to ask you to wear his jersey. That was until he saw all his friends in the corner of his eye giving him huge thumbs ups.

“I was wondering if — um you would want to wear my jersey for the game this Friday. I mean you don't have to if you want to — it's just sort of a thank you.”

You were shocked about this, last game Gwen had worn his jersey. You thought that maybe they had some sort of unspoken thing between them but here he was offering his jersey to you. It flattered you that he had offered because it was usually a couples thing.

“I'd love too,” it took you a second to respond due your shock.

“Great I'll give it to you tomorrow,” he had giving you a affectionate smile before speaking up again.

“I'll text you later,” he waved back at you as he walked towards his friends.

That was when you could wait to get home & text Michelle what had just happened. Tomorrow was the big day but that also meant people were going actually pay attention to you. Seeing that you were going to wear Peter Parker's jersey infront of the whole school.

— 7:55 am

You had been waiting for Peter at the football field for little over 20 minutes waiting for him to get out of the locker room. His morning practice had been extended a little later due to the big game being today. You picked up your bag & started walking down from the bleachers.

While you stayed on the bleachers you could see Peter & a few of his friends walking towards you. Still hoping this whole thing wouldn't be a big deal — you picked up your bag & started walking down from the bleachers.

Suddenly your nerves got to you reason being that this was actually happening. Sure you thought Peter 'doesn't like me' but he was thinking of you. His friends slowly parted from him then it was just you had him. You couldn't see it in his face but he was just nervous as you.

He gave you a smile — the smile that always made your heart flutter, “How was practice?” you didn't want to ask him about the jersey just yet. You may have thought that he forgot or just changed his mind — over thinking the situation.

“It was okay a little bit more than usual. Oh — I have this for you if your still wanted to wear it.”

There it was his jersey plastered with the #10 it was something that held so much value to not just Peter but the school. You grabbed it in your hands shocked at the offer still that it was actually in your hands.

“Thank you. I'll take good care of it,” you exaggerated.

At that moment you felt that everyone was watching — you had removed your backpack & slipped the jersey over your current shirt. The only people that were actually watching were Peter & his friends. They wanted to see if you would actually follow through on wearing the jersey.

“No Problem I'll see you 2nd period.”

“Bye Peter,” you smiled back at him and walked towards your class as the bell rung.

Peter had quickly ran to catch up with Ned heading to his first period. Ned had quickly looked at him waiting for a response of what just happened.

He didn't think of the situation that much he had just given you his jersey. He knew that Ned saw what had happened he didn't know what so say, “You look like you want me to say something.”

“Yes what else Peter, I want to know what happened.”

“All I did was give her my jersey that's all dude you can calm down now.”

“Then when are you gonna ask her out.”

“Shh... I don't want people to know. There's lots of people here I'll tell you my plan later.”

— 8:05 am

You had taken you seat at your 1st period you heard the whispers in the classroom. This is the part where you kind of wish you didn't accept the offer. Only because you couldn't handle the attention — all you heard were people whispers which seemed to be really loud.

She's with Peter no way.

Dude what did she do to get that.

Never expected that one.

Michelle was the one to snap you out of your thoughts, “Hey don't worry about anything their probably all jealous of you,” she winked back at you.

Throughout the day you've gotten used to the stares & whispers you knew the school was going to get over it the next day. That's how Midtown has always been news died down quick so you knew you had nothing to worry about.

During class Michelle gave you a look like she needed to say something important. You didn't ignore her message, “What?”you whispered at her.

“Are you going to the football game tonight?” she asked quietly to avoid getting in trouble.

“Yes, will you go with me?”

“I knew it,” she said proudly.

“Yeah why wouldn't I go?” you said confused.

“No, I knew that you would ask me to go.”

“Hey I don't want to be alone.”

“I'll go. Just so you won't be alone.”

“Thanks you're the best.”

You were beyond relived that Michelle decided to go with you. You didn't really have any other friends besides her so it was your only option to ask her.

Plus she had agreed because she knew Peter had something planned that night.

— 7:00 pm

The night barely begun & you could hear the crowd cheering as the football players field took the field. The bright stadium lights lit up the whole field while the bleachers were filled with sent of popcorn & other snacks. The players were getting ready for kickoff while Michelle was getting snacks.

The game has started you kept your eyes attached on #10 as he ran across the field. There was some paying attention at the game while others were just having a conversation with their friends. Michelle had came back, “What up loser I got food,” she threw a bag of candy at you.

