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oathbips · 8 months

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It's You! Soulmate AU

summary: you got an invitation letter from the Japan Football Union to join the Blue Lock program and ran into someone special

word count: 5.2k

content: gn!reader x isagi yoichi, fluff, a lot of blushing from both parties, anri being your wing woman

author's note: this took FOREVER. 5.2k words is crazy. I'm not posting another one-shot after this one for a while due to school but please do leave suggestions on what my next one-shot should be. this feels horrible as i was reading it over but oh well, i already wrote 5.2k words worth of it so imma post it!

“I’m home!”

“Oh, welcome home Y/n! How was school?” your mother asked as she carried some boxes toward the dining table.

“It was okay. The soccer team seems to be getting the hang of everything now.”

“Ehhh. Oh! Speaking of soccer, a letter for you came in today. It’s from the Japan Football Union.” She placed the boxes down before reaching toward the middle of the table and picking up an envelope.

“Huh? Japan Football Union? Why?” Confused, you quickly take off your shoes and speed walk towards the mail. Opening it, it reads,

L/N Y/N, YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED FOR A SPECIAL TRAINING PROGRAM

“Ehh?! Me? What for? I don’t even play soccer.” You said, puzzled. Surely this was a mistake?

“Well, you are part of a soccer team dear.” Your mom replied as she starts to unpack her boxes.

“Only as a manager. Well… I do help out with checking their physicals and making sure they’re in top form but I’m not actually playing!”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you’re invited.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You asked, still confused.

Giving you an expression as if saying you are hopeless, your mom lets out a small laugh afterward. “Dear, you work in a clinic with your father and me. You basically grew up there. Always observing what we do and observing the patients themselves. You developed a keen eye for people’s physicality. Maybe they’re inviting you to help observe and keep the players in the program in top form.”

“…Oh. You think so? That does make sense.” You stated as you finally start to understand.

“Mhm. Well, are you going to go? I think you should. Actually, I don’t think you have a choice anyways.” She giggled before continuing, “I think this will be a perfect opportunity for you to learn more about the field and it’ll give you first-hand experience in dealing with athletes’ physicals. They’re the toughest patients to work on because they must keep up their health more than anyone.”

“But I don’t think I’m confident enough yet. I’m not at that level yet. What if my judgments are wrong?” You asked doubtfully.

“Trust your skills, honey. Besides, I don’t think they’ll have a child working there all by themself sweetheart. Another doctor will be there I’m sure. Learn from them and if you ever need any assistance, you can always call me and Dad.” Your mother reassured you. She unpacks the final box before walking towards you and bringing you into a hug.

“You’ll be fine. And who knows, you might even run into that soulmate of yours that’s been bothering you so much lately.”

“Mom!” Embarrassed for being called out on one of your worries lately, you try to push the matters away.

She’s not wrong. It has been bothering you lately. Everybody's soulmate's name always pops up on one of their body parts letter by letter the closer they get in proximity. All your friends have reached 3-4 letters into their soulmate’s name while you’re still stuck at your first letter, I. The first letter appears for everybody once they reach 14 and from there, it all depends on how close your soulmate is to you. The first letter for yours first appeared on your wrist on your 14th birthday. Having no letters appearing after the first just shows how far your soulmate is. Maybe they’re across the country? You thought that was the case many times before but your friends insisted it’s because you rarely go out unless it’s for school, soccer, and the clinic and it’s not like you don’t want to. It’s just that school, soccer, and the job at the clinic literally make up your whole schedule and time.

It seems silly to be getting so bothered over such trivial matters. It seems cliché but to you, it’s just a matter of curiosity. Your parents were bound soulmates and they found out when they worked together years ago then fell in love and got married. You don’t mind if you didn’t get that same fate for yourself but come on, who wouldn’t be curious about who their soulmate is? At least give another letter or two so one doesn't die from curiosity.

After a few more moments of recollecting your thoughts, you start to realize with a sense of hope that maybe your mom is onto something. The program will be huge with lots of people. Surely, a second letter has to pop up.

“That face is surely turning hopeful all of a sudden.” Your mother laughed once more then ruffled your hair. “You’re such an amusing kid. Okay, let’s get ready for dinner. Dad’s about to get home soon.”

The day of the meetup came and you made your way to the location the letter directed you to meet at with your suitcases on hand. Walking towards a building you believe is the correct address, the stone written sign in front proves you correct, The Japan Football Union.

“Ah, hello! You must be L/n Y/n!” A lady with shoulder length and light brown-reddish hair called out as soon as you stepped in front of the building. “My name is Anri Teieri. I’m a hire here at the Japan Football Union and an associate for the Blue Lock program.”

“Hello, nice to meet you!” You greeted the young woman with a bow. “The letter told me to meet here?”

“Yes, that is correct. Let me first explain the program to you. This is a program we have created by gathering 300 selected strikers and putting them through this program where only one can make it out to be the true striker that changes Japan’s soccer. I’m the one who selected you for the program. I believe this program can really use your skills for assistance.”

Taken aback by what she had just explained, you stood there for a few seconds trying to comprehend what she just told you. Only one can make it out? Then what happens to the rest? This sounds crazy. It’s like a gamble and everybody in this program is putting their career on the line.

Another moment or so passed as you let the idea sink into you before speaking up, not wanting to keep the woman in front of you waiting any longer, “… I see. But may I ask, how did you find…?” You tried to find the best way to ask the question. Though there’s no need since Anri caught on to what you were trying to ask.

“We looked through many soccer matches to select who should be in the program. In one of the matches I watched, I saw you assisting your team and co-directing along with your coach according to the players’ physicals which in turn, improved their plays afterward. I wanted to recruit you to help with Blue Lock.”

“Oh, I understand now. But I am still only a high schooler. There must also be an adult with solid education and certification for this program, right? I can’t be 100% sure on everything alone.” You expressed your concerns.

“Yes, of course. We have certified doctors here. I just think you have a special skill that could improve the players even more. The doctors are also there to guide you along the way.” Anri reassured you.

“Okay, that’s good. Then, I’ll do my best.” You bowed again and she gave a smile.

“Good! Follow me then. The letter did specify that you’ll now be living in the Blue Lock facility. We’ll have a car ready for you once the entrance “ceremonial” is over for the players.”

You began to follow her as she took you inside, passing a few rooms along the way. Walking by one, you got a glimpse of a room filled with what you believed were the selected players for the program.

“Woah.” You couldn’t help but feel so amazed at the sight you’re seeing. There were so many all gathered in one room. Anri then took you further away from the sight and into a room that looked like a waiting room.

“Just wait here for now. It won’t be long before the car is ready for you. I’ll be right back to help you depart.” Anri said and then left the room, leaving just you alone in there.

“Woah.” You repeated in your head again. This just feels so unreal and crazy to you. “I get to be a part of all this?” The events start to hit you again as you start getting nervous all of a sudden. “It’s okay. This is an opportunity for me. To hone my skills like Mom said. I’ll be okay.” You mumbled to yourself in an attempt to relax. You then settled on fiddling with your sleeves around your wrist as a distraction. It was then and there that something had caught your attention. Doing a double take on your wrist, you hurriedly pulled down your sleeve, revealing your wrist and there it was. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The second letter to your soulmate’s name had appeared. It was a S.

After Anri had helped you pack your stuff into the car, you were all set for the trip to the facility. She told you a while back that the players and staff are to take separate transportation. The staff was to arrive first and help set everything up a few days before the players arrives. So here you are, currently standing right in front of the Blue Lock building. It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. You can’t even imagine the amount of money that they actually put into this whole thing.

“We’ll unload everybody’s stuff and then I’ll show you into your room,” Anri stated before heading off to help the other staff members unload their suitcases first. You got off and began to unload yours, however, you might have underestimated how heavy all your things really are as you struggled a bit to drag the suitcase out. Pulling with all your might and then stopping to take a break. You were about to resume the pulling until a hand reached out from beside you and grabbed your suitcase, pulling it out and lifting it up like it was nothing. He set the suitcase down for you.

“Here.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” You turned around to give thanks and bow. In front of you is a very slender man, dressed in all black. He wore glasses with black frames and had a bowl haircut. The tall man looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep in days and was a little unhinged.

“Woah, that haircut.” You thought before realizing how rude that was and shook your head to get rid of that thought. He continued to help unload your remaining things before setting off toward Anri. It was a little shocking seeing how easily he unloaded those stuff with such a slim build.

After everything was finally unloaded, Anri showed you to your room. The room was surprisingly a lot bigger than you thought. It was cleaned and neat down to the floor. It also had a personal bathroom and a whole TV. “Wow.” Was all you could think of once you laid eyes in that room.

Lunch was set out for everyone after they were settled. It didn’t take you long before you realized that you were the only student there, making you extremely awkward and out of place.

“You must be L/n Y/n. Your parents told me you’ll be here.” A man called out, breaking your little bubble.

“Hello, nice to meet you. You know my parents?” You stood up to greet the man.

“Yes, we used to work together. Told me to look after you and help guide you during this period at the program.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ll do my best.”

The two of you then chatted a bit about trivial matters until Anri approaches you and gives you a piece of paper. It’s the schedule for the day the players arrive.

“They’ll be arriving the day after tomorrow. You’ll help me that morning to settle them down once they arrive.”

“Yes ma’am!”

The day Blue Lock officially starts has now arrived. The players are scheduled to come in about an hour. You’re standing in position just like Anri had instructed you to. Once they arrive, you are to collect all their belongings and organize them accordingly. “Take all their belongings from bags to wallets, to their phones too.” Was what she said. You couldn’t help but think why couldn’t they just tell the players to leave behind their belongings instead but that was the least of your concern. What really has been on your mind ever since last night was the new letter that had popped up on your wrist two days ago. It happened when you entered the Japan Football Union building so that must mean your soulmate is one of the players. That also means the next letter will show up today once the players arrive. Waiting anxiously now the more you start to think about it, your body also starts to suddenly feel restless too so you begin pacing around your area for some time until the sound of buses pulling up could finally be heard.

“Everyone, if you could please get in a line and one by one come up to me when I call out your name and hand me your belongings that includes your phones. Once you hand them in, you’ll be able to enter the building and then be handed your uniform. The uniform will have a number and letter. Please head to the room corresponding to the letter on your uniform. Thank you!” You explained to the crowd in front of you.

Immediately complaints were made. Complaints ranging from why do they have to give up their phones to what kind of place takes people’s belongings, etc. Still, they all obliged and one by one gave you their stuff. As you collected each player’s belongings, you also kept an eye on your wrist and the roster you were given. Looking at your wrist, making sure when a new letter will show up, and looking through the roster trying to find an IS at the beginning of each name. To your satisfaction, a new letter did show up as you were calling up the next player. A loud screeching squeal came out of your throat out of excitement which in turn, startled the boy currently in front of you as he gave you a weird look.

“So sorry!” You apologized quickly after giving one more glance towards the letter then collected his things.

The new letter was an A. You grabbed the roster and looked through the list for an ISA but you were left with disappointment when none appeared. “Is he on the roster Anri has then?” You thought to yourself. It had to be the case if he wasn’t on yours, and the marks on your wrist are showing that he is close by. You decided that you’ll just ask for her list later.

After finally finishing the last player on your list, you slumped down on the nearest chair to catch yourself a break. It was only a partial amount of the 300, and you already felt exhausted. “How in the world will Ego even handle the whole 300?” You said aloud to yourself. Then, interrupting your thoughts shortly after was Anri approaching you, offering if you wanted to come watch the first selection with her and Ego, the coach leading this Blue Lock program and the one that helped you with your luggage when you first arrived.

“Huh? Already? They just got here.” You replied, surprised.

“The sooner the better. No time for leisurely here at Blue Lock, Y/n.”

“Uh- yes, ma’am.” You got up and started following her as she led the way to what you believe will be the observation room. Along the way, you asked her if you could see the list of names she had.

“Sure. Here it is. What do you need it for by the way?”

“Oh. Uh…” You debated on the thought of telling her the truth until you decided it’s probably best to just tell her so you don’t end up looking like some peeping Tom, stalking the players later. With a sigh, you roll up your sleeve, revealing the soulmate mark you have.

“Oh! So is that what it is?” She cracks a smile and laughs. This made you feel embarrassed as you cover your sleeve back down and try to hide your face behind your hands.

“I know it’s silly! But the letters started appearing after that day at the Japan Football Union meetup.” You told her, face still buried in your hands.

“Haha! It’s fine! Nothing to be embarrassed about. I have mine too, on the right side of my shoulder. Though, I actually never cared for it.”

“You never get curious about who it is?”

“At times, but I think I’m just too busy dealing with soccer matters most of the time to really care.” She then continued, “Hmm let me see, yours says ISA huh?” The short hair woman contemplated about it for a second before beaming once the realization hit her.

“Ah! Isagi Yoichi! His name starts with ISA.”

You looked through her roster and sure enough, the name Isagi Yoichi is there. Could that really be him?

“We’re going to observe the players with Ego. You’ll get the chance to see him. Once he shows up, I’ll point him out to you.”

The observation room was dark as ever once you arrived, with millions of screens on display. There in the middle of the biggest screen in the room, sat Ego Jinpachi.

“Are they starting yet?” Anri asked.

“Not yet. Give it another 5 minutes. They're still changing.”

“Okay, have you met y/n yet? This is them. Y/n, I’m sure you know who he is already.”

“Yes, he helped me with my luggage the other day. Thank you again for that.” You bow to him but he gives no response in return as he starts getting busy setting up for the first test.

“Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit-” Anri tried reassuring before Ego quickly interrupted.

“Oi stupid, I can hear you.”

Anri’s expression twisted to that of annoyance like her forehead vein was about to pop out, and you had to hold in a snort at how funny this scene in front of you was.

“Then be nice! They’ll be a critical role in this program!” The woman yelled even though it was going through one ear and out the other for Ego because he gave no replies to that either. You can hear her grumble even more at that nonexistent response.

“We’re beginning,” Ego stated and pressed a button which caused the entire room to be lit with cameras displaying the players in different rooms. He pulls up Team Z’s camera first and begins, “Are you done changing, you lumps of talent?”

And so the first entrance test begins. After greeting the players of Team Z and explaining to them about the first test, they all start playing a game of tag with soccer. You’re watching from the side alongside Anri as the test is about to start. A ball from the ceiling drops down and lands right in front of a boy with dark blue-blackish hair that has a V-shape fringe.

Anri immediately went to tap you on the shoulder. “That’s him. Isagi Yoichi.” She whispered.

Your eyes widened and your body stood still for a second. Is that actually him? “I went from having no new markings show up for years to actually seeing what he looks like with my own two eyes.” You thought to yourself. Your soulmate is quite literally in the same facility as you right now. You suddenly felt your face heating up while you were deep in your thoughts, and Anri looked over to check on you before letting out a giggle at the sight she was seeing.

