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to-thelakes · 3 months

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built to fall (3)

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

series summary; after having a rough month, the feelings that you had been harbouring for your co-worker finally come to the surface

series warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (later on), mutual pining, discussions of mental health, reader gets drunk, vomiting, suggestive themes, sexual tension, cases that the bau work are also mentioned so the usual warnings for the show apply

warnings for this part; slight miscommunication trope, tooth-rotting fluff, luke is a consent king, kisses <3

notes; luke is my consent king, love that man till the ends of the earth, also, just realised i didn't say but none of this fic has been beta-read, just proof-read (once) by me so i'm sorry if it's a complete fucking mess

tags; @smurfenijsje12 @xoxomoonlightbabe

ao3 / masterlist

previous chapter

Back-to-back cases swept up the next few weeks of your life and you and Luke hadn’t really had time to talk about what had happened. You were avoiding it and you were frankly embarrassed. You didn’t want to think about it and so if he ever tried to bring it up, you’d just change the topic. It was easier that way and you frankly didn’t think he needed to explain himself.

The two of you worked amicably. You tried your best to act like nothing had happened but that was a little harder than you had initially expected. Luke kept trying to get you to talk about it but you had been purposefully avoiding it. You were on cases and you didn’t want to possibly impair your judgment by becoming too emotional about Luke.

But the case you had been assigned to currently hit a little too close to home. So, frankly, you were already emotional. A little girl had lost her parents due to the unsub and you were finding it hard to keep it together. You were still a little fragile over your own parents and everyone could tell that you were off. Emily had tried to talk to you but you had reassured her that you were fine.

Luke could tell that something was wrong but whenever he tried to approach you, you shut him down before he could ask if you were okay. It was obvious to everyone that something had happened between you and Luke and it was beginning to affect the both of you. None of them really knew what was going on and Matt had tried to ask Luke but he brushed it off, acting as if it didn’t matter but it clearly did.

However, the longer this case went on the worse you were beginning to feel and the more you avoided Luke. You barely even looked in Luke’s direction anymore. The thought of making eye contact with him terrified you because you knew that if he spoke to you, you would break down into his arms. But you couldn’t do that to him, not again.

The text that you hadn’t replied to weeks ago had reassured you that he didn’t mind looking after you that night but it didn’t mean you wanted him to see it again. Especially not after you had continued to spill your guts over the phone. Now that some time had passed since the conversation over the phone, you knew that he probably wasn’t rejecting you.

But you didn’t know how to approach him anymore. So, you just avoided him. But as the third evening of the case rolled around, Emily decided that enough was enough and grabbed you to take you to one side. You hadn’t expected to be ambushed and when she asked you what was wrong, you floundered.

“Did something happen with Alvez? If something bad happened, you need to tell me and I will sort it out,” She said sternly. You stared at the floor, caught off-guard and completely floundering. Emily could see the way that you were fighting internally with yourself. She let out a sigh before she stepped towards you, “I need to know if something happened.”

“Nothing bad happened,” You said after a moment.

“You don’t have to lie. Nobody has to know,” She said softly. You shook your head, lifting your head up to look at Emily. You weren’t sure exactly what she thought had gone on but you couldn’t let her think badly of Luke. This was all on you. You were emotional, you were avoiding him. It was all your fault.

“I mean it. I just, you remember when Luke took me home?” You asked, Emily nodded, “Well, I was really drunk and I spilt my guts out and sobbed. It was ugly and I made some comments that were far from professional. I just can’t get him off my mind and then I spoke to him on the phone and… and I told him that I’ve been thinking about him a lot. And I just don’t know how to talk to him now because… I like him, a lot more than I should and I don’t know what to do about it and I can’t just pretend and talk to him like normal. And I’m fucking 30 and acting like a teenager. Like, this is ridiculous.” Emily nodded along to your words, listening to you and the tension in her shoulders seemed to drop.

“Okay,” Emily began but she seemed to pause, not entirely sure where to go. She was your friend but she was also your Unit Chief and she couldn’t have conflict in the unit. It would cause too many issues and so, she glanced over at Luke, “Let me speak to him. Why don’t you go back to the hotel? Get some sleep. You need it and it’s getting late.” You nodded. Part of you wanted to stay and work but you couldn’t. Emily wouldn’t let you and with the emotional toll the case was taking on you, you could barely think straight and so, you wiped your cheeks and nodded.

“Thanks, Em,” You mumbled. She nodded and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly.

“Get some rest.” The two of you then separated and you slipped away out the back door of the police station. It was a short drive to the hotel and you managed to hitch a ride with one of the officers that was heading out that way. You thanked them and once you were back in your hotel room, you curled up on the bed.

Then the tears started and you couldn’t stop them. You were sobbing violently as you wrapped your arms around a pillow. The past few cases had been hard and you were so tired. Everything was just getting pent up and you couldn’t escape the thoughts of Luke. It was driving you mad and you just wanted everything to go back to how it was before you had spilt your guts out to him.

The tears and snot didn’t seem to let up and you had to trudge to the bathroom after a while to try and clean your face up. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you cried harder. Your eyes were red, tears blurring your vision. It was too much. This case was too much and you just wanted Luke to hug you but you were terrified of that. What if it went too far? What if it just made it all worse and you couldn’t get over him like you knew that you had to.

After a moment, you heard a knock on your hotel door. You assumed it was Emily so didn’t even think before you opened the door. Instead, you were faced with Luke. There was a frown on his face when he took in your disheveled appearance and seeing him just made you cry harder. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Woah, woah, hey,” He said softly, stepping into your room. He closed the door behind him as you looked down at the floor, “Emily said that something was wrong. What is it?” He asked softly as he stepped towards you. Your shoulders shook and tears continued to drip down your face. You didn’t know how to tell him what was going on. It was too hard, “Talk to me, what’s going on?” He asked as he closed the space between the two of you. You wiped the snot from your nose as you stared down at the carpet. Luke’s face was pinched together as he watched you. Part of him wondered if this was his fault but he didn’t want to assume.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You choked out, trying desperately to control your sobs but every time you remembered he was there, it just got worse. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not leaving. You’re upset, I’m not walking away,” He insisted. That just made it harder and you had to hold yourself as you cried harder. You weren’t even sure how you still had tears left to cry but you did, “Talk to me, please, carina,” He begged as his hands moved to rest on your shoulders. You shook your head.

“I don’t know how to talk to you, that’s the problem,” You practically wailed as you covered your face with your hands. His face fell and he pulled you into a hug, “I keep getting drunk and saying stupid things and you make me feel so safe but I can’t just keep crying to you. You’re my friend but I just- it’s not fair on you.” You continued to blubber as you tried to control your breathing. Luke sighed. He knew what this was about now and so, he cupped the back of your head, pulling you against him. His other arm wrapped around you.

“I told you that it’s okay. I care about you, okay?” He said soothingly. That made you want to roll your eyes but it honestly just made you cry harder.

“I can’t keep saying those things to you. You, you clearly feel differently,” You stammered out, tears still streaming down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut. He let out a heavy sigh at your words, putting together what else was bothering you.

“Carina, you were drunk,” He stated, “I didn’t know how much you meant it and I didn’t want to assume. I have more respect for you than to take advantage of you like that” He explained. Your breathing had evened out a little now as he held you against him. He sighed against your hair before he grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks between his hands, “Look at me,” He insisted. You did, although it was very reluctantly.

“I was sober enough to know what I was saying,” You mumbled to him. He nodded and forced your face to tilt up so he could look into your eyes properly.

“But you weren’t sober,” He reminded you, “I can’t ever stop thinking about you and I wasn’t going to take advantage of you in a moment like that. Not over the phone, not in person, not ever. Do you understand me?” You forced yourself to meet his unrelenting gaze before swallowing and nodding. He nudged your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” You muttered. He nodded and then he moved one hand behind your head, pulling you into a hug again, “I’m not drunk now,” You added after a moment. Luke chuckled as you snaked your arms around his waist, snuggling into his warmth.

“No, you’re not, but you’re clearly upset and if I’m gonna do this, I’ll do it properly,” He said. You let out a heavy sigh and he chuckled softly at your dramatic reaction, “But, I feel the same way. I can’t… stop thinking about you. Do you know how distracting that is?” The soft chuckle that accompanied your words made your shoulders relax against him, “Couldn’t look at you without thinking about how gorgeous you are.” You began to grin. It was ridiculous how much you adored this man and he was telling you everything you needed to hear.

“Can you stay with me, then?” You muttered. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you ‘okay’ softly before his hands trailed down from your back to your thighs. He gently lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips. The new position meant you could bury your face in his neck as he carried you both over to the bed.

All he wanted was to make sure you got some sleep and you knew that you were cared for. He hated to admit it but he had fallen for you completely.

By the time the case was over, it was getting late but you all wanted to get home. So as midnight drew in, you had boarded the jet. And by the time you landed back at home, it was nearing 3am. You were honestly exhausted. Though, you and Luke had spent most of the flight home talking while everyone else slept so you really only had yourself to blame.

You hadn’t intended to spend the whole flight talking with him but the case was done and the air was cleared. So, you wanted to speak to him. You wanted to stay close to him. He had already been sleeping in your bed at the hotel as the case dragged on. And as you flew back, the thought that you would be sleeping alone lingered in the back of your mind.

So, you did your best to just enjoy his presence.

Once the team returned back to the office, Emily told everyone to go home and just finish the reports on Monday. That was a relief to everyone’s ears and with a few tired goodbyes, everyone began to filter out until it was just Emily, you and Luke. Emily was in her office and you could see her through the blinds. She was always staying late at the moment and you could see her writing up something at her desk. It made you frown but you didn’t have a chance to think about it too much before Luke had spoken.

“You heading home?” He asked as he walked over to you. You nodded, rubbing your eyes to try and keep the sleepiness at bay, “Need me to drive you?” You thought for a moment before you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine,” You said softly. He nodded and adjusted his to-go bag over his shoulder. Luke’s presence made it so much easier to sleep and part of you wanted to ask him to come and stay over but you didn’t know how to. You hadn’t even kissed yet. You didn’t know what to do and it seemed he felt the same way.

The silence dragged out between the two of you before you said, “I just hope I can sleep.” Luke’s face contorted and you looked at him, cocking your head to the side.

“Why don’t you stay over with me? Then you can meet Roxy in the morning ‘cause I gotta pick her up from the dog-sitter,” He suggested. You didn’t even need to consider it. The thought of being able to stay with Luke for another day made you feel better. It was so much easier to fall asleep when you were next to him. Also, it meant that you might be able to work out what you were without the pressure of the case - or the team.

“Yeah, okay,” You said softly. Luke began to smile and he glanced over at Emily. She had been watching the two of you but when Luke looked up, she was quick to avert her gaze. You grabbed your to-go bag from your desk and pulled it over your shoulder, “Do you think she noticed?” You asked as you glanced back at Emily.

“Probably,” Luke shrugged. You rolled your eyes and then he took a hold of your hand, pulling you towards the elevator. His hand was so warm and you honestly felt like you could have fallen asleep against him in the elevator.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you debated what to do about the cars before you agreed that you would drop your car - and to-go bag - off at your apartment. Then you could grab a change of clothes and then Luke would drive the both of you the rest of the way to his house.

By the time that you had arrived at Luke’s house, 3am had ticked into 4am and you were both exhausted. In your sleep-deprived state, you didn’t really give Luke’s house much of a look. You were more interested in getting in bed and curling up against his side.

Neither of you really thought about much as he dragged you to the ensuite so that you could both brush your teeth. You then changed into pajamas which consisted of stripping and putting on pajama pants on and a comfy bra. Luke found it hard not to stare at you, admiring you as you trudged back into the bedroom.

His bed looked incredibly comfy. And he also looked incredibly domestic. He had stripped his shirt off and jeans off, leaving him in just his boxers as he got under the covers. You found yourself admiring his ass as he shuffled under the covers and when he noticed, he sent you a look, cocking his eyebrow.

“You have a nice ass,” You shrugged before he grabbed your hips and dragged you into bed with him. A giggly shriek escaped your lips as he pulled you against him. With a little bit of shuffling, you were curled up on his chest.

The warmth that radiated off his skin made you sleepy which made it easy to fall asleep. So, within a few minutes, you were dragged into the blissfulness of it. It took a little longer but with you against him, Luke also managed to fall asleep.

The blare of an alarm woke both you and Luke up and you let out a soft groan, leaning over and trying to switch your alarm off. Before you realized that it wasn’t yours. It was Luke’s. He muttered an apology as he switched it off before dropping back into bed.

Your eyes blinked open for a moment, taking him in in the morning light. He looked so pretty and you couldn’t help the lazy smile that spread across your face before your eyes closed again. Part of you couldn’t believe that you were sleeping in his bed, in his house. It was ridiculous especially considering that you hadn’t even kissed yet.

“If I didn’t have morning breath, I’d kiss you,” You mumbled under your breath as you shuffled back towards the man beside you. You heard Luke let out a sleepy laugh before he rolled towards you. The two of you had slipped away from each other in your sleep and he frankly, was not happy with that. So, he grabbed you and tugged you into him. Your head slotted underneath his chin while his arm wrapped around your back.

“Mhm, that’s better,” He hummed out. You couldn’t help but chuckle against his chest. Your breath fanned across his skin and he nuzzled his head into your hair. Then you pressed a soft kiss to the column of his neck where you were cuddled up.

Despite your best intentions, you were slipping back into sleep again. The feeling of Luke’s fingers running patterns across your back lulled you back into it and it wasn’t until an hour or two later that you woke up again.

But rather than being cuddled up to Luke, he was sitting up in bed, reading a book. You rolled over to take a look at him, still sleepy but more awake than you had been when his alarm had rudely awakened the both of you.

“Morning,” You mumbled softly. The two of you had fallen into an easy routine the last few days of the case. The feelings that bubbled to the surface were there but neither of you had actually done anything about them. But you were going to change that this morning. You were determined to finally get that kiss you had been craving.

“Hi,” He said softly, putting his bookmark in so he could put all his focus on you, “How you feeling?” He asked. You snuggled up to the pillow, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. It was hard to hide it which made him chuckle.

“It was a pretty good sleep,” You muttered. He moved to lie down, turning over onto his side to face you. He reached out to cup your jaw and you melted into him. It was nice. The routine that the two of you had fallen into was easy. It was like you were meant to be together and it soothed something in your soul that you didn’t know needed healing.

“Want some breakfast before I pick up Roxy?” He asked. You nodded against his hand, forcing your eyes back open to look up at him. He grinned and slid out from under the covers.

“It better be good. I’ve heard some… things about your cooking,” You added, teasing him with a sleepy grin. Luke looked back at you, tutting before he headed into the bathroom. You whined softly at the loss of him before deciding you needed to get up too. Realistically, you wanted to stay in Luke’s bed. His mattress was so soft and you felt like you were lying on a cloud. But you wanted to be around him as much as you could.

So, the two of you brushed your teeth together before you headed downstairs. This time you took the time to look through his house. His living room looked so comfortable. The couch looked like something you could sink into and never want to get out of. He had a big TV and a collection of different video games. They looked mainly like RPGs and there was a VR headset abandoned on the coffee table.

You schmoozed a little longer, clocking the blanket on the back of the sofa that looked very soft and comfortable before you turned around and wandered into the kitchen where he was already cooking up a storm.

You could get used to this. He looked so domestic. He had put some pajama pants on before he left the bedroom but you still had a beautiful look at his bare chest and built shoulders. He was built like a Greek God and you loved it.

As he was cooking on the stove, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He smiled, glancing back at you before he returned back to the pan. You stayed there for a moment before Luke needed to move.

So, you reluctantly stepped back and walked over to the fridge. He had mentioned something about loving OJ with his breakfast and when you spotted it in the fridge, you scooped it up before searching the cupboards for his glasses. Luke watched in mild amusement as he continued to cook, not bothering to end your suffering as you searched.

It took a moment before you found two glasses and then you poured a healthy dose of OJ out before you put it back in the fridge. You grabbed your glass and took a sip. It tasted so good and the sugar gave your system a kick that you didn’t even realize that it needed.

Once you were satisfied, you moved to sit up on the counter. Luke placed the lid over the frying pan before he turned around to you. The two glasses of OJ were placed beside you and so he picked up his as an excuse to get close to you.

He slotted himself between your thighs, taking the untouched glass of juice. He took a drink before placing it down. You met his gaze and couldn’t help but smile. Between his body between your legs, the warmth of him so close and the domesticity of all of this, you were giddy. You had missed this kind of comfort.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” You said softly. He shrugged and let his hands slide up your thighs to rest against your waist. He took you in, adoring every feature on your face. The way your eyes shone in the morning light and the relaxed way you smiled up at him.

“I couldn’t say no to this face,” He admitted as one of his hands moved to gently run his fingers across your jaw. You chuckled, shaking your head at his comment. The eye contact was a little too intense so you grabbed your glass and took another sip of the juice, avoiding it for a moment. When you placed the glass down, Luke was still there and admiring you.

“What?” You giggled, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. He shrugged and let his hand rest against your jaw.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. You were a little dumbfounded by the question. In reality, it was obvious that’s what he wanted. He was so close to you, breath fanning across your cheeks and his hands caressing any part of your skin he could reach. You should have expected it and yet you still stammered over your words.

“Please,” You managed to get out. He chuckled and moved his other hand to rest against your cheek. He was cupping your face and he pulled you forward on the counter so you were pressed against him. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours. The first kiss was soft. There was a gentleness to the way he connected your lips and it made you weak at the knees.

Nobody you had ever dated had ever kissed you like this. It felt like you were floating and then he pulled back. His forehead rested against yours as you breathed in each other. Your brain took a moment to catch up before you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

It was passionate this time. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as closely as physicall possible against you as you moved your mouth against his. Your fingers moved to run through his hair, combing through his curls as you gently ran your tongue across his bottom lip. He didn’t waste a second letting your tongue in and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of OJ lingered on both of your lips as you desperately clung to each other.

His head tilted to the side, hands gripping your hips and tugging you closer. There was a longing in the way he kissed you and it made you completely breathless, heart pumping against your ribcage. You could have kissed him forever as your lips met over and over again, barely giving either of you time to breathe.

Your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair and he let out a groan against your mouth. His hands then trailed under the back of your shirt, fingertips running across your spine. You arched into him and he pulled back, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. The whimper that left your lips was completely involuntarily and it made him smirk as he pressed wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers stayed buried in his hair, gripping onto the roots as he searched for the spot on your neck that would make you keen.

“Luke,” You whimpered softly as his teeth nipped at your skin. He grinned against you, happy to have found the spot he was looking for. He then began sucking the skin into his mouth, “Fuck,” Your hands tugged at his hair as you bit your lip. It felt so good. Luke felt so good and you were pretty sure that you would do anything he asked in that moment. The quiet groan he let out as you pulled on his hair just made it all that much more erotic.

But, even though you loved the feeling of his lips against you neck, you wanted his lips on yours again so you were quick to tug his hair, pulling him away from your neck before you connected your lips again. The kiss didn’t last long though. Both of you were completely breathless, panting as he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were closed as you breathed each other in.

A giggle fell from your lips as you finally let your eyes reopen, “Jesus,” You mumbled. Luke’s eyes opened and he looked into your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” He teased. You pecked his lips again before you pulled back a little more.

“Nothing, just, fuck,” You responded. He couldn’t help but grin as he moved his hand to cup your cheek. His thumb ran circles across your cheekbone before he leant up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Fuck, you could get used to that.

“Ready for breakfast?” He asked softly. You nodded, biting your lip to try and stop the smile from completely taking over your face. You were so fucking smitten for him and you loved it but also couldn’t believe it.

next chapter

#luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez fluff #luke alvez fic #luke alvez smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #reader-insert #built to fall

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n3onstarss · 1 year

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Some self-indulgent Rottmnt! Raph x reader because I'm bored and projecting and had a Moment™ earlier.

Reader is a pale fox, agender and transmasc btw, although not much of it comes up besides species.

'This is gonna be great!' I think to myself as I trek through the dark and damp sewers, purposefully ignoring the small puddles splashing around my boots and holding my bushy tail off the ground. 'I'm going to get to spend the night with my boyfriend, at my boyfriend's house, and meet his family! Shit did i wear the right outfit?' I ask myself as my paws pat down my shirt. 'I mean, it's a plain black turtleneck shirt and my fancy schmancy green jeans, you can't go wrong with that! And i made sure my earrings are the nice matching stud ones too!' My right paw moves once again to feel up long pointed ears, claws catching on the three metal studs on each side, while the other stays wrapped tight around the strap of my plain black duffel bag. 'Yeah, I'll be fine!'

'Did i put all my earrings in? what if one closes up during dinner or something or they're lopsided? did i remember to pack pyjamas that are decent? God please don't tell me I packed two shirts instead of a shirt and pants again. what if my mascara runs? or my eyeliner? fuck did i smudge it on the way down?' I glance over the side of my hand as i keep moving. Luckily i don't see any dark streaks in the pale tan fur. 'Oh okay nevermind. no black streaks, we're all good there at least.'

I barely have time to continue my spiraling train of thought before I reach where I was instructed to go. I pulled out my blocky red phone to shoot Raph a text to let him know I arrived. I couldn't see this supposed door and i didn't wanna just barge in either way.

Me: Hey, I'm outside! 💚

RedRover❤️: Oh okay!! I'll be right there love!

I started rocking back and forth on my heels while i waited the minute or two before the supposed door swung open. There, holding open the hidden, round, cement door stood my beloved partner. light poured out from behind the barrier and surrounded him in a halo of sorts. 'God, why does he always have to look ethereal?'