“Thanks, what took you so long.”

“Dude the line was so long like the whole school is here & I Also had to go to the bathroom.”

You guys had been enjoying the game having random conversation while the second quarter was slowly coming to an end. That meant half-time was approaching & you knew the cheerleaders would perform like always.

You saw Peter run across the field as the ball was thrown in his direction, “Come on Peter!” he had quickly caught the ball. The crowd filled with cheers as he ran towards the end zone. He started running faster the crowd roared as he made the made it to the end zone. That put an end to the 2nd quarter & the players ran back to the bench.

The cheerleaders took the field — the speaker blared the loud peppy music. Some students cheered them on as others could care less & continued unfinished conversations. Not until two football players came up holding a unopened poster running up with the cheerleaders — they seemed unbothered by what was happening.

Then you knew someone was going to be asked to Homecoming you just didn't know who. You could tell that one person holding the poster was Ned you couldn't make out the other friend of Peter's though. That was when Peter ran up to the center of the field with a microphone in hand you heard some gasps when he approached.

“I'd like to share something very important with you all,” you heard cheering in the distance.

“I have a friend who means the world to me & I know she's out here today,” you felt eyes on you.

“I'd like her to know she helped me with my grades & helped improve me as a person. Not only that but she's the sweetest person — she always gets me coffee & gives the me her best advice.”

That was when you slowly got up from the bleachers towards the field knowing it was you. He was smiling at you when slowly started walking up to him, “So

Y/n L/n will you go to Homecoming with me?” the poster opened as he said those words.

You met eyes with him standing right in front of him his beautiful brown eyes filled with innocence & hopefulness. You smiled and breathed out, “Yes.”

In that moment Peter pulled you into a soft yet passionate kiss. The crown erupted with cheers the sound echoed through the back of your head. Everything seemed muted in the moment of the kiss — when it was over you looked him, “I didn't really expect that.”

“You weren't supposed too.” He just gave you his charming smile & pulled you into a hug.You turned your head slightly seeing the crowd with smiles & their phones out capturing the whole moment.

“Thank you.”Peter whispered in your ear.

“For what?” you asked cluelessly.

“Everything,” he breathed out.

#peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spider man imagine #spider man: far from home #spider man: homecoming #spider man #tom holland x reader #imagines #marvel #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot

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suicidalcatz · 5 years

Text

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 4

AN: Hello ! In this chapter we go on an investigation! But also we get closer to God Jake. I’m writing the 7th part at the moment, and I think the 8th one will be the end of my dream, but not of this fanfic. Let the fluff begin !

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre: College AU

Previous parts: Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3

Masterlist : here

Chapter four : Need a hand ?

It became obvious to both Mandy and I that I was starting to have a crush on Jake. How could I not ? For a far as we knew him, he was perfect in every way.

At first it was discreet. My new hobby of staring at him during lectures was unnoticed by both of the Kiszkas, or if Josh noticed something, he at least thought it was me waiting for his next paper ball notes and getting impatient. Regarding my class daydreamings, they weren't new so classmates and teachers didn't think much of it. Although it became very apparent something was up when I started unintentionally drawing his face several times in the workshop during portraits studies. Even though my photo reference was Kurt Cobain. It could've been easily mistaken for a very bad observation job (and it did), if it weren't for Mandy who saw me coming home after a long day with a painted 50x70cm Jake canvas under my armpit. Judging by my defeated look, she didn't address it, but she knew.

It's a few days later that we had that talk. It was getting so bad that I began mistaking people in hallways for him, smiling or even giggling to myself as I was remembering stuff he did or said, and again, drawing him.

- I can't focus on anything, I sighed defeated. I have this assignment due to next week and I can't draw any character right. I even dreamed of us doing grocery shopping.

I let my head bump loudly against the dining table as she made me a cup of tea/coffee and placed it in front of me. She knew perfectly how I felt because we all went through the same, that's why she softly pulled the chair opposite mine to sit and have a chat.

- You should talk to him more, get to know him, she encouraged. He's nice and now we sometimes hang out so it's not that weird wanting to know him better.