“Your face’s freezing up! Are you blushing?”

“What? No-!” You tried to deny it really quickly.

This causes Ego to turn his attention towards you two when he heard the commotion and you immediately turned your whole body away from both of them at the speed of light.

“Please focus on the game! I’m not blushing!”

Anri was full-on belly laughing at this point until a glare from Ego made her stop. Digging an imaginary hole in your mind right now, you just want to jump it in and call it a day. You’re aware of how hot your face is feeling right now and why that was. It’s because he’s cute. Isagi Yoichi is so cute and it’s making you feel so flustered.

A few moments passed and you were still facing away from the other two in the room. You were trying to recollect yourself as best as you could so you can focus on the task at hand, observing the players. You were still in the midst of it until Anri basically slap your back causing you to whiplash around to see what was happening. She pointed towards the screen and you turned your gaze there to see that Isagi was now “it”.

“He took a pretty hard hit from Kunigami just now, the boy with orange hair.” She explained.

“Ouch.” You wince at the scene you're seeing. Isagi is crouching down from the pain and panting as he gets back up. He starts dribbling the ball and kicks it towards a group of people but they all were able to dodge it. So, he turns to the bald player that’s ranked under him and chases after him with the ball. He was beginning to struggle since the time was closing in. At that moment, you see one of the other players jump onto the boy Anri mentioned earlier, Kunigami. He’s laughing as he’s holding Kunigami and calls out to Isagi. Annoyed, Kunigami took hold of the boy and threw him, prompting him to land on the bald boy earlier. He was able to quickly recover and run away while the bald boy was still frozen up in a sitting position. You see him beginning to beg now in front of Isagi. This was getting intense and you were starting to sweat just from watching. You didn’t want Isagi to be eliminated here. You continue watching, silently telling him in your mind to shoot the ball. He sets the ball in position and is getting ready to kick when he suddenly stops. Your inner thoughts started yelling at him, confused about why he stopped but your thoughts were cut short when he started dashing the other way with the ball.

“What is he trying to do?” You thought.

That’s when the boy from earlier who held Kunigami went up to Isagi and declared, “I like you! You get it!” He took the ball from Isagi making him the tagger now. With only 11 seconds left, he dashes through a group of people and aims the ball toward the silver-haired boy.

“Kira-kun?!” Isagi called out.

He successfully dodges it and the time is now down to 7 seconds. The tagger jumped over him towards the ball and now it’s down to 5 seconds. At that very moment, the ball was kicked across the room, straight to Isagi again.

“Isagi, no!” You screamed in your mind. Your fists were clenching, and your teeth were biting at your lower bottom lip, hard. However, your anxiousness comes to a halt as you watch the expression on Isagi’s face. It was only an instant but he looked… mad. Not angry mad, but crazy mad. 2 seconds left, and he kicks the ball straight at the silver-haired boy, Kira, knocking him down. The timer goes off right there. He looks shocked at what he just did himself. That’s when Ego enters again, ending the first test.

You made your way back to your room, and as soon as you entered, you dropped on all fours on the floor. “That was so nerve-racking.” You cried out. Is this really what you have to go through every single day now? “And I’m not even the one playing, I can’t even imagine how the players feel.” But during those last seconds, Isagi was really different. It was like he was a whole new person. He’s… really cool. You ponder on those last 10 seconds again as you get up to change. Today was a long day, a rest was definitely needed. You started taking off your blouse first and went to throw it in the laundry bin. That’s when you noticed it again. The fourth letter to your soulmate’s name, G. “I must’ve been so focused earlier that I didn’t even notice it. ISAG, huh? Yea, that’s definitely Isagi Yoichi.”

The next day arrived, and you were making your way to the training room. Today’s schedule is just training for the players. For you, it’s to assist and give tips for their conditions. You finally were able to meet the players more personally. Starting from the top team, Team B, and downwards. Anri has been with you the whole day introducing all the teams to you and walking you through it all. Right now, you are currently making your way toward the Team Z training room.

“Eager?” She asked and you felt your face turning hot again.

“Stop! I’m just doing my job!”

“Haha! Don’t freeze up once you see him now.”

“I’m not…”

“Oh, here we are.”

She opens the door and all heads inside immediately turn towards your direction. They all stop their training and gather around the two of you. You made brief eye contact with Isagi before quickly looking away. You felt your face heating up and hoped it was not noticeable. He is so much cuter in person, and here he was, standing right before you.

“Everyone, this is L/n Y/n. They’ll be assisting you all on your physicals and health so if you have any concerns, do come and ask. They’ll be observing your training today.”

You were looking everywhere and at everyone except Isagi but in the corner of your eyes, you can still see how his eyes widened at you. You know that he knows now and he knows that you know. The both of you are now awkwardly standing there, one still shocked and one can’t bring to make eye contact for their life.

“Okay! We don’t want to hold you back from training any longer, off you go. Don’t mind us! Again, if you have any questions, please do approach Y/n.” Anri declared and sent them off to return to their tasks.

Everyone resumes their training. You and Anri watch from the sideline.

“This is your chance, you know.” She said.

“I know. But I’m kind of nervous..” You replied.

You glance at Isagi and see that he too was stealing glances at you. You took this chance to check your wrist again and his full name was now written out, Isagi Yoichi. It really is him and he’s standing right in front of you. You’re still nervous but you can’t let this opportunity pass by. Someone has to make the first move so you made up your mind and finally march your way towards him. He sees this and his expression turns to that of shock before quickly changing it to a small smile as he walks up to you too.

“Hi, I was already introduced but still, I’m L/n Y/n. I take that you know who I am as much as I know who you are.” You said and pull up the sleeve that was hiding his name then extended out your hand for him to shake.

He looks down at your hand and took notice of his name marking on your wrist. His face turns red at the sight of it but he still manages to return your offering handshake. His hand was surprisingly soft. It was warm and felt oddly comforting. This feeling made you giddy and you couldn’t help but break out a smile so big out of happiness. His eyes widen at this sight and the tips of his ears start going red too until he breaks out a big smile himself.

“I’m Isagi Yoichi. Sorry, my hand feels really sweaty. I was training… It’s nice to finally meet you.” He said then roll up his uniform sleeve and there reveals your name on the same spot you had his name on. He gave a bashful smile and then rolls it back down.

“I didn’t expect I’ll meet you here of all places.” He said.

“Same, your name never dared to show up so I thought you were across the country or something! I was dying from curiosity.”

“Haha, I gave up after a whole year of no lead but then it suddenly started appearing after I came back from the Japan Football Union the other day.”

“Yea, me too… I’m glad we’re finally able to meet.” You said.

“Same here.” He smiled at that.

“Oh… you were really cool the other day with your last kick.” You blush as you tell him that which made him blush hearing it.

“T-thank you! I don’t know what that was. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

“Hmm. I see a lot of potential in you, Isagi. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, but your potential is something you have to work on and figure out. I know you will… Yea! That’s that! I don’t want to keep you from training any longer, please do resume. I’m here if you ever need anything.”

At this, He stares at you. Then his face turns motivated and determined. Giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment, he turns his back and resumes his training. You return to your spot on the sideline and it was then that you realized everyone in the room was staring at the two of you this whole time. Anri gave you a teasing proud smile.

“Please stop staring and resume your training!” You shouted, embarrassed.

From then on, you two continued your tasks at Blue Lock as usual. Small conversations were exchanged every time you passed each other. Those small convos soon turned into deeper conversations when meeting up after his matches. You became close with the others around him, Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri, Nagi, etc. When they found out about you and Isagi being soulmates, they teased you both till no end and Isagi without fail, turned red every time. You helped him out when he needed it and improved his playstyles whenever he hit a slump. He supported you as you continued your studies at Blue Lock. You shared stories about each other. You first-handedly witnessed his growth in his personal skills and on the field. The way he completely becomes a different person at the heat of a game was wild to you but that didn’t change the fact that he looked cooler than ever during those moments. By the time the U-20 came about, the two of you were closer than ever.

“The U-20 match is about to start.” He stated and got up, making his way out into the field.

“Isagi.” You called out.

He turns around at the call of his name, “Y/n?”

“Good luck!” You cheered.

A smile appears on his face and he raises up his fist at you, “I’ll win this!”

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alexiswritingstuff · 9 months

Note

Just wanted to let you know that I've been binge reading all of your writings and I love them so much, keep up the good work! :)

I know you might have a lot of Gus requests, so it's okay if you put this one on the back burner for a bit. But I read the "Not So Scary After All" work and I was wondering if you could write a sort of sequel to it?

Maybe Jesse keeps trying to tell GN reader how obvious it is that he likes them. How he's seen him try not to smile when talking to reader, the softer tone of voice, things like that.

Reader obviously doesn't believe him and thinks that Gus is just being nice to his employees, especially the ones that are responsible for the cooks.

Anyways, after a few days of Jesse pestering the reader about it something happens to make them realize he might be right. I was thinking maybe they would make another mistake with the cook and Walter is there to see it. Maybe he gets mad, a little TOO mad, and Gus walks in 🤭 Or anything else works too! I just love the premise of a protective Gus that doesn't like to show how protective he actually is

First of all, thank you for the comment about my writings, I'm glad you have enjoyed them so far! Initially I didn't think about writing a part two, so I hope this does it justice, as well as that I hope it was what you were looking for!

Thank you for sending this in!

Not so scary after all. 2/2

Pairing: Gustavo x gender neutral reader.

Other appearances: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White.

Warnings: arguing, walter being a douche.

also be aware of spelling mistakes, or other errors. I do read these over but I can tend to miss stuff either way!

A/N: my brain has been fixated on other characters recently, so if these guys seem ooc then that may be why. It's hard to write scenes where gustavo is interested in another person because we barely get to see that in either show, so I also hope my portrayal of him just generally feels correct.

I hope you enjoy!

more Gustavo fics.

Taglist- @sukunamybeloved - @viviennemuerte - @miwagila - @marksassybanana

previous part.

It never mattered how many times you had gone through the same routine. Surprisingly, considering your line of work, waking up in the morning was always the most jarring part.

You could’ve had a great nights sleep, not woken up at any point, had no distractions or noisy neighbours. Yet the second you were in that car to get to the laundromat, it was like you had to force your eyes to stay open.

Which was apparently the same for Jesse too as there was a series of mumbles and grumbles that would fill the car every few seconds.

Each time you spared a glance to the passenger seat he would be leant further and further into window, his head bobbing whenever there was a difference in ground level or direction of the wheels.

It had you amused, but also a little concerned, “Did you wake up too early, or too late?”

Seeking no comfort from the hardness of the glass, and after his temple ended up smacking right into it, Jesse got himself to sit upright in a speed that closely resembled one of those stairlifts.

He groaned, having to make consistent attempts to keep his body from just slumping all together, “Both?” His hands raised to his head, the sides of his fingers beginning to rub at his eyes as if it would rid them of their tiredness.

In all honesty, outside of the cooking sessions and other shenanigans you found yourself in, you and Jesse never really... hung out. There would be times where you had lunch together, or had to show up to his house if there was something to drop off.

But that was mostly it.

And there wasn’t exactly a reason as to why. You had absolutely nothing against Pinkman, it was like the opposite. The more you spent time with him, the more you felt like some kind of guardian watching over some kid. Even if he also was an adult.

“You had breakfast, though, right?” Your gaze was trained on the lane ahead despite your ongoing conversation.

You had just turned onto a state road, meaning that, regardless of it being early in the morning, people were up and about. Trying to get to their jobs.

It always made it seem busier than it was.

At first, in response to your question, Jesse simply emitted another mumble of something. He was thinking, the intensity in which he rubbed at his eyes increasing for a moment, and then his hands dropped. “Oh,”

“Shit, I don’t... I don’t know.”

You supressed the urge to sigh. It had already happened a few times. Depending on what he did the night before, there would be some mornings where his mind was rattled enough that he would almost forget where he even was, so.

You came prepared.

“Well, I guess luck is on your side today.” you commented, flexing your fingers against the grips of the steering wheel, “There should be a sandwich or something in the back.”

By now Jesse’s head was leaning into the headrest, definitely having the same problem of trying to keep his eyes open like you did. The heat outside probably wasn’t a helpful factor either. “Seriously?”

You didn’t want to take your attention off of the road. The cars in front were starting to slow, and you needed to keep note of the distance from the ones at the back. “Check.” you told him, adjusting the rear view mirror for better visibility.

Jesse sort of rolled his head to the side after a moment, his chin almost knocking into the bone of his shoulder as his gaze cast onto the few items that were in the back seats.

He lazily blinked for a good few seconds, his eyes trying to adjust to the redirection of a sunlight beam. And then he saw it. Right in the middle.

A brown bag.

“No way.”

The next move he made was so fast that the seatbelt strapped around him had immediately stalled against his body, attempting to keep him in place at the assumption of sudden danger.

But that wasn’t enough to stop him at all.

He pushed against it once, then twice, and then one more time before simply manoeuvring himself around the belt so that the top half would basically be protecting the car seat instead of him.

When Jesse leaned himself between your seat and his, it was so much harder to keep your attention on the road. He was reaching out, arm extended as far as it could go and waving almost madly, until eventually, he grabbed the bag.

Jesse practically had to shove himself backwards to sit upright again, but soon he was able to resume his previous position with a big sigh of relief. Your head could only shake.

Now, there was this sound a rustling paper that filled the entire car as you moved onto the accompanying lane. Something that was definitely not supporting your concentration. “Damn.”

His voice was muffled, the noises coming out of his mouth barely even sounding like a word which in turn made you send him a look.

He had finally gotten to the sandwich. “You make this?”

“Nah, I had too many errands to run.” you informed with a slight sigh, finally beginning to let yourself relax in your seat, “Would’ve done it if I had the time, but I think that is better anyway.”

Jesse didn’t even have to speak for you to know his response. He had taken another bite, nodding his head just slightly in proper approval. If his eyes were closed it would look like he was in pure bliss.

After relentlessly chewing for a hot minute, he attempted to swallow it down, “I didn’t-- I didn’t take you as an early riser.” Yet his voice was still almost unintelligible.

“Well, believe it or not, other people are in fact active in the mornings.” you pointed out, slightly leaning to the side for further emphasis on who the comment was aimed at in a way that had Jesse rolling his eyes.

You swear you saw a clump of crumbs fly from his mouth when he next spoke, “Yeah, yeah-- You sure your too many errands wasn’t just you making sure that you looked good for a certain Fring?”

Your head snapped in his direction in a way that had looking back to the road immediately after, and probably almost gave you whiplash. But you saw it either way.

That damn grin had taken over his lips.

Again.

“Please don’t do this right now.”

Jesse had to clear his throat to stop himself from almost choking, “Aw come on, man, it’s-- There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you did.” Your head shook like it had done before, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was always so stupid to you how the indirect mention of someone made your body react the way it did. You were only trying to get to work, yet your heart was acting as if you had just gone for a run.