"Hey Red! you look nice as ever." a warm, fuzzy feeling couldn't be ignored at the compliment. seriously, how does he do this shit??

"Hello, also Red! you look stunning, love." i respond back without skipping a beat, making us both try to hold in peals of laughter at the matching names. It was almost stupid how easily it worked. they were our signature colors either way! What with his red bandana and the red markings in my fur, it wasn't a hard conclusion to come to.

As soon as we both collect ourselves, which takes a minute or two, he steps to the side to let me past. the sudden anxiety hits me worse then it did getting ready or even walking down here. I hold out my hand a little, a nonverbal ask to hold his hand, and he almost immediately scoops it into his larger one.

"Are you sure they'll like me..?" the words come out quiet, almost inaudible to even my ears, but he still catches them.

He squeezes my hand reassuringly. "they'll love you, Red. i just know it."

-----

He, infact, did not 'just know it'.

So far, everyone except the orange one, named Mikey, the spider yokai, Big Mama,.and the human girl, April, has a avoided making direct eye contact or speaking to me as much as they can. maybe it's first time awkwardness, maybe it's jitters, maybe they just don't like me.

The dinner table was just big enough to fit all of us, which was nice, and was laid out with bowls and plates. I'd offered to help set it earlier, but the blue one, Leo, had only shooed me away. tomato soup and grilled cheese was laid out, and now I feel like I dressed too fancy. God i look ridiculous, a blank spot in a sea of color.

Leo and the purple one, his twin Donnie, sat side by side as far away from me as possible, both their fathers and their mother seeming to follow suit. Raph sits to my left, April to my right and Mikey between her and Donnie. The other human, CJ or Casey, sat between Raph and Draxum. This left Big Mama sandwiched between Splinter and Draxum.

"Bone apple teeth!" Mikey calls, making everyone groan or giggle, before grabbing up the soup pot and ladle to pass around. I ultimately decide to try to wait until everyone else has gotten theirs so I'm not rude, but my plan is foiled when Raph notices my tenseness and scoops some into my bowl before reaching over me to pass to April.

Across the table i can see Leo lean towards his twin and whisper something. Both of them whisper heatedly for a few minutes and occasionally break eye contact to glare in my general direction, which only serves to make me want to shrink in on myself.

The urge to shrink in on myself only got stronger as dinner wore on, but luckily Mikey must've picked up on it. He kept up a slow and nice gentle conversation between the table, asking about everyone's day and basic info from me. Eventually everyone became wrapped up in their own seperated convos and left just me and Mikey talking, scooting and leaning back since April sat between us.

"So! what's your favorite color and why?"

"hmm.. green. It's very calming and it matches nicely with my fur, especially darker greens! very nature-y."

"OOOO! that's a good one! mines orange, obviously! it's a very warm, happy color and i love that!"

"Man you're reason is even better!" quiet giggling breaks out between us for a few seconds. "okay, okay! what's your favorite.. hobby?"

"oh definitely painting or baking! yours?"

"hard to choose really, either watching movies or listening to music."

"lame, man!" his words were harsh if his tone wasn't teasing.

as our conversation continued I could faintly make out remarks from the other side of the table over the other conversations. CJ, the other human, and Draxum, the other dad, were talking about school i think. Raph, Big Mama, and April were gossiping and arguing semantics. and the twins were whispering again.

Eventually Leo slammed his hands on the table and stood up. everyone had been done eating for a while now, but the sudden movement drew everyone's attention. The tense atmosphere was back, not as strong as earlier, but still there.

Without a word Leo gathered his and Donnie's dishes and left, presumably to clean up. everyone soon followed suit.

"I can get yours if you want." I offered to no one in particular, but Mikey, Raph and Splinter all took me up on the offer. As i made my way towards the kitchen hushed voices flowed out and immediately halted when I turned the corner. Glares followed me as i made my way to the sink, pointedly ignoring them, and rinsed the dishes quickly, ready to get out of their hair.

Instead, both turtles left and I decided to just finish the dishes to be polite. 'I wanna make a good impression so pleaseeeeee let this help.'

Turns out, the dishes didn't take very long and by the time I was heading back out it'd only been a few minutes.

By the time I was out there, movie night had been set up. Everyone was piled onto the floor to watch a Jupiter Jim movie and passing around a communal popcorn bowl, as Raph had told me earlier when we made the plans. Quickly and quietly i moved to sit next to Raph, snuggling my left side into his as everyone settled. About halfway into the movie Raph got a text and excused himself, as did Leo and Donnie. After a few minutes I decided to get up too, to get some water and refill the communal popcorn bowl, which was now reduced to unpopped kernels that CJ and Mikey kept eating. April snagged and handed me the bowl once i offered and I departed.

There was talking as i walked down the hall towards the kitchen, and i tried my best to ignore it so i wouldn't be rude.

unfortunately, my ears picked up a conversation i wasn't meant to hear.

"oh come on Raph! you brought a canine, a predator, into a house full of prey, and three other predators, and expect nothing bad to happen? what if theyre a villain? or lose it and return to their basic instincts? what then, huh?!"

'what is going on?'

"what? Leo, what do you mean basic instincts?"

"He means, dear Raphaella, returning to a predator mindset. seeing our family as either prey or competition. what do you expect us to do then?"

'oh..?'

"basic instincts dont affact anything, De-"

"Oh really?? explain that to your chirps and churrs and your savage episodes. explain that to Mikey hiding in his shell instinctively when threatened. Explain that to Donnie and I swimming often and our strange diets. WE have basic instincts too Raph, the only reason they don't affect our lives is because we aren't predators!"

'oh. okay.'

I stormed around the corner now, bowl still in hand and tears welling in my eyes. anger burning bright behind them. "You know what? fuck you! I've tried all. night! to prove I'm not some vicious fucking predator and you still accuse me of being one when I'm not even fucking there! I'm!- I'm.." the bowl slipped from my fingers, clanging loudly onto the floor.

horrified looks sat on everybody's faces in varying degrees. Donnie looked shocked I'd been there at all, Raph looked upset and pitying, and Leo.. he looked like i was about to murder him.

a small choked sob escaped me once i realized what I'd done. tears rolled down my face and effectively dragged my makeup with them. they didn't trust me, or love me or even like me. they see me as a monster. because of my stupid species. okay then, sure, fine. that's fine I'm fine everything is fine.

I began speed walking down the hall I'd came from, looking for a escape or place to hide. 'I'm such a fucking coward. running and hiding instead of letting them say anything. God this is pathetic, I'm letting my boyfriend fight my battles for me after i scared the shit out of his family because i just can't handle it. stupid stupid stupid.'

I hadn't realized I'd walked through the back of the silent living room, movie paused on the wall, or passed a frantic Mikey jogging down the hall towards the kitchen while absorbed in my thoughts, nor did I realize the yelling starting again and getting louder. all i could focus on was the "basic instinct" to get the fuck out of there.

Eventually, after a minute or two of twisting halls, I found a bathroom. perfect spot to hide, i guess.

I gently closed and locked the door behind me, not wanting to draw any more negative attention to myself. I flicked on the light, only to decide it was way too bright and turn it off in favor of the dim lamp on the counter.

The bathroom was a light green in color, with black and white checkered floors, which was nice i suppose. it didn't soothe my nerves but it provided a comforting atmosphere in a way. something that told me "its okay, let it all out" in its own little way. The bathtub was covered in a black curtain and looked inviting. I gently shifted the curtain aside as I started to hyperventilate, sitting myself in the tub. The quiet was soothing at first, but eventually it only made the bathroom into an echo chamber, making my thoughts bounce around my head in a quickening spiral.

It felt like an eternity before the knocking started. My sobbing only got worse, and louder in turn, which made the thing, person, call out. I couldn't process what was being said. I wanted to tell it to go away, to leave me in peace, but the words were stuck in my throat. my face was buried into my knees as i tightened my curl into upright fetal position, tears drenching my jeans knees worse then they already were. the knocking stopped as a few voices began talking outside followed by two sets of footsteps padding away. Light flooded the bathroom not long after and I shrunk in on myself further, curling my tail around myself to be as small as I could.

Footsteps echoed around the walls and the curtain was pulled aside as an unconscious growl built in my throat. When the voice started talking, my head snapped up, lips pulled up to bear my fangs and eyes wild. the thing, Orange one, jumped back in fear before backing, terrified, out of the room and closing the door. 'goddamnit this is only proving their point. i am a monster. i am i am i am i am i am.'

the same two words continued to float around my head until frantic, heavy running came down the hall and the door was thrown open again. My fur puffed up and my claws came out even more, only serving to make this feeling worse. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears and i couldn't hear anything else for a moment. Then the door was closed, something soft was sat down somewhere, and the light from the hall left, but the new thing didn't leave. the curtain was again pulled open, but much slower this time. 'I really fucked up and scared someone haven't I.. goddamnit! stupid stupid stupid stupid!'

the curtain finally revealed the figure. Tall and dark green with red patterns and fabric. I knew him, i felt safe with him. my fur didn't lay back, but the growing growl stopped and i could hear something other than my heartbeat again.

"hey hey.. easy there, you're okay, Red, Raph's gotcha.. you're fine.."

gentle hands wiggled under my arms and lifted me from my spot in the tub, holding me like a wet kit, before he stole my spot. I almost began growling again, how dare he steal my spot?, before i was placed slowly in his lap facing him.

A large, gentle hand began to smooth my fur, softly pushing it back down, as another hand cupped my face. His thumb moved to push away tears and smooth fur there too. My thoughts stopped their spiraling as i finally processed everything.

'This is, was, my boyfriend, sitting in his bathtub with me, trying to soothe me from.. whatever that whole ordeal was, and somehow not mad at me..'

As if he could hear the question in my head, he began to speak. "It's not your fault, Red. Nobody's mad at you, I'm not mad at you. And I'm not scared of you either, I can practically see you thinking it, and you've gotta know that I'm not scared of you. I don't think i ever will be scared of you a day in my life. what happened out there wasn't your fault, you're gonna be okay.. it's all gonna be okay.." as if my sobbing rubbed off on him, Raph started to tear up too.

I practically threw myself into his plastron, clinging tightly to him as the, now dry, sobs wracked my body. His hand that had been cupping my face was now gently sitting on the back of my head while that hand that'd been essentially petting me never stopped it's work. Our crying dyed down after what felt like forever, but neither of us dared to move for a while longer.

"a-are you gonna l-leave me?" i asked with a wobbly voice, still on the teetering edge of crying again.

"what? no! of course I'm not leaving you Red!" his voice was almost offended i asked, but somehow pitying too.

"b-but-" i wanted to argue that he should. I'm as dangerous as they claimed, I'll only hurt.

"uh-uh, no buts. I'm not leaving and that's final." i was pulled tighter into his plastron as the petting stopped. "i won't go unless you want me to, and even then I'll always be here for you. capishce?" the hold softened as he leaned back, trying to get a good look at my face.

".. capishce."

comfortable silence fell once again l, just until i could breathe right and stopped shaking, before he spoke again.

"Do you wanna get cleaned up and try again?"

"mm-mm", i hummed while shaking my head no against his chest.

"why not, Red?"

".. they hate me."

"oh Red.. they don't hate you-"

"yes they do! you heard what they said, you saw how- how scared Leo looked when I yelled!"

"they don't hate you Red. They don't. please, trust me. they don't hate you, we can try this again and get it right this time. if it doesn't work out then I won't force it, but i think you all might've just gotten off on the wrong foot."

".. okay"

i slowly worked to separate myself from him as he stood up, helping me up in the process. I squeezed my eyes closed and turned on the light. and when I reopened them holy shit it was bad.

eyeliner and mascara made black tear tracks through pale fur, most of my cheek fluff was laying flat and wet, my nose was running a little and when i glanced at Raph it only made me laugh a little. his plastron had a big wet spot right in the middle of it, complete with mascara smears.

Raph almost immediately brightened at my laughter and began laughing too. "gods we look stupid," i managed to get out between breathes, "so what's the plan, tiger?"

"whatever you wanna do, love. we can go to your place, or stay here or whatever."

"... can I get changed into pyjamas before we try again? please?"

Raph took a minute to jokingly inspect my outfit before agreeing. my knees were itchy from the tear soaked jeans and my shirt felt a lil too tight around my neck right now to be comfortable.

Somehow i hadn't realized the duffel Raph had brought with him and set on the toilet, maybe because he was standing infront of it but whatever. I walked behind him to the bag and got changed in the shower. the shorts and tank top were comfortable, but thank god i brought makeup wipes.

-----

The second meeting was much better, but not a perfect success. Donnie didn't mind me much anymore, but Leo still seemed to hate me a lil. That was fine, I could live with that, It was my fault.

Everyone was settled back in the living room, ready for a different movie. a vote was held and, after a lot of yelling, Piss in Boots; The Last Wish was chosen. Raph and I volunteered to go make new popcorn and dipped within the first 5 minutes.

It was not just popcorn. there were drinks for each person, and pop tarts for Donnie and Mikey, and fruit for Mikey, and applesauce for Leo, and chocolate for the humans, and dry ramen noodles for Splinter and Raph.

"You want anything specific, love?" Raph asked, his back to me as he leaned to reach the top of a cabinet while i dropped into a crouch to gather drinks from the cooler.

"I'm okay! thanks though!" I lied through my teeth, I'd done enough, i would be good anyways. I apparently got caught eyeing the ramen and fruit though.

"mhm.. sure." another ramen packet was added to the pile and another handful of fruit was thrown into the bowl.

the food was hauled back to the living room, and my skills from being a waiter set in. i had 2 drinks in each hand, caught between my fingers in a odd way, and two bowls balanced on each arm, one popcorn and one fruit. somehow nothing fell. I actually got a little applause out of Mikey and a laugh from somewhere in the room.

By the time everyone had their snacks we were, like, 20 mins into the movie. everyone was content and, after delivering the go go squeeze and a pepsi to Leo he even seemed to mellow out a bit. everyone was happy and fine, it would all be okay. especially if Raph would get the stupid mascara off his plastron. (whish he totally failed to do in the bathroom, by the way!) Mikey passed fruit around with the popcorn and, apparently, nobody ate it except Donnie, April and I, everyone else was too focused on the movie or their own snacks.

comfortable and safe, I leaned over to April and asked "psst, what'd we miss?"

"ohh okay! so, basically"..

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Text

Hear me out... Scarlet Lady AU, but it’s Lukanette

(takes place after “Captain Hardrock”)

Luka hunched over his guitar, only for another sting of pain to hit his back. He groaned, straightening up instead, but that somehow made the soreness even worse. Juleka chuckled at him from her place on her bed, having long since given up on moving her muscles at all and preferring to laze around.

He shot her a glare, but didn't comment so as to not encourage her. As he'd predicted, they were indeed sore from trying to stop the Liberty yesterday, his arms wordlessly complaining whenever he tried to do anything with them. He didn't regret it, but it'd also made making new songs a hassle, worsened by the fact that he'd very much gotten inspiration courtesy of Marinette.

After trying to ignore the soreness for around ten minutes, he heard a set of footsteps from above deck, from someone who was clearly heading down below. He knew they couldn't have been his mother - the signature "clack" of her boots sounded much different - but it also seemed somewhat familiar.

He realized it a bit too late, just in time for Marinette to get downstairs and pop her head into the room. "Hi!"

He sucked in a breath as subtly as possible, maintaining his poker face as he replied, "Hey."

"Hey," Juleka greeted, rotating her arm just enough to wave and clearly not wanting to put in more effort than that. She didn't even turn her head.

Luka chuckled. "Jule's busy today if you needed her for something."

"Shut up," she hissed. "It was your idea."

"Huh?" Marinette asked, looking back and forth between the two. "Oh! No, I was here to see Luka, actually—not that I'm not happy to see you too, Juleka! Just..." She grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head.

Marinette was there... to see him? Not his sister?

Luka glanced down, confirming that he was still wearing pants and therefore this wasn't a dream about to go horribly wrong.

Juleka's eyes flicked over to the two of them, her head having to actually move to do so. She squinted, like she was analyzing something, then groaned and slammed her hands down on the bed. She pushed herself up, clearly ignoring the way her body protested, then began her walk across the room.

Just before she reached the doorway, she leaned back to make eye contact with Marinette, warning her, "Careful with him. He's creaking like the floorboards."

Luka shot Juleka a glare, but she'd already zipped out of the room before he could blindly grab his pillow to throw at her.

For being so sore, you sure got away quickly, he thought, very much aware that she left because him being mushy with Marinette (also known as "normal and understandable because look at her") was "gross."

Marinette's eyes followed Juleka until the retreating footsteps could be heard moving up deck, then turned back to Luka. "Creaking?"

"Ah—" Well, there went any hope of avoiding that topic. "We used Chat's baton yesterday to stall the ship, but it was hard even with all seven of us. We're all still a little sore from it."

She furrowed a brow, like something had confused her, but then shook her head and replied, "Oh, that really does sound tough! I'm sorry I couldn't be there!"

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly, remembering what he'd been told before. "You were the one who got Marigold there. She saved us."

Her cheeks turned pink and he vaguely wondered if it was obvious how cute he thought - knew - she was. She ducked her head, then did a small wiggle of her hips before abruptly looking back up at him. "Um—! That's actually what I came to talk you about? I mean—not Marigold—or her saving you—or me and Marigold—but—"

Luka snorted, lightly patting the spot on his bed next to him instead of replying. The familiar gesture caught her attention, her voice trailing off as she slowly made her way over to sit next to him. She toyed with her fringe, seeming to get her words in order, then turned to look at him.

"I never got to thank you," she said. When he tilted his head in confusion, she clarified, "I wouldn't have been able to call Marigold if you hadn't saved me."

He smiled warmly at her. "It was nothing, Marinette."

"No, really, you thought so quick!" she insisted, leaning towards him with her hands flat on the mattress to support herself. "And you stayed behind too to make sure Captain Hardrock was fooled! That was brave of you."

He leaned away, face flushing red as he tried to control the stupid grin on his face. "Thanks. You were really brave too, finding a way out to get Marigold's attention."

He didn't tell her that he purposefully didn't hide with her because the sound of his heartbeat would've given their hiding spot away.

Marinette beamed at him, but seemed to realize how close she'd been leaning and pulled back with a sheepish grin. Luka returned to his original position too, but flinched when his spine rejected the movement with a spike of pain. He let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, Marinette's brows raising in concern.

"I could give you a massage...?"

The headstock of Luka's guitar hit the bed as he jerked his head up, the instrument in his lap forgotten as he stared ahead at Marinette, eyes wide. She was looking back at him with a blank expression, like she hadn't fully realized what she'd said.

Then, it hit her, and he swore he saw her pigtails bounce up in shock as her face shifted to realization.

"I-I just—I mean—!" She flailed her arms at him. "See, my papa always does it for my maman and—when you groaned like that it reminded me of it—so—"

The fact that she'd compared his bones to those of an aging adult went ignored in favor of noticing that she hadn't even tried to take the offer back. His heart pounded like the inside of his body was a brand new drumset, and he could only utter a weak, "Okay," in reply.

She'd still been rambling at the time, but somehow his voice managed to break through. She paused mid-sentence, her mouth still open as she processed his answer. "...Really?"

He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to avoid cracking if he tried to respond.

"Oh. Um, alright, oh..." she mumbled to herself, clearly having not expected to get this far.

Luka felt the bed shift underneath him as Marinette maneuvered herself behind him, at which point it really hit him that she was seriously about to massage him. He leaned forward, mentally preparing himself, though was quickly reminded of the guitar still resting in his lap. He pulled it off and set it where Marinette had originally been sitting, resting his hands in front of himself afterward.

The silence dragged for a moment, and he could sense Marinette's eyes on him, as if she were debating with herself on how to go about massaging him. He opened his mouth to give her an out, but all manner of coherent speech left him as her hands pressed into his back, thin fingers sliding along his shoulders and squeezing. He sucked in a breath, oxygen having a hard time getting into a body already stuffed full of feelings.

It was heaven, and added several sheets worth of music that he desperately needed to write.

"I-is this alright?" she asked. "Am I doing well?"

He tried to reply, but all that left his mouth was a sound that was both inhuman and embarrassing. Pressing one hand into the mattress, he covered his mouth with the other, his face turning red as he briefly debated on living in the drawer underneath his bed in lieu of having a hole to crawl into.

He changed his mind. It was hell. She was doing amazing but that was the problem and it was hell.

Marinette giggled, the sound he made apparently being answer enough for her as she continued massaging him. Her embarrassment had left by that point and he couldn't help being jealous of it, as his own had doubled.

After a few seconds had passed, Marinette spoke up again, "So, ah..."

He wasn't sure if she genuinely had a question or was trying to spare him, but he'd take it either way. "Mm?"

"I was wondering. Since Jagged's your favorite singer, what do you think of XY?"

He let out another sound, less involuntary than the last at least, though it was still too high-pitched to make anyone believe that he wasn't affected by Marinette's motions. He cleared his throat, making sure he sounded as normal as possible before answering, "The flaws in his music stick out like his hair."

The hands on his back froze, Marinette snickering and then full-on laughing. "Oh, you think so too?"

He grinned like the fool he was, tempted to look back at her but feeling like it'd be rude. "Yeah. I can't stand his music."

"Me neither. It's so... bland and uninspired."

The mental image of them drop-kicking XY into the Seine together entered his mind, a blissful sigh escaping him just in time for Marinette to restart her massage.

"You're really passionate about music," she observed, almost sounding as if she'd been talking to herself. "It almost makes me wish I played an instrument."