She was right. Sooner or later I'll had to talk to him and even tell him how I feel anyway. Not now though, it was too soon. I kind of got struck by lightning when I first laid my eyes on him and it got worse when we spoke, but it still rarely happened for people to fall instantly like that. There was no way he'd understand if I just confessed my feelings out of the blue. I should wait and see if there's any chance that my feelings are shared, because there was no way in hell I'd tell him if I wasn't sure I had a chance to date him. Speaking of which...

- Should I ask him out on a date?

As an answer, Mandy smacked my head accross the table with an empty box of biscuits.

- Are you out of your mind ? I just told you to wait ! I know you're impatient to get into his pants but think about all the times you rushed things and how many times it worked.

Raising my head to rest my chin against the plastic flowery tablecloth, I considered it, looking at her munching on chocolate biscuits, browsing a fashion magazine for inspiration. Defeated once again, I let out a sigh and shifted so my cheek was against the table.

- First of all, I don't want to get into his pants- Not yet. Second of all, you're right. I don't want to screw up this time because it'll be so awkward afterwards.

She closed her eyes and quickly nodded because she knew she was of good advice, as usual.

- You forgot something essential boo. You don't know if mister doe-eyed guitarist is single.

Fuck, that's right. Neither of them mentionned it but it's not something you just blurt out. We exchanged a look, and she grinned at me in a knowing way.

- Let's investigate.

The first thing to do was to go on his Facebook. It did seem a bit wrong searching him like that instead of asking straightforwardly, and as if karma thought the same, we found that his infos were set on private. We didn't even bother searching for instagram or twitter as nobody puts their real full names on these, so the second thing to do was to go on the field.

Despite all the departments, the school was small so buildings were close to each other and all communicated (except for the fashion workshop). I kind of knew where everything was, since you could tell just by looking at the people hanging around. And as cliché as it sounded, it was true. Illustration students were always carrying ridiculous amounts of art supplies. Entire bags of paint, books and pencil case in their backpacks, giant portfolio under an arm, A3 sketchbooks in the other, and somehow they still found a way to carry their coffee cups. Architecture, Carpenters and Furniture Design students were often seen with big mock ups and models in their arms, tools or wood. Photo and Fashion peeps were carrying the less stuff since they worked mainly on computers in the Photography dep and let all their mannequins and fabric either at home or in the Fashion workshop. It was as easy to spot dudes from the Music dep, with their guitar on their back, hanging around the Architecture building, smoking, chatting, and drinking soda or coffee.

Their building was near the park, so they were mostly seen in that area. And thank God because I would've look so stupid passing by purely « by chance » in an area where no one ever went except for the people who actually studied there. The park was great. A lot of us used to play ball, sit on the grass to drink, chat or have lunch. It was big enough that the Architecture jocks built some cabins in a corner of it to host parties. I still don't understand how the school allowed that, but anyway, the plan was simple, make a little detour to see if I could spot Jake.

It was so cold outside that students were just hurriedly passing by, quickly making their way inside where it was somewhat warm. As a result, there wasn't many people in the park at this hour of the day and I wondered if Jake was in the dorms or in class before catching a glimpse of his hair in the corner of my eye. Okay time to be discreet. I put my bag down near the trash to fake looking for something while watching him. Fuck he looked good with a scarf and head covered with a beanie. Aside from his looks, he seemed rather bummed. Passers by kept shaking him off as he tried to hand them yellow papers. Probably flyers.

- Jake, I'm taking 5 !

Some guy just beside me doing the same task called him loud and clear, and I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes when Jake turned around to reply and locked eyes with me. I instantly felt very dumb, crouched next to the trash with my hands on my bag. The mental image I had of myself at that very moment was that of a raccoon. Running away was out of the question since he was approaching my way already, one hand holding the flyers and the other in his jacket pocket.

- Hey.

- Hi, I replied without moving an inch.

- Need a hand ?

Shaking out of it, I got on my feet by myself and lied about just passing by. Karma really was a bitch, wasn't it ? Henceforth no more weird MI6 strategies for me. Avoiding staring at the blushed tip of his nose, I gazed at my hands and saw his in the process.

- Are you giving out flyers ?

- Oh yeah, for the Christmas school festival, but no one is either interested or invested in it unfortunately. It's a shame, I think it's gonna be great. I don't know what's holding them, he added while scratching his beanie, it's free and there's gonna be music and food and booze, what more could we need ?

To be fair I understood both parties. Jake was right but some students probably had exams or homework, and it was freezing and they were doing it outside. Well if we were honest it never stopped anybody from partying so maybe the event wasn't the issue.