“But I do.” The look you sent Jesse almost had him wanting to put his hands up if he wasn’t so focused on his sandwich, “What? I do-- Look, I may not have that much experience, or whatever, but there is totally something going on.”

“Definitely on his end at least.” He moved the sandwich around in his hands, trying to locate the best part to bite as he had finally swallowed the last one, “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen him give you the look.”

Your eyebrows furrowed within seconds, “The... The what now?” You tried to turn in his direction for confirmation, but he seemed a bit too busy to notice your movement.

Due to a junction being up ahead, your foot had moved onto the foot break, watching the lights fully change the closer you drew.

“The look.” Jesse finally repeated, his mouth full all over again in a way that needed real concentration to understand the words coming out of it, “Yeah, he gives you the look, like, all the time.”

Soon, the car in front of you had fully stopped, and then so did yours as you put it into first gear, keeping your feet on the first two pedals.

The moment the car had stopped moving, you turned to Jesse within seconds, eyebrows furrowed more than they had ever been. “What is the look?”

Pinkman gave you a simple glance at first, thinking that you were just messing around as he kept munching away... But no matter how much time went by, you didn't move. Still watching him.

His chewing slowed when his head turned back in your direction. He just blinked for a moment. “You don’t know... You don’t know what the look is?”

Your chin lowered, your eyelids slightly doing the same, “Does it sound like I know what it is?”

“Okay, but... how?” Despite Jesse’s previous complete interest in his sandwich, it lowered with his hands to his lap. There was utter confusion written all over his face while he remained smacking away. “How do you not-- How old are you?”

Your attention went to the road ahead all over again, the back of your head sinking into the headrest as a huff left your lips, “Older than you.” you pointed out, trying to sound more authoritative, but that just seemed to spark an already lit flame.

“Then how do you not see it, huh? I mean, even I can tell that it’s pretty obvious-- And not just because of the look either,” Jesse fully twisted in his seat so that he faced you, “He like... He wants to actually, like, talk to you, and shit-- I’ve seen him smile-- genuinely smile at you, okay?"

“Now, if he was doing it to me? I would... Man, I would be terrified-- But it’s you, it’s... different.” You were trying so hard not to shake your head again, but Jesse’s voice practically being right in your right ear was making it a lot more difficult. “It’s something else--”

“It’s not...” You regripped the steering wheel, “You do realise we’re talking Gustavo Fring, right?” Your head attempted to turn back to Jesse, though your eyes were trying to keep the attention on the road as one of the final vehicles seemed to cross through the junction.

“Exactly!” Jesse practically threw his arms up, almost losing his grasp on the sandwich in the process, “You should be caring about this more than you do.”

Your head shook as your gaze fully went back to the road, your foot readying to release the clutch while your fingers tapped against the steering wheel in anticipation.

You were trying to find something to zone in on, something to distract yourself from the kid sitting in your passenger seat as he was still eagerly trying to get you to see the things the way he did. But you weren’t giving it to him.

“Fine then.” Jesse reached behind him, grabbing the top half of the seatbelt, pulling it until it was in front of him again, before he ducked himself beneath.

“But I’m telling you, Y/n.” It was back, slinging diagonally across his torso by the time he was seated properly, and also by the time the lights had finally turned green.

“You’ll see.”

There was something about this day that was starting to feel a little familiar.

You and Jesse had arrived ages ago. You had gone down the windy red stairs, did the whole thing of taking off unnecessary clothing so that you wouldn’t completely boil in the obnoxiously yellow protective suit you would put on next.

And at first, once you were all geared up, the two of you stood in front of the machines. Your heads were raised, eyes cast up to the walkway above as you awaited the arrival of your usual partner at their usual time...

But the door never opened.

There was no proper estimate for how long the two of you just stayed waiting as you had set your watch to the side, and the clock was on the other side of the room, however, there was one thing you knew for sure. Someone was late.

Eventually, the two of you were trying to compensate, finding something useful to do while giving the benefit of the doubt that maybe it was just tough traffic or something going on that made them lose track of time.

Though, the ability to sympathise got smaller and smaller the more minutes began to turn into full on hours.

You found yourself at your usual table with your hand supporting the weight of your head, attempting to occupy your mind by looking over the paperwork from passed cooks. A habit that you only recently developed.

“Dude,” you heard somewhere to your side before there was an exasperated sigh, and a quick creaking of a chair, “What the hell is taking him so long?”

Earlier, Jesse had taken one of the other wheeled chairs from the table connected to yours and had rolled somewhere, enough so that you could only see him from the corner of your eye.

His body was slumped back, the seat beneath him creaking with every move that he made. And considering that he didn’t have anything to do, that was like every. Single. Second.

He had tried out the difference created when he would shift his weight, tested what it would feel like to have his legs hanging over the left side of the chair and then the right, he had pushed his feet onto the floor to roll himself backwards and forwards against the smooth tiles.

And now, as apparently none of that had seemed to have settle his mind, Jesse had resorted to zipping and unzipping the protective suit he was so ready to take off by now. Over, and over... And over again. “Okay,”

“That’s it.”

The pencil held in your gasp was cast to the side of the notepad, you were barely looking at this point, before your hands moved to the edge of the table so that you could push against it enough that your chair started to roll.

You stood up, winding round the seat that was still on the move as you began to walk towards one of the pathways between the machines. Jesse fully planted his feet on the ground, “Yo, Y/n, where are you going?”

Your fingers grasped onto the zip of your suit and you yanked it down as far as you could without having to bend for the rest, beginning to pulling your arms out one after the other moments after.

You moved round that damn settling tank and soon ended up at the wall where you would keep or hang up your loose items. “I...” you began, your voice becoming strained as you bent down to free your feet of those big welly boots, “am going to find out what the hell is going on.”

The squeak of a chair echoed somewhere to the back of the room. “Well, don’t-- Don’t leave me in here by myself.”

Finally, after one last tussle, your, once worn, protective suit was now sprawled on the ground beside the clothing rack. You moved to your usual shoes, putting either feet in their respective ware before tying the laces to make sure they wouldn’t fall off.

Before Jesse could even appear by your side to complete the same process, you were on the move once again, directing towards those windy red stairs that always made you feel like you were going to fall up and/or down them.

“Y/n, wait, dude, wait-- Just give me a minute.” You could hear the hurried rustling of plastic suit echoing through the steps you took on the metal staircase.

Eventually, when your movements had allowed you to arrive at the cat walk, you found yourself complying to Jesse’s words... While the man himself was still trying, and failing, to get the suit off.

It gave you a moment to catch a breath you hadn’t been able to take all day. You were stood high, looking down at the problems below, and not drowning neck deep in it like you usually did.

A deep breath sucked into your nostrils as you let your eyes fall closed, the air of the lab starting to cool the warmth that had festered across your skin--

A sharp whistle squealed through from your left before it bounced around each wall one after the other.

Your eyes had snapped open as soon as the sound appeared, but it wasn’t until your head had started to turn that your brain realised what it had come from.

It was the door.

Your body twisted in the direction of the man who was almost stumbling across the cat walk, a series of huffs and puffs spluttering from his mouth that would have you worrying any other day.

But as of now, all you did was cross your arms over your chest.

“Yo, Mr. White! What the hell took you so long, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he began through a slight wheeze that ended with him doing this horrendous cough. And once he was about three steps in front of you, he stilled his apparently over exhausted body, using a hand to shift his weight onto the railing, “There was... car trouble, and stuff with the kids, you-- you know kids.”

“You would think, maybe, after the first one that it was going to get easier and then...”

In the midst of Mr. White stabilising himself, his head had turned to the right in at attempt to locate Jesse, which wasn’t hard to do considering the fact that he was still taking off that damn suit, to further emphasis his... guilt?

But instead, after he did a sort of double take, he began to slowly face you once again, “Why aren’t any of the machines on, why... Why aren’t you wearing your suit?”

“We were waiting for you. I was just about to try and find at least someone to tell us where you were.”

“Wait... Wait a minute,” Mr. White started, holding his hands up while he took a step closer. “You didn’t start?” His chin slightly lowered in a way that made his eyes peer at you over his glasses.

“No?” you stated simply, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change to his demeanour, “After last time... We didn’t think you wanted us to do it by ourselves.”

“But that was-- That was last time, Y/n.” With every word that the man spoke, his hands rose higher and higher until they were inches away from touching his face, “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

The urge to scoff was stronger than ever, and you had to hold it back more than you ever had in your life, “I think I should be asking you that question.”

The man before you began shaking his head in a way that was almost not visible. “I told you... I was having problems with my car.” For a moment his expression remained the way it was, a visible attempt at holding back what you were guessing was anger.

But then it failed.

“I have... a family to take care of...” His hands dropped to his sides. When he next spoke the corners of his mouth slightly downturned like there was utter distaste for the words coming out of his mouth, “They are not going to be put at expense because, again, you weren’t able to do a simple job.”

Regardless of how loud it usually was when someone walked up the windy stairs, right now, as Jesse began to do just that, it was barely audible to your ears. The sound fading more and more the longer you stared at the man before you. “Guys, can we just--”

“I am doing my job just fine, Mr. White.” you started up with this lack of emotion to your voice, trying to make it as clear as possible that you wanted to get this over and done with, “We just didn’t want to do another batch all by ourselves, simply, because you couldn’t be bothered to show up.” Though it seemed your mouth had other plans.

There was something that almost satisfactory when you saw a side of his face twitch. But soon, it was one that ended with this sort of smile curling at his lips, his eyebrows raising more than you had ever seen in your time working with him. “Oh.”

“So, you want me to apologise for making a singular mistake? Is that it?” He took yet another step towards you, “You know what, how about we count how many times you have made-- No, caused, a mistake, hmm?”

You couldn’t count the amount of voices that were telling you to take a step back, to move away the closer he got to stand directly in front of you, “But that wasn’t only my fault-- There’s a big difference between actually trying and just not showing up.”

Your feet remained planted on the ground beneath. Your arms were held tighter than ever across your torso as you tried to maintain the blankest expression possible.

“Dude, both of you just... just chill out, please.” Jesse tried to insist as he walked up the last few steps, but no one paid any attention to his words, “We can-- We can work this out--”

“You allowed a contamination,” Mr. White began, narrowing his eyes as if in disbelief, “How did you-- Did they not teach you to read, or listen, to instructions in school?”

“My education has nothing to do with this.” you insisted without missing a beat. And regardless of your attempts to keep your composure, it was inevitable that something began slipping into your voice.

You had been up early.

You had been running back and forth to make sure that certain things were sorted for certain people, had to drive all the way to downtown to pick up Jesse and then all the way back up to get here. To work.

And then, while at work, you weren’t even able do your damn job because your other partner, that was supposed to be there at a specific time by contract, just didn’t show up.

Which then lead you and Jesse to have to stand and do absolute jack shit for hours on end.

Walter just shook his head again, even raising his hands like he was about to shove you or something, though he might have wanted to simply point a finger, “Well, apparently it does, because if you still aren’t competent enough to follow something so basic, then--”

“What is going on here?”

Within the next second, the man in front of you had twisted round in a way that almost gave you whiplash just from watching. He stepped to the side, and moved backwards until he was practically next to you. “Oh, Gus, I, uh... We were just... Slow start.”

But, of course, he was still a little ahead.

Your feet, however, hadn’t moved an inch. In fact the only move you made was to let your arms finally fall free to your sides as you stared onwards.

It was Gustavo. He was stood in the doorframe, one hand pressing against the weighted metal so that he had enough time to take in his surroundings. And then he took the final step inside.

It was only when the door closed behind him that you realised you hadn’t even heard it open in the first place.

The lab was back to what it had been minutes ago. Silent. No sound at all filtering throughout the entire room.

Gustavo stilled himself not far from the door he had walked through, but enough so that you could feel his presence as well as see it. His arms were unmoving by his sides, a trait that would’ve carried out through his entire body if he hadn’t started moving his head.

Like Walter had done when he arrived, Gustavo looked at the room below. He studied it, looked from one section to the other while noting the quietness that was effecting even him.

And then he turned back to the people across from him, the expression on his face unwavering, “Why is that? There’s nothing in the machines.”

“You know, ex-- exactly.” the man to your side suddenly spoke up, snapping your attention from the other guy you wanted to look at a little longer. “I had... countless problems with a lot of things this morning, and I wasn’t able to arrive on time.”

Walter sort of took a step forward, but instead of what you would naturally think of when someone carried out such a movement, he didn’t properly face Gustavo.

He stood side on, his body turned towards the machines so he could look at you or his boss with a simple movement of his head. And as of now, you seemed to be his main target. “Apparently they couldn’t be bothered to start the batch themselves.”

“That’s not true.” You mirrored his stance, faced directly towards him, instead of the man who was just trying to seek answers, as your eyebrows furrowed as much as they could.

Walter tilted his head, “You sure?” he asked, using the most condescending voice that would of set you off had you already lost the grasp on your, slowly dissipating, self control.

“Yes, I don’t understand--” Your hand rose to your face, fingers pressing into the skin beneath before dragging down to your chin. And then they dropped. You took in a deep breath. “Look... I admit it, sure, we could have started the cook. But.”

“Me and Jesse both thought it was smarter to wait after the previous mistake,” you began, emphasising your point by gesturing to the dude who was now stood behind, and his eyes sort of widened at the sudden attention.

This time it was you who took the step forward. “But yet again,” You made sure to hold yourself back from blinking as you stared right at the man who was trying so hard not to cut you off, your fists clenched at your sides. “You. Weren’t. Here.”

Your heart was thudding in your ears, a sound louder than any other thing in the room. The exhaustion was rampant through your body, continuously attacking system, and at this point testing your patience that had already become thin.

The ability to control anything was about one minute away from collapsing.

“Why were you late, Mr. White?”

When Gustavo’s voice caught your ears, you hadn’t even bothered to look his way despite the fact that Walter did. In fact, he took the chance to move away from you, which almost made him bump into the other railing.

“Car troubles, and, uh... family stuff, too, you know... all that.” he informed, his voice and the look of his face switching into one that you could instantly tell was the fakest attempt of trying to get sympathy.

“And you didn’t inform anyone of these... troubles?”

Your head turned in about a second, your gaze snapping to the man who hadn’t moved a singular inch since the last time you properly saw him. His attention was only on Walter, his eyes now slightly narrowed.

“What...” Mr. White started, the shock clear within his voice and the expression on his face, “Are you... Are you trying to say that this is my fault?”

“I am not saying anything, Mr. White.” Gustavo’s turned in the mans direction with such slowness that had a look of regret taking over anything else that was threatening to appear on Walters face. And once he stilled, he had even slightly tilted it to the side, “I am simply asking questions to understand why a job hasn’t been completed.”

Walter let out this sort of scoff of a sound as he gestured with his hands like before, “Well, then your asking the wrong person, Gus.”