"I can give you lessons," he blurted out, then immediately backpedaled with an, "if you want, anyway."

Her tone lightened. "Thanks. I might have to take you up on that. Just... not when I'm so busy."

He shrugged his shoulders, both of which already felt infinitely better under her touch. He could tell she wasn't lying, so he wasn't offended by the hesitance.

As her hands trailed down his back and he tried not to look as if every touch was sending his heart on tour, she hummed thoughtfully, like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere.

"...Hey," she called. He waited, knowing that there was something else, and she continued, "Have you ever... been stuck between songs?"

"Stuck between songs?" he echoed, trying to piece together what she meant.

"Yeah, like—" She made an unsure sound - unfortunately not an embarrassing one like his when she pressed into his lower back - then clarified, "—maybe there are a few songs you like, and it's hard picking your favorite? Or you have some songs you want to write, but don't know which one to go with?"

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn't talking about music, but it was adorable how she worded it in a way relating to his specialty so he could help her. He mulled over the question seriously, the most difficult task just being drawing enough focus away from her movements so he could answer her.

"A few times," he replied. "It all comes down to feeling then. My favorite song or the one I want to write could just be which one I'm curious about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—" He blushed faintly, completely unaware that his metaphors were syncing with hers. "—a song that I want to know more about; to listen to over and over until I know it intro to outro. A song that makes me want to keep writing." He glanced over his shoulder at her, hoping the eye contact might help carry the meaning along. "I think those are the best kinds."

Her brows were furrowed in thought, as if he'd given her a hard equation that she was struggling to solve. He faced forward again to hide his smile when he noticed the spark of recognition in her eyes, like the metaphor had stuck and he'd actually helped her.

"I think I get it," she confirmed, the massage briefly stopping as she made idle circles on his back; still equally as distracting if he were honest. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "I like this one."

"What one?" he asked obliviously, though she didn't answer the question and pressed into his back again, making him squeak and forget his curiosity altogether.

The conversation ended there, lulling into something peaceful and comfortable. Luka actually found himself relaxing without much embarrassment, though there was still some pink to his face from his newfound crush giving him a massage. He just hoped he could make it through the rest of their time together without her realizing what a mess he was.

Then, as if something had occurred to her, Marinette noted casually, "Oh, I should do your arms next."

Luka's face burned. This girl was going to kill him.

#type: story #story: oneshot #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((Zoe: *welcomes Lukanette AUs of her AU*))#((me: Say no more.))

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

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lilxberry · 3 years

Text

I Watched You Die} 6 - Natasha Romanoff

Synopsis;

Someone from Natashas’ past makes the most of unsuspected arrivals and begins to cause issues, not only for her, just everyone they come into contact with. HYDRA uses them as a simple puppet and Natasha believes that maybe, just maybe, she could get them back to her in the way she remembers.

Warnings: Language. Fighting. Terrible writing (this chapter was terrible.)

Words: 3,123

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (female reader) (super soldier reader) (HYDRA reader)

(A/N: There’s some time jumps that aren’t stated but it’s still relatively easy to follow in that sense. Also, this chapter is more so a filler but nonetheless is related to the story.)

(A/N 2: Strucker and interactions with him are in German and a small interaction with Wanda is in Slovak as a substitute for Sokovian. There is some Russian in this but it’s quite easy to distinguish between the languages’ used.)

< Chapter 5 Chapter 7 >

_______________

Her head throbbed and her neck was stiff and pained from its lolled position it had been in hours on end. Even with her head tilted forward and down towards the hard floor beneath her, the light felt harsh against her eyes, a stinging, burning sensation appearing each time she cracks an eye open.

“Ah, I hope you slept well, Miss Romanoff.”

The familiarity in the voice caused Natasha to tense and she willed her eyes to open and remain as such. Raising her head, her eyes automatically lock on to the figure before her in which everyone believed was dead.

“How are you here?”

The man chuckled and began to take steps towards the tied up red head, his hands folded together behind his back, a smug look etched into his features. “It is quite incredible the technology we have within this day and age, yes?”

Her features twisted up into a sneer, glaring at the one of the few notorious HYDRA leaders they, the Avengers, had come to face. “Why can’t people just stay dead?”

Strucker rounded her body leaving her to look at the room they held her within; bland in colour but crowded with technology. “I believe you’re also not referring to only me now, are you?” He clicks his tongue. “Yes, Y/N. Our best asset yet. The twins were exceptional, yes and the winter soldier was successful until recent years, but Y/N is our best creation.”

His German accent is thick as the words pass into her ears and registers his words, but his next sentence as he leans down to whisper right beside her head makes her blood run cold. “Finding her on the brink of death was undoubtfully wonderful, on our part at least.”

The man chuckled as he straightened himself back out, standing to his full height before rounding her seated position once more to stand before her. “How are our previous assets, anyways? The updates Ghost gives are quite minimal in unnecessary data.”

Silence. Strucker tsked at her lack of response and spun on heel, taking one, two, three steps forward before coming to a standstill. “I suppose you’d like to know why we have you hear,” he called over his shoulder to her. When he was met with silence once more, he continued.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers have certainly been a right ganz schlimmer, a large spanner in our works. We run smoothly when you and your little friends keep out of our business. Perfectly running machinery. So, we’re simply removing the issue with our operation. You.” (Fucking pain.)

Slow and intimidating were his steps as he little by little made his way over towards a board of panels which, much like every other piece of technology was surrounded by people in off-white lab coats. His fingers danced over the multiple of buttons that littered the deck of the panel.

“You may not think so yourself but, we believe you are the strongest of your little band of heroes. No, not physically. Mentally? Yes. We also believe, if we break you, the rest of the team will surely follow in crumbling down.”

His eyes linger on one spot in particular on the panel, his finger hovering over it. “Now you’re also wondering why I’m electing to tell you all this. The answer is simple, really.” He pushes down on a button, resulting in the chair that Natasha is strapped to, to recline backwards, much like a chair in a barbers’, before laying her flat.

“You’re stuck here.”

Natashas’ head looks from left to right in a frantic manner as Strucker steps away from the lengthy panel of buttons and stalks towards her, his boots quietly squeaking against the cold, smooth floor of the room.

Above her is some form of machinery she could best describe as terrifying in appearance, harsh glinting metal and a mass of wires. Movement to both her left and right signify to her that people are beginning to close in on her and surround her. Panic rises in her body further as someone steps closer to her head holding what she believed was a mouth guard; something she’ll be biting down on.

She shakes her head in a desperate attempt to avoid the object but with no such luck. Someone had violently grasped her jaw in a bruising grip and forced the guard into her mouth. Strucker leans over her laying form and the evil grin on his face is purely sickening.

“Have you ever felt 450 volts of electricity surged through your body before? No? Oh, don’t worry. IT should be over before you know it.” He pulls back, making Natasha follow his with her eyes. Her protests are muffled by the guard in her mouth. “But, please, be mindful when it comes to the convulsions that follow. You wouldn’t like to break a bone, surely.”

Strucker walks towards yet another panel, this time with AMP and voltage gages along with other gages she couldn’t quite make out from her position. He places his hand atop a dial and nods his head once to one of the many people scuttling around the room. She feels something be attached to each temple and it reminds her strongly of the old school, brutal electroshock therapy that doctors used to dole out.

“Shall we move this along and see how long it takes until you break?”

Natasha spots your body stood stiff and squared near the door at the foot of the room, features lacking any show of emotion. Her eyes widened, and she desperately hoped that her eyes asked what she couldn’t.

‘Help me.’

Your being, unmoving and unchanged, is the last thing she sees before searing hot pain shots through her body. She bites down on the guard and releases and ear-piercing scream around it as her whole-body tenses and her back arches up, fists clenched tightly, and toes curled.

Her body falls limp for a short moment before the process repeats, over and over. Like an unending, destructive cycle.

_______________

The team had tirelessly put in every effort to find the missing ex-assassin. When Natasha had taken too long to return to the others, Clint did what was asked of him. He waited until the end of the following day when she had left before telling the others.

With no sightings and no communication from the Avenger, they were at a lost.

4 days had passed, coming close to 5, with no such luck in finding Natasha. Every member of the close-knit team had put in hours and hours on end into locating her; everything had been fruitless. The team had chewed out the archer for not mentioning anything sooner than he had but he had argued that he valued his word and believed Natsha would be fine, that she could look after herself.

They couldn’t argue with him on that.

“I’ve got nothing. We haven’t found shit and it’s been what? 4 days since anyone had last seen her?”

Their hopes in finding her were dwindling quickly, its rate in decrease sped up after the three-day mark. Stark groaned and leant back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly between his pointer finger and thumb.

“Honestly, I blame Fury for making us use phones that I can’t hack. We’d find her a lot fucking faster if I could just get into it.”

“Language,” Steve muttered before releasing a lengthy sigh. As he went to open his mouth to respond, Tony perked up, this time looking extremely more optimistic than previous.

“HOLY SHIT!” He spun his chair to face the computer on the desk and began to rapid begin typing. The others watched him with scepticism before slowly moving to crowd the billionaire.

“You wanna explain to the class, Stark?”

“You know how I never listen to Fury?” He heard a collective of hums in agreement before continuing. “Well, when I was encrypting the phones we all use, I may have purposefully left out my location cloaking software.”

“So, you’re saying you can ping her location and you failed to mention this?!” Wanda exclaimed.

“One, ouch. Don’t scream in my ear like a damn banshee, Matilda. Two, I forgot. It’s not like we actually use it.”

The team watched in anticipation as Tonys’ fingers continued to rapidly tap at the keyboard. Moments pass by with bated breaths before a small red dot appears on a map that pops up. They stare at the bright red dot in a prolonged silence before Steve straightens out with a hardened face.

“Let’s move.”

_______________

“I don’t understand. Why San Fransico?”

The statement from Sam was what each of them wanted to voice but none did. Each step through the city was following that damn pinged location. The day before it had been in Washington, the day before that was Oklahoma.

They could be tracking a ghost trail for all they knew, certainly with how quickly the location seemed to switch between states so quickly.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Update.”

“Location has remained the same. The Railway Museum is just one block away, sir.”

Tony rolls his shoulders before turning to look towards those who walk with him. He and Steve share a look, already knowing that this is more than likely a trap or mislead.

“Only a few of us will enter. Everyone else is going to surround the building, cover each possible exit. Buck, I want you with me, Sam and Wanda. Clint, you think you can take to a nearby building keep an eye on the roof and the main entrance?”

Clint nodded as Steve doled out orders for the group to follow. With the archers’ non-verbal confirmation, the captain continued.

“Thor, I want you to take the West side of the building with Banner. Pietro, you take East. Stark, I want you to take the back with Vision.” Everyone nods followed by them splitting off in the direction of the respective positions.

Dressed as civilians was helpful with entering the museum; they turned no heads when entering the building. The four inside had separated themselves, hoping to search the interior in record time rather than they be grouped up together.

The comms the team had donned before splitting ways crackled before Tony’s voice sounded through into each team members’ ear. “I’ve had F.R.I.D.A.Y. put the location on each of your phones, make it easier for you guys to know if you’re closing in.”

Simultaneously, Steve, Sam, Wanda and Bucky pull out their smartphones and allow the screen to open up correctly, a simple map of the interior showing a blinking red dot in the centre of the building.

The small team inside opposed to those outside slowly close in to the centre of the museum, covering all sides.

Adrenaline begins to heighten as they inch their way closer and closer. Emotions are running high and minds are swirling with possibilities and before they knew it, they surround the exhibit at the very middle of the building.

A large group being led by some guide moves on with their tour and reveals a lone person still stood there; hood up and phone in hand. Steve glances down at the phone in his own hand and sure enough, the dot hasn’t moved.

This is what they’ve been chasing.

With their head down, both Sam and Bucky who face their front can’t identify who holds the phone, Natashas’ phone.

Between the four, a look was shared and with a nod of their head in the figure’s direction, they begin to slowly close in once more. Wanda, Sam and Bucky slow to a stop, only a short distance away as Steve continues to stalk closer and with a few more steps, he’s stood behind the figure.

He reaches an arm out and clamps his hand down on their shoulder which begins to shake slightly as the person laughs quietly. The person slowly raises their head with a shit eating grin on their face and both Sam and Bucky tense, their jaws clenching, teeth grinding.

Wanda freezes up along with them as the figure slowly turns to face Steve; easily catching a glimpse herself.

“At ease, солдат,” your voice rasps. (Soldier.)

You hand moves quickly to clamp on to the blondes’ wrist and before he could react, you bring your head forward in a quick, whip-like motion, slamming it into his nose; a satisfying crunch is heard and blood already beginning to trickle out.

Twisting his arm, you land a hard kick to his ribs and send him back, him falling to the floor with quite the thud, even sliding across the floor a good foot or two. The others had quickly reacted, Sam and Bucky charging over towards you.

You alternate between the two as they dole out a choreographed offensive; punches, kicks, full body hits. The two had been going a solid minute and had done zero damage, even with Steve standing himself back up on to his feet and charging at you himself.

Wanda had dealt with the screaming and panicked public from the first sign of retaliation, giving firm orders to leave the building and to get a safe distance.

The second the first of the civilians exited the building in a rushed and yelling fashion, the team was on high alert.

“Someone talk to us,” Clint crackled through the comms, his sights down the length of the arrow he already has notched and ready to release.

“It’s Y/N.” Just that simple statement made the whole team know exactly what was currently going down. “They had Natashas’ phone. HYDRA put us on a wild goose chase.”

The grunts from Steve, Sam and Bucky brought Wanda’s head back into the fight at hand. The three were being easily overpowered by just yourself and she’s unsure how to proceed. With quick thinking, she uses her powers to push her teammates aside and away from you, the swirl of red like mist dancing around her fingers.

Your attention snaps from the three that had been thrown away from you to the little witch who stood off to the side. You roll your shoulders and smirk before stomping your way over to her aggressively.

You feel your movements slowly become restricted and it’s harder and harder to move forward. Wanda, with a struggle, brings to down to your knees before you could reach her and all you could do it look up at her with a devious smirk.

Tongue peeking out between your lips, you wet them and trail your eyes up and down the length of her body and the action makes her sick to your stomach. “Som ohromená, princezná.” (I’m impressed, princess.)

She takes step towards you, slow, precise, and what she hoped was menacing. “Where’s Natasha?” she spat between her teeth.

You chuckle darkly and shake her head, noticing how she lacked to remember to keep her distance. “You’re in no position to ask questions, little witch.” With perseverance, your left arm shoots forward, grasping her wrist much like you had done with the caps. Shocked, the moment forces Wanda to lose concertation and drops her magical hold on you.

You swipe at the opportunity and raise to your full height, towering over the Sokovian and delivering a hard right hook to the girl, knocking her unconscious the moment your fist made contact with her jaw.

Turning, you look at the trio of men who look at an unconscious Wanda by your feet with wide and worried eyes. You smirk once more as you pull Natasha’s phone from your pocket and wave it slightly before tossing it in their direction. “Keep it. I’m done with it.”

You take small steps backwards away from the four before turning tail and running, closer and closer to the back entrance.

“She’s heading to you guys at the back,” Steve rushes out, struggling to come to a stand and give chase.

“Understood, capsicle.” Tony and Vison both prepare themselves for your arrival, to burst through the doors and go into combat just like the four inside had done. But they waited and waited and waited. Nothing. “Uh, no sign of her. Anyone got eyes on the slippery bastard?” Stark reaches out to the others.

Sam and Bucky left Americas’ sweetheart and Scarlet Witch with the intentions of cheeking the inside of the building, running around the whole of the museum as the team converse.

“Nothing here.”

“Nope.”

“No clue.”

“Nada.”

“Zilch.”

The team’s response came in like clockwork and the entire team felt baffled. Where did you disappear to?

“So, she just evaporated? What the fuck? Are you sure no one has eyes on her?”

“Look,” Steve started. “As much as I want to find them and get some answers, we gotta focus on Wanda. She’s down.” He was kneeling beside her unconscious form and like a lightbulb being lit from a switch, Pietro was right beside his sister on the opposite side of Steve, absolute panic and concern shifting through his eyes.

Steve hears a sigh through the comms followed by Banners’ voice. “Let’s get back. It’s clear they’ve disappeared somehow, and we should focus on Maximoff right now.”

Steve shakes his head and moves to stand, Pietro already holding his twin in his arms. “Let’s go, team.”

_______________

“Wie ich sehe, können wir ihr Telefon nicht länger als Ablenkung für sie benutzen,” Strucker spoke as his back was turned to you, hands folded behind his back, looking at the painting hung on the wall with disinterest. (I see we can no longer use her phone as a distraction for them.)

“Sie werden sie nicht finden können, auch wenn wir sie nicht mehr auf Gänsejagd führen, Sir,” you respond, you own hands folded behind your back. Your eyes are trained on his form as he slowly turns to face you, casually rounded the desk to stand before you. (They won't be able to find her even if we no longer lead them on such wild goose chases', sir.)

“Hoffentlich nicht, Soldat. Es liegt an Ihnen, wenn sie sie finden.” His eyes look you up and down subtly, scrutinising you before turning away from you and striding over towards his desk. “Es ist jetzt zu heiß für dich, Ghost. Zu viele Leute werden dich nach deinem kleinen öffentlichen Stunt erkennen. Du sollst in der Einrichtung bleiben. Sie bewachen Romanoff und begleiten sie zum und vom Labor. Verstanden?” (They better not, soldier. It will be on your head if they are to find her.) (There's too much heat on you now, Ghost. Too many people will recognise you after your little public stunt. You are to stay within the facility. You will guard Romanoff and escort her to and from the lab. Understood?)

“Verstanden.” (Understood.)

_______________

THIS WAS SO BAD LMAO

I just needed a filler honestly so, this will do for the time being

If you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

Marvel taglist:

@thanossexual @iwazoomingouttahere @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

_______________

‘I Watched You Die’ taglist:

@diaryoflife @username23345 @drpepperobsessed @fayhar @d14n4ol @srtamercurio @gabbygabbie @lostandsearching @afuckingshituniverse @thea13sworld @nelouath8 @navs-bhat @pistachiomilk3 @peggycarter-steverogers @b-5by5 @trikruismybitch @anxiousgoldengirl @when-wolves-howl @whitelotus00 @anxiousgoldengirl @daniescady @unexpected-character @lgtftchan @mitch-cabello1097 @wlwfanfictionss @gottacamz

(Those whose @ is in bold, I could not tag unfortunately.)

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hopefullystillatheatrestudent · 3 years

Text

The One Where Jensen Ackles Confirmed Cockles in 2016(????) No. Seriously. For real.

this is a DOOZY. strap in folks.

DISCLAIMER: this is chock full of rps. if you are against cockles/jenmish in any way, this post is not for you. however, if you’re like me, ummmmm...

alright. so. we are REALLY in it now, cockles truthers. and make no mistake, i DO NOT want to undersell the significance of what we have found on this glorious day in 2021.

BUT HEY! DISCLAIMER FIRST, THOUGH IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING! do not EVER bring this to jensen and misha’s attention. do not comment disrespectful things on social media. when cons/panels start again, don’t ask them questions about it. ever!!! that’s super weird, for one thing, and for two, they won’t give you the answer you want anyway! so, yeah. just be decent, y’all. let’s continue.

so my dear mutual @green-blue-heller made this post today and i promptly lost my mind. in it, they link this video:

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youtube

as far as i can tell, it’s from VegasCon 2016 but was only unprivated on january 24, 2020(dean winchester’s birthday??? wow ok) for some reason, and we have overlooked it until now. to whoever it was that posted it, THANK you for my reason for being and this delayed gratification five years later. anyway, let’s get into it.

right off the bat, those expressions in the thumbnail kind of tell you all you need to know about what we’re venturing into. i have to thank BOTH jensen AND j*red for being ridiculously transparent. i mean...j*red purposefully avoiding eye contact with jensen and looking at the ceiling with his eyebrows raised sky high? jensen hiding his face in his hands, smiling and blushing like a fool, the misha face™ & grin???

so let’s break down what happens with timestamps and everything.

so! i looked up what the question was, i scoured through the entire Vegas Con video, and here it is:

‘My question is for Jensen and Jared. You guys are both happily married, and I noticed that many people had a hard time explaining how they know their significant other is the one. The one they want to spend the rest of their life with, the one that they want to be with, and so, I wanted to ask you guys, how did you know that your current- who you’re with now(audience laughter cuts the rest of the question off and it’s unintelligible)’ ….i’m solidly guessing that the end of that question boils down to ‘was the one’. (....i...uhhhh....have some thoughts on how this question affected jensen, and i will be going into them later.)

Jared: *laughs* Jared, Jensen. When did you first meet your future ex-wives?

*both of them laugh*

Jared: I’m just kidding-I get what you’re trying to say and thank you, um...I, uh, I guess my current wife, uh-

*both laugh again*

Jensen: (sarcastically) Let’s start with her.