- I saw people displaying posters, I remembered, can I see the flyers ?

Without missing a beat he handed them all to me and dear lord I almost got blind just by looking at them. That yellow and black and these awful drawings weren't doing anything good for the event. He must've saw it on my grimacing face because he sighed.

- That bad ?

- Honestly ? It looks like a Bee Movie add.

It actually made him let out a chuckle before puting a hand to his heart.

- That hurts.

That flawless smile made my cheeks burn, thank god they were already red because of the cold. His thumb brushed mine when I handed the flyers back to him, and at this moment I knew I was gonna act without thinking again, because my brain went on vacation the second his skin got in contact with mine.

- I can make you new ones, if you want.

His eyes searched for any traces of a joke on my face before realization hit him and his brows frowned lightly.

- Are you sure ? 'm not an expert but this looks like a lot of work.

As backup to his words, he shook the big bundle of paper between his fingers. Jake genuinely looked worried about me, and all the work it'd put me through. Deep down I knew there was a little voice in my head screaming that helping him only meant more sleepless nights but all the other parts of my brains ignored it when two gentle brown eyes stared at me with concern.

- It'll be fine, I assured with a smile. I'm working fast. I just have to do one design and the rest will be printed, right ? No big deal.

Hand on his hip, Jake let out what sounded like a relieved breath and cracked a smile.

- Thanks, I really appreciate it. Do you have a pen ?

Of course I did, I even got one on my coat pocket for some reason. Things I just forget to remove. He gave me the flyers for me to hold while he uncapped the black marker and took my free arm.

- I'm giving you my number, so you can text me if you're having troubles for the design, and show me some pics if you need advice.

With cold fingers, he gently grabbed my wrist and pushed back the fabric to expose my already shivering skin, and started writing numbers on my veins. It tickled, and I got goosebumps, mostly because of the cold wind but also because of his hand around my arm. The soft touch of his calloused fingers felt right on my skin, replacing the freezing feeling of his digits by a sweet wave of heat and I unconsciously held my breath to focus on the new sensation. He let the ink dry a bit before covering my arm again, raising his chin to meet my face.

- I could've write it on one of the flyers but I got a feeling you would've lost it, wouldn't ya ?

A playful smile danced on his face and once again I found myself mesmerized by him, nodding and chewing on my lip in a childlike manner. Jake tapped me on the shoulder to thank me again, saying he'll make it up to me, but I was too absorbed by the burning feeling of his skin on mine.

- I have to go, he said after sliding the marker back inside my breast pocket. My band's playing at the christmas party by the way, I hope you'll come!

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #jake kiszka

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tj-and-cyrus · 5 years

Text

what’s in a name?

aka: instead of finishing a tarty fic, i accidentally wrote tyrus in one sitting because i had an idea and if i didn’t write it down i would Die Immediately.

AO3

Summary: Cyrus gets a call in the middle of the night from someone he doesn't recognize.

“...And who’s this?”

“The name’s James.”

Cyrus squinted at the clock on his nightstand “Okay…James, can I ask you why you’re calling me at three in the morning?” The boy on the other end of the phone swallowed audibly, and Cyrus made a face.

“I…might…have…feelingsforyou.” James spat out, stumbling over his words at every turn. Cyrus shifted around on his bed, frowning at the moonlight that glared right in his eyes throw his bedroom window. He blinked, trying to process this.

Some poor kid was crushing hard on a boy, and probably couldn’t sleep with everything going through his head, and it being a school night probably made it worse. So, rather than mulling and feeling anxious, he gets up at three in the morning to call said crush and confess his feelings. Cyrus didn’t judge him, almost everyone he knew made bold decisions while high off their own emotions.

He combed through his thoughts for a moment, trying to say something that wouldn’t upset the poor guy. Unfortunately what came out of his mouth was:

“I don’t really know you, I’m sorry. Who is this again?”

What the hell was that?!

“Eh, it’s fine,” James yawned, and Cyrus heard him moving around his room on the other end. “I should be getting some sleep anyways. Thanks for picking up, I guess. Man, I really shouldn’t do this while I’m stressed out from homework at… Christ, is it that late already? I have a game tomorrow. Shit.”

He’s trying to change the subject, I fucked up.