He pointed towards you, this time not even bothering to look unless it was to make sure his finger was actually aimed in your direction, “They... They have been here for who knows how long, I... I-- I mean, the batch could’ve finished by now, if they just--”

“You are putting the blame... on them?” Gustavo’s voice was low, deep in pitch that it was almost gravelly and harsh to any ears that heard it. There was no direct tone, or emotion clear within it. But paired with the slow step forward, anyone could tell that it wasn’t good.

“You are putting the blame on a person who was actively trying to solve a problem that you created... because you weren’t competent enough to make a phone call?”

You were use to his intimidation tactics. In all honesty, usually, it seemed even more affective when he wasn’t using them, like when he wore that smile that never really reached his eyes.

But this...

This was different.

When Gustavo wanted to intimidate someone, or remind them of their place in the bigger picture. He had relationships to maintain, an act to keep up so that nothing could expose him and/or his business, so he never risked insulting a person in case it would backfire, create unnecessary problems.

Gustavo Fring wasn’t a man who directly insulted someone unless he was going to gain something from it... Well, apparently, until now.

For the next few seconds it seemed that Mr. White couldn’t find the exact reaction he had. His lips twitched almost every way that they could, his mouth would open and close again and again like he was mimicking a fish, all the while his head began to shake once again, “I don’t... I don’t know what to say-- I can’t... Gus, I just--”

“I have heard all I needed.” There were no movements that accompanied his words. No change to his voice a part from a mild show of a tested patience. Gustavo just stared at the man before him, unblinking, “You still have plenty time to cook.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“That’s what you came here to do... Is it not?” Gustavo pointed out simply, his head tilting to the side in a way that almost made him look like a puppy. But his face said all that it needed to.

Walter sort of cowered, avoiding the mans gaze as he took a moment to think, “I... I-- Well... Yes, but--”

In about a second, though there was almost nothing displayed on Gustavo’s face, everything sort of... dropped? His eyelids lowered in a way that wasn’t enough to hide his eyes but it was still visible, his jaw unclenched, his lips almost looked like they were turning down the way.

But again. Not once did he blink.

“Then cook.”

For a solid ten seconds, there was just utter silence. Someone could have drop a pin on the other side of the room, and it would still echo like any other sound. No one moved. No one twitched. No one spoke.

Walter took in a deep breath, his shoulders deflating when it made its way back out. And then he turned, beginning to do just as Gustavo said this time without any argument.

But the moment you started to do to the same thing--

“Not you.”

You froze. Your body hadn’t even managed to twist yet, so after sending a look to Jesse who sent one right back, you simply rocked back on your feet, resuming the same position you were in before.

His eyes were only on yours. The first time he had fully looked at you since he had entered the room.

“We have... other matters to discuss.”

After you left the room, it was practically silent when you began to walk.

There was the usual sounds that occurred from the machines within the laundromat, and the workers who you were still not sure knew about the giant meth lab beneath there feet, but between you and Gustavo there was nothing.

No exchange of words and barely even the sound of your own footsteps.

He was a few steps ahead of you, which may have been one of the main reasons, as he lead you across the paths that had big machines towering over you on each side.

There would be a few moments were you had to duck, or even completely manoeuvre, around certain objects that were hung, either needing to dry or they were connected to a moving system that would bring clothes from one section to another.

You had no idea where you were going. The second the two of you had officially exited the lab, his lips had became sealed. He just started walking, and of course, you only had one response to that.

Your gaze pretty much remained on Gustavo’s back no matter how far you went, only fleeting to make sure that you weren’t going to bump into anything, as you followed the man in front of you like a lost duckling... Though, you felt more like a child getting ready to be told off.

Eventually, after stopping yourself from getting caught up in the thoughts swirling through your mind, you found yourself walking out of the big vertical door. The entrance of the laundromat.

If your heart wasn’t pounding before it sure was now. And no matter how badly you wanted to just focus on the feeling of fresh air after being stuck in an underground room for what felt like, and probably was, about five hours... Gustavo stopped walking.

He was stood at the edge of the paved platform, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he resumed that usual straight posture.

Your steps grew slower the more close you got to standing by his side. You wanted to gage his mood, predict what was about to happen or what he was going to say, which was a bit difficult considering that you could only see the back of his head.

You cleared your throat when you had arrived to the right of him. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, adjusting to the sudden presence of the sun, while you gently leaned back and forth on your feet.

“Sir, I... I’m really sorry about this... Again,” you had begun, but almost immediately your speech planned in your head seemed to have fallen apart.

You turned your head to the side, trying to properly convey your apology through your face more than your words. “I know it doesn’t help the business, but I really, really, don’t know why this keeps happening--”

“Y/n.”

You had already been looking at Gustavo throughout your words. And maybe it was because you were too caught up in your mind, or because originally the man before you had been gazing into the distance with the usual expression that barely gave you anything to work with.

But now he was looking right back at you.

“Yes?” you answered subconsciously in a way that had your mouth snapping shut immediately after realising that you didn’t need to actually do that.

This time, Gustavo’s chin lowered, “I’m not going to scold you, Y/n.” His gaze was the most gentle you had ever seen it, along with sound of his voice. He may have said the words simply, and matter of factly, but his face told you otherwise.

You sort of just stood there for a moment, blinking at him. “You... You’re...” And then your eyebrows furrowed all over again, your body turning so that you faced him directly, “You’re not?”

Gustavo kept looking at you, and finally, since thatsituation with Mr. White, you weren’t presented with an expression of judgement. It wasn’t a look that visibly told that they thought whatever they were seeing was utter stupidity.

He took in a breath, letting his eyes fall back on the busy town ahead for a split second, before they were back on your own, “I want you to go home.”

His voice was lighter, the expression on his face no longer holding the tension that had clung to his skin.

Your lips parted, even if no sound initially came out. You stared back at him for a moment, your eyes a little wider than they were before, almost unblinking, “Did I mess up that badly?”

Gustavo’s eyebrows furrowed so quickly that you hadn’t caught onto it until he turned his body in your direction, “Forgive my phrasing.” he started, his hands remaining behind his back no matter the change of position, “This is not a punishment.”

With his next words, Gustavo made sure that you were looking at him, right into his eyes, just in case his meaning was conveyed through his voice, “You are not in trouble for the wrongdoings of another man.”

... Were you missing something? Why would Gustavo take you out of the lab?

I mean, sure, you made the deduction that not starting the batch might’ve not been such a great idea, and honestly at some point expected to get a good talking too because of it. Maybe it would be the final straw...

But here you were. Theman himself, the big boss, stood right in front of you. Directly telling you that you’re not in trouble.

“Then... I’m going to have to say that I don’t understand, Sir.” The muscles beneath your brows were getting a good work out from consistently changing between being normal and then furrowed within, practically, every thirty seconds, “We still have a batch to do, a deadline to follow.”

Influenced yet again by a man stood before you, “And who is that for?”

Your whole body felt like it wanted to deflate, fall limp and just collapse on the ground. This time it wasn’t in anger, or fear, or annoyance. It was because after everything, you could exhale the nerves that had clung to your insides. There was no use for them now.

You lightly nodded your head, the fact of not being in trouble officially processing in a way that had your gaze lowering, “... You.”

Gustavo wanted to smile. He wanted to display his pride of finally cracking the code that was your mind, having created even a bit of equal understanding, but he could still see the ghost of the previous expression that held your face hostage. The genuine concern over possible harming his business.

And him.

“I am not asking you to leave because I think that you are bad at your job, or that you don’t do anything for this business-- Because that would be entirely wrong.” he started up with this new voice that was difficult to ignore, “I am simply saying that you have the day off.”

“It is... normal in a workplace, is it not?”

By the time your eyes met Gustavo’s, your brows had furrowed once again, though now, it was for a very different reason, “I mean... Yes-- But not in this business, just...”

There was a huff of air that passed through your lips. Theexhaustion from earlier was presenting itself back into your system, making the want to talk become a lot less than before, “Let me-- Let me go back in there, we can work, we can... we can get it done.”

Gustavo’s head began shaking before you had even finished your sentence, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” you questioned, leaning back slightly so that you could fully take in his demeaner, analyse any look that took over his face, “I thought you said that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You didn’t.” he insisted almost immediately, the expression he wore going blank the way it usually did. But now wasn’t the time. “Then...” You took in yet another breath to cut off your words, trying to suppress the urges to sigh, scoff, or the sudden want to raise your voice, “Why?”

To say this day felt long was truly an understatement. Things just kept happening one after the other and still you were left in the dark. No answer as to why things progressed into the situations they had.

“Y/n, I am not... risking the loss of more time to arguing.” It was like you could visibly see the words he chose to say. The pure caution, decisions careful enough so that he wouldn’t set off the things he could see getting ready in your eyes, “I know that if you go back in there, Mr. White will not... let go. Not unless I place someone in there to stand and watch at all times.”

“All I am telling you is that you are free to go while I... sort things out.” Gustavo somehow made himself stand taller, trying to prove the confidence in which was already heard in his voice and to also prepare for the possibility of you finally reacting in the way that your body had wanted to for hours.

But despite what he had envisioned playing out, or tried to predict, it was pretty much the opposite. In fact, the only proper reaction to his words was your shoulders deflating, ridding your muscles of its constant worry.

And then you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffing as you did so, “And what about Jesse... Mr. White? What-- What about them?” you questioned, waiting for the words to settle before you looked back into those other pair of eyes, only to find that the look from earlier had repossessed his face, “It may not seem like it, but I assure you, Y/n.”

“Mr. Pinkman and Mr. White can handle it themselves.”

For the first time throughout the entire day, you felt the want to smile. “Okay then.” You nodded your head once, your grip tightening on your arms as you took a step backwards, “Thank you, uh... Mr. Fring. It seems you have saved me again.”

“Gus. Call me Gus, and please, there is no need to thank me.” Gustavo started up before you could even try to turn in the direction of your car, “It comes under being an employee.”

Your body stilled after about one more steps backwards, your eyes narrowing at the man before you, playfully, “Then how come I haven’t heard you getting protective when someone else makes a mistake?”

Gustavo mirrored the look on your face, “I wasn’t... I wasn’t being... protective?” In his case, however, he wasn’t doing it in a teasing sort of manner, he was just genuinely confused at the comment. “I simply understood the situation and acted accordingly.”

Your arms loosened in your hold until they lowered to your sides once again, “And yet you defended me.” If you were close enough to Gustavo you would probably have started circling him, “Even though I was in the wrong... both times.”

Gustavo unfurrowed his brows, “You weren’t in the wrong just because some man has an incorrect idea of authority… and a very poor concept of time.” His tone was the flattest you had ever heard it. There was no emotion behind it until the words of... slight insult.

The urge to smile grew stronger that had you pressing your lips together to stop yourself from letting out a laugh. “Still,” Though, after a moment, you managed to compose yourself, “If you hadn’t arrived when you did...”

Gustavo huffed air through his nose, bowing his head a tad before he let it shake a few times. When he looked back up it was clear that he was trying to hold back whatever was wanting to take over his face, but you could see it in his eyes.

“Go home.”

There was this feeling of giddiness begging to erupt in your chest. It spread a warmth to every part of your body until it was a collective feeling. It caught you of guard, causing the smile you were trying to hide begin to curl at your lips.

So, after a sharp breath and a nod as a thanks, you sort of ducked away, twisting yourself around so that you could make your way towards your car.

However, the nearer that you got to the vehicle, it seemed there was a thought pushing itself further and further to the centre of your mind. It may have been more of a feeling, as you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to go back to your house.

I mean, sure, being able to take a nice long shower, grab a bite to eat, and completely flop on your bed sounded... Well, pretty nice actually.

But the next session for a batch was now going to be days away.

Days from your work and a certain Fring.

You had completely stilled about a step away from your car. There was a quiet breath that huffed through your nose, one that only you could hear, “You know what, actually.”and then you turned on your heel, the concrete practically scuffing under your shoe. “I’ve worked for you for quite some time now, and yet…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your restaurant.”

The man your eyes managed to focus on seemed to be closer than he was the last time you saw him. A fact that made your brain almost completely miss the words that came out of his mouth. “Well, it’s not an obligation.”

There was something about the look on his face. Something about the way he pressed his lips together immediately after he finished speaking. He may have assured that the visit wasn’t needed, but... there might have still been a want.

“What hours is it open?” you asked, the sound of your voice almost echoing through the parking area, even if the noises from the active laundromat were louder.

Gustavo’s head slightly rose after a moment, one of his brows slightly twitching as he processed your question. And then he cleared his throat, “That would depend on the day.” he informed, readjusting the hands he still held behind his back.

You hummed in response, letting your gaze fall into the distance as you thought.

Honestly, after the past few hours you could barely remember what part of the week you were in right now. So, instead, you thought back to what a usual week would look like.

What was the day that was perfectly set between the times you would possibly be able to see Gustavo at work? Right in the middle?

“How about Thursday?” you suggested, now watching as Gustavo began to make his way across the concrete, slightly nodding his head, “Then... Seven to ten, I believe.”

“All right,” you breathed out, the speed in which your heart beat increased the more the man approached. “One less lunch to plan for the week.” You practically gulped as you reached backwards, fingers patting against the cool metal of the vehicle for a moment until they located the handle.

Gustavo stilled himself about three steps in front of you, the look on his face signalling that he was thinking about something as he wasn’t making direct eye contact, “Actually... I would suggest to come around dinner time.”

Just as you were about to tug on the handle, your hand froze, along with pretty much every other part of your body.

The man was now looking right at you, his voice sort of timid in a way that caught you even more off guard. And apparently himself too. “It’s... more quiet.” He cleared his throat, “Less people around.”

Your arm slowly moved back to your side, releasing the warm handle from any sort of grasp.

There was a fight going on in your chest. A want to give into the urge of running away like you would’ve done in a situation close to this as a kid. But you weren’t a child anymore, far from it.

It took a good moment for any sound to be able to roll off of your tongue. And as soon as something eventually had, it was like your lungs remembered how to properly function. “Will you be there?”

You felt younger. The two of you may have been stood pretty much right in front of the other, yet neither of you could maintain eye contact longer than a few seconds before you collectively had to look away, no matter how confident either one of you tried to seem.

Gustavo cleared his throat, though it sounded like it had barely done anything. “I believe so.” he finally confirmed, and regardless of the fact that his voice was still quiet, there was this tone that took over his words.

“Well, good...” That giddy feeling returned, even if it had probably never left. “I think I probably would still go if you weren’t there, but... it would be a lot less... fun.”

The man before you let the slightest smile curl at a side of his mouth, “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He sounded more breathy this time, a natural progression from his already quiet voice. But it wasn’t because of nerves, or a reaction of his lungs, which you had initially thought. It was intentional.

“Not at all.” Your voice in question was more full than his, however, there was this slight whisper to it, as if Gustavo should be the only person allowed to hear it.