Jared: (repeats) Let’s start with her. I, uh, I...you said something kinda, uh, amazing in your question, which is that a lot of people have a tough time or a difficult time explaining to their significant others or to themselves what it is. And I guess I feel that I have no way to possibly explain it to myself or to her... I remember that I had been in a relationship and that I was single and I was like ‘I am not interested in getting in a relationship’ and then she and I went on a date and I was like, ‘I can’t go anywhere else. I’m not interested.’ So, that was kinda what, um, what started it for me *clears throat loudly* Uh. Yeah, I just feel like (searching for words) she makes me a better person-there are a lot of people that make you a better person, and so that’s not enough, I don’t think-or maybe it is, who knows-um...I don’t know, I can’t really...if I could explain, I’d be a poet.

here’s where things start to get interesting. before jared says ‘If I could explain, I’d be a poet,’ Jensen’s face looks like this:

stoic, thoughtful, composed. and then AFTER jared says that his face makes THIS little journey:

go watch it for yourself. this man is ridiculous. in terms of body language? he gazes up and AWAY from jared. it is a private thought, he is not sharing in jared’s joke with him, if at all. it is his own personal musings that make his face LIGHT up like that. this fool looks lovestruck!!! this fool is lovestruck!!!

now, i think it goes without saying, but there is an obvious cockles reason that springs to mind for this reaction. (hint: misha is a poet. that’s it, that’s the reason.) i don’t think jared intentionally said this with misha in mind, but jensen’s thoughts IMMEDIATELY went there. whether or not this is because he was already planning on answering and hinting at his relationship with misha before jared says this, which i think he was-you can certainly see the wheels turning in jensen’s head before this moment-his brain involuntarily makes the connection and it shows in his glowing smile. after that remark...jensen’s gone. he’s whipped. and he HAS to say something about it.

continuing from where we left off:

Jared: ...and I would love to be a poet. (thought it would be fun to mention that at this point Jensen catches what his face did and immediately looks over to Jared and WIPES the expression of his face...but it’s too late, because someone recorded it, i saw it, and now i’m writing about it five years later)

Jared: But uhh…

Jensen: (interrupting) Just tap me when you want me to take over.

i think that jensen is simultaneously joking and is also more than ready to say what he’s been composing in his head diligently for the last thirty or so seconds. he has made up his mind, and is now ready to drop the bomb on us.

*audience laughs, Jared playfully swats at him*

Jared: Uh… *thinks in silence for a bit* It’s really difficult, it’s really difficult. She makes me feel safe, she makes me feel loved. Uh...when...I’m in a position where I don’t love myself, I know she loves me, you know, um...she’s just an awesome, awesome lady.

*audience claps*

alright! so in terms of my OWN analysis for what’s happened up until this point, the conclusion i have come to is that there was something in the question that was asked that sets jensen’s mind off about misha, and i think it was the ‘the one’ comment. if we’re putting our cockles goggles on, jensen doesn’t HAVE a ‘the one’. he resents thinking like that. i’m also very intuitive, and i get a sense that jensen is an honest person and can’t really tell a convincing lie. i mean...we all saw that horrible airbnb debacle, right? and his slip up when he accidentally confirms that misha woke up and said ‘i miss (maison)’[which how would you know that unless you were...nvm] and became a stammering mess and had to sit down and cover his face. and that misha is always the one to take the lead when it comes to denying clothes sharing, for instance. jensen has never ONCE attempted to explain that away, because i don’t think anyone would believe him, and i think he’s incapable of doing so because he’s not a dishonest person and can’t lie easily. i’m the same way, so to avoid telling a lie i always speak partial truths, and i’m 99% sure jensen is well versed in this talent as well. oh, also, just to really land my point....we all know how he feels about the finale because he can’t make himself speak well on it. he’ll gush about 15x18 and the PEOPLE BEHIND the finale, but he has not uttered one. positive. word. about the actual finale itself. i mean, we all know what he thinks about it. in his own way, he has made his rage glaringly obvious. and i think he’s doing that exact thing here, where he resents the implication that daneel is the only ‘one’ for him, because that’s simply not true, and he can’t and won’t lie about something like that.

i watched it back again and wrote notes on jensen’s body language as he’s processing the question. here they are:

from 0:13 to 1:21, jensen:

looks down - tenses face - searching eyes, lost in thought - jared’s comment brings him out of it but it takes a second - fidgets, adjusts clothes, looks at jared - bites the inside of his cheeks and moves tongue around his mouth(pacifying gesture) - eyes start wandering away from jared, looks down and tenses face, looks back at jared - then looks away, eyes and mind far from the panel and pondering the question itself - somewhat wistful expression, gears clearly turning in his head, lips pursed, stops reacting to what jared is saying, fingers start fidgeting, eyes have moved downward as he is lost in thought - something shifts in his brain, he looks to the ceiling, fidgets and adjusts his clothing, squints and seems to resolve an inner thought - slightly comes back down to earth with newfound resolution - and then jared’s ‘i would be a poet’ comment happens while he’s coming down from that

i mean, this obviously doesn’t necessarily mean anything huge(yet), all it shows is that this question took a lot of thinking for him. when you compare it to how jared kind of just dove in?

anyway; so then jared’s done, he slaps jensen’s thigh to indicate it’s his turn, jensen makes THAT face you see in the thumbnail, jared’s eyebrows raise, jensen looks down and scratches his forehead, and then makes the statement of a lifetime.

here’s the link for this next part

Jensen: Ummm..I kind of feel like there’s two types of people ..uh..in regards to marriage and the, the one. Uh, it’s the ones that just, just know with an absolute and, and have a certainty of like, this is the one for me, unequivocally. And then there’s those who are, you know, I don’t know, I’m scared, but I’m willing to take that leap of faith with you. And, I kind of find myself in between both of those(...types of people). And uh, and so, it can be a scary endeavour, and it can, and it will certainly have it’s ups and downs, um, but I think it’s a, uh, it’s a bond, and it’s a connection, and it’s a friendship, and it’s a ride, and it’s a journey that, uh, if you’re willing to stick it out with one another, can be an amazing, beautiful thing and I’m glad that I picked the partner and the teammate that I have, so.

i’ll give you like a second to recuperate before we dig in.

let’s start with both jared and jensen’s body language first, because it wasn’t even the words that clued me in, it was whatever the hell was going on with jared’s face.

i really wish i could gif, but i can only attempt to convey the SPEED and VIGOUR with which jared snaps his head toward jensen.

these pictures are objectively hilarious because you can see the entire mental journey that jared goes on. he was aloof and kind of relaxed because he was done, it’s jensen’s turn now, he’s surely not gonna out himself with this question right? and then jensen goes ahead and says ‘there are two-’ and jared instantly zones right into jensen with a look of horror on his face, that he tries to contain, but does so unsuccessfully. that is the face of a man who is internally freaking out, thought to himself ‘did he seriously just say...’ and is kind of staring at the culprit in shock and awe.

i know that’s what’s happening, because this is not the first time we’ve seen him react like this to something jensen has said. the classic head whip. a few examples, just off the top of my head:

1. ‘he has, hasn’t he?’

2. ‘he sounds like that in the morning’ ‘how do you know’

3. when he whips his head around when he notices jensen’s face(and instantly understands when he realizes it’s misha)

so yeah, i’m sure you get it by now. jared can’t really keep it off of his face. there’s no real analyzing to be done here...it’s just an obvious tell on his part. there’s no real reason for him to have reacted this way if jensen was saying something inconspicuous, is there? he would have continued to just kind of space out if jensen hadn’t just said something jarringly questionable.

as for jensen’s body language, i can’t really tell where he’s looking from either angle of both videos i’ve seen. sometimes it seems like he’s looking straight at jared, and maybe nods at him once, but he could also(and is most likely) looking at the fan who asked the question. i don’t think there’s anything particularly telling about his body language because i think he rehearsed his answer in his head and also, he’s not shying away because he’s not lying about anything. like...everything he’s saying is true, so he’s not going to have any tells. and it’s the fact that he is TELLING THE TRUTH that is freaking jared out.

now for what he actually says. because oh my god.

right off the bat, he says “i kind of feel like there’s two types of people..” and first off, what? what does that even mean? if you think of it in terms of ‘this is about daneel and only daneel’....isn’t this a realllyyyyy strange thing to start out with? objectively? the question that was asked to him was ‘how did you know they were the one?’ and he goes ‘actually there’s TWO types of people’ ...like, jensen never answers the question at hand.

and then he goes “in regards to marriage and the one”. i hope i’m not the only one who noticed he said the words ‘the one’ in a resentful and kind of degrading tone? seriously, listen to it again. he seems like he’s almost mocking that sentiment. i swear i’m not making it up, it really sounds like that to me.

and then he says “-it’s the ones that just, just know with an absolute and, and have a certainty of like, this is the one for me, unequivocally. And then there’s those who are, you know, I don’t know, I’m scared, but I’m willing to take that leap of faith with you.” *NON TINHAT VERSION OF EVENTS* what he could mean, i guess, is he was both scared to be with daneel but also knew she was the one for him. which....ok. alright. *TINHAT BACK ON* first off, there’s absolutely no risk with daneel. that’s not a judgement, because i love her; it’s just true. she’s a pretty, talented, amazing woman and they are very much in love. i’m not sure what risks he’s taking there. next up: pretty strange wording then, don’t you think? idk, if it were you, and you wanted to get that point across, wouldn’t you use words like ‘she both scared me and i knew i wanted to be with her at the same time’ and NOT this convoluted mess of ‘there’s two types of people and they are both drastically different but also one and the same’?

SECOND OF ALL, as many people have pointed out.....he never uses pronouns. this is strange. jared does. jared says gen’s name, even. and uses ‘she’ and ‘her’. jensen never once does that, he practically refuses to do so. and yes, i fully believe it is entirely intentional.

because if you look at this phrase from a cockles lens it makes more sense then if you do not.

the one that jensen knows, unequivocally, with the utmost certainty, is the one for him, no doubts, no risks; is daneel. the one that he doesn’t know about, is scared of being with, but is willing to take that leap of faith anyway; is misha. and all of a sudden the puzzle pieces fall into place.

because he goes on to say “I kind of find myself in between both of those.”

he doesn’t say ‘i find myself in between both of those...with her.’ nope. he’s just...in between. caught in the middle. of those two types of people. translation: of those two people. mish. dee.

“And it can be a scary endeavour, and it will certainly have it’s ups and downs, but I think it’s a bond, and it’s a connection, and it’s a friendship, and it’s a ride, and it’s a journey...”

every single one of those words can be applied to more than one person. think about it. bond(between three people). connection(between three people). friendship(between three people!!!). there’s no ‘partnership’ in here, which does only apply to two people.

lastly, “i’m glad i picked the partner and the teammate that i have.”

ok, look. you can easily say that it’s just one person he’s talking about here! of course you can. but this is jensen ackles we’re talking about. jensen ‘rock and pebble’ ackles. jensen ‘mish. dee.’ ackles. so yes. i definitely think that ‘the partner and the teammate’ fall into this category. and i think daneel is the partner and misha is the teammate.

to put it matter-of-factly: you simply cannot prove that this isn’t about a poly relationship. there is absolutely nothing he says that makes it obvious he is talking about one person here. because he isn’t.

i just feel like, in the simplest terms, if this were about only daneel, that he would not be using these weird phrases that are half-hidden truths. just to compare, i watched another panel where pretty much the exact same question was asked, minus the whole ‘the one’ debacle, and, just as i suspected, it was an entirely different answer. he talks about the moment where he knew he liked her. her, specifically. says the name daneel. gushes about her. there’s no tiptoeing and weird pronoun usage and vague terminology.

tl; dr : i think he answered the question this way because there is no ‘the one’ in his life. and he is physically incapable of leaving misha out when talking about ‘the one’ because he has TWO ‘the ones’. and he wants to answer the question to the best of his best ability, but lying is unnatural to him. he will talk about daneel at length and misha at length, but i honestly to my core don’t think you could make him choose between the two. oh! and we literally had confirmation all the way back in fucking 2016, we just never paid attention until now. so......thanks, jensen?

sorry, this got super long, but i hope i warned you well enough.

#helloooo cockles truthing community #my anxiety is sky-high rn bc this is so damning for them #but i mean i can't feel bad because jensen SAID those things.#anyway am i contributing to cockles lore??? god i hope so #i mean it when i say i am SWEATING #if you think i'm reaching...i know more than you #rps for ts #team dumpster mansion #cockles confirmation #cockles #jenmish #long post for ts #cockles meta #relationship spec #all that jazz #jensenxmisha #mine

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alaskasmonsters · 3 years

Text

Chapped lips | Shigaraki Tomura

after that night, the night he'd first reached out for your hand, you and shigaraki had gotten a lot closer, even if that only meant you were holding hands a lot. or did it?

part 1

pairing: shigaraki tomura x gn!reader

w.c: 2.651

warnings: head empty just tooth-rotting fluff, also shigs being insecure about his skin, he’s still touch-starved :c

a.n: @hufflefluffslytherin asked for a part two and i really really really adore touch-starved shigaraki (and writing him) so i just had to comply!🥰🥰 (also if you’ve never seen fanart of shigaraki with his hair tied back i am so sorry, but you’ve been deprived)

Holding hands had become somehow normal between Tomura and you, although it usually ended up being in the privacy of his room. If Kurogiri noticed how close you’d gotten after he sent you to his room that one time he didn’t mention it. He’d only smile gently at you when you caught his...floating orbs. You weren’t sure if you could call it a smile when the guy didn’t have a mouth, or eyes….or a face. It was more like a vibe that you got from him.

The rest of the league had noticed the two of you had gotten closer, too. They were not stupid, after all. Well, they were all idiots, but they were smart idiots. You’d spent a lot more time at their lair now in consequence of you spending more time with Tomura. And of course every one of them had to give their two cents to the situation.

Toga would beam at you, teeth flashing and eyes sparkling with excitement, whenever the both of you were in the same room. When Tomura wasn’t present the girl would dreamily stare into the air, planning your wedding in detail. It was cute, almost endearing, if it wasn’t so embarrassing. You’d turn red as a beat and Toga would giggle at your flustered state.

Dabi turned to relentless teasing, constantly making jokes, some of which were so beyond inappropriate you’d loved to wash his mouth and your memory out with soap.

Compress was surprisingly soft on you, never once mentioning the new undetermined relationship between you and the boss, although you were certain he sent you winks from beneath that mask of his.

Spinner was being a little shit like always.

Tomura and you had grown closer in the process of your occurring hand holding sessions. Often you just sat next to him on the bed (yes, you’d gotten the privilege of being allowed on there), you would scroll through your various social media while Tomura explored the skin of your arms and your hands with his fingers.

You would have never expected he could be so...soft...quiet...calm...innocent. Just silently sitting next to you, staring at the ceiling or somewhere else (anything but you) while he let his fingers gently glide over your hands until you’d end up with your fingers intertwined.

He didn’t like talking a lot, you realized. Still private, still unrelentless.

It had taken weeks between then and now before you’d even gotten to this point. A point where Tomura felt comfortable enough to request your touch whenever he felt like it. Sometimes he just sent you the blank faced cat emoji and you knew that your presence was requested. You didn’t comment on it, just silently complied, sitting next to him in silence until he initiated the contact.

You knew he was still in disbelief about your nonchalance whenever he did reach out to touch you. He always did it so carefully, barely gracing your skin. As if he wanted to leave you enough time to react and pull back.

It was endearing.

Sometimes he tested you, brushing his fingers over parts of your upper arms, shoulder, leg, stomach, watching you out of calculating eyes, expecting, awaiting you to flinch back. You never did. Like you said, you didn't have it in you to mistrust Shigaraki in that way. All remaining resolve had crumbled the moment he’d first reached out for your hand.

When you knocked on his door that night, you were already buzzing with excitement, clenching the little item in your palms, something you’d brought for Tomura. You didn’t wait for his answer, already opening the door and slipping a moment later since he had sent the cat emoji earlier.

Tomura was sitting on his bed, game controller in his hand, the screen of his tv showing a shooter game was the only light that illuminated the room.

You had quickly realized Tomura enjoyed quiet and dark places.

He didn't look up, just glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, as you approached him and sat down next to him, already smiling. The item you brought was securely hidden in your palms.

The man hummed in greeting, scooting closer until your legs were touching slightly, barely brushing.

That was another thing you had noticed about him. Tomura wasn’t only enamored by holding your hand, but he craved the simplest of touches. It didn’t come as a surprise to you, considering most of his life everyone had been avoidant of him. You had figured he must be incredibly touch-starved, searching your warmth now that you’d willingly given it to him already, taking whatever he’d get.

It was cute.

You watched him play for a little while, supporting your weight on your hands as you leaned back onto your palms. But quickly your attention shifted, your eyes settling on the side of Shigafaki’s face. Eyes wandering from the scars around his eyes, to his dry lips and then to the sensitive skin on his neck...you could imagine it must hurt a lot.

You were a little familiar with impulsive behaviour like that, you’d bitten your fingernails for years, picked at the skin around them, too. It was a bad habit, one fueled by stress. Something you sometimes went back to whenever it would get too much. But you knew that was hardly comparable.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You were pulled from your thoughts by his hoarse voice, soft despite the scratchiness of it. You didn’t reply immediately, watching the ways the shadows danced across his features.

“Does it hurt?”

You didn’t have to point out what exactly you meant, he understood immediately.

“I’m used to it,” his answer was curt and you noticed how he lowered his head to let more of his hair fall into his face.

You hummed, not mentioned how tragic that truly was or how badly you wanted to hug him. He probably didn’t want your sympathy, perhaps even mistake it for pity.

You sat up instead, smiling widely in hope to ease the sullen mood as you raised your hand to finally uncover what you’ve been hiding all along.

“I’ve brought something,” you declared proudly.

Tomura glanced at the little item you held up to his face, eyes narrowing to read the name of the product. When he recognized what it was, he glanced up at your face, eyebrows furrowed in scepticism.

“Don’t tell me you want me to put that on my face.”

You laughed at the look of disgust in his eyes.

“It’s just ointment, don’t be so dramatic.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced by your words, face settled into a scowl.

“It’s really good, if you want to know my expert opinion,” you ignored the amused snort, “It’s moisturizing and helps with itches as well.”

He glanced at the object again, not very enthusiastic about the idea of it, you noticed, his face still purposefully lowered, his red eyes peeking out from beneath his white strands.

You cocked your head to the side.

“I could heal some of it, too, if it bothers you,” you suggested, although you knew you could really only do something against the recently damaged skin, nothing against the several small scars collected at the corner of his eyes or the base of his neck.

“Why, does it bother you?” he murmured, a sudden edge to his voice.

The grip around the game controller had tightened, although his pinkies were still skillfully spread to avoid disintegrating the piece of plastic.

“No,” you replied sternly.

Tomura hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between the tub of ointment and your face a few times before he made a choice. He paused the game and carefully placed the controller on the nightstand.

“Fine,” he mumbled, head angles towards you, “You can put that shit on me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, itching to ask him to repeat himself, because you weren’t sure if you understood him correctly, if he really just agreed you could put ointment on his face. You. Not him, you.

But then he turned, until he was facing you completely, his legs crossed, knees bumping against the side of your legs and he watched you expectantly. You turned, too, positioning yourself so you were cross-legged as well and directly in front of him, trying to ignore the tingling in your stomach at being so intensely stared at by Tomura. You inched closer, bumping your knees more and the man leaned forward, almost expectantly, awaiting.

You stopped him with a raise of your hand and Tomura halted in his movements, squinting at the small object that you were now holding into his face. His forehead scrunched up at the sight of the hair tie in between your fingers and he gave you a sceptical look.

“Tie your hair back, Tomura.”

He grumbled, but complied to your request, lazily binding his hair together. A few strands fell out and back into his face and you softly pushed them behind his ears, not commenting on the way Tomura stilled at your touch.

Opening the tub of ointment, you put some of the substance on your fingers, glancing up at the man in front of you for approval. He was already looking at you with awaiting eyes.

Okay, if he didn’t make it weird you shouldn’t make it weird either.

You reached out to hold his face in place, cupping his left cheek gently. Tomura closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into your hand a little. You smiled slightly, raising your fingers with the ointment to the area around his eyes and started to carefully apply it to the skin.

The skin was rough under the pads of your fingers as you moved them over his face. He let you work in silence, the only sounds coming from him was the occasional hum whenever the cool ointment touched a specific sensitive area.

You moved on to the other side quickly, switching hands to apply the ointment with your left hand and hold Shigaraki’s face with your right, instead, to accommodate.

“Do you feel a difference?”, you asked softly, massaging the substance into his cheek.

He hummed.

“It’s nice.”

You smiled softly.

“Is it itching?”

He shook his head.

You moved on to his neck, occasionally glancing up at his face. It was relaxed, his eyes still closed, the corners of his lips slack. You smiled at the smoothened out features, your eyes getting stuck on the way down until you were staring at his lips. Dry and chapped but still kissable.

You froze in your movements.

Hold on, what.

Tomura had noticed you had stopped moving and cracked his eyes open, watching the expression on your face with interest.

“Why are you staring at me?”

You shook your head, desperately fighting the blush on your cheeks.

“Just thought you might wanna put lip balm on as well,” you replied calmly.

Good save.

The man scrunched up his face.

“You’ve brought that, too?”

You shrugged, spreading the last bit of ointment across his neck before you pulled back, massaging the leftovers of the substance into your hands.

“Well, i’ve got some with me,” you suggested, pulling it out of the back pocket of your pants.

Shigaraki eyed it suspiciously, raising his hand towards his neck before he halted in his movement, as he remembered your treatment, before he let it sink back into his lap.

“Don’t look so sceptical. It’s just a chapstick,” you laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in disgust.

To demonstrate you opened up the cap and rolled it up. Lifting it up to emphasize the plainness of your action before putting the lip balm on your lips. Smacking them together when you were done, presenting them with a grin.

Tomura looked thoughtful before he suddenly started smirking, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gave a nod of approval. You frowned in confusion but didn’t get the chance to ask him what he was being so cocky about before he suddenly leaned in and caught your lips gently between his.

Despite the tenderness behind his touch you felt like the air was just punched out of your lungs. You were completely frozen against him, not moving, not knowing how to move. The line connecting your brains and limbs, the one that was supposed to exchange signals had been cut off the second Tomura’s mouth had touched yours. The man’s lips moved against yours just before he pulled back again.