“Oh, cool! Do you play for the Jefferson basketball team?” Cyrus’ face went blank for a moment, his sleep-deprived brain struggling to piece together sentences like a normal human being. “I mean, assuming you go to my school that is, I don’t know where else you would have seen me.”

“No,”

Any longer in this conversation, and I’ll start sweating from anxiety. Awesome.

“— I play for the Otters…the Space Otters! You know, the Ultimate team?” James said cheerfully.

“Oh. Well, I’ve heard you guys are pretty good! I have a friend on the team.” Cyrus twisted his sheets around his finger, and James laughed rather awkwardly. “Are you feeling okay now? You sounded kind of upset before I asked who was calling me, you seem to be going through a lot.”

You sound like your parents!

“Yeah, I guess. School’s been kinda hard, I— I don’t know, I’ve only ever talked to one person about it.”

“Hm. Well, if that’s all you wanna say, that’s cool. I’m not the best with advice anyways.”

Why are you lying to him?

“I might call tomorrow or something, I don’t know. I’m sorry for bothering you.” James’ voice broke, and Cyrus’ heart went along with it.

“Don’t apologize!” Cyrus blurted. “You can call me at any time, I promise I’ll pick up.” He smiled softly, but mostly to himself, because James couldn’t see him right now.

“Hey Cyrus?”

“Yeah?”

The boy was very clearly crying now, or at least he was close to. His voice was wobbling up and down as he spoke, as if he was trying hard not to cry, but was about two seconds away from giving up. “Thanks for listening to me. I hope this didn’t ruining anything between us.” The low tone sounded through the phone speaker, and he knew James had hung up without waiting for a response.

Cyrus turned over and slammed his face straight into his pillow.

What a mess. Ughhhh. I’m usually so articulate!

He lifted his head up and unlocked his phone again to check his notifications. Usually he had a few from the Good Hair Crew’s group chat, (which Cyrus had set as the permanent name, much to the girls’ dismay,) but he was too tired to read through thirty-seven messages that probably weren’t important.

However, when he did open the app, he was reminded that the last person he had sent a text to was TJ Kippen. None of his friends were quite ready to invite him into their silly little group chats, but Cyrus texted him enough to make up for it, for sure.

He checked his calls. He hadn’t missed any, that was good.

Call at 3:14 AM: 747-393-8572

Would you like to start a conversation with 747-393-8572?

[ yes ] [ no ]

Cyrus selected ‘ no ’ almost immediately, opting to create a contact for him instead, in case he followed through on his promise to call again.

New Contact:

[First Name:] James [Last Name:] ???

- plays for the space otters team!

- lowkey crushing on me? hh??

- how does he know me?

But I don’t even know you.

Cyrus shut off his phone and set it back on his nightstand. He fell asleep a moment later, with those words ringing in his ears.

“Hey, Underdog!” Cyrus stifled a giggle over TJ’s stupid nickname. As much as he hated (but secretly liked) to admit it, it had stuck between the two of them. This whole nicknames thing.

“Hey!” Cyrus called out in response, and waited until TJ reached his side so they could walk to class next to each other. “This might sound weird, but this random kid called me in the middle of the night, or morning I guess, and apparently he goes to our school.”

“What did he say?”

“I think he just called to say he has feelings for me. I don’t even know him, it was kind of weird. But I’m glad I helped him sort his feelings out at…three a.m. I don’t even know if I have feelings for anyone right now, I’m pretty inexperienced with all this stuff. I hope I said the right things.”

TJ shook his head and laughed through his teeth, and then switched the conversation. Cyrus caught it, but didn’t say anything.

“Dude, the homework last night was such shit. I lost so much sleep over it, I’m fucking exhausted.” TJ rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

“I don’t even know anyone names James. I mean— shit, sorry— tell me about it, it took forever to get done.” Cyrus agreed, gripping the straps on his backpack anxiously.

“I don’t even think I finished mine.”

Cyrus’ brow furrowed, but he tried his best not to look disappointed in him. “TJ, we talked about this.”

“I know, I know. I’ve just had a lot going on lately, what’s one more zero on my report card?” TJ asked, but he knew it was a stupid question.

“Like, a lot, actually. We’re almost at the end of the semester, I kinda worry about your grades,” Cyrus laughed, but he wasn’t joking my any means.