“Then it’s settled,” he began, slightly lowering his head in away that had your back pressing into your car. His normal tone had seeped back through his words like he was back in boss mode. But not quite Gustavo Fring just yet. “How does... eight o’clock sound? Unless you eat earlier?”

Your head shook practically without a second of hesitance. The ability to move your lips was barely thereso you resorted to moving to the side, finally pulling on the handle of your car door until it swung out far enough that you could stand behind it.

You could see Gustavo raise his eyebrows just the slightest as the door had created a sort of separation, and it had you biting back a grin. “It’s perfect.” you insisted, trying to sound as neutral as possible despite the, possibly, clear ways you felt at that moment.

And then you lowered yourself into the car, having to slightly shifted backwards a little bit to properly get into the drivers seat before you swung your legs inside.

Your hand grasped the inside of your door, your fingers making certain that they had a good grip, before your eyes landed on the figure through the glass of the window that hadn’t moved an inch.

And then you smiled.

“Gus.”

#gustavo fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad #brba #gender neutral reader

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spasmsofthought · 10 months

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if love was a year, we were june (j.s. x reader) [1.5]

can be considered part 1.5 or a companion piece to you fell hard, I thought good riddance. but if you want to read it as a stand alone, i think you’ll be able to. maybe an official part two coming?!?! idk, i’m gonna need a fantastic song and all my imagination if it’s gonna happen. we’ll see. all my love xo

warnings: not really edited. please excuse any mistakes, i wrote this on the fly

soundtrack: June by Chris Lanzon and Eluera

Previous / Next

+++

Dear Jake,

Hangman - -

Jake:

It’s 10:48 pm and I’m sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home from the bar. You said you’d be here by 8.

I’m not sure how much more I can take.

It’s been a week since I’ve seen you. You avoid me at work. You answer every fourth text with one or two words.

Did I miss all the signs?

I know that you’re not the biggest fan of my driving. You think I get distracted too easily (I can’t help it when you’re sitting next to me, but I’m trying, I promise), that I play the music too loud, and I know you say that I indicate that I’m turning too early, but I know that I’m a good driver. I slow down at yellow lights and I don’t really drive much over the speed limit. I always make sure you buckle your seatbelt before I press my foot on the gas.

Now you don’t even want to be in the same apartment as me, let alone be in the same car as I drive it.

I’ve heard so many people compare you to the sun, but you’ve always been like the ocean to me. Maybe not a burning star in the sky, but you are an intense force of nature all the same.

Maybe I got you at just the right time, early in the morning during high tide. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to reach you in the beginning.

It made me feel like the moon.

Like maybe I was gravity, and I could pull you back. But I can feel you rolling away, receding from me, and I can’t pull you back even though I’ve tried.

I’ve tried.

I’m realizing that I made the wrong assumption.

I’m not your moon. I’m just the shore.

Low tide is coming, fastly approaching I think.

Probably already here and I just haven’t noticed.

I thought we would make it longer than we did.

I’ve been to the beach many times. I’ve always enjoyed the way the water rolls over my toes before I dig my feet into the sand, knowing the waves would come again to wash it away. Push and pull, push and pull.

You’re pulling away, and there’s empty space where you once were, and I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to last. I can’t keep you here because I think, deep down, I can tell you’re ready to go. Maybe you were always ready.

I know I can’t go with you any longer. I think I’ll end up drowning if I do.

I’m weary if I’m being honest Jake. All I’ve been thinking about is where the hell you even are. It’s been its own kind of torture. Being with you has taken a lot out of me.

I was so immersed, and your eyes were deep water, they pulled me in; you were beautiful. You took my breath away.

But I think I should have gone up for air sooner.

There are so many mixed metaphors in this letter, but I don’t think it matters much. I’m honestly not even sure if you’ll read this whole thing. You might throw it away without even glancing at the ink on this paper. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what happened.

I don’t think you’re coming back tonight. At least not until you know I’m gone. It’s a strange sort of kindness, I guess, that you’re letting me go without saying it to my face.

But it still hurts, Jake. Your silence doesn’t make this easier for me, just for you.

I realize that you’re not going to fight for me, for any of it.

I know that I should hate you.

I should hate you.

I really want to, but I can’t.

When I wipe the tears away and close my eyes, I see what could’ve been if you weren’t the ocean or if I had been your moon. If you had told me we were taking a dead-end street instead of driving down it with me smiling in the passenger seat. I think we might have been happy if you were different and if I had been maybe a little wiser.

I should hate you, but I don’t.

I love you.

I hope I’ll change my mind.

I’m going to leave this taped to the door when I walk out of your apartment in a few minutes. Don’t worry - my key is on the table. I returned all the shirts of yours that I borrowed. I grabbed my toothpaste out of the bathroom drawer.

I’m going to lock the door and try to leave this all behind me.

God knows that I was in your rearview mirror long ago.

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au-sonic-smackdown · 3 months

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AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 1, Right Side

Click to see full size image

Halloweentown AU belongs to @colorfulplasma

Words Hurt AU belongs to @oddogoblino

Read more about them under the cut!

Halloweentown AU-

Long ago, Sonic used to be the heroic speedster everyone praised, constantly feuding with his rival, Eggman. But on one fateful day, Robotnik triumphed that day. They both couldn't believe it. Sonic's defeat led him to be prisoner beneath the ocean surface. Next day, he woke up in the chaotic dysfunctional afterlife known as Halloweentown. Sure he might be intimidated for a big behemoth like him but he's a very welcoming goof around town.

Words Hurt AU-

In this au, Earth is decaying, the planet slowly losing its ability to sustain life due to mankind's lack of care to it. To try and survive, they attempted to move people to planet mobius as it held similar conditions as earth. The mobians at first welcomed them happily, happy to help those in need. Eventually, the humans began trying to repeat their old mistakes and began digging into mobius and setting up machines to harvest from it to try and save Earth. The planet didn't handle this as well as earth once did, machines quickly backfiring and any mobians nearby during the incidents quickly falling ill. That's how the infections started.

Sonic's parents were one of the few first mobians infected, having lost them due to them going into the second form of the illness that's caused from starvation. They'd been "quarantined" and left without food or an energy source for too long. He was only a toddler when this happened. He's now part of Vanilla's secret organization that helps infected mobians survive outside of the homes they'd been kicked out of due to fear. Sonic himself works as a secret delivery boy and tends to travel to make sure infected mobians have access to food and water and even just simple pleasantries like games and toys. He met Tails as a 4 yr old who'd been born from infected parents, taking care of him when they weren't. Currently Sonic is 17 and Tails is 8.

Sonic is mostly his same ole usual self except he's a lot less social. He doesn't talk to anyone except for Tails, Vanilla, and sometimes Cream. He was naturally born with his super speed but keeps it hidden due to not wanting to be mistaken as an infected. He still has to fight Eggman as the mad doctor tries to manipulate both uninfected and infected mobians' fears and resentment toward each other. He has a civilian disguise named Nicky so no one recognizes him as the superspeedy hero. He's a bit more easily agitated but only because he doesn't get enough sleep with his work.

Sonic's right eye is always tearing up, not because he's emotional but because of repeated exposure to infectious spores. The spores can only infect others if inhaled or through exposed open wounds. Hes naturally immune to the illness, but he doesn't know that, and wouldn't ever take chances on it. Whenever he gets injured, he disinfects the wound immediately and patches it up like others would in hopes to avoid spore-infection.

Infected mobians tend to live in abandoned spaces that their cities and towns assigned for them to live. Infected mobians feed off energy, whether that be electricity, emotions, powerful items, etc, but can also eat normal foods just fine. They need normal food to keep sane and prevent them from going into the second form that attacks anything with energy in it. Only the second form can infect others directly, making it the most dangerous and is an automatic kill-on-sight if seen. No one knows yet if you can change infected back to normal after they've transformed. Vanilla takes care of transformed infected when Sonic reports the incidents.

Mobians aren't the only things infected, plant and wildlife have been mutated by the illness aswell. The symptoms of the infection is body mutations, a blue tongue, and increased hunger and thirst. Mobians born from infected parents can't go into the second form but they become feral without food. Bites from hostile born-infected mobians are less likely to spread the infection but it isn't impossible.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic au #sonic alternate universe #au sonic smackdown #round 1 #halloweentown au #words hurt au

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romeulusroy · 11 months

Text

Petals (Roy!Sibling x Connor Roy)

Character/s: Connor, Shiv, Roman, Logan, Willa, Marcia

Word Count: 1,315

Requested: hello! is it okay if i request more roy baby sibling and connor? i’d like to see them asking connor to dance at shiv’s wedding (or maybe even at his wedding?)! thank you :) - anon

Requested: your younger roy sibling hcs have been rotting my brain recently and now im imagining 8 year old them making a drawing for connor's birthday that is them holding hands with big hearts and "wish you were my daddy" written in big kid letters (probably with spelling mistakes) and connor just like. sobbing when he reads it. i feel like hed be such a big father role to a significantly younger sibling (i personally imagine them and roman having a around 10 year gap, so thats probably like ~35 years of different between them and connor). and we all know what a shitty dad logan is/was, so i can see younger sibling calling connor after some big fight with logan and crying while begging him to pick them up and let them live with him and it breaks his heart cause logan would never let it happen and he tried but couldnt protect ken and shiv and rome and he just wishes he could at least protect his baby sib but he just cant and it kills him. anyway happy thursday thought haha roy family brainrot - @fromirkwood

Inspired By: Petals on the Moon by Wasia Project

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I know the second one wasn't exactly a request, but I couldn't get it out of my head!!! Big Bro Connor is my absolute favorite!! I hope this doesn't rot in your brain too long my love lol. I just couldn't get it out of my head, especially when it was combined with the other request!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Time is a thief, at least that’s what he thinks when he looks at you, spinning with your sister on the dance floor. Your smile is so bright, so wide, your cheeks flushed. You drank too much, no doubt it was Roman refilling your glass without your notice. The song picks up speed, picks up in joy, and you break out into laughter, you and Shivy. It’s as if you’re in your own world and only she’s in it. You spin and jump and sing along, your niece and nephew beside you and the bride. He hasn’t seen you this electric, this alive, so much like your old self, in weeks. Connor considered himself lucky to be able to watch, to bear witness. Just moments ago you were a baby, doodling with your thick crayons, mistakenly calling him Dad instead of Logan. Only recently had he learned that's who he was in your phone, Dad, that Logan was simply Logan. Years pass, but so little changes. He still had all your fathers day cards stashed away, hidden before your real father caught what you were doing. Stick figures, one tall, one small, hand in hand surrounded by flowers and butterflies and other bugs. Happy Fathers Day Connor. Your uppercase letters always slanted, crooked, his name spelled with one N instead of two. It wasn’t long until his figure started sprouting gray hair, graying far earlier than anyone else in the family, and yours grew taller every year. Connor feared you might have forgotten about him, that you were getting too old to need your eldest brother like your siblings had, but you proved him wrong after that night.

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the wedding. It was so bad. Whatever was said and done remained a mystery. You wouldn’t tell him, tell anyone, just that it was bad. He’d gone with Willa to pick something out for you, knowing you left the house with nothing. You refused to try it on, to come out of the spare bedroom. It wasn’t until the day before when they were getting ready to leave, accepting that there was no way you were going, did you come out with your outfit packed. You weren’t going to miss Shiv's big day because of him, you declared, and it was settled. He couldn’t contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear. Letting her down, letting him down, just because of your old man, it seemed like a cruel punishment. You sat beside him in the plane, his hand on your knee, trying to disregard the dread in your chest. They’d all heard about your big blow out, they all wanted to know, going to Connor first instead of you. You were the closest, you told him everything. When he had nothing to say, when all he could offer was a warning, it said something, something more than he was expecting: whatever happened got to you. It genuinely hurt you. They imagined the worst, unsure of what to do. He was at a loss, too. Your father could say and do as he pleased, you’d always been the best at ignoring him, especially when he was in one of his moods, but this time? This time was different. It stung more than all of the other fights you’d had with him, and there were some memorable ones. Never had you yelled back like that, never had you stormed out in a fury, never had you sobbed to your brother like that on the phone. This wasn’t the kind of thing that would go away on its own. It wouldn’t heal with time.

He could almost forget the crack in your voice as he watched you now. That sad, crying child looked so different from the young adult on the dance floor. Eventually you came over to him, asking him to dance. As if on cue, a slower song came on. This was far different than the last time you danced together. You stood on his shoes, swaying, giggling that high pitched giggle, the one that made his heart melt. You were so little then, so tiny, he was scared to let go. Now you swayed on your own, your arms around him as if you’re scared he’ll flee, your face buried into his chest. Thank you for letting me stay with you. It came out mumbled, muffled, but he understood. Anytime, kiddo. You’re a pleasure to have. Your eyes were big when you looked up at him, as if trying to decipher if he was telling the truth or not. His smile, so reassuring, told you he meant it. I’m sorry about Pops. you shook your head, not wanting to hear his name, not wanting your brother to carry the guilt for him. If he was going to apologize you were going to hear it from him. Not anyone else. Connor spent the entire night putting distance between the two of you, becoming your human shield. Logan, it seemed, had completely forgotten about the whole ordeal, kissing Shiv, saying hello to your brothers, like nothing was amiss. They each shared a glance, all looking to Connor for help, for guidance, just like they had when they were little. He knew what he had to do. How bad was it, kiddo? He asks. Bad. It’s all you can say without upsetting yourself all over again.

He called you his greatest failure. Spineless. A mistake. You don’t remember how it started, only that you were bleeding out on the floor before him and he refused to put the knife down. A plague to the Roy name, a curse, a bad seed. You never should have been born. A loser. Incompetent. He’s not sure where you came from, but you are certainly not his. You should be smarter, work harder, but instead you are nothing, you are nobody. No one has ever or will ever love you. It hits you so hard, so forcefully, it knocks the wind out of you. He means it, he means every word, but especially that. That’s what kills you, that’s what makes the tears slip down your cheeks. That’s not true, you try to spit back, but he’s not listening and you’re crying, and you’re proving him right. He keeps talking. You can’t hear it, though. You’re gone. You’ve retreated into yourself, so far back he cannot possibly get you. You stand there, unmoving, as he gets in your face. No one has or will ever love you. No one has or will ever love you. It plays on loop, again and again until you cannot breathe. Finally you back away, you run from him, slamming each door behind you. Marcia calls out to you, hearing what went down, but nothing can stop you. Through the busy sidewalks, sobbing uncontrollably, you call him. You can’t repeat what he said, you still can’t. You know that would make him furious, all of them, and it is not their burden to carry. A quiet fear has settled in the back of your mind: what if he’s right?