You blinked up at him, mouth agape in shock as a warmth, a burning heat, spread through your skin, your face turning red.

He watched you in amusement before he smacked his lips together, loudly, a wide grin spreading over his features when he saw your eyes widen in shock.

“Like this?” he asked innocently.

You choked on your spit at the boldness of...literally everything.

“You! I...” you stuttered helplessly.

He chuckled slightly, strands of his bangs falling back into his eyes, which made him look even better than before. You huffed in mock offence.

“I can’t believe you, Tomura,” you grumbled, playfully hitting his knee as you tried to calm down your fluttering heartbeat.

The man just cocked his head at you, calculating eyes trained on your features. His stare was so intense you felt your face heat up again, just as you had started to calm down again.

He chuckled slightly, slowly leaning forward again, which led you to stop breathing for a second or two...or longer. He came to a halt right before your lips would have touched again, innocently glancing up at you through his lashes.

“Why? Do you want to kiss me?” His voice was deep and alluring.

You didn’t answer, the words got caught in your throat, the trust in your own voice vanished.

How could he turn from an innocent touch-starved gamer boy into this in a matter of seconds? It didn’t seem very fair to you. Especially when you were the one on the receiving end of this behaviour. Worse of all, Tomura seemed to enjoy your sudden speechlessness greatly, eyes drilling into yours as he inched even closer, the look in his eyes dared you to make a move.

He was close enough so you could feel his hot breath on your lips, so close the fruity smell of the ointment (you’d chosen a peach scent) assaulted your nose. All you could think was “Fuck it.” and throw caution out of the window.

You closed the remaining distance, planting your mouth on his and gained a satisfied hum in response. You smiled at the reaction, grabbing his face and pulling him more into you.

Tomura gave into your touch with ease, leaning in even more, searching your touch. He held your wrist, his pinky spread.

His lips were chapped and felt rough against yours, but you didn’t mind, not even a little bit. The kiss was heated, both of you getting more passionate as you deepened the kiss, the feeling indescribable. Your whole skin was tingling, your brain surely turned into mush.

Tomura wasn’t allowed to be this good at kissing, you thought. Did he kiss someone before or was this his first kiss? It couldn’t be...or?

The two of you parted when you ran out of air, both of you breathing heavily into the small space you’ve left between you. Tomura squeezed your wrist and chuckled breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief as he stared you down. His eyes were sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite pin down but knew enough about for you to feel a little dizzy being looked at with.

“You really are crazy, you know that,” he whispered, a tone close to astonishment in his voice.

You just smiled, thumb brushing over the warm skin of his cheek.

Crazy for you, Tomura.

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nerdypanda3126 · 2 years

Text

It’s a Love Story – Part 2

Read on Ao3 | Part 1

You Hear a Song

Marinette was unpacking the bag from her recent trip to the fabric store, looking over her finds as Tikki supervised and munched on a cookie. To be honest, she wasn’t sure what to do with half of what she’d bought, but at the time she couldn’t leave the store without it.

She pulled the two yards of bright teal fabric out and rubbed it between her fingers. For some reason, in the store it had brought to mind a memory of soft azure eyes and she’d bought it without a second thought. But now that she was looking at it again… She sighed. She should return it. She and Luka hadn’t talked in… what, going on six years now? Not since she’d broken up with him and he’d disappeared to tour with Jagged Stone.

She glanced at her wall, filled with magazine clippings of him alongside the old photos of them as teenagers. She’d been following his career, cheering him on silently, hoping he’d found something that made him happy. She was happy for him, really.

It wasn’t his fault she was still stuck in Paris, trying to work on becoming a designer in between akuma bouts. She couldn’t even take an internship because she knew she’d have to bolt at any particular moment. She sighed and let the fabric drop into her lap as she let her head fall on her arms. The sacrifices she’d made and she wasn’t even twenty yet.

Beside her, her phone started playing a ringtone that she hadn’t heard… going on six years now. She peeked out from under her arms, barely able to believe it, but that was Luka’s contact picture. And that was Luka’s number. She answered the call and put the phone to her ear, half-expecting someone to be pranking her.

“Luka?” she asked, sharing an anxious glance with Tikki. Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized that if it was him, he had no reason to call her unless something was really wrong. “Is everything okay?”

There was a sharp intake of breath on his end before Luka—it was actually Luka—said, “I screwed up.”

“...Oooo-kay?” she asked, laughing out of pure nervousness. She tucked the teal fabric she’d been holding out of sight for some reason. Not like he’d see it over the phone, but it made her feel better to have it put away anyways. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

He took a deep breath before the words seemed to spill out of him. Something about a song and a press conference and Jagged and his new solo album—which she’d known about and definitely hadn’t been awaiting its release so she could have that on loop at all times. She’d avoided the single purposefully, although that was also because every time she heard his name on the radio her heart twisted a little bit more with guilt.

Backing Jagged up, being his guitarist, it didn’t even sound like Luka’s playing anymore. Something about it was empty, although she would never tell him that. She didn’t know if she could bear to hear him singing like that.

She realized with a start that he’d stopped talking and was waiting for her to say something. She chewed on her lip as she debated asking him the question that had been on her mind since he left. Since he’d said he’d be there for her and then left without even saying goodbye.

“Luka, can I ask you something?”

There was a small pause on his end before he said, “Of course.”

She spun in her chair and tucked her knees up to her chin. It was now or never if she was going to get the answer she’d been wanting. “...Is this what you really want?”

She heard him opening and closing his mouth on the other end, and backtracked as fast as she could. “I mean, you can tell me if I’m way off base, but it sounds like…” She shared another glance with Tikki, thinking about the pressure she was always under, and sighed. “It sounds like you’ve had a lot of pressure put on you lately,” which was true, but she added a quick, “and I know how Jagged can be…”

Which was also true, and he’d said as much in his word vomit explanation to her. She’d never known Luka to word vomit like that, which was only confirmation that he’d been desperate for someone to talk to. Maybe that was even why he’d actually called her. But his answer would give her the clarity she needed. If this was what he wanted, then she would never get in the way of that. Ever.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it is.”

Her heart fell. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, honestly, it wasn’t like anything had changed and she didn’t have any more time to try again with him—but she shook her head clear. This wasn’t helping. Luka needed a solution.

She glanced at Tikki again, then at the magazines she had spread out on her floor—which definitely weren’t open on articles speculating about his love life because she definitely didn’t care who he dated but—

Her eyes widened. That was the answer. She blushed even as she thought it, but she could handle this. It was for Luka. He needed her. And she didn’t have time to be in love anyways. It’d be fine. It was the perfect solution.

“Okay. I think I have a plan, but I want to run it by Penny first.” She placed a cool hand to her burning cheek and tried to keep her voice level. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, there was a warmth in his voice that was unmistakable—or maybe she was reading too much into it.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Soon.”

She hung up and pressed her phone to her lips, trying desperately not to squeal. Tikki floated over to perch on her shoulder as she recovered and dialed Penny’s number.

“Marinette!” Penny said breathlessly as she answered. She sounded busy. Marinette heard her pen clicking in the background which meant she was stressed, and she shifted the phone around before she mumbled something with her hand over the receiver. When she came back on, she sounded more composed. “Did Luka call you?”

“Yeah, and he told me about what happened.” She pressed her hand to her cheek again, trying to will her blush away. “Um, I think I might have an idea that would help? But you’ll have to tell Luka about it.” No way she was bringing this up in any capacity with him. Penny gave a clipped response to show she was listening, and Marinette took a deep breath. “I think we need to pretend to date.”

On her shoulder, Tikki perked up and flew into Marinette’s vision, a stern, concerned look on her face. Marinette waved her away and stood to pace, doing her best to ignore her pounding heart.

“It wouldn’t take much, just enough for it to be reported, and then we can break it off.”

Silence on Penny’s end. Marinette couldn’t tell if she’d gotten pulled away from the phone or if she was thinking it over. Now that the words were out of her mouth, she had to admit it didn’t sound like the great idea she’d thought it was…

“...Actually…” Penny finally said, her tone thoughtful. “That could work. But you’re sure you’re okay with this? I was hoping to keep you out of the headlines, but this would put you front and center.”

She swallowed. She knew she could handle the press, she’d been doing that for years now, but as Marinette? And next to Luka?

She could do anything next to Luka.

She nodded firmly. “Absolutely. I’m in if Luka is.”

“I’ll talk to him. I owe you one,” Penny said, then she shouted something at someone and disconnected the call.

Marinette sank to the floor as all the adrenaline of the past two phone calls drained out of her and left her feeling like she’d gone three rounds with a really tough akuma. Luka smiled back at her from the magazine page, and she ran her hand over the picture, imagining seeing him laugh and smile again in person. Her heart fluttered at the idea, but she shut it down quickly.

She could do this. She could do this for Luka and then… they didn’t have to talk ever again if he didn’t want to.

She glanced over at the teal fabric she’d tucked away. The picture of Luka gave her an idea. He’d never have to know it was from her, but maybe she could make him something to wear when he had to dress for the fancy parties she knew he was destined for. With a renewed vision, she sat at her desk and drew up plans for a dinner jacket.

***

She’d agonized over her outfit for their picnic date. She knew Luka wouldn’t care what she wore—or maybe he would? He had been appearing in more fashionable clothes lately. She shook her head clear. No, Luka had never cared what she wore and he wouldn’t start now.

Still, the flowy pink maxi skirt and lightweight white sweater she’d chosen to tuck into it seemed like something she could be seen in next to him. She’d still jumped a mile high when her mom knocked on her trap door to let her know Luka was there to pick her up and patted at her pigtails, wishing she’d maybe taken the time to do something else with her hair.

But when she’d opened the door for him, there he was, and she tried not to stare at how different he looked. His hair was gone in the sides and back and only a stylishly messy blue-tipped mop was left on top. And was that a new piercing? Not to mention the burgundy sweater he was wearing—when did Luka start wearing burgundy and why did it make his blue eyes shine more than usual? And the chest and the shoulders and the arms… He’d gone away a lanky teenager and the years had given him the body of a rock star. She did her best to shut her mouth, reminding herself that they were friends and he didn’t need another fan drooling over him.

When she managed to tear her eyes away, he had a guitar case strapped to his back and a picnic basket over one arm. He offered her the other one with a jaunty smile and she giggled as she took it.

The walk there was filled with nervous, awkward chatter. She couldn’t help but think of all the years that had passed and how different he was—how different they both were.

That is, until he’d pushed up his sleeves to set the picnic out, and she’d reached out almost instinctively to trace all the new ink all over his forearms. He laughed and they settled into an easy game where she’d point one out and he’d tell her the story behind it.

At least until she got to the one on his elbow. Music notes and cherry blossoms all wound together like they’d been caught in the wind.

“Eighteen. My first, actually,” he said, and gave her a sad smile before he pulled his arm out from under her fingers to reach for his guitar instead.

Absent-mindedly, she traced her signature cherry blossoms that were still embroidered on her shoulder bag where Tikki hid. Something she’d said had made him close up and she hated it, but she didn’t know how to fix it. While Luka strummed his guitar, glancing around to make sure the cameras were pointed at them, she opened the bag a small amount to share a surreptitious look with Tikki. Tikki only waved her paws at Marinette as if to say, “Try again!”

She nodded back, her determination returning. “So do I get to hear the song that’s causing all the fuss?” she asked, forcing cheerfulness as she scooted closer to him and tucked her skirt under her knees.

She felt him stiffen next to her before he cleared his throat. “You’ll hear it on the radio soon enough,” he said, his voice devoid of inflection. Her hopes started to fall before he continued, “I thought I’d play something else instead.”

“It doesn’t sound like you on the radio,” she said before she could help it. That got his attention, and he raised his eyebrows, amused. She blushed under his gaze. “… I mean, of course I know it's you, because it's you playing, but it just sounds…” Empty. Emotionless. Like he was going through the motions. Not at all like the passionate teenager she’d fallen for. “I don't know, cleaned up, I guess?” she said instead. “I missed hearing you play—in person, I mean.”

"Most people prefer the cleaned up version," he said glumly, rubbing at the side of his head where his hair used to be. "Or at least I'm told it sells better."

Her heart twisted and she reached out to fiddle with one of the folds of his sweater that was still pushed up around his elbows. “I miss your hoodie,” she said, hoping he caught her meaning. She missed the awkward teenager who wasn’t afraid to say what he thought.

"You can have it if you want," he promised. "I held onto it."

She couldn’t help but brighten at the thought. She’d always hoped he would offer it to her, when they tried that first time, but hadn’t wanted to make him part with it. It seemed so important to him at the time. But the thought of wearing his hoodie—telling everyone she belonged with him—made her heart start to race.

"Really? You don’t mind if I have it?"

He only hummed in response, but he was starting to smile again, which gave her courage. Boldly, she reached up to ruffle his hair. His eyes snapped to hers as his lips parted in surprise and the fact that she’d even noticed his lips made her blush.

“This is new, too” she said softly, and pulled her hand away. His replaced hers almost instantly, like he was feeling it for the first time.

“I’m still getting used to it, honestly,” he admitted. "All of it. The fans, the press, the interviews, the touring…" He sighed, and in that sigh she heard all of the weight of the admission leaving him.

“I bet you have some really crazy fans,” she ventured, but he shook his head.

"Penny checks our fan mail so we don't see the really crazy stuff."

Keep him talking, she thought. When was the last time he was himself around anyone? She laid her hand on his wrist delicately, trying to give him a physical lifeline to hold onto. "It sounds like she's done a lot for you," she pressed, and then watched as something in him broke open. His whole mood changed, like he was finally able to relax.

"She has. And Jagged has, really. I mean I wouldn't even be talking to you right now if it weren't for all of this." He waved his hand at what was obviously a camera pointed right at them. Her eyes flicked to it briefly before she returned her attention to him. "In a way, I guess I'm grateful,” he continued. “If I hadn't screwed up in the first place I might have never seen you again."

Before she could help it, his words settled in her heart and her face fell. What did that mean for when this was over? Would he want to see her again? Would they still be friends, even?

“No, not that I didn't want to talk to you," he said quickly. "Just that we hadn't since… you know, we broke up. Seeing you now, hanging out with you, that's what I'm grateful for."

Her finger traced the bare spot of skin where his bracelet used to sit when he was Viperion. He used to wear a lot more bracelets, now that she thought about it. She wondered if they meant anything to him. If he’d let them go as easily as he’d left her without saying goodbye. She hadn’t realized how much that still hurt.

"It feels like a second chance," she said quietly.

He took a moment to look down at her hand on his wrist before he laid his hand over hers and smiled. For the first time that day, he looked like himself.

"It does," he said, and she felt the warmth of his voice all the way down to her toes.

If it hadn’t been for her secret, they wouldn’t even need a second chance because she wouldn’t ever have broken up with him. She’d never had the chance to apologize to him for that mess in the first place. Her jaw set in determination.

"Luka, I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry about before, really I am. I didn't want to leave, any of the times I had to, and I wanted to make sure you knew that."

"You don't have to explain anything, Marinette."

"I know, but I feel like…" She shook her head. "I don't know, you just disappeared after we broke up and I never got the chance to tell you—"

Of course an akuma alert would go off on her phone just as she was going to tell him everything. She came back to her senses, and jerked her hand away from him, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras that were still pointed at them. At the shocked and sad look on his face, she groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Now? Really?" she asked, exasperated. What force of the universe was determined to make her keep hurting Luka? Hawkmoth, apparently. She stood and pivoted to try to find the noise of the attack, then looked back down at Luka, who was watching her, concerned.

She bit her lip as she realized she had no time to explain. "I have to go. I'm sorry. But…" She glanced around and found a camera before she stooped down to kiss his cheek. At the very least that would be a good picture for the magazines, right? "We'll see each other soon, okay?"

She ran before she could hear his response, and paused as soon as she was out of sight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered back at him before she transformed and threw her yoyo in the direction of the battle.

***

“Did you get your copy?” Penny was asking over the phone. Marinette blushed down at the magazine cover in her hands. The picture they’d used was one she hadn’t even known they’d taken. Luka had a small smile on his face as her hand was ruffling his hair. She hoped she hadn’t been blushing that much the entire time.

“Yeah, it looks great,” she said absently. She tore the cover off to pin it up on her wall.

“About the next outing. There’s a restaurant opening that I think would be a perfect opportunity.”

Marinette perked up at that. She floated over to the mannequin that held the finished dinner jacket. Bright teal and trimmed in black. She hoped Luka would like it, although she was nervous that she based it on the Luka in the magazines instead of the Luka she knew. Personally, she hadn’t been entirely happy with it—something about it was off, like when she designed that cover for Jagged Stone while listening to XY’s music.

But it was finished. And it was made for him to wear somewhere fancy.

“I have a gift for him,” she told Penny shyly, “but… I don’t want him to know it’s from me.” She bit her lip at that last part. Another secret.

“I’ll get it to him.” Marinette heard her scribble on her notepad. “Now, about the dinner. Everything will be on a tab, so don’t worry about paying for anything. And the view from the roof would make for some nice pictures.”

As Penny continued briefing her, Marinette started daydreaming of a rooftop date with Luka. Paris at night, all lit up, just the two of them, hopefully no akumas to ruin it…

“Got it?” Penny asked, which snapped Marinette back to attention.

“Mhmm. Yeah.”

“...I’ll send you the details.”

“That would probably be best,” Marinette muttered back, blushing.

***

She ran, glad she’d chosen flats instead of heels, trusting Tikki to be right behind her. She was so very late. Luka was supposed to pick her up from the bakery, but then an akuma alert went off and she’d been forced to leave, hoping she could make it back in time, thanking every deity she could think of that she’d finished getting ready early.

She skidded to a stop at the corner and made sure Tikki was tucked away before she looked up and met Luka’s eyes. She waved awkwardly, hoping she hadn’t made anything too difficult for him in front of the cameras.

He waved back, automatically it looked like, as his eyes raked over her dress. She hid a giggle behind her hand at the way he seemed to just stop altogether to smile at her. As she walked up she slipped her arm through his.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, still catching her breath. “Something came up last minute and I had to take care of it.”

His arm flexed, unconsciously it seemed, as he said, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me, too.” She squeezed his arm back. “I’ve been really looking forward to this.”

“This place is supposed to have great food.”

She couldn’t help but pout at his tone. She’d almost call it robotic, but that wasn’t a word she ever wanted to associate with Luka. When he looked down at her, his face was blank.

“I’m sure they do.” She squeezed his arm again, and it seemed to snap him out of his trance. His eyes really focused on her. “But I was thinking more of who I’d be here with.”

He swallowed, and didn’t say anything else as he led the way through the restaurant and helped her into her chair. She didn’t know how this would go, or look to the press, if she could barely get him to say two words to her or look at her all night.

But then his face as he looked down at the place setting made her stifle another giggle behind her hand. She shouldn’t laugh, but he looked so entirely baffled. And when the waiter came by with the wine list, his confusion had only increased, which for some reason was incredibly endearing.

Well, Penny had said not to worry about paying. She gestured to Luka to hand over the list as a plan started forming in her mind. She’d taken note of the exits when they walked in—a Ladybug habit—and there was an emergency exit behind them that should lead up to the roof. And Penny had said the roof would make for some great pictures.

She picked a wine without looking and handed the menu back to the waiter to send them away.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about wine,” Luka said, awed.

“I don’t. Follow my lead?”

He only nodded back, swallowing again, and she patted at Tikki’s bag to make sure it was still secure on her as the waiter came back.

“Ready?” she asked. Luka nodded again in her peripheral as she watched the waiter open the wine for them.

“I think we’ll pour our own glasses, if that’s alright,” she said sweetly to the waiter. She felt Luka’s eyes on her in a question, and the waiter seemed confused, too, but they pulled away from their table with a little bow. She wrapped her hand around the neck of the bottle, careful to slip her thumb over the opening so nothing would spill.

“Now!” she whispered at Luka, and bolted for the exit. She flew up the stairs, and she didn’t know if Luka was following her or if her heart was racing in her ears. But when she turned back to check, he was right on her heels, and she grabbed his hand to tug him closer.

When they got to the roof, Marinette jammed the door behind them with a broom handle. She knew the cameras were supposed to find them eventually, but she could have a few minutes alone with him, right?

“There,” she panted as she finished her handiwork. “Just us, now.”

He was looking at her the same way he had outside the restaurant. “...Who are you?” he asked, laughing as he took the bottle from her. “And what have you done with Marinette?”

That was more like the Luka she knew. She giggled, giddy from the race upstairs and the prospect of having him all to herself, and reached out to take his arm again. “Thought I’d take a page out of the Couffaine book. They can bill you for it, right?”

“...Right.” He smiled down at her and her heart fluttered as their eyes met. He hadn’t looked at her like that since…

“So come on,” she said quickly, shutting those thoughts down and locking them firmly away. “Let’s see what a pricey bottle of wine tastes like.”

With another glance back at the firmly shut door, she pulled him over to the railing. It wasn’t often she got to enjoy a rooftop view of Paris—or share it with someone like Luka. He passed her the bottle and she took a swig.

“It sure doesn’t taste like it costs that much,” she joked as she passed it back. He grimaced when he took one, too.

“You’re right. I could get a better bottle for like 20 euros.” He glared down at the bottle like it had personally offended him and she laughed as she took it back from him, doing her best not to think of how his lips had been on the same rim not seconds before when she took another drink.

Before long, they were laughing together like they were teenagers again. She wasn’t sure if that was the alcohol making them giddy, or if she was just relieved he was acting like himself again. Either way, she was enjoying the way the fading sunlight was making the sharp angles of his face soften and the way the alcohol was making his shoulders loosen.