“What are you, my parents?” TJ asked rhetorically, and got nervous when he saw Cyrus’ expression fall. “Sorry— you know what I meant. I don’t think the teacher can hate me any more than she already does.” When Cyrus still looked worried, he added “Plus, I have a B-minus in the class right now. If the semester’s almost over, all I have to do is make sure it doesn’t drop below a C, I’ll still be passing.”

Cyrus sighed, and TJ tried his best to pretend it didn’t hurt.

“Kippen,” the teacher began flatly when she reached his desk. “This is the second week in a row you haven’t been turning in your homework. Or actually completing it, I assume. At this point, you’re rather lucky to be doing well on your actual class work assignments, they’re the only thing keeping your grade afloat.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at this.

TJ turned a dark shade of red as he felt the stares of a million kids burn into the back of his skull. “What? But I turned it in all of last week!”

The teacher peered down at her clipboard checklist over the rims of her old 70’s-something-looking glasses. “I’m afraid Mr. Goodman here turning in your homework for you while you were ‘out sick’ doesn’t qualify for you actually doing the work, Mr. Kippen.”

Both of the boys’ eyes shifted back down to their desks in embarrassment, and the teacher collected Cyrus’ homework, marking an ‘X’ through TJ’s name on the list. She announced that “last night’s homework will be graded by your peers, to take away some of the difficulty of entering all these end-of-the-semester grades”.

Cyrus was about to ask Gus to trade homework with him, since Jonah was absent at a therapy appointment for the period; when TJ slapped a pile of papers down of his desk. Cyrus looked through it, and it was all of his homework for the past month, completed, but untouched by the teacher’s pen markings.

“What? You did the homework?! TJ, what the fuck!” Cyrus exclaimed, struggling to keep his voice low, even over the ambient chatter of other students’ voices.

“What’s the point?” TJ groaned. “I would have gotten everything wrong anyways.”

“You don’t know that!” Cyrus reminded him, still a little hysterical. “I thought your tutor was helping you!”

“I don’t have one, I only said that so you didn’t have to watch me fuck up every day after school for the whole semester.”

“But…I… that’s…TJ! Why did you wait to tell me until just now?”

TJ brushed it off rather immaturely, and shrugged. “Don’t know, just been feeling a little risky lately.” Cyrus was immediately terrified of the several implications of that sentence; but TJ had slid the top paper in his stack of homework onto Cyrus’ desk, and stuffed the rest in the recycling bin near the classroom’s doorway.

“Okay, uh…what’s your answer for the first question?” Cyrus asked, once TJ sat back down in his squeaky metal chair.

“Forty-five point six.” TJ replied, without looking up from his phone, which he hid on the inside of his desk from the teacher’s view.

“Really? Because the correct answer isn’t even close to that, and your paper says something else—“

“Yeah, Cyrus! No shit! I haven’t had above a C in this class all semester, everything on that paper is so fucking incoherent to me at this point, I’ve given up. And you can’t try and fix me anymore, alright? So just, please , leave me the fuck alone!”

All Cyrus did in response as TJ stormed out of the classroom, was blink rapidly to keep tears from inevitably forming in his eyes.

What was that?

He’s never been that...sudden.

“Would you like to accompany him, Mr. Goodman?” He heard the teacher ask him from the back of the room where she sat. Cyrus nodded.

“Yeah I just— give me second.” His gaze fell on the recycling bin, now filled almost solely with TJ’s math homework. Most were crumpled up in some form, except for the ones Cyrus had helped him work on after school. Cyrus held the previous night’s assignment in his hands.

Several questions had been erased and redone several times, some were covered in numbers that overlapped, and a couple were scratched out entirely, in ugly dark led that tore into the paper. Cyrus looked back at all the papers in the bin, and they were all in the same general condition.

And on the top of every single paper, it read ‘Tyler James Kippen.’

Oh no.

Oh my god, no.

Cyrus stared at the name until tears blurred the words out, and he felt them start to fall.

He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t even know who you are yet. Because you didn’t tell him! You lied! You lied so much. You’re awful, do you know that?

TJ ran his shaking hands through his hair. He’d been crying for a good twenty minutes, still unsure of why he was so stressed and emotional over a stupid crush. It was already eleven, somehow, and he had skipped dinner with his parents to shut himself inside his room like the loser he was. He turned to his bedroom door when he heard a knock, and Amber walked in, looking concerned.

“Hey. I heard the door slam shut when you got home earlier, but I wanted to wait until you were feeling a little…” TJ scrubbed his swollen eyes and glared at her through them. “...better.”