If he knew, if Connor knew, he would have killed his father. No one said that to his baby, no one ever dared talk to you that way. But he doesn’t, and he never will. You have vowed to yourself that neither him nor your other siblings will know, for fear that they might agree with him. That they’ll show you he’s right. Instead they watch you carefully, ready to intervene should that be necessary. You hold on to him tight long after the song ends, not wanting to let go, to be alone with Logan's words. Connor doesn’t mind at all. He’s his happiest when his siblings need him, when you need him. He’ll always be there to rescue you. Always. It’s his job, you’re his greatest love. You all are.

#requested #writing #connor roy #connor roy imagine #connor roy x reader #succession #succession imagine #succession x reader #logan roy #logan roy imagine #logan roy x reader

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cowgurrrl · 10 months

Note

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

#college!joel au #college!joel #Joel Miller au #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble

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appocalipse · 2 years

Note

hi!! could you please do a steve drabble with 60 & 70? and congratulations on 600!! <3

thank youuuu 💘 i love your writing btw <3 also i turned this into an exes to lovers, i hope it's okay and to your liking 💋 | “You were never my second choice” & “They're not you” with Steve Harrington.

“I think we should stay a little bit more, just to be sure,” he says. “What if you have a concussion?”

Steve Harrington is standing by the bed, shoulder resting against the white plain wall like he's all calm and relaxed — though his expression is anything but that.

He was at work when he got the call; now he could honestly thank his mom for something: when the local hospital called, she picked up the phone at home. She even went as far as to call him at Family Video and let him know the reason behind the call: your girlfriend, she'd said, she's in the hospital.

Steve didn't even acknowledge the fact his mom didn't know you two had broken up — though it has been a few months now — because when she repeated your name, he felt as if the world had stopped spinning. He mumbled a few almost unintelligible words at Robin — Y/N, accident, gotta go. But he thought she somehow understood, because she nodded her head vigorously and said go, watching as he clutched his keys tightly, running as if his life depended on it.

Well, not his life.

Your brain now registers his arms crossed over his chest, a familiar crinkle of worry between his warm brown eyes; he straightens his posture and stares down at you with utmost intensity.

“I don't have a concussion,” you guarantee, your voice small. You're exhausted, yes, but his presence, his proximity, keeps you alert.

You shift on the bed, about to get up, and he rushes to your side at lightning speed.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve nods at your ankle — on a cast — and the crinkle between his brows deepens when he turns to you once again.

You're painfully aware that he's touching your forearm — gently, respectfully, only in hopes of keeping you steady should you need it…but still touching your forearm. Not completely unlike all the times he’d touched this exact same spot before, in a completely different situation, an utterly different dynamic...

“I'm going home. They said I could.”

“They didn't say you should.”

“It's just a sprained ankle, Steve. I'll live.”

You stand. He looks about ready to panic, hand firm on your arm.

He's wearing his Family Video uniform, you notice. Stripes under the vest, even that little name tag. Up close, he smells like good memories and heartbreak, like lazy mornings and sweet words and all the things you wish you could forget.

But you can't.

“Were you at work?” you ask.

His gaze is soft. He can read you like a book. “Don't worry about that.”

“They shouldn't have called you,” you insist, too quickly, too embarrassed. Too familiar. “I'm sorry, I completely forgot you were my emergency contact. I should have-”

“I don't mind.”

“I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.”

“Steve,” you try to adjust yourself to the additional weight of the cast on your left foot. He stares at your face as if he is afraid you might break. “You should go back to work. I don't want you to get fired because of me.”

“I won't be fired. Robin will cover for me. Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer just to be sure?”

“Steve.”

“I can't just leave you here. Let me drive you home, at least.”

His tone is almost pleading.

“You don't have to,” you say, well aware that every minute this close to him is a new opportunity to make a mistake. “I can call-”

Who? None of your close friends have a car, you recall, maybe a bit late. You couldn't lie; he would know in a heartbeat. Steve also knows that your father is normally out of town this time of the month, and so all your excuses die down your throat.

All but one.

“I could take the bus,” you shrug. Sounds silly even for you.

Steve frowns. “Don't be ridiculous.”

Later, when you reach your front door with his arm around your waist — for support and nothing else, you assure yourself —, you’re not really sure of the hows and whys, and maybe it’s better that way.

There are memories coming to the surface; you try to push them to the back of your mind as he leans down to grab the spare key. It’s under a small vase beside the porch, but he remembers it on his own. You don’t have to say anything.

You both enter. The house feels oddly warmer.

The sun is setting outside, painting his silhouette golden against the doorframe. “Are you hungry?”

He gently hands you the crutches you got from the hospital, making sure you have a firm hold on them before letting go.

“I’m not gonna break, Steve,” you say. As if his concern doesn’t make you feel all warm inside.

“I know,” he’s biting the inside of his cheek. Anxious. Not looking at you at first, then staring like there was no other choice. “So, are you? Hungry?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

He takes your silence as a bad sign.

“I”ll make something for you,” he says.

“Steve-”

But he’s already moving on to the kitchen, towards the fridge and the cabinets. He knows where everything is.

You half walk, half limp towards him with the help of the crutches. He watches your every movement from the corner of his eyes, trying to be subtle — but failing. He looks like he’s experiencing physical pain just from seeing you hurt.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Sit down and rest. Please?” Steve indicates a chair nearby, hands quickly sorting through everything you have in the kitchen — not much other than a bunch of ramen and a few carrots, he notices, defeated. And worried. How are you even alive eating like this?

He’ll lecture you about that later. Maybe he can even convince you to let him go grocery shopping for you.

Steve settles on a canned soup he finds stored in the back of the cabinet after checking if it’s not expired. He is halfway through warming it up when he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring back at him.

An eternity seems to pass between the moment your eyes meet and when you open your mouth and say, not particularly thinking it through before doing so, “I heard you had a date tonight.”

He’s taken by surprise, that much is clear. “I…Who said that?”

“Dustin.”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back on the soup once he’s sure it’s safe to leave it on its own. “Of course he did.”

“It’s okay,” you say. And it should be.

He’s silent for a moment. Then he sits down across from you, leaning back on the chair with his arms crossed. So close yet so far.

“Is it?” he asks.

“Of course.” No, it’s not.

His proximity is suddenly suffocating, his gaze suddenly heavy. Your eyes prickle and you’re not sure why.

“It smells good,” you stand up, not bothering, or remembering to, grab the crutches as you start for the stove, not one bit interested in the soup but pretending to be so.

Steve is up in no time. Which is good, because you trip almost immediately, and his hands on your waist are the only thing keeping you from falling over unceremoniously.

But now he’s close. Closer than before. Closer than he’s been for the last few months you’ve spent apart.

“Careful,” he says, not moving an inch.

Your traitorous, traitorous eyes end up on his lips. You don’t want to get away from him, but you must.

And yet, you don’t move.

Then, unexpectedly, almost unintentionally, he lets out, “You know none of these dates will ever lead anywhere, right?”

You’re not entirely sure you’re breathing now.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he whispers, taking his time, “they’re not you.”

Or maybe you’re breathing too fast. Is there such a thing? Suffocating on too much oxygen?

Maybe more like on too much love.

“Steve,” you mumble. He leans down, closer, the sound of his name on your lips pulling him in.

Then….

“We broke up.”

“No,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “You broke up with me.”

He tilts his head to the side, too close, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Steve.”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, “I miss you.”

Your lips part. You wanna reply I miss you too, so much, but you’re breathing each other, his hands now hugging you tighter, closer, more desperate, and there’s a voice in your head saying you should probably remember why you broke up with him on the first place.

So you do.

“I can’t do this. We can’t do this. You’re…”

You step back, not half as gracious as you’d hoped, but still — out of his reach. He lets you. No resistance, arms falling back to his sides.

His eyes tell a different story, though.

“I’m not the one you’re missing,” you say, your own eyes prickling with tears. “Not really.”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t wanna be your second choice, okay? I won’t.”

“You were never my second choice!”

He sighs; licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair. Steve’s a mess; he wants the words, the right words this time, but he feels like he can’t think straight, like you’re slipping through his fingers once again.

It’s complicated. Everything is so complicated.

He wants to make it simple.

He takes your hands in his; gentle, familiar, comforting. Your touch anchors him, his thoughts, his feelings — here, where he wants to be.

“There was never even a choice to make, Y/N,” he brings your hand to his chest, movement gentle, and places it over his heart; carefully, in no rush, finding the exact spot where you can actually feel his heart beating under your palm.

For you.

Maybe he’s being cheesy, he thinks. But he's helpless; Steve couldn’t care less if he does.

“It has always, always been you, from the moment we met, this heart has been nothing but yours, all yours, Y/N. And even if you don’t want it- even if-” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, eyes wandering everywhere as he tries to grasp the words once again. “I was yours long before I had the guts to let you know. I'd rather be here eating canned soup with you then anywhere else with anyone else.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington oneshot #steve x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things drabble #stranger things oneshot #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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stormflower8 · 8 months

Text

ballister boldheart

okay, here's a Thought

if we go with the headcanon that ballister is an orphan and grew up in an orphanage, can we also assume that he doesn't know his biological family?

and, if he has no ties to his family, that would include not having a last name (surname)

so now I'm picturing a scene where young ambrosius meets ballister for the first time and introduces himself as "ambrosius goldenloin", to which ballister replies with his own introduction

ambrosius might get a little confused, in his childlike innocence, as to why ballister didn't introduce himself with his first and last name. after all, ambrosius is nobility and is probably very used to the formality of full name introductions

so, there might be a conversation like

Ambrosius blinked. "Just Ballister?" The kid in front of him gave an offhand shrug, idly tossing the wooden sword he was playing with from one hand to the other. "Just Ballister." "Ballister... what?" Ambrosius prompted, tilting his head to the side, as if trying to get a better read on the other. "What's your last name?" "Last name?" Ballister echoed. He tried to throw the wooden sword from his left hand back to his right, but dropped it. "Yeah," Ambrosius said, ignoring the mistake. "A name that your parents have and give to you to show you're their kid." Ballister hummed. "Well," he said, kicking the sword to the side and beginning to walk away. "I don't have parents, so I don't have their name." Ambrosius felt his jaw drop a little. "You don't have parents?" he managed, as if unable to comprehend the tragedy in front of him. He scrambled to keep up with Ballister, surprised at the speed that the kid could walk. "Why?" "Don't know," Ballister replied curtly. "Maybe I was born without them. Or they died." He, without missing a beat, grabbed a nearby tree and began to climb it. Ambrosius, in his shock, could think of no better option than to follow him. Ambrosius thought about this for a moment. Thought about what it might feel like to grow up with no one telling you exactly what to do and when and how to do it. What it might feel like to grow up to not have an adult tell you exactly what to do with your life. He thought it might be a little bit terrifying. Ballister eased off the tree and onto a low, flat roof. Ambrosius followed, distantly wondering how much trouble they'd be in if they were caught. He wanted to ask about what Ballister had said. He wanted to ask Ballister what it had been like, being alone from birth to when he'd jumped the gates. Ballister kept walking, and Ambrosius found himself struggling a little to keep up. Throughout all this, Ballister hadn't spared him a single glance. The words that came of Ambrosius out surprised him. "Well, if you could choose a family name, what would it be?" This question seemed to stump Ballister, as he stopped in his tracks. Finally, he turned around and looked at Ambrosius. It was a deep look, one that dug through his soul and unpacked everything in there, one that pierced through him like an arrow. One that made Ambrosius question his own ability to breathe. "I don't know." came Ballister's honest reply. Ambrosius clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Think about it." Ballister gave him a long look, then lifted his head just barely. It was at that moment that Ambrosius realized that Ballister was probably looking at the statue of Gloreth, which was probably visible from behind him. "I don't know," Ballister said, quieter this time. "But I would want something worthy of a knight."

uh that was way longer than I planned LMAO

anyways, that's the end of that conversation for a long time, until a decade and then some later when they get knighted

that's when the queen gives him the name "boldheart"

the scene where everyone is cheering for ballister ("boldheart! boldheart! boldheart!") is the first time ballister hears his new name, and since a last name is a name given to you by family, it made him feel as if, almost, valerin was giving him a family

and when ambrosius cheers his new name, it holds some extra meaning to ambrosius too, because he still remembers the above conversation and understands the significance this has to ballister

and for a moment, ballister feels as though everything is perfect- the kingdom has accepted him, the queen has given him a family name, and he's achieved his dream of becoming a knight.

uh, and then everything goes wrong, but y'all already know how that goes-

#nimona 2023 #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #queen valerin #I'd imagine this means ballister is super attached to his name #because it's one of the last remnants he has of the queen #along with the actual sword the queen gave him #idk man this was just a Thought #this is my first post

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aerynwrites · 2 years

Text

Ruined

Vampire!Silco x Fem!Reader

Arcane Halloweek: Day 4 - Monster AU

A/N: I have been so excitedly sitting on this one shot for days now and I’m so happy to finally share with y’all. Also…I just Just of made up my own vampire rules so just ignore that lol. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

not beta read - apologies for any and all grammatical/spelling errors.

You should have known this was a stupid idea.

You should have known your mistake and consequent solution would come back to bite you in the ass. Just like every other time you try to go out of your way to appease everyone. Yet, here you are, suffering the consequences because some fucking assholes decided to jump you and the caravan on your way back to the Last Drop.

Sevika, Ran and the other goon with you had made quick work of most of them, their superhuman speed making them efficient in their jobs. However, a few of the thieves managed to get away with almost half of the supply.

The blood supply that keeps Silco from having to roam the lanes in search of food.

You can’t help but kick yourself, as you remember the damning words you uttered to Sevika in the aftermath when she asked what you were going to do. What you were going to tell the boss.

I’ll take care of it.

You might be one of the few humans in Silco’s employ, but you’re good at you’re job and you’re loyal - two things that lead to the right hand woman taking you at your word. Plus, it’s not like you lied.

You are taking care of it.

You’re just trying to take care of it with Silco being none the wiser. As far as he knows the pickup went off without a hitch, his blood supply being unaffected. If only due to some late night visits to Singed for blood draws to replace the missing product.

It felt like a great idea at the time - a simple, easy way to ensure the boss has what he needs without any needed stress. Except as the days wear on, everything starts to catch up with you.

Reports seem to pile up, your focus shifted as eyes droop with each written line. Thirum having to shake you awake at the bar when you drifted off mid conversation, brows furrowed in confusion. Your head pounds almost every morning, eyes foggy as they try to focus on the world around you. And on top of all of that, you’re fucking exhausted almost constantly. Arms and legs move slower, you can never seem to get fully warm.

And if Silco’s sidelong glances or frustrated sighs when he has to repeat himself for the hundredth time, say anything…He’s starting to notice that something is off.

A faint call of your name pulls you from your thoughts, bringing you back to the bustling bar of the Last Drop as a large hand settles on your shoulder. You turn and come face to face with Sevika, who’s looking at you with that all too familiar frustrated scowl.