She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t real. Sure, it was nice to hang out with him and be friends with him again, but it was all for the sake of his press, wasn’t it? And when it was all over…

She’d lose him again, wouldn’t she?

She rubbed at her arms as a chill ran down her spine. A whoosh of cologne surrounded her for a second before Luka’s jacket was draped over her shoulders. God, she hadn’t thought about this part. How much of a gentleman he was. Of course she would end up wearing the jacket she’d made for him, and of course it would smell like him, and of course it would make her heart hurt because he didn’t mean anything by it.

She forced herself to smile instead of crying and stepped closer to him, slipping an arm around his waist just to reassure her that he was really there with her. He didn’t respond at first, and then his arm fell casually around her shoulder.

He seemed to be thinking as he stared out at the Parisian skyline. His jaw was starting to tighten and he squeezed her to him. When she moved to look up at him, his head instantly swiveled towards her and his eyes were dark and intense.

“Luka?” she asked. Her eyes flicked to his lips before she could help it and like an answer to her unspoken question he was leaning down.

Her breath caught. He was leaning down like he wanted—

But then he was kissing her. Luka. Her Luka. He was kissing her like she’d always hoped they would kiss and she kissed him back like she’d never be able to kiss him again. Her hands acted on their own, sliding across his chest to rest on his shoulders and pull him closer to her.

This was real. It had to be real. There was no way he’d be kissing her like this if he hadn’t been wanting to kiss her as much as she’d been hoping he would.

He jerked away from her suddenly and it was only then she realized that a camera had managed to follow them somehow. Before Luka could even start towards them, the poor guy unblocked the door and scurried away.

She did her best to hide her blush behind his jacket. She felt so stupid. Of course she’d forgotten. This was all a charade for him, wasn’t it? The kiss must have been part of it. He turned back to her and he looked stricken by guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” he said, his voice wavering. “I didn’t think they’d find us up here and now—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted him, fighting back tears. “It’s good for the story, right?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times before something clicked together for him and his jaw set—in anger, it looked like—as he glanced down at the empty bottle they’d set down at their feet.

“That was already paid for, wasn’t it?” he asked. The question, and his dark tone, caught her so off guard that she didn’t even know how to respond. “This was all part of the plan? The wine, the roof, the damn picturesque view?” He waved a hand at the view that until now had been absolutely perfect.

God he sounded so… hurt. Hadn’t Penny told him? Or maybe she hadn’t so Luka didn’t feel like he had to perform, but if he hadn’t known…

His hand smacked his side as he dropped it when she didn’t reply. She had to tell him. If it was real for him, if he hadn’t known, then that kiss was real. What she’d felt was real.

“Luka, I—”

“No,” he interrupted bitterly. He shoved a hand through his hair and refused to look at her as he stumbled a step backwards, then another. “No, I can’t do this right now.” He turned his back entirely on her and started walking away.

“Luka, wait!” she called after him as his hand rested on the door handle, but his shoulders stiffened and he stepped through the door, letting it close behind him with a click.

She pulled his jacket closed against the night air and swiped her tears away. “Tikki?” she asked, hating how broken her voice sounded. Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s shoulder bag. Marinette knew she probably looked like a wreck because Tikki didn’t say anything, just laid a gentle paw on Marinette’s hip.

“Spots on?”

***

Penny didn’t send her a copy of anything this time, so Marinette bought one at the stand she’d bought all the other ones from.

Her and Luka. Kissing on the cover. The Parisian skyline, lit up like a backdrop just for them. His jacket around her shoulders, his arm around her, pulling her closer.

He’d been smiling into the kiss.

***

This was it. The album premiere Penny had told her about and had her invited to. Jagged was throwing Luka a huge party, trying to spread the word about his album, and anyone who was anyone would be there.

Including the press, ready to capture their scripted breakup.

Penny had sent along a dress and an itinerary, but there was no other word from her. And Luka hadn’t bothered calling or texting, either. As she pulled the dress on, she had to admit it looked beautiful on her, but it felt like a costume. The cutouts made her imagine Luka’s hand falling to just that spot on her waist, his fingers on her skin, him leaning down to kiss her again…

She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks and shook her head clear. If only she could get him alone again. If only he would let her explain and confess.

But Penny had arranged for them to arrive separately. It felt deliberate. Like Luka had told her what happened and even though he would never ask Penny to retaliate, Penny had taken it upon herself to do it for him. Or maybe Marinette was just projecting her own guilt. She’d hurt him again, after all this time, with more secrets.

No more.

When she got to the party, she grabbed herself a glass of champagne and clung to it like a lifeline. She had to tell him. Everything. If he’d let her.

She had to wait for him to get inside first. There were so many reporters gathered outside, all of them hoping to get a word from him or a picture of him. She was glad she’d been spared having to smile in front of all that. But Luka hadn’t.

When he finally came and found her, he looked exhausted. The jacket he was wearing seemed to dwarf him with all its zippers and studs as he shrank into it and leaned against the wall next to her. The small space on the wall between them felt like an unbreachable gulf.

For a moment, neither of them spoke and she searched desperately for the right words to say to him. Finally, she took a breath and decided the best course was to just dive in.

“Luka, I am… so sorry.”

He shrugged back and his jacket jingled with the movement. He still wasn’t looking at her. “It’s fine,” he said coolly. “All according to plan, right?”

She shook her head so hard a strand of hair fell out of her updo. She tucked it back and swallowed her nerves. “No, that… wasn’t supposed to happen.” She wasn’t supposed to fall back in love with him. She wasn’t supposed to kiss him. She wasn’t supposed to hurt him.

A dark chuckle slipped out from between his teeth. “Ouch. Was it really that bad?” he asked, attempting humor, but the hurt was still plain in his tone.

She whirled to face him and gripped his arm as tight as she could. “It was wonderful,” she insisted, putting every ounce of feeling she could muster into the statement.

His tense posture softened and he tucked that stray strand of hair back behind her ear. The look he was giving her reminded her so much of the other night, right before he’d kissed her, that an unwanted warmth crept over her cheeks.

“Then I guess I’m a little confused,” he said, his voice so soft and warm. She almost believed he’d forgiven her.

A camera flashed at them and it sparked an unexpected anger in her. She turned her head to find the source, but there were so many cameras she couldn’t pinpoint which one was trained on them. She couldn’t tell him all she wanted to like this. She had to get him alone again.

“Come with me,” she whispered, and closed her fingers around his wrist to pull him after her. But he broke out of her grip and stood back with an odd sort of look on his face. Like he’d retreated behind some sort of shell.

“What’s this about Marinette?” he asked, and she winced as she recognized the start of the script Penny had given her. Did… did he really want this? She glanced around again and the entire room was focused on them, holding their breath it seemed, waiting for them to break. She couldn’t let it happen.

“The cameras, Luka,” she whispered at him, hardly realizing that was actually her line.

“What about them?”

“I need to talk to you. In private.” She flicked her eyes towards the door, pleading with him to catch her meaning, but something was… wrong… with him. All his intensity was turned off. He was just reciting lines. And that… Wow, that hurt.

“This is my life now, Marinette,” he said, his voice hollow and bitter. “Cameras and all. If you can’t handle that, then maybe this was a mistake.”

Her face fell before she could help it. He was gone. Her Luka, the boy she’d fallen in love with, had disappeared behind a mask of fame. He was Luka Couffaine now, famous rock star, and she… she was nobody to him.

“Maybe it was,” she heard herself say, then pushed past him, barely even aware of the crowd she was worming through, or the cameras that flashed all around her.

He didn’t follow after her.

***

She barely glanced at the newsstand when the story broke. She couldn’t bear to see that version of Luka again, or read the transcript of their fight.

It hadn't been real. She knew that. But the way her heart was broken certainly felt real.

***

Another akuma. Another day. She whipped across the Parisian rooftops and landed on her balcony before detransforming and running downstairs.

"You're late," her mom chided her gently, placing the stack of bakery boxes in her hands.

"I know, Maman, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, okay? I promise all these macarons will make it totally safe to Le Grand Paris," she called back as she pushed the door open with her backside and turned, carefully, to get out the door.

Only to come face to face with Luka, his hand raised as if he was about to open the door, and his face flushed and sweaty. She froze, thankful her first response hadn't been to jump away from him.

"Hi," he said, then he winced, probably because he realized how "hi" was not nearly enough for him to say to explain anything.

She glanced back behind her and saw her mom grabbing the bread peel before she pulled the door shut firmly with her foot, trying to let her mom know she could handle this. Luka took half the pastry boxes off the top of her stack, an old habit, she assumed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping he didn’t think she was angry. Just to have something to do with the nervous energy coursing through her, she started walking. The wrong direction. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. He fell into step next to her.

“...I wanted to see you,” he said hesitantly, and her heart did a traitorous flip.

“Well, here I am,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could manage.

“Here you are.” God, he was nervous. She’d never known Luka to be nervous before. It wasn’t supposed to be cute. “And if there’s any way I can apologize for the other night—”

“Don’t worry about it.” She shifted the boxes in her hands so he couldn’t see her face fall. He had to remind her. All the bitter hurt came pouring out of her before she could stop it. “It all went according to plan, right? Your PR nightmare is over, everyone thinks we broke up, and that’s how the story was supposed to end.”

“No.” He jogged in front of her and turned around to face her, stopping her in her tracks. “No, that’s not how this is gonna end.”

When he caught sight of her face, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly and he set his boxes down so he could take hers away from her, too. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her and she looked away, focusing very hard on not letting him see her cry. This was so confusing. Here he was, out of the blue, almost a week after the “incident,” acting like nothing was wrong. What was real anymore? What did he want from her?

“What do you want, Luka?”

“You.” The simple word shocked her enough that she had to look up at him and he gave her a small smile. “It was always you, Marinette.”

“I… thought…” She had to shake her head clear of the image of him standing there, choosing his new life over anything with her. It didn’t make sense with what he was saying now. “The other night…”

“The other night, when you ran out and I was an idiot for not following after you?”

Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes to the sidewalk between them. “I thought that was what you wanted. That life. Being Luka Couffaine, famous rock star, M. ‘too cool.’”

She was making fun of him, maybe a little, with that last one.

“When have I ever been cool?” He laughed and took her hands in his. “Marinette, look at me.”

She did. He was smiling at her. His normal, soft, warm Luka smile. And he’d ditched the rock star costume for his old hoodie and jeans and those high tops he used to draw all over. He looked… good. He looked like him again.

“It took me a while,” he continued after a moment of letting her scrutinize him, “but I remembered who I am. And that’s not Luka Couffaine, famous rock star.” He rolled his eyes back at her. He knew she’d been making fun of him, then. “It’s Luka Couffaine, the dork who spoke in musical metaphors to try to tell the girl I loved—the girl I’ve always loved—how crazy I am about her.”

She remembered that. Clear as a musical note, sincere as a melody. She’d never thought he was a dork for that. It was still the most beautiful confession of love she’d ever received. At least… it had been. She had a feeling if she’d dared to listen to his song on the radio she might’ve heard another one she liked even more.

“Can I hear the song now?” she asked. “The one that was causing all the fuss?”

He laughed and swung her hands between them as he started to sing.

“Baby that song, I gotta tell you the truth.” He spun her around, then pulled her close, setting his hand on her hip and laying hers on his shoulder. “I’ve been hidin’ this way too long from you. Can’t believe you never knew.” He hummed as he swayed with her and she laid her head on his shoulder, smiling hard. “It’s all about you.”

When he stopped humming, they kept swaying, her cheek still on his shoulder, her hands clasped around his neck, and his hands around her waist. It was nice. It was comfortable. It was everything being with Luka had ever been.

“Marinette?” he asked hesitantly. She hummed into his shoulder to show him she was listening. “Can I kiss you again?”

She pulled her head off his shoulder to look up at him. He was looking at her with such concern and he was nervous again. She wanted to so badly, but she didn’t want it ruined like it had been the other time they’d kissed. Her eyes flicked around the park unconsciously, searching for anyone who might interrupt them. As much as she loved him, she didn’t want their first real kiss reported anywhere.

“No cameras. No story,” he said quickly, “but I’d like another shot at it, if you’d let me.”

What an absolute dork. And oh, how she loved him. She laughed and grabbed his lapel to pull his lips down to hers.

And that’s how the story really ended, and their life together began.

#lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #penny rolling #rock star!Luka #fake dating au #lbsc exchange 2022

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scripturiends · 3 years

Text

gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Read on ao3

Summary: It was the one time her hunch had been wrong.

In which Han Joonhwi is acting suspicious, and Kang Sol A intends to find out why.

Rating: T

Word count: 3,848

Notes: Title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘invisible string’: “Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs; were there clues I didn’t see?”

As promised, here is the Solhwi fic that I had hoped to be up before Episode 7 airs. I went straight to work after receiving positive feedback from an interest check post. As I mentioned there, the story isn’t necessarily dwelling on the current timeline, but is, for the most part, still canon-compliant. I totally made up all the legal jargon, so please bear with me. And, like the show, I decided to do ‘cutscenes’ instead of one unilinear fic.

I had a lot of fun with this little project for the past two days, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I’d also love to hear your thoughts, please do send me a message or feel free to comment, it would mean the absolute world to me. Thank you and let’s all look forward to Episodes 7 and 8 this week!

The fic is under the cut. As a sidenote, this fic is un-beta’ed. All mistakes are mine.

Kang Sol A swears she only drifted off for a second.

She had been burning the midnight oil for the past few days, well into the weekend, so much that the tension was radiating into her atmosphere, so much that the heat was starting to get to her head. Her Civil Code paper may not write itself, but neither could she if it took every ounce of her energy just to even sit up. So she plopped down on her bed, head heavy on her pillow, still fighting the urge to doze off.

She blinked, slowly, and as her eyes fluttered at an alarming rate, they eventually closed — just for a moment, I’ll count to ten and then wake up again — and stilled.

Birds were chirping outside her window when her eyes shot open, and that’s how she knew she messed up big-time. She woke with a start, frantically shaking off the books and papers off her person and frisking for her phone, silently praying that she wasn’t too late for her meeting with her project partner Seo Jiho, who she knows absolutely despises latecomers.

Sol A felt something vibrate from behind her, and an incomprehensible sound escaped her lips as she checked her phone. There were mountains of notifications that prevented her from checking the current time: self-set alarms, e-mails from her professors, reminders about today’s meeting with Jiho, and missed calls from a certain Han Joonhwi.

Clearing all of them at once, she finally reads: 9:07 AM. She was supposed to meet Jiho at 9:15. Sol A breathes a sigh of relief, but her momentary celebration is cut short when her phone starts to ring.

Han Joonhwi was calling again.

She didn’t even get a chance to speak yet when the voice on the other end asked, “Breakfast?”

Sol A put him on speaker phone as she packed up her things. “Can’t,” she replied mindlessly. “I have to meet with Seo Jiho and I’m already late. Eat by yourself.”

A few seconds of silence went unnoticed as Kang Sol A zipped up her knapsack and wore it over her shoulder. She finally picked up her phone and switched back to the handset. “Don’t skip breakfast, you hear me?”

Still nothing. “Joonhwi-ah.”

“Walk fast,” was all he said. And then he hung up.

That caught Sol A off guard, but she heeded the advice anyway.

She made it to the study room at exactly 9:13, only stopping by the entrance to catch her breath and tie her hair back into a ponytail. It was silent, so she half-hoped that no one would be there, but half-expected nothing less from Jiho. So she walks in, footsteps heavy, only skidding to a halt when she sees Jiho staring someone down, someone whose back looked all-too-familiar.

“You like her, don’t you?” she overhears from Jiho. “Kang So-”

Jiho suddenly fell silent at the sight of Sol A, and the man opposite him suddenly turned his head towards her. She was right about who it was — it was none other than the person she spoke with on the phone just a few minutes ago.

If Joonhwi was surprised, he didn’t show it.

But Kang Sol A did. She blinked once, and with a hint of dubiousness, she asked, “Who likes who?”

The men shared a look, and she was met with silence again, which was beginning to irk her. But she bit her tongue, took a seat across Seo Jiho, and grinned cheekily at him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You aren’t...” Jiho replied, trailing off.

“I am by your standards. I know you,” she said matter-of-factly. “For Seo Jiho, ‘on time’ actually means ‘thirty minutes early’. Which means I’m late.”

Sighing wistfully, Sol A added, “I learned that the hard way.”

She locks eyes with Joonhwi momentarily, but he averts his gaze, expression unreadable. Sol A ignores this and tries her luck once more, eyes flitting from Jiho to Joonhwi and back. “Who were you guys talking about?”

This time, almost with no hesitation, Joonhwi finally spoke up. “No one,” he answered. “My roommate was just practicing his cross-examination skills on me.”

He stood up, giving Seo Jiho a final staredown. “They’re very poor at the moment. Help him out, will you?”

Then, without looking Kang Sol A in the eye, he gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and promptly left.

Sol A’s eyes followed Joonhwi’s back, and stayed there even after he left. His touch lingered on her shoulder like a ghost, but instead of comfort, all she felt was fear. Suspicion. Restlessness. That maybe he was hiding something, and whether it involved her or not, she was keen on finding out just exactly what it was.

II.

“I’m telling you, Yeseul-ah,” Sol A insists. “Something’s up with him.”

They link arms, walking past the school entrance and into the lobby. Jeon Yeseul turns to her, hair falling perfectly into place as she lets out an angelic laugh. God, Sol A thinks. Even her laugh is perfect. But past the admiration for her Aphrodite-like features, Sol A feels like she’s being mocked.

She pouts. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do!” Yeseul defends. “You think he likes Kang Sol B.”

Sol A slides her left hand off Yeseul’s arm and holds her friend’s right one lightly. “So why are you laughing at me, then?”

“Unnie.” Yeseul wraps an arm around Sol A’s shoulder. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Joonhwi-oppa likes you?”

Sol A almost choked on her spit. Of course she’s thought about it — after all, she’s a hundred percent certain that it was the name Kang Sol that slipped from Seo Jiho’s mouth a few days ago. But none of the evidence so far points to it being herself. And anyway, it’s not as if he’s shown any interest in Sol A as a woman. In fact, all he does is tease her. And she’s okay with that. And Sol B already likes Joonhwi. And they seem to be a far better fit than Sol A and Joonhwi. And it’s not like she harbors any romantic feelings for him, either.

She pushes the thought away before it could become bigger.

Sol A denies, deflects, and defends. “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?” her friend challenges.

“Why would he be avoiding me if that were true?” Sol A counters.

“People do that when they feel awkward around their crush,” Yeseul rebuts.

This is starting to feel like a game of chess rather than a conversation between best friends. “I think he’s just scared I’ll tell my roommate or something.” Before Yeseul could say anything else, by some stroke of luck, Sol A spots Joonhwi from her peripheral vision, walking past Lady Justice.

Yeseul smiles kindly at Sol A. She doesn’t doubt its genuineness, but she feels like it’s laced with mischief. “Should we test your theory, then?”

What does that mean?

“Joonhwi-oppa!” Yeseul shouts, waving at him from across the room.

She’s not going to ask him, is she?

Yeseul runs to Joonhwi, a light skip in her step. “I have something to ask you.”

Wait.

“Wait,” escaped from Sol A’s lips, barely a whisper before it started registering on her what Yeseul was about to do. And when it does, she finally sprints. “Jeon Yeseul, wait!”

“Oppa.” Yeseul bats her eyelashes at Joonhwi. Sol A was in tow behind her, feeling small but unsure why.

“Oh, Yeseul-ah,” Joonhwi greets. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend and classmate.

While it pained Sol A to just sit back and watch, knowing that Joonhwi had been purposefully avoiding her, she let the scene unfold, trusting that Yeseul knew what she was doing.

“You haven’t been going to the study group sessions lately,” Yeseul starts.

Sol A hoped it would get a rise out of him, seeing as he was the one who started the group to begin with, but was barely showing up these days. Instead, all he said was, “The pair project in Civil Code has been holding me up.”

Yeah, right, she thinks. A second-round judicial exam passer and a former police academy student having a hard time in Civil Code? Why do I find that hard to believe?

Sol A scoffs, and Yeseul pinches her side. “Sol-unnie and I are meeting the others for lunch. You should come join us.”

“Ah,” Joonhwi drawled out slowly, as if coming up with an excuse to say no. Sol A expects it to be his next move. “I wish I could, but-”

Knew it.

“Kang Sol B will be there,” Sol A blurts out, fully aware that it’s a total lie. Still, she had to try.

Something in Joonhwi’s mood changed, and his face hardened. Still not making eye contact with Sol A, he excuses himself from Yeseul. “I’ll take a rain check today, okay?”

And without another word, he left again, leaving Sol A with the same emptiness that she had felt in the study room the other day.

Yeseul finally turns to Sol A, crossing her arms. “You’re right. He’s being weird.”

III.

A few more days without Joonhwi’s company, and Sol A was starting to feel its ill effects on her. She hadn’t realized just how much she took him for granted until he was no longer around to challenge her ideas, to annoy her over the littlest of things, to calm her down when she’s freaking out, to be her drinking buddy, to be someone she could tell any and every stupid story to, with the utmost confidence that he’ll keep it to himself or that he wouldn’t belittle her for it.

They’d been through too much together now, and even their fateful first meeting all those years ago didn’t faze him from her. In fact, her little scheme, no matter how deceitful at the time, brought him closer not just to her, but to Byeol, her mom, and to an extent, even Dan.