TJ didn’t look up at her, until she shoved something in front of him. “You can use my phone again, if you plan on calling him tonight.”

“How d—”

“I know you stole it yesterday.” She sighed, and set it down on the bed next to him. TJ stared at the phone, like it would shock him if he touched it. Amber tried to change the subject. “How’d the game go today? Did you guys get crushed by the Raptors again?”

“Shut up,” TJ sniffed, but smiled at her through his drying tears. “And I skipped. I’ve probably got a million texts and calls from the team, I promised I wouldn’t miss this one. Well, after I got suspended for failing class. I don’t think coach would let me play anyways.” He put his head in his hands before continuing. “God, I fucked up today, Amber. I really did. I think Cyrus hates me.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me what happened today, then. But there is someone you should be be calling right now. She tapped on the dark phone screen, and TJ stared at it for a good minute before picking it up and dialing Cyrus’ number.

He drew in a deep breath, and pressed “ call ”.

Why are you lying to him?

Why did you have to pretend?

“Oh thank god, he picked up. Uh— hey, Cyrus. It’s uh…it’s TJ. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but can we talk for a second? Like, in person? I’m uh. I’m outside you house. Amber drove me here. Please answer the door.”

The line went dead, and Cyrus bolted upright from his couch.

“You look…upset.”

“Nothing gets past you, Cyrus.” Tyler James Kippen himself stood on the Goodmans’ porch in a gray shirt and patterned pajama pants, with a dark teal flannel thrown over it. His sister, Amber, stood behind him, looking just as tired and disheveled. But she was smiling at him, and shoved him closer to Cyrus’ open doorway.

“Are...you mad at me, TJ?” Was the first thing he managed to ask.

Unfortunate.

TJ shook his head, which was full of far too many things to comprehend right then. “What?”

“From class today. Was it something I said?”

“God damn it, Cyrus, I like you!” TJ almost shouted, but was quick to stop himself from waking the whole neighborhood with his confession. Amber chuckled from the porch steps, and stopped when TJ shot her a look.

“I’ll…go wait…in the car.” She covered her mouth with a hand to hide her growing smile.

“Oh, yeah…that.” Cyrus continued after Amber had shut the car door.

“Did you know it was me? I thought it was kind of obvious. I’m a pretty awful liar.”

“I didn’t until I saw your papers in the trash can,” Cyrus replied. TJ stared at the ground and nodded. “You write your full name on them, you’re such a dork.” He added.

Cyrus suddenly surprised all three of them, including himself, when he pulled the taller boy in and kissed him. He noticed TJ’s wide eyes when they broke apart.

Amber tried not to smile like an idiot at her brother, who had fallen for this absolute nerd . She turned away and acted like it was none of her business so TJ wouldn’t be pissed off.

Now it was TJ’s turn to smile and lean in for another. Cyrus happily accepted, and wrapped his hands around the back of the boy’s neck, angling their lips to fit perfectly. When he pulled back to breathe at last, Cyrus ran a hand through TJ’s hair. It was much softer after the gel had been washed out of it.

“Hmm. I think I like it better like this,” Cyrus hummed in his ear.

“I’ll be sure to wear it like this more often, then,” TJ whispered back, and rested his head on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Underdog. I think I used up a month’s worth of emotion in these two days alone. I’m burned out. Can I stay at your house?”

“My parents are already asleep,” Cyrus reminded him, and gestured to their bedroom upstairs and down the hall, where his mom was snoring loudly. “Maybe tomorrow, though?”

“Ughhhhh.” TJ groaned, and turned to look back at Amber, who smiled and waved innocently from the car window at the pair. “I’ve gotten like two hours of sleep in the past two days.”

“Go and fix that then, I’ll see you again tomorrow, Kippen.” Cyrus said, and moved TJ towards the porch steps. He kissed him quickly, one more time, and TJ stooped down the stairs as slowly as possible. When he reached Amber, he sat in the backseat on the driver’s side, so he could blow Cyrus a kiss from the window. Amber reached behind her seat to smack him, but TJ was lost in his own his thoughts. He was totally in love with Cyrus Goodman.

Edit Contact:

[First Name:] TJ [Last Name:] Kippen

plays for the jefferson high basketball team

my boyfriend??? :)

#andi mack #tyrus #my writing #tyrus fic #tyrus fanfic #original

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