“Didn’t you hear me the first dozen times I called your name?” she asks, casting a glance at your barely touched drink.

You shake your head, gesturing around you lazily, fatigue already setting in. “It’s loud.” you offer lamely, smirking when she rolls her eyes.

“Boss wants to see you.”

You sigh, “I already gave him my reports-”

Sevika cuts you off, practically hauling you off the barstool. “Now. And he didn’t seem keen on waiting.”

The tone of her voice is sobering, pushing your fatigue to the side as you look towards the stairs. You don’t offer Sevika any response other than a wary glance as you make your way to Silco’s office.

The stairs creak beneath your feet as you make the journey until you are outside the familiar door. Raising a hand to knock, your knuckles don’t even meet the surface before the familiar drawl of Silco’s voice stops you.

“Come in.”

Entering without hesitation, the door closes behind you as you make your way into the room, stopping just behind the chairs in front of his ornate desk. His chair is facing away from you, the smoke curling delicately over the top the only indication he’s sitting in it.

You clear your throat softly. “You…wanted to see me, sir?”

The chair turns to face you smoothly, teal and orange gaze settling on you as he takes a deep drag from the cigar at his lips before snuffing it out in an ashtray on his desk. His eyes never leave yours as he exhales slowly, the smoke enveloping you in a distinctive spicy aroma.

He must see the way your nose scrunches at the smell, never being one for cigars or the way they smell, a detail he’s picked up on in your years of service.

“A distinct smell, is it not?” His voice is like silk as it leaves his lips.

Brows furrowed at the random line of questioning, you nod slowly.

Taking a deep breath, he picks up the cigar once more, twirling it between long fingers as he studies it. “A distinct taste too,” he continues, “each cigar tastes different than the last. Some have a certain headiness about them while others are more delicate - sweeter, even.”

You shake your head, heart thumping nervously in your chest as you lose any idea of why you were called up here. “Boss, I don’t understand-”

“Blood is the same in that sense,” he says, cutting you off as he pulls open the top drawer in his desk, procuring something before placing it on the desktop. “Everyone’s blood tastes different. Not a single one is alike. Which is why-” he taps the object on the desk twice, “I know this shipment of blood is different from the rest.”

Your eyes fall to the desk and you feel your stomach drop through the floor. It’s a blood bag, just like the same ones that typically come in the shipments. But the only difference is the slight difference in the labels. You tried your best to replicate the labels on the typical bags, but you couldn’t perfect them.

This is one of the fillers you slipped in. It’s your blood that’s been emptied from that bag, and you can only hope he hasn’t connected the dots.

“If there’s an issue with the product I can talk to the supplier and see if they’ve made any changes,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you anticipated.

Silco regard’s you for a moment, before he slowly gets to his feet, eyes never leaving yours as he rounds the desk, that oh-so-familiar saunter sending a chill down your spine.

“Were there issues with the shipment?” He asks plainly, getting closer to you with each calculated step. “Because there are just a few too many coincidences for me to dismiss.”

He’s in front of you now, a mere foot away as he looks down at you, orange iris blazing as he starts a slow circle around you.

“The shipment was delayed, then the product differs vastly from those in the past, and at the same time as all of these discrepancies are occurring, one of my best employees starts to decline in health and their duties…”

You can’t find it in yourself to move as he stalks behind your back, breath fanning over your ear until he pauses just over your left shoulder.

The one thing that you could never seem to get used to with vampire’s, despite spending most of your time with them, was their lack of warmth. You almost expect to feel heat seeping into your back through your thin shirt, but all you feel is bone shilling coolness as he leans forward, lips brushing against your shoulder as he speaks.

“I have a theory,” he whispers, lips trialing ever so slowly upwards to rest just over your jugular, “and I'd like a chance to prove it.”

The faint scratch of unnaturally sharp canines against the delicate skin of your neck, makes your voice waver as you speak. “W-whatever you need.”

He chuckles darkly, and you feel ashamed of the excitement that shoots through you.

“Be careful what you so willingly offer.”

Before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your wrist, spinning you until you are pressed up against the edge of the desk, trapped between Silco and the hardwood behind you. But that isn’t what sucks the break from your lungs.

No - it’s the glint of steel in the fading light of his office that has your breath leaving you in anxious pants.

This is it. You think, eyes instinctively clenching shut. He’s going to kill me for lying to him, for trying to cover up my mistake, for breaking his trust-

A sharp gasp leaves you as a stinging pain erupts across your fingertip. Eyes fly open only to see Silco tossing his knife onto the desk behind you as his dual colored gaze falls to the hand held between you.

Your hand. With one finger extended and a delicate pearl of blood bubbling to the surface. It feels as if you aren’t even breathing as he takes the digit into his mouth, tongue laving at the small wound. Contrary to what you imagined, his mouth is warm and tongue slick as it moves to collect every scrap of blood from your finger.

After what feels like an eternity but is probably just a mere moment, he pulls back licking his bottom lip thoughtfully before fixing his gaze back on you. He fixes you with that wicked smirk, the one that always makes your knees weak.

“It seems I was right,” he says simply. “I had a feeling something happened with the shipment, and in an effort to correct the accident, you filled the gaps with your own…supply.”

You go to speak, but Silco cuts you off just as you take a breath, leaning down ever closer to you, your noses brushing gently as he speaks. “I could taste the difference immediately. The regular supplier most likely supplements the blood with nutrients and other things and it makes it taste…bland, medicinal…” he trails down lower, nosing at your jaw, “lackluster.”

“But yours…” His breath makes your skin prickle and you can’t stop the shiver as he dips lower, lips brushing the spot just below your ear. “Your’s is different. Brighter, more vibrant, sweeter…” his words melt over your skin like warm honey, and you can’t find it in you to care when your hands come up and grip his arms for purchase as he continues.

“I had an idea of what you were doing right from the beginning, and as I kept drinking, kept tasting you, well…I couldn’t help but wonder what it tastes like directly from the source.”

As if to emphasize his point, he runs his tongue over the delicate skin above your jugular, and the words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.

“You can. I’d…I’d let you.”

The confession is a broken, desperate thing, but he must enjoy it if his bemused chuckle is anything to go by. You want nothing more than for him to do it, to take what you've been willingly giving him for days now. But to your confusion, and slight disappointment, he pulls away, eyes roaming your face.

“I know you would,” he reveals, lips ticking upward in that smirk once more at your shocked expression. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. The way your heart speeds up in my presence, your stuttered breaths, dilated pupils…”

He pulls even further away then, reaching up to pull your hands away from him with a gentle grip, a drastic contrast to the delirious way he’s teasing you.

“As much as I desire to accept your offer…you’re weak,” he deapans, letting your arms fall to your sides once more. “This plan of yours has left you barely able to function, let alone let me feed from you.”

He sidesteps you gracefully, rounding the desk as you turn to follow his movements until he is back in the same position he was earlier. Sat in his chair with all the power in the world as he pulls a new cigar from inside his desk, snips the end off and lights it with calculated precision.

His eyes fall from you down to the scattered papers on his desk as he takes a deep inhale from the cigar before letting it out once more.

“Take the next few days to yourself. I expect you to be at full capacity before the next shipment.”

His words are a clear dismissal, and you have to stop yourself from physically reeling from the whiplash the last several moments have given you. But you don’t stay to ask questions, instead taking it for what it is.

The door to Silco’s office clicks shut behind you as you exit into the hallway, and your brain can only seem to focus on one thing.

What the fuck do you do now?

───── 𖥸 ─────

It’s been weeks since the shipment incident, and just about the same amount of time since your moment with Silco in his office, and his words haven’t stopped ringing in your head.

As much as I desire to accept your offer…

Sure the offer had been made in the moment but…you meant it. Years spent pining after your vampire boss had left you thinking about the idea more than once, and…

He didn’t outright refuse you. He just…deferred it to a later date.

At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself as you’ve tried to find a way to bring it up again in a casual way.

Initially you weren’t ever going to speak about it again - in fact, once you returned to work you had planned to pretend that the whole fiasco never happened. The new shipment came in without a hitch so things went back to normal.

…almost…

You have your energy back and you’re back to your old self, no longer missing meetings or dozing off at the bar. But Silco…something is different since you’ve come back from your mandatory recovery leave.

Your meetings with him to go over reports feel more…intimate. Before, you typically stood a few feet from the desk, rattling off numbers and important details while he looked at the papers. But now, it’s vastly different.

Now he invites you so sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk as you go over the reports. Oftentimes standing to pour you both a drink - another new addition - before taking his place in the empty seat beside you.

The first time it happened, it caught you off guard, stalling your speech as you looked over at the kingpin of the undercity who only lazily gestured at you to continue.

Once you gathered yourself again you had indeed continued, but you didn’t miss the way he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and leaving very little space between you as he read over the parchment in your hands.

Each time he’s so close you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and the spice of cigars on his breath when he mutters a question. And you swear a few times you even heard him take a deep breath just a little too close to be coincidental.

You also noticed that the blood supply is lasting him longer than usual, which means he’s either finding a supply elsewhere or just not using it.

Maybe he was so used to mine…he doesn’t like the taste of the other stuff now…

The thought is fleeting, and you try to shove it down before it takes root, but you can’t. It’s the only thing you can think about as you slowly ascend the stairs to Silco’s office, nerves alight with anxiety as you finally stand in front of the door.

What if he doesn’t want it? What if he laughs I’m your face and calls you out for the foolish child you feel like? What if-

“Quit lingering at the door like a wraith. Either come in or get back to work.”

The all too familiar voice meets your ears through the thick wood for the door, and you can’t stop the warmth that floods your cheeks.

The door is unlocked so you walk in easily, letting it click shut behind you as you step further into the room. Your eyes fall immediately to the man who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

He stands in front of the large window behind his desk, the light casting his office in a green hue and making him nothing but a silhouette against the backdrop.

Instinctively you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket, trying to hide the way they shake as your nerves get the better of you.

Finally, Silco turns to face you, his orange eye bright and glowing against the darkness of his silhouette. It makes you shiver for an entirely other reason and that alone seems to give you the little courage you need to approach the desk.

His features make themselves out as you come closer, the light not distorting them as much, and you’re able to see the way he raises a brow just as he lowers a cigar from his lips. He makes a point to blow the smoke away from you, and you silently appreciate the small gesture, licking your lips as you try to find the words you want to say.

However, Silco beats you to it, voice smooth as he speaks.

“If you have something to say…say it.” He says bluntly, eyes locked onto you.

So he knows. Or…at least has an idea.

Pulling your hands from your pockets, you clasp them in front of you, trying to appear more confident than you feel.

“I just noticed that the new supply might not be up to your…standards. And I just - wanted to let you know that my…my offer is still on the table.”

Your last words come out in a whisper, confidence slipping away from you the longer you hold Silco’s unrelenting gaze.

The suggestion sounds pathetic when you say it out loud, and you’re ready to take it all back to tuck tail and run when a chuckle meets your ears.

It’s the same as the ones he gave you last time, dark, humorless - but not cruel or demeaning. Just like he’s privy to a joke you don’t understand, an irony you can’t fully comprehend.

And as he stalks from behind the desk, snuffing out his cigar on the way, you find that your eyes never leave him. Not even when he comes to stand almost toe to toe with you, that damn cologne tickling your nose and making your eyes flutter as he leans in closer.

“Do you have any idea what you’re offering me?” He asks, voice genuine, as if he truly wants you to rethink your precious gift.

But you have thought about it. Thought about the possibilities, what could go wrong, and what could go so mind-nubmingly right.

You just hope this will fall under the latter.

You give him a small but firm nod, voice not wavering as you speak. “I do. And…It’s yours. I-If you want it.”

The breath of air he releases is one of relief, you can practically feel the way he sags into your space, nosing your jaw as hands ghost up your sides.

“Oh, my dear…” Breath fans over your ear sending shivers down your spine. “You have no idea how much I’ve craved it.”

You don’t know what you were expecting. Part of you was expecting him to take you right there, teeth plunging into your neck unceremoniously to drink directly from the source like he wanted. Part of you maybe expected him to be a touch softer, walking you through it before sharp canines pierce delicate skin.

But you never expected a kiss.

Never expected cool lips pressed against yours with a ferocity only intimate lovers possess. Never expected the feeling of his tongue running across the seam of your lips or granting him access as easily as you draw breath.

He hums lowly into you, and you can feel the vibrations from within his chest as he wraps strong arms around you to pull you impossibly closer against him. Fingers press greedily into your sides as he guides you backwards and you don’t even have the wherewithal to wonder where he’s taking you.

Only when he turns you both with incredible grace and sinks down onto the plush velvet of the sofa does it register, and by then you’re already in his lap and too far gone to care.

He breaks the kiss as soon as you slide onto his legs, thighs straddling his own as lips trail from your mouth to your cheek, then lower.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” He husks, voice like broken gravel as he nips at the edge of your jaw, those impossibly sharp fangs scratching teasingly.

“You’ve ruined me. You gave me a taste and it’s made everything else taste like the toxins swimming in the river Pilt.” He’s at your neck now, teasing, nipping, tongue laving out to soothe the little bites. “Bitter, acidic, bland-“ he takes a deep inhale as he nuzzles into you, and you can feel the way his lashes flutter against your skin. “Nothing like this, like the divine ichor that seems to run through your veins-“

“Silco, please.”

Those two words. The utterance of his name and the way you beg so sweetly are his undoing. They are enough to snap the thin little thread of control he still had and allows him to finally take what he’s so desperately wanted for longer than he can remember.

The pain is both as intense and yet, lesser than you had thought it to be. It’s a piercing, searing heat that flows from your neck to your fingertips where they grasp for purchase in his fine silk vest. Yet the ecstasy that courses through you moments after is enough to overwhelm all else.

It’s…strange. But it feels good. With each languid pull, each pass of his tongue over your skin, the way his arms tighten around you, crushing you to him as he feasts - it all makes the heat in your belly burn brighter.

He groans against you as he drinks, pressing harder against you as if that will somehow make the blood come forth faster, nose digging into your shoulder as one hand comes up to tangle in your hair as you nuzzle into his own neck.

It feels like an eternity when he practically rips himself from you with a grunt of effort. Pressing one last kiss the delicate skin which stops the gentle flow of crimson. You were just beginning to feel the telltale signs of fatigue, sleep tugging gently at your eyes when cool hands come up to cradle your face.

You’re pulled from your place on his shoulder gently, and brought up only so caring eyes can look you over. The teal iris, the one so many seem to overlook, is eclipsed by the black of his pupil, hunger still present in his gaze.

There’s still the faintest hint of red on his lips, one corner darker than the rest - and you can’t help but reach up to wipe at it. It’s the first time you’ve truly touched him throughout all this, the first time he’s ever let you touch him. So, you try to commit it to memory. The way the scars marring his upper lip feel beneath your thumb as you wipe gently at the blood left there.