So what changed? What on earth did Seo Jiho say to him, and what on earth did she walk into, that made him close himself off from her? Proximity may not breed familiarity, but right now she wishes nothing more than to be in his orbit again.

Arguably the worst consequence of the lack of Joonhwi in Sol A’s life right now is having no one to eat with.

During one of her all-nighters at the dorm, she found herself with an intense craving for some ramyeon. She removed her earphones, partly to pull herself back to reality, but mostly to ask her roommate to have a meal with her. As if Sol B would say yes, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m going downstairs for a bite. You wanna come?”

No response, as expected from Kang Sol B. Sol A inwardly rolled her eyes, spinning in her chair to tease her roommate, only to find the desk empty.

She scratched her head while walking, wondering where Sol B could be at this time of night. And without a heads up, too… She was getting worried.

But it seems like her concern was all for naught, because Sol B was right where Sol A was headed.

And she was there with Han Joonhwi.

She was laughing. It was the first time that she saw Sol B laugh, maybe ever, and to see that Joonhwi could be someone who could do that for her, made Sol A feel proud. Like knowing Han Joonhwi was a privilege, not only because of the way he could make people comfortable around him, but also because Sol A had once been on the receiving end of it herself.

She should be relieved. In fact, she should be happy. Because it means that her guess was right, which means she doesn’t have to keep digging anymore. She could just tell Joonhwi that his secret’s safe with her, and they could finally go back to the way they were before... Right?

And yet something about witnessing the pair interact as a mere bystander didn’t sit right with Sol A. There’s a pang in her chest that she can’t quite comprehend — maybe she just misses him, or maybe it’s something else completely. Because if Han Joonhwi has feelings for Kang Sol B, and they’re together right now, then that leaves only one explanation: he must be avoiding her, and for a completely different reason.

It was the first time her hunch had been wrong.

Needless to say, Sol A lost her appetite and trudged back upstairs lifelessly, a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in her stomach that she couldn’t quite place where it even came from.

IV.

Come Friday, Sol A was too exhausted to even think about Han Joonhwi. Between the endless deadlines and papers to write, her job in the copy room, and the Seo Byungju case, her energy had been too depleted and her social battery too worn out to even care that her relationships could be falling apart.

The only thing she has going for her now is the Legal Clinic, the one place where she could bury her nose deep in case digests and law readings and she would absolutely never get tired of it, because it’s the one place where she feels like she’s making a real difference, especially when people’s lives are at stake. It was the remaining part of her life where Sol A felt like she was in control, so these days, all her emotionally-charged passion was focused on this one thing.

But of course that had to fall apart too, when Professor Yang asked for her to stay after class.

He cut right to the chase. “I’ll be meeting with my defense lawyer today so I need you to consult with the client in my stead.”

Count on Yangcrates to always give Sol A a heart attack in under two seconds.

“M-me?” she stuttered.

The professor’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly, which Sol A took as a sign to backtrack and confidently proclaim that she’s up to the task. She knows there’s nothing Yang Jonghoon hates more than a quitter.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she accedes, with a little more verve.

He nods once in her direction. “And take Han Joonhwi with you,” he commanded.

She’s doomed. Not that she wasn’t doomed before, but now that Professor Yang had to drag her personal life into this, she was really in shambles.

Sol A clears her throat. “With all due respect, Sir,” she laughs nervously, “don’t you trust me?”

Professor Yang takes a moment to think about it. Sol A wonders if today’s the day she finally gets a definitive answer. But Yangcrates is as sly as ever. “This is your chance to get back at him for the Bad FaMa case. Make him your assistant this time.”

He walks away, leaving Sol A dumbfounded once again, but not before he adds, “Under my orders, of course.”

Sol A’s knees buckled at the thought. Normally, she would find this predicament to be absolutely funny, a chance to bicker with Joonhwi and learn something from him at the same time. But he’s angry at her, and she doesn’t even know why, and even merely approaching him has turned into a problem.

Everything in Sol A’s life right now is a problem. She wonders if it's getting Joonhwi back that would fix everything.

Upon leaving the classroom, she spots him getting a drink from the vending machine. She has to slap herself twice, just to mentally prepare herself, to muster up the courage to approach him again.

“Come on, Sol,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t hard.”

Shaking off the nerves, she takes a step forward, but in a momentary state of weakness, takes another step back. “So what if he’s mad? That’s his problem. I’ve never given him a reason to be angry. He should suck it up. Not me. Come on. Just do it.”

A step forward.

“Just do it.”

A step back.

“Goddamn it.”

One final step back to boost herself forward, and she’s running towards him, pretending to be as casual as possible. “Han Joonhwi!” she calls out to him.

His eyes widen at the sight of her, knowing he has nowhere to escape.

“Did you get my text? Professor Yang needs our help at the Legal Clinic.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

Joonhwi scratched the back of his head, and Sol A just knows it’s about to be another lame excuse. “I can’t. I’m meeting Sol B for our Civil Code term paper.”

He can’t even look at her, and Sol A wonders just how bad she had hurt Joonhwi for him to feel like this towards her. But that only lasted for a second, when she realized just exactly what he said. Then, her pity turned into irritation, as she accused, “Liar.”

Sol A crossed her arms, and glared at Joonhwi. “Did you forget that I’m her roommate? She went home today.”

Sol A sat across Joonhwi inside the Legal Clinic, her eyes narrowed to slits. A profound silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by a sharp inhale from her.

“You like Kang Sol B, don’t you?”

The only response she got was Han Joonhwi’s signature smirk, playful and taunting, one that said, ‘You don’t know me, and you never will’.

She hated that.

She slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at him accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I would have kept your secret if you just asked. Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you think I’d tell her or something?”

The same smile painted on his face, Joonhwi exhaled defeatedly. “Kang Sol A, I thought I taught you to never make any claims with unfounded bases.”

An eyebrow perched up on Sol A’s end. “It’s not unfounded,” she argues.

“Where’s your evidence, then?” he dared her.

Sol A had been waiting for this. She listed everything he had ever done — or refused to do, which was spend time with her, speak to her, or even look at her, which was absolutely the bare minimum — since the incident with Seo Jiho up to this very moment.

He waves his hand dismissingly. “That’s all speculative.”

If his goal was to rile her up, then it’s definitely working. “Then what about what I heard Seo Jiho tell you that one time? And most importantly, you straight up lied to my face.”

“Circumstantial,” he quips. “That would never hold up in court, especially not when the only witness is yourself. How are you going to be both the defense lawyer and the sole witness?”

Han Joonhwi should be at the edge of the precipice here, and yet he has managed to flip the situation over and turn it into an interrogation for Kang Sol A.

Nothing can hide her frustration anymore. “I would never be the lawyer in my own case. Look, it’s still evidence. You asked, and I gave it. Seriously, Han Joonhwi, what’s with you?”

Instead of a direct answer, he points out, “You rely on your emotions too much.”

Almost immediately, she shoots back, “And you rely on the law too much. This isn’t a courtroom. This is a human conversation.”

He purses his lips, unable to say anything, and Kang Sol A continues. “You’re too stubborn.”

“And you’re too nosy.”

“You’ve benefited from it more than once.” Sol A’s patience is getting thinner by the second. “Can’t you just tell me what I did so that I can either apologize for it or call you out for being wrong?”

“You and Sol B are hardly friends. What reason would I have to be afraid?” Amusement gleamed in Joonhwi’s eyes; Sol A was astounded by how he could stay so nonchalant about this. “Think.”

She glared at him, but still ceded. Damn his tenacity. “Fine, I’ll play along.”

She rolled her eyes, and in a blasé manner, started to think out loud. “I overheard Jiho ask you if you liked Kang Sol, and then you started avoiding me. Yeseul asked you to join us for lunch, and when I said Sol B would be there, even though she really wasn’t, you declined. So I thought it was her that you liked. But it doesn’t make sense, because I saw you two hanging out at the cafeteria that one night-”

His arrogant expression changed to one of shock. “You did?”

“-and then you straight up lied to me about your plans. Unless you two are already dating-”

“We’re not,” he interrupts once more. Sol A eyes him with suspicion. “We’re not,” he repeats indignantly.

“-it could only mean that you do like Kang Sol…”

Joonhwi starts slowly nodding, face a little flushed, but somehow urging her on to continue.

“...just not B. You like-”

“Kang Sol A.” Professor Yang enters the room, calling out her name.

She’s sure her professor asked her to do something, but she was unmoved. At this point, she doesn’t think anything could pull her out of her reverie for the rest of the day.

A veil that covered her eyes was lifted, and she had never been so pitiful of the blindfold that Lady Justice wore. The scales Kang Sol A carried, as heavy as the burdens she was facing, balanced with Han Joonhwi holding them up with her. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand right at that moment, to feel the heaviness in its entirety, and thank him for staying anyway.

They don't talk for the rest of the day, but Kang Sol A is unbothered.

Her questioning attitude may have always gotten her in trouble in school, but this was the one time she was glad to be wrong.

Epilogue

Han Joonhwi fell asleep on his desk again.

He normally finishes up all his revisions early, but because of his agitation, the cold table seemed to be more inviting than the bed, where he simply ends up tossing and turning.

Despite the stiff neck it was bound to cause, he’s been doing it for days, only being woken up by his constant 8:30 alarms. This time, however, it was his gracious roommate Seo Jiho who finally interrupted him from his slumber.

Jiho slammed a sealed instant ramyeon pack on Joonhwi’s desk. He groggily looked up at his friend, whose hair was still disheveled, and asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s from Kang Sol A.” Before walking away, he deadpanned, “Do your own bidding next time. I’m not your messenger.”

Joonhwi took the cup ramyeon, spotting the bright yellow sticky note on it, not unlike the ones he’d put on Sol A’s notebook, or occasionally, her forehead. He smiled to himself as he read the message, walking out to heat up some water for breakfast, but not before carefully displaying the note on his bulletin board for the whole world to see.

Han Joonhwi,

For a second-round judicial exam passer, you can be so dense.

I like you back, you idiot.

Now stop sulking and have breakfast with me.

Idiot.

Send me your thoughts/fic requests here!

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

Text

this is a continuation of the other one

Y/N stares at him for a long moment, arms crossed and poking her tongue into her cheek. “Why do I feel like I'm Ariel and you’re the sea witch trying to get me to sing into a shell?”

Harry blinks once. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, right, that was—that was ‘89, wasn’t it?” Y/N bites back a laugh at the scowl that rolls over Harry’s expression. “After your time, I suppose.”

But Y/N isn’t laughing when she has to spend the next two weeks braless. And although she spends the first day being petty under Harry’s keen eye, by the third day, she’s turned the predicament around in her favor.

“Hey, Harry.” She says one night, stirring her pot of pasta on the stove as she sips her eleven dollar wine. “I have a question about our arrangement.”

Harry, who has been leaning over the counter to soak in the aromas of the food that he longs to taste (and also to get a look at Y/N’s cleavage in the v-neck t-shirt she’s wearing), cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “If you're trying to reduce your sentence, don’t even try it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Y/N murmurs, trailing her lip around the rim of her wine glass as she leans against the counter. “I was just wondering if it has to be only braless with a shirt on top, or if I could wear just a bra or bralette.”

Harry blinks once, his mouth falling open in surprise. “I—what?”

“Like, I have this little cotton Calvin Klein bralette, and it’s super comfy, and still gives me some support, but my cleavage and such is still decently on display.” Y/N clarifies with a smug grin, setting down her glass against the fake marble counter as she stretches to reach the spice cabinet. “I think that could fulfill our agreement, no? You know what bralette I’m talking about, right? You’ve probably seen it when you’ve been snooping around.”

Harry looks at her carefully, trying to catch the trick behind her all-too generous offer. He replies in a measured tone, leaning against the fridge as his eyes glue to the way her chest heaves as she teeters forwards on her tiptoes to grab a condiment. “I know the one, yes. Peachy pink, right? With a thick band and slightly ruffled fabric at the center?”

“That’s the one, yup.” Y/N pops the last letter of the word, wiggling her fingers to try and grab the oregano from the highest shelf. “It’s a nice number, I think, and going around braless for so long does my back in sometimes.”

Harry pushes off the barrier he’s using as support, drifting towards Y/N as she stands before her cupboards, one hand propped against the counter to boost herself up as the other fishes for the small container a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He stops right beside her, looking down at her with that same calculating gaze he had across the room. He’s still trying to sus out her angle, but little does he know that what she’s trying to implement is going to work out for both of them.

She’s grown quite fond of the extra attention he’s been giving her, and for some odd reason, she feels a deep sense of pleasure every time she catches him staring at her chest. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glint longingly as he ogles, or the way he’ll chew into his cheek or along his bottom lip or into the side of his finger as he follows the outline of her cleavage, or maybe it’s that when she catches him gawking, he’ll hold intense eye contact with her for a second before casting his gaze away to some other unimportant object.

Maybe it was that one time yesterday where she’d managed to pull an actual reaction out of him. They had been watching a rerun of a Scooby Doo movie, and she could feel his ghastly eyes pinned to her bust, probably because she had lied down on her stomach across her sectional sofa as he had sat on the floor in front of it, so when he turned his head, her chest had been less than a foot away. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had purposefully flushed it against the couch cushion below to make it seem extra plump and appealing, which would have knocked the air from Harry’s lungs if he still had them.

He’d released a soft whimper so broken and needy, Y/N had to fight off a conceited grin to avoid letting him know she was doing this to him with actual intention. She’d pretended not to hear it, but she had allowed herself to indulge the flare of satisfaction that rose from watching him shift his sitting position a bit, as if something were growing heavy between his thighs. His actions had vaguely made her wonder if ghosts could even feel arousal, and if they could, she hoped he was. It was the perfect revenge, because she at least knows that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not with anyone else, at least.

Y/N watches as Harry reaches an arm up, easily reaching the bottle she’s attempting to retrieve. He swipes his hand across the container, the motion managing to knock it off the shelf and into her awaiting palm. She’s learned that in order to touch objects, he has to put in quite a bit of energy and concentration to succeed in breaking through the dimensional barrier that separates the living from the dead. Garnering the slightest contact can sometimes drain him a great deal, so when he does make it his mission to touch something, he does it with as little impact as possible to save his energy for later, in case he wants to grab something for an extended period of time, or grasp a heavier weight that would require more exertion.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him innocently, blinking her lashes with a slightly sultry air as she closes the cupboard slowly.

Harry swallows heavily, glimpsing down at where her chest is still heaving from when she’d made a grand effort to collect the ingredient she needed. He hates how his little cheeky plan had recently become the bane of his undead existence, given that Y/N had recently begun using it to her advantage. But he can’t complain, because he’s getting exactly what he asked for. He just wishes he could get more.

His voice comes out low and strained as his eyes coast back up to meet her own, which are dancing with smug amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do you say?” Y/N asks, uncapping the spice and sprinkling a liberal amount into her sauce. “Think we could tweak our deal?”

Harry pulls himself back onto the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface without making a sound. “I suppose.” He replies after a moment, eyes flickering to Y/N’s chest once more as she leans down to taste the sauce. “The bralette should be fine, as long as it’s not too padded.” He shoots her a cheeky grin. “I like a bit of nipple, you know that.”

“You’re gross.” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head as she sets down the wooden spoon on the stove. “I'm gonna go change, then. Watch this for me, will you?”

And Harry does rather diligently, inhaling the flavorful aromas rising from the stove. He wishes, for the billionth time in his thirty odd years of death, that he could taste food. He knows he doesn’t need it, but even just having its essence pass over his tongue would be enough for him. He misses pasta, he thinks, staring longingly at the noodles boiling away on the stove. And pizza, and fish, and steak, cooked perfectly with a delicious side of mashed potatoes and gravy, just pink enough in the middle that it’s still tender—

“You didn’t burn down the kitchen. Good job!” Y/N’s voice calls from behind, and the ghost turns around with a retort on his lips that quickly falls away once he sees her.

She’s put on the bralette just as she said she would, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. The cotton is thin enough that he can see the clear outline of what he wants through the article, and the halter neckline lands low enough that he can see every dip and curve of her breasts. A band of her stomach is exposed beneath the labeled elastic lining the bottom of the fabric, and the soft skin seems to call to Harry, making him desperate to touch it. Y/N’s decided to swap her sweatpants as well, it seems, as she’s now dressed in a loose pair of heather grey shorts that sit above her belly button and barely cover the curve of her ass. The loose legs flutter up with her every movement, and if she were about to bend over just a smidge, he could—

“How’s this?” The girl asks, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder with a simper. “Does it meet the requirements?”

Harry clears his throat, his words coming out as a pained groan. “God, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Y/N sputters into a round of airy laughter, coming to stand before him with her hands perched on her hips. Her tone is innocent, but her true intentions are written clear across her face, obvious in the way her lips twitch with evil delight. “How so? I’m abiding to our terms!”

“You’re giving me the world’s worst case of blue-balls, is what you’re doing.” Harry bites back, his sharp jaw clenching and full lips pressing into a bothered grimace. “And you’re doing it on fucking purpose.”

“You made your casket, now lie in it.” Y/N states brightly, shrugging her brows with finality.

“Harsh.” Harry mumbles, but he can’t fight off the amused grin that tweaks his dimples into place.

Harry slips off the counter again onto his feet, not being able to stay still. There’s a peculiar buzzing sensation coursing through each of his ghostly limbs, and anytime he stays put, it intensifies to the point where he feels like he’s going to explode into a shower of static.

He saunters up behind Y/N, looking over her shoulder as she regains her previous activity of mixing the contents in the pot while they simmer their way to completion. Despite not being able to touch her, he can still smell her just fine, and her homey scent of chamomile and jasmine are ever welcomed. She just smells so much like a girl, for a lack of a better explanation, and Harry hasn’t been this close to one his own age since before he passed. It’s driving him to the brink.

“I’d give you a taste if I could.” Y/N's soft, teasing voice echoes against his ears as she cranes her neck to look at him. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Yeah...” Harry locks eyes with her for a moment, and his hand instinctively reaches down to grasp at her waist. Instead of being met with the warm sturdiness of what he knows would be her silky skin, he’s met with the typical icy fizzing sensation that constantly haunts him whenever he tries to make contact with a living being. His digits pass right through her hip, though she barely seems to notice, the only palpable indication of his attempt being a cold breeze wafting across her flesh.

He knows it’s something that is extremely easy to brush off, usually as a simple draft from the air conditioning, given the similarities between the two experiences. And that’s exactly what she appears to do as she gives a light, dismissive shiver, not paying it any mind.

The ghost tries his best to keep his disappointment from registering in his mood, and his tone instead fills with an unreadable emptiness that only he can truly interpret. Below it lies a double meaning, and it has to do with way more than just the general desire to be able to experience the taste of good again; it holds a certain longing that pertains to a deeper type of hunger, but again, only he can truly decipher it. “Yeah, I can only dream of it.”

#drabble

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heliads · 3 years

Text

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall.

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you’re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag.

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter draco #harry potter draco malfoy #harry potter draco malfoy imagine #draco #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco imagines #draco oneshot

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drspencerweed · 4 years

Text

Safer to Kiss

Summary: [Y/N] is new to the BAU, and Spencer’s avoidance of handshakes backfires a bit.

WC: 2073

Content: fluffiest fluff, mentions of kidnapping/violence (typical bau stuff)

A/N: I haven’t written fluff for Spencer yet, so I hope y’all like this!

Masterlist

read on ao3

I wasn’t nervous about my first day at the BAU. Sure, it would make sense if I was, but I had been working my entire career to get on this team. It was where I belonged, and I knew it. My interview process with Hotch had been a breeze, and I was ready to start the next step of the process: working my first case with the team. It was just preliminary, I was still in my probationary period, but I knew it was going to go well. I was over prepared for this job.

So I wasn’t nervous. I was ready. I met Hotch in his office that morning, ready to do paperwork until a case came in. But he greeted me with a nod and held up a case file.

“Round table, now.” He said, and I followed him out into the bullpen. The rest of the team was already in the room, waiting for us.

“Hello everyone. Meet a potential new member of our team, Agent [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. She’ll be joining us on this case in a probationary manner.” Hotch introduced, and I was greeted with six smiling faces. Immediately I was drawn to the most attractive man in the room. He was sitting down, but I could tell he was tall, lanky. His hair swept over his forehead perfectly. I didn’t let my attention linger there for long however, as I didn’t want to make my attraction obvious. Luckily, one of the other agents jumped in and turned me away.

“Derek Morgan.” The muscular man to my right said, holding out a hand. I shook it with a smile.

“David Rossi.” The next man said, again holding out a hand. Around the table they went, introducing themselves. Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ. Agent Emily Prentiss. Penelope Garcia. Then finally - the man who had so quickly caught my eye.

“Spencer Reid.” He said with a nod.

“Doctor Spencer Reid.” Morgan corrected with a nudge. Reid rolled his eyes, and a flush reached his cheeks. It was cute. And he was a doctor? I might have found my dream man.

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted, holding out a hand to shake. His flush grew deeper, and he cleared his throat.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He informed me, nodding and smiling. I retracted my hand with a smirk.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so.” It was out of my mouth before I could help it, the snarky retort something that I would say to any one of my friends. But I probably shouldn’t say it to someone who is technically a superior. I shut my mouth quickly and cleared my throat. Morgan let out a loud laugh, and Garcia chuckled. Reid looked shocked, his face turning a bright red and his eyes going wide. He started stuttering.

“I-I wasn’t, that’s not-”

“Pretty boy, stop while you’re ahead.” Morgan teased. Hotch looked at all of us disapprovingly, while Prentiss, Garcia, and JJ all smirked at Reid.

“Sorry,” Reid coughed into his hand, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said, looking me right in the eye. I smiled at him.

“You didn’t.” I sat down in the only seat available, between Reid and Morgan. “Pretty boy?” I asked Morgan. Reid tried to jump in to defend himself but Morgan held up a hand to stop him.

“I mean, am I wrong?” Morgan teased. I looked back at Reid and gave him a deliberate once-over while he blushed. It seemed he hadn’t stopped blushing since I walked in the door. Before I could answer, Hotch cleared his throat.

“Garcia, let’s get started.”

Reid avoided making eye contact with me throughout the whole briefing. The only time he so much as looked at me was when I brought up the fact that the unsub’s overkill could be related to abuse in his own past. He only looked at me to bring up a statistic about how most serial killers who use overkill actually know their victims. I realized I may have taken the joke too far.

I was determined to make him more comfortable around me, as I worried that my statement from earlier had intimidated him. Even if nothing happened between the two of us, I needed him to like me. I wanted the whole team to accept me.

~~~~

The case went swimmingly. We caught the bad guy and saved the man he had kidnapped just in the nick of time. For the entire week we had been working on the case, Reid and I had spent very little, if any, time alone. It was like he was actively avoiding me. Morgan called him ‘Pretty boy’ very often, and I learned it was just something they did. And I completely agreed with him, Reid was a very, very, pretty boy. I had to work hard to keep my eyes off of him when we were working in groups. He was just so attractive, and every rambling statistic spew made me more and more attracted to him.

I was developing a devastating crush, and fast.

We were boarding the plane to go home, and I purposefully sat across from Reid. Everyone else petered off to take naps, and quickly fell asleep, but not Reid. He took out a hefty novel and began reading at his exponential pace. I watched him for a few moments before taking out my laptop and browsing the internet. After I was sure everyone else on the flight was deep asleep, I shut my laptop and sighed.

Reid looked up at the sound, and met my eyes. He made a questioning face. “Is something wrong?” He asked, lowering his book.

“No, I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” He seemed shocked, and closed his book and put it to the side.

“For what I said at the round table. I know it made you uncomfortable, and you’ve been avoiding me this week because of it. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” I said. His eyebrows raised, and a flush started climbing up his throat. I quickly realized the implications of what I said, and began back-tracking. “Not that I was trying to come on to you, in any way, but uhm. I especially didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Reid nodded and took a moment to take in what I said. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” I could tell it was a true statement. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his hands twisted into each other on the table, and he seemed endlessly intrigued by their movement. But even with his body language betraying him I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“But you have been avoiding me?” I smirked slightly as I said it. I noticed his absence of a denial to that specific accusation. He bit down around a smile at my call out. He looked up to meet me in the eye for the first time since we met. The hazel was striking. I smirked at him.

“I guess you could say that.” He said, letting his lips turn up. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“For what reasons then?” I asked, intrigued. I couldn’t think of any other reason he would be avoiding me. His flush travelled up his neck to his cheeks. He coughed slightly and glanced up at me. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his eyes falling on my lips and then going back to his hands.

“You-” He started but cut himself off, bunching his lips together nervously. I chuckled a little and gave him an inquisitive glance.

“Go on, I’m curious.” I prompted. He smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly, but I caught it. He mumbled something under his breath, speaking so fast and so low that I couldn’t make it out. I quirked my head to the side, leaning forward in my seat. “What was that?”

“I said, uhm. You make me nervous.” He confessed, meeting my eyes quickly and then looking away again. I sat back in shock. Me? Make this man nervous? He was a literal genius, surely he knew how attractive he was. Not that I thought he was out of my league, by any means, but I expected him to be fairly confident in himself. For christ’s sake, his best friend called him ‘Pretty Boy’ more than he used his name. And yet, there was proof in front of me that the confidence I assumed he had was non existent.

“Am I that loud?” I asked with a laugh, trying to deflect what I thought he meant by ‘nervous’. He was attracted to me, wasn’t he? I hadn’t yet decided what I wanted to do with that information. It would make sense to ask him out, but I kind of liked the idea of teasing him without his knowledge. He seemed easy to fluster, and I loved flustering people.

He burst out laughing at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, no. It has nothing to do with loudness. You’re just, uhm. I’m not used to people like you.”

“People like me?”

He coughed into his hand and licked his lips. “Pretty. Confident. Forward.” He listed the adjectives quickly, counting them on his fingers. I smirked at his admission.

“So you think I’m pretty?” I smirked. He stuttered, trying to backtrack, but he knew he had been caught out.

“I-I just, yes, of course! But not like.... you’re objectively attractive! And subjectively, of course, but it’s not to say that I- that you-” He stammered out. I kept smirking at him as he dug himself a bigger hole. Finally I took mercy on him, reaching across the table and placing a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Reid. I think you’re objectively and subjectively attractive, too.” I said with a smile. His eyes shot up to meet mine, his hand flexing underneath my grip.

“Y-You do?” My heart melted for the sweet boy in front of me. How could he not know how attractive he was? He started on another rant. “I know that, scientifically, I have good bone structure, but I’m quite awkward which usually discredits whatever symmetry my face has.” I reached out and grabbed one of his hands in mine. It barely spooked him and he kept rambling. “More symmetrical faces are typically perceived as more attractive, but you probably already knew that.” He kept glancing between my eyes and our hands. Our fingers weren’t interlaced but our palms were pressed together.

“I did know that. I also know that you’re cute.” I squeezed his hand when he shook his head with a small smile. Suddenly I realized that our hands being together went against his no handshake rule. I went to pull away with a muttered, “Sorry-” But he just squeezed back and held me there.

“You really think I’m cute?” He asked skeptically.

I smiled widely. “Yes, I do.” His eyebrows raised and he shook his head in disbelief. I simply grinned at him as he tried to wrap his head around the idea that I could possibly be attracted to him. It was such a sweet sentiment it made me blush. I leaned forward in my seat a bit and reached out for his other hand. I was feeling bold. “So are you gonna ask me on a date or would you rather me do it?”

He smirked up at me shyly. “Would you like to get dinner with me when we get back?” He asked, interlacing our fingers.

“I’d love that.” I answered, squeezing his hand. The smile he gave me was so bright and brilliant it made my own face light up.

“Yes, Pretty Boy, get some!” Morgan said from next to us, apparently not as asleep as I had thought. I laughed out loud as Spencer flushed down to his neck. Morgan smirked and winked at the two of us.

Our fingers stayed interlaced throughout the rest of the flight as we talked in hushed tones and got to know each other. Every word out of his mouth made me fall a little deeper, a little faster. It was way too soon to call it love, but I knew it could get there. The little seed in my heart was growing exponentially, and the way his thumb danced over my skin didn’t help it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I always appreciate likes/reblogs/comments/etc! Also if you’d like to be added to my taglist just message me or comment on this! (If you’ve made it this far here’s a secret: there might be a sequel to this fic if enough people want it :))

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @rusticreid

#my fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fan fic #mine

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 3 years

Text

Four pictures worth one thousand two-hundred and eighty two words

This is the Valentine's piece for @bunathebunny!!! I hope you like it :D Also thank you @eat0crow for organizing this event.

Ao3

Marinette looked at the photo strip of paper in her hand, which had four pictures in it, and smiled. Because if one picture alone was a thousand words. Then those four were a story.

One with the most unexpected beginning. Where she found the love of her life at probably her lowest point.

Being the guardian of the miraculous while still going out as ladybug had been stressful enough but when the end of high school began to approach, Marinette realized that she couldn't handle it all.

People were expecting her to make decisions that would define the rest of her life while Marinette longed for the days when she didn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Marinette felt lost, because she needed to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, alone.

And then she found him.

Jason Todd. Who looked a lot more lost than she did. Who's past had been so dark that Marinette could feel the bad luck and misfortune radiating from him. But within all of that she found beauty, a soul that had been through a lot but still cared.

That's when she found her best friend. The destruction to her creation. They both helped each other and Marinette got to see as the light seeped back into Jason's eyes. The clouds cleared and the real Jason Todd shined through.

Likewise, she had found a balance between her life, a way to achieve her dreams, and her keep responsibilities as guardian.

Jason helped her a lot. He took the Chat noir miraculous after Adrien left to live in London when he was accepted to go to college there. And fought by her side.

The only downside to it all was everyone thinking that they were dating. Not because she didn't like Jason. She did. A lot. But Jason had been through so much that she didn't think it was the right time. So every time one of her friends teased her about how they were basically an old married couple Marinette felt a pang of sorrow knowing that she had once again fallen for a guy who didn't love her back, romantically at least.

It hurt a lot. The years passed and they were still there for one another. But Marinette had to suffer through seeing Jason with random girls. "No commitment" he would say but that didn't lessen the sting.

But Marinette had his friendship, and that was something she treasured. And that she was not going to lose for anything in the world.

Then Jason started to become distant. Before, he basically lived at her house. Now he barely visited. Every time she called him to hang out, he came up with an excuse for why he couldn't. She was losing her best friend and didn't know why.

Had she done something? Did he go back to Gotham without telling her? Both of these options terrified her.

Then after a couple of weeks Marinette decided that enough was enough. She was going to go to Jason's apartment and lure him out to go to a carnival. And god forbid he refused because she was going to drag him there kicking and screaming if necessary.

She was going to get her best friend back.

~♡~♡~♡~

Jason was an idiot. There was no question about it. He was an idiot and Marinette was going to kill him for good this time.

And he deserved it because he had fallen for his best friend.

He couldn't handle it. Every time he saw her he wanted to just look into those beautiful blue eyes and kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her forever, and then marry her and- okay he was really getting carried away.

But since he couldn't do that, Jason avoided her. Which was really stupid because it was probably driving Marinette insane. And that was never good.

Why was he such a… a mess? He wanted to kill Bruce, but couldn't. He left Gotham And wandered aimlessly around the world before crashing into Paris and meeting the most amazing girl in the world. She took him in, cleaned his wounds both literally and metaphorically. And now he was almost purposefully hurting said girl because he was a coward.

Jason wondered just how angry and hurt Mari was at the moment. This was answered a couple of days later when there was a knock on his door.

When he opened it he saw her, Marinette in all her glory looking downright pissed. She examined him, from head to toe, with narrowed eyes. And when she concluded that he looked unharmed she glared at him.

"So he lives." She remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, hey Pixie. What's up?" He said nervously. If looks could kill, he'd be dead and nothing would be able to bring him back.

He needed to get his act together.

"Well you barely talk to me anymore so I came to find your corpse." Ouch "But since you're still here then you're coming with me to the carnival." Her tone made it clear it was not up to discussion.

He tried to refuse anyway. "Actually, Mari. I'm busy right now but maybe next time?"

"No"

"Um what?"

"I didn't ask you to come, I said you're coming with me. So get your keys and let's go."

Needless to say, Jason did as he was told. Pissed off Mari was terrifying.

~♡~♡~♡~

Walking around the carnival was awkward to say the least. Jason didn't talk, and didn't really do much except jump every time they accidentally made contact.

This was very out of character. Her dork would joke about how rigged the games were. Then he would spend hours proving that he could beat them all anyway. Her Jason would laugh, and have fun with her, not stare into the distance while looking like he wished he was miles aways from her.

Marinette's patience was running thin. And when they were in line for the photobooth she finally snapped.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jason looked at like a deer caught in headlights. "Uh, I don't know what you mean."

Marinette fumed "Jason Peter Todd you know exactly what I'm talking about! You've been ignoring me, and acting all strange. " At this point her anger blended with hurt when her voice cracked as she said. "What did I do to you?"

Seeing Marinette's eyes shine with unshed tears broke Jason. "I think I'm in love with you!" He blurted. "Can't you understand? I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified."

Marinette looked at him in confusion. His words barely registered in her head when she looked at his eyes. They looked so confused, but at the same time hopeful and filled with love. Before she knew what was happening, she was moving closer, and so was he. They were millimeters apart when-

"Are you going inside or not?" A man who was behind them in line asked, tapping his foot impatiently. His daughter looked up at him in confusion.

Jason's eyes flashed dangerously, so Marinette grabbed him and pushed him into the booth before he could kill the guy.

Once inside they sat awkwardly. Their moment was interrupted. Should they continue? Should she take initiative? They both seemed to be at loss on what to do.

Then a click and a flash interrupted their thoughts. Marinette looked at the camera, startled. Then she looked at Jason, who had been looking at her intensely. When their eyes met, all of Marinette's worries vanished. She grabbed Jason by the collar and their lips crashed together into a deep and passionate kiss as the camera clicked away.

Ps: I'm still working on the art for this so yeahh hopefully I'll finish that soon.

~♡~♡~♡~ Permanent Tag List ~♡~♡~♡~

(If you want to be added please let me know)

@charme-de-malchan , @theatreandcomicfreak , @m3owww , @elliebelliegirl , @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha , @t1dwarrior-of-earth , @waffleyunsure , @technicallyburninggarden , @azuremayscarlet , @vroomtaka , @emimar7 , @ichigorose , @maskedpainter , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #jasonette #valentines drabble #jason×marinette #one shot #my writing #my trash writing

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 1: Donald

[ao3 link]

She was nobody’s aunt.

Well, maybe she was once, but she’d lost touch with her family decades earlier and they were long dead by the time she arrived at this new, unfounded dilemma.

When she’d first come across her rival-with-benefits carrying around two little kids, her initial reaction was a twinge of angry jealousy. Maybe they weren’t exclusive but come on! Kids? A family? Seriously? Then it hit her that these kids were at least eleven or twelve (or eight or sixteen, who knew how kids aged) and she’d last visited Scrooge just a few years prior. So the jealousy dissipated and was replaced with pure confusion.

“They’re Hortense’s kids,” he’d said succinctly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. They didn’t look that much like Hortense, though Goldie had only met the woman once.

“So what is this, then? Babysitting?”

Scrooge laughed in a way that pissed her off the tiniest bit. “No, no. Hortense and her husband just decided to take a wee trip for themselves is all.”

“...so you’re babysitting,” she’d said with a hand on her hip. Why couldn’t he just answer her questions with a yes or a no? She didn’t need all the extra details. Him blabbing on with unnecessary detail was the whole reason she knew more about his family than she did her own.

“Ack, call it what you will!”

The 1990s was an odd decade for her. Just a few years earlier, Scrooge had personally invited her to his home for the very first time and she thought something was going to come of that. Of course, nothing did. Then he started bringing children with him on his adventures, the adventures she used to tag along on - out of all his attempts over the years, it was the most effective way to keep her from following him. She didn’t want to hang out with kids, lower their excursions to a PG-rating and split treasure four ways instead of two.

Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and she did find herself spending time with the twins every now and again. They didn’t seem to understand her any better than their uncle did, and she didn’t understand them at all. They were loud and rambunctious and very different from one another and very different from Scrooge. Della was overly enthusiastic and kept trying to jump headfirst into danger. Donald clearly didn’t want to be out and about - Goldie had the distinct feeling he just wanted to sit in his room and play guitar. She liked that he had an appreciation for music.

He also seemed to appreciate having another adult around on dangerous adventures, what with the way he’d grab her arm or try to hide behind her when things got tough. Goldie found it very, very annoying, but it’d be even more annoying to shove him away and deal with that aftermath. So on a particular adventure in the Middle East - one where she’d legitimately accidentally come across Scrooge and his family while she was hunting the same treasure - she let him grab while Scrooge and Della forged ahead and ignored the boy’s discomfort.

She watched Scrooge talking so animatedly with the young girl and felt her own discomfort creeping in. She'd only just started to accept the fact that he was turning into a family man. But there were some obvious concerns with that realization. Particularly the fact that family men didn’t want to spend time with women like her. Family men wanted a wife.

“Miss Goldie?”

She looked down at the boy who’d finally let go of her arm, but was awkwardly trying to walk at the exact same speed as her while trying to look casual about it. “Hm?”

“Are you gonna come back to the manor with us this time?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Um...probably not.”

“Why not?”

“...why would I?”

Donald frowned. “Uncle Scrooge always gets sad when you leave. Didn’t he ask you to come over?”

“Oh, please. Scrooge would never purposefully invite me into his home.” She didn’t count the Christmas party. She let her expectations get ahead of her that night when he was just inviting everyone he knew and didn’t want to exclude her. It didn’t count.

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll steal stuff?”

“Seems like a good enough reason to me.” She shrugged and stared at the back of Scrooge’s head. “He’s pretty protective of all his priceless junk, you know.”

The kid stayed silent for a few moments and Goldie thought she was in the clear from this odd little conversation, but then he was back with more. “It’s just kinda weird.”

“...hm?” she mumbled while taking a drink from the canteen she’d stolen from Scrooge two decades earlier.

“I mean, like...you’re basically our aunt, right?”

What a waste of water. Goldie’s nice, clean water that she’d collected for herself before this adventure started, and now it’d been dramatically spit all over the ground, almost hitting Scrooge and his niece. But in her defense, there was no way in the world she could’ve seen that question coming. None. Nada. Zip.

Donald looked exceptionally concerned as she coughed and sputtered and slammed her fist against her chest a few times. Scrooge and Della even turned to see what was going on.

Goldie just shook her head at them and Scrooge immediately turned back around while Della gave the older woman a suspicious glare before joining him.

As soon as her voice came back to her, she pointed an aggressive finger in Donald’s face. “I am absolutely not your aunt, not even close, not even a little bit. Never,” she said quietly but angrily, not wanting Scrooge to hear this embarrassing conversation. “I am just some lady you know that likes to piss off your uncle, got it?”

Donald made a face that said the-lady-doth-protest-too-much but shrugged and went back to being silent. They still had another mile to walk through this forest before they reached the supposed location of the Temple of Nanna, which Della was particularly excited about because why wouldn’t she be? She wasn’t afraid of all the snakes they’d seen and she didn’t wonder if there were any apex predators waiting to eat them and she wasn’t paranoid about falling off a ledge and respawning back at the beginning again. Er, well. Yeah.

He shook his head and looked up at Goldie. She didn’t seem afraid of any of that stuff, either. Why did TV shows always make girls seem so frail and scared when every girl he knew was tougher and braver than him? It seemed kind of unfair. But maybe their family was just weird.

Goldie caught him staring at her and glared as if she was about to yell at him about mentally referring to her as family. He turned his attention forward to stare at the back of Della’s head instead. Then he turned to look at Uncle Scrooge, who was talking about the god of the ziggurat they were going to and how he impacted the people who used to live there.

He peeked up at Goldie again and noticed her staring at Scrooge and looking...weirdly sad. Like she was bored and didn’t expect to be. He considered saying something to her when he heard a hissing sound to his left and immediately screeched and jumped up, wrapping his arms around Goldie’s neck.

“AUNT GOLDIE HELP MEEEEEE!”

On reflex, Goldie did hold onto the kid and kick the tiny little baby snake away from them, but she looked very pissed off.

Scrooge and Della stared at them and Scrooge was blushing quite a bit while Donald’s words processed in his head. “...Aunt?”

“What did I just say?!” Goldie angry-whispered at the boy in her arms.

Donald’s eyes watered and he frowned. “I-I’m sorry, I just got really scared, and-”

As he spoke, Goldie accidentally looked up and made eye contact with Scrooge, who looked somewhere between excited and flattered and confused and maybe even a bit disturbed. His look made her heart do a backflip and she felt her brain deflate as she tried to think of what to say or do next. Aunt, wife, family...it was a bit too much for her. She tugged Donald’s arms off of her and roughly threw him at Scrooge, who caught him with relative ease.

“I’m done with this,” Goldie muttered in annoyance. She could see Scrooge was about to comment and ask what she meant by that, but then she quickly zipped past him in the direction of the temple, tired of going slow so the kids could keep up. She wasn’t in the mood for family-friendly adventures and she was barely in the mood for Scrooge-friendly adventures anymore.

Scrooge scoffed as she ran on ahead. “Goldie you no-good, greedy-!!!” he shouted, shaking a fist as he put Donald back down. “Ack, I’m sorry, kids. I thought she and I were in a good place right now, but it seems I misjudged.”

“She always does this, Uncle Scrooge!” Della crossed her arms over her chest. “I just don’t get why you let her come along!”

He chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “Ah...it’s hard to explain. We have a lot of history.” Scrooge glanced at Donald, who looked uncomfortably sad. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he blamed himself for Goldie leaving them. He put a hand on the boy’s head and hoped it was at least a little comforting. “She always finds a reason to leave me behind, but I’m glad I’ve got you two with me this time!”

Della rolled her eyes and Donald just shrugged. Scrooge had a feeling they needed a distraction, since they were bound to run into Goldie again when they reached the temple. “Let me just grab the map and we’ll continue on our way……………..”

Scrooge patted at his pocket that he knew the map was in. Then he patted at his other pockets. Then he took off his hat and reached into it, checking the many pockets in there. Empty. Which could only mean one thing...

“GOLDIE!!!!” he shouted suddenly, scaring the twins and making animals scatter away from them.

Goldie, sweaty and out-of-breath and just a few feet from the temple entrance, smirked at the sound of Scrooge’s scream. She pulled out the map and looked up to make sure she was using the right entrance to avoid booby traps. She almost laughed at the thought of Scrooge having to navigate his way through spikes and arrows.

Then she thought about Donald’s stupid little face and the way he looked at her when he called her aunt and she felt an angry betraying twinge in her heart. She sighed in frustration before grabbing a knife out of her pocket and carving a checkmark into the entranceway that she knew was safe. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that Scrooge was dragging him on dangerous adventures. She’d be nice. Just this once.

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #donald duck #scroldie #scrooge mcduck #della duck #fic #fics #this is not the fic i was talking about yesterday i ended up starting something else cuz i hate myself i guess #not your aunt

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