Without thought, his tongue peaks out to wipe up the excess, brushing against the pad of your finger before retreating once more as he reaches up to take your hand in his own.

You’re momentarily struck by the gentleness of his actions, the way his brow seems to draw together in concern. Which is why you can’t fathom why the words spill from your lips.

“So, was it better directly from the source?” You ask, voice soft and bringing a rare half smile to the man’s lips.

He nods. “As I said,” he begins, leaning in so lips ghost over your own, and you can almost taste the metallic tang on his breath.

“You’ve ruined me.”

#arcanehalloweek22 #silco x reader #arcane silco x reader #arcane x reader #arcane silco #silco #arcane

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coneheda · 1 year

Note

50 "in my defense, I really wanted to."

“Uh Lex? We might have a problem.” Anya says, pulling her out of her day dream. Lexa groans as she gets up from her desk. The last three hours of her day could not be going any slower, all she wants to do is go home and lock herself in her room with her girlfriend who’s finally coming to visit. Okay, it hasn’t been that long since they’ve seen each other- Lexa was just there for work two weeks ago- but any amount of time spent apart is torture. Hopefully whatever the problem is, it can resolve itself quickly.

“What is it?” She asks, but there’s no need to wait for a verbal answer when she looks over her colleague's shoulder and sees the alert popped up on the screen. Her chest tightens as her heart rate speeds up. This has to be a mistake.

“You ran a background check right?” Anya asks. Lexa ignores her in favor of shoving her out of the way to take over the monitor. Suspect detained. Potential bomb threat. Terrorism. The words swirl around her head as she reads them. But It’s not the words that have ice running through her veins, no in her line of work they’re a common place, but the face attached to them? That’s something she never would have seen coming.

With shaky hands she pulls up the security feed, taking in the small figure hunched over a table, hands cuffed together but still able to clench themselves in disheveled hair. Lexa stares at the image, trying to understand how she missed something this big. It’s only when she sees what the detainee is wearing that she jumps up.

“Oh fuck.” She scrambles to grab her belongings and races up to her boss's office.

_____

Clarke likes flying. Likes seeing the world from a new perspective. Likes people watching while she waits for her flight. Likes the fact that she can cross the country in a matter of hours instead of days. She even likes the overpriced food, it’s all part of the experience.

Correction, Clarke liked flying. It’s going to be a long time before she sets foot in another airport.

It had started off a normal travel day. Arriving three hours early, a habit her mom had ingrained into her, even though she knows she doesn't need half that to get through security and get to her gate with more than enough time to spare.

She even remembered to mail her surprise to her girlfriends to prevent any potential embarrassment that could have come up had it gone through the scanner.

So when she was randomly selected and her hands swabbed, she thought nothing of it. It’s happened a handful of times before and she just waits patiently while they run their test.

When that test came back positive and she was roughly escorted to a small room with no windows and interrogated for the next two hours? All patience and calmness were sucked out of her, replaced by anxiety and confusion. Honestly it’s a good thing she went to the bathroom before queuing up for security otherwise she would be physically shitting herself instead of just mentally.

She has no idea how explosive residue got on her hands or the trace amounts they found on her bag. They keep asking her what the target is, where the bomb is, what it’s made of, if she’s working alone. For the first five minutes she questioned whether their test was faulty or she somehow switched bodies with someone, maybe it was all some sort of sick joke. But the questions kept coming and the people asking them kept getting scarier looking.

The next time the door opens she doesn’t lift her head up from the table. Her tears have long since dried up and her fear has morphed into anger.

“Oh my god Clarke!” Lexa rushes over to girlfriend. Startled eyes take her in as she smooths down blonde locks. “Baby I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Clarke feels borderline delirious after the last few hours, enough to momentarily question whether or not who she’s seeing is real, but quickly shakes it off and allows herself to be lifted from the chair. The cuffs are removed and Lexa wraps an arm around her to guide her out of the hell box.

The scary people hand over all her belongings and don’t try to stop them from leaving. It’s a complete 180 from ten minutes ago when they told her she was facing life in prison.

Clarke doesn’t even realize they’ve left the airport until she’s being buckled into a car.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks, concern evident in her tone.

“What the fuck just happened?” Clarke says in disbelief.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh great, first I’m accused of terrorism and now I’m being dumped fan-fucking-tastic. I swear I don’t even know what you need to make a bomb let alone how to build one. I don’t know how it got on-”

“Clarke.” Lexa cuts her off, “I’m not breaking up with you, you might want to dump me after hearing what I have to say, but I really hope you don’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks and oh how Lexa loves the little furrow between her brows.

“It’s my fault.” Lexa tells her “You’re wearing my sweatshirt and I assume you pulled it from the hamper instead of washing it.”

“So?” Clarke asks the furrow getting a little deeper.

Lexa takes a deep breath. “Well it had explosive residue on it…”

Clarke blinks. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry what? Why would your sweatshirt have- are you a terrorist??”

“No of course not!” Lexa hastily puts a stop to that train of thought. “No, I- it was a work training thing and I put it after and didn’t think about the fact that you might wear it before washing it let alone try to go through any sort of security with it on.”

“A work thing? What kind of foreign policy advisor work involves explosives!” Clarke says in exasperation. She looks at her girlfriends guilty expression. “That’s not actually what you do, is it?”

Lexa shakes her head, “No. Although I know enough about it to tell people, so it could be?”

Clarke is quiet for what feels like hours to Lexa, but is really more like a minute. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I can’t believe I believed you. You’re terrible at lying! At least I thought you were, is that all an act?”

“In my defense I really wanted to. Tell you that is, but I couldn’t unless we were married and no it’s not an act. My job is the only thing I’m good at fudging the truth about. At least when it comes to you.” Lexa explains

“So why tell me now? We’re not married. Am I going to have to go live in a cave somewhere?”

Lexa laughs “no nothing like that. You’ll just have to sign a few forms and promise your first born to the government.” Clarke glares at her. “Okay okay, I’m serious about the paperwork though. My boss gave me the green light due to the circumstances and because I hope that one day we will be married, if you’ll still have me that is, but no one else can know.”

Clarke can’t stop the flutter in her chest at the word married. Even if part of her is still angry at the whole situation, the idea of marrying Lexa is something she hasn’t stopped thinking about since they got together.

“Are we okay?” Lexa asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Clarke sighs, letting the chaos melt away. “We’re okay.” She snuggles into Lexas side. “If you didn’t want me wearing your clothes all you had to do was say something.” She grumps. “You’re really going to have to make this up to me and do all the flying for the foreseeable future.”

#clexa #clexa drabble #asks #2 months later #i will get to the rest I promise

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synapsid-taxonomy · 1 month

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Hello fellow synapsid! φ(゜▽゜*)♪

For an Easter joke, I was going to do a cartoon-esque illustration of Kollikodon. It's a Cenomanian (~99-96 MYA) monotreme with "bun like molars". There isn't much material, so I was going to go with a "well, if NO ONE ELSE was going to suggest this common ecological and phylogenetic attributes" approach.

Thing is, I haven't done an independent paleo reconstruction before, and all the material that's known is the right maxillary. Also, as committed to the joke as I am at this point, mammals aren't really my strongest of interest.

I'm worried that, since it's an obscure genus with few illustrations, my depiction might give people the wrong impression of what the animal was like... But I don't like being TOO conservative, especially when a gut feeling is telling me that certain approaches in speculation are viable, but unexplored.

Do you have any advice? Common mistakes, pitfalls I should avoid, how many pages a day should I speed read Witton's paleoartist's handbook, other folks to asks for advice? Things that'll help me be a better paleoartist.

I also know you don't specialise in paleoart, but since this is a case for a synapsid, you were the first person I thought of to ask for advice.

First step is starting with what we know. Thing with Kollikodon is that all we have is this:

It seems to be a stem-monotreme, decently close to the monotreme crown. Based on all other monotremes (including the extinct Kryoryctes and Steropodon), we can guess that its body was relatively stocky and short-limbed. It's outside the clade that we know had the beaks present in platypi and echidna, though we don't have enough to say for certain that it didn't have one. Should also be noted, though, that its teeth imply a different ecology from either of them. Its molars are bunodont (flat, quadrangular, multicusped), and bunodont molars are common in generalist omnivores (humans have somewhat bunodont molars), but the unusual morphology of Kollikodon's molars implies that it might have been doing more crushing than the average generalist.

The thing about something as fragmentary and enigmatic as this is that lots of speculation is necessary to portray it at all. But the flipside is, there are many ways to do it that aren't wrong. So a lot of it's up to you. If you want to avoid giving people the wrong impression of what it's like, then try to avoid features that are "out of left field" so to speak. Things that we don't see in monotremes or that we wouldn't expect in a generalist omnivore are less likely to be present in Kollikodon based on the data we have. For example, all known monotremes have relatively short limbs, and you don't necessarily need particularly long legs if you're a generalist, so it's safest to give it relatively short limbs. So keep in mind what it's related to and what life it was probably living, and have fun with it from there, is what I'd say.

And if you want some more paleoart-focused advice, there are a whole bunch of paleoartists on Tumblr! @i-draws-dinosaurs, @knuppitalism-with-ue, @aberrantologist, @ppaleoartistgallery, @alphynix, @dinodanicus, and @usik-paleo-illust are just a few, and you can find many more are in the #paleoart tag. I'm not an artist, so I recommend reaching out to some of them if you want some more experienced tips!

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Unexpected Consequences: A Growing Pains Drabble

Summary: It's hard to talk trash when your husband keeps your naughty mouth stuffed full.

Warnings: Light Degradation, Mean Daddy Andy, Punishment, Oral Sex (male receiving), Face Fucking, Daddy Kink, Cum Swallowing, Ass Slapping, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @writer84 who wondered what would happen if Reader referred to Andy as “old”. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated, so please let me know what you think. This is part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread but not beta’d. All mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading!

___

You hadn’t meant to say it. The words had simply flown out of your mouth before you could stop them, and now you were about to pay the price.

“What did you just say?” Andrew asks, taking a moment to look up at you from his legal journal.

“Erm…nothing.” You squeak out, hoping against hope that your man might let you slide this one time.

“Oh no, Y/N. Say it again. I want you too.” His silky tone is laced with challenge.

“Pass.” You mumble, taking a tentative step away. Your hands reach behind you to grab the wall as you begin to inch towards the door.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going, little girl?” He raises a tawny brow.

“To check on Katrina. Make sure she’s still napping.” You tell him, throwing in an innocent shrug for good measure.

“Did I give you permission to leave?”

“Um, no but…”

“Then stop fucking moving.” His impatient growl reverberating in his chest as he rises from the bed, his big hands going to the waistband of his pants. “I’m not quite done with you yet, Y/N.”

___

Ten minutes later, you’re kneeling at your husband’s feet with your hands tied behind your back, courtesy of his favorite brown leather belt.

“Time for you to apologize to Daddy.” He grunts, gently slapping at your pouting lips with his imposing cock. “Open up please.”

You go to shake your head “no”, only for him to wrap a thick handful of hair around his fist. He none-too-gently wrenches your head back, letting you know that you are completely at his mercy. A whimper escapes your throat as you look up at him with pleading eyes from your place between his splayed legs.

“I mean it, sweetness. I wanna hear how sorry you are.” He coos as he pushes the crown past your lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Must be hard to talk shit about your man with your mouth full, huh?” Tears spring to your eyes as he makes contact with the back of your throat, nearly triggering your gag reflex.

“Mm mmph.” Is all you can muster as your Big Man unapologetically fucks your face. His hand remains embedded in your curls so that he can hold you steady while he uses you for his pleasure.

“Ah, ah.” He tsks, his mocking tone dripping with disapproval. “Keep those beautiful brown eyes on me. You know how much I love watching you choke on my fat dick, you disrespectful little brat.”

The speed of his thrusts increases as he mercilessly pumps in and out of your drooling mouth, the salty taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue. A tear slips its way down your cheek as you continue to take all of him as far as you can. You do your best to breathe through your nose, but your beast of a man certainly isn’t making it easy.

It has been ages since he’s used you like this.

You weren’t quite sure if you were going to survive this particular punishment with Mean Daddy Andy.

“Clearly, I’m not fucking you enough.” He growls. “You have a tendency to get mouthy when your needy little pussy is running the show. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

All you can do is gurgle as more saliva drips its way down your chin. You don’t need to see your reflection to know that you must look like a hot mess.

That’s what you got for forgetting to use waterproof mascara this morning.

Caught up in the sensation of having your talented mouth working his thick shaft, Andy plunges in to the hilt, leaving you coughing and sputtering as you try to force air into your burning lungs.

“Quiet,” he barks as he grants you a temporary reprieve. “Don’t forget that Katrina is sleeping. You wake our baby before it’s time and I’ll tie you to the bed and edge your disrespectful little cunt until you start speaking in tongues.”

The feral gleam in his eyes lets you know that your man isn’t playing with you right now. Not one bit.

“Yes, sir.” You purr as you nuzzle his heavy sac while he frees your bound wrists. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good girl. Gonna make you drink me down. Force you to swallow every drop of my cum. And then you’re gonna thank me for it, understand?”

“Uh huh, Daddy.” You respond breathily, running your tongue along a particularly majestic vein. You take his cock in your hand, your palm barely able to wrap itself around his girth. And then he’s back in your mouth. You hum deep in your throat as your head bobs up and down.

“Ah, yeah. That’s it, baby.” Andy groans, his hips bucking instinctively. “Just like that. Keep using that naughty little mouth to make me happy.”

Needing to balance, your left hand moves to rest on his thigh while the other continues to tease and titillate your Big Man.

“Get ready, baby girl.” He grunts, his eyes close as the intense feelings of pleasure begin to wash over him. “Bout tah’ cum! Gonna give – give it all to you!”

He lets out an impressive roar as his thick, hot seed spurts down your throat. And although to struggle to take all of him, you do the best you can.

“Good girl.” Andy growls down at you as soon as he’s able to breathe normally again. The pad of his thumb goes to wipe a stray bead of cum from the corner of your mouth. He presses the sticky digit to your lips, watching as you lick it clean.

After a moment, your husband reaches down to help you off of your aching knees. The bastard could’ve at least had the decency to offer you a fucking pillow. His big hands go the swell of your ass, massaging and kneading your ample curves.

“Just so you know, if you ever let me hear you call me an “old man” again, I swear you won’t walk right for a week. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal.” You murmur as you nuzzle your make-up smeared face against the fabric of his gray t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Andy Bear. You’re as young and as spritely as they come.”

“And don’t you forget it.” He hisses before delivering a sharp swat to your ass for your trouble. "Cheeky little brat."

END

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kittycatboyhalo · 16 days

Text

My daydreaming has recently just reverted to my middle school form so here’s the edgy BBH lab AU that I’ve been chewing on

Evil lab, probably just the federation does human testing

they take bbh, a regular guy, and try to genetically form him into an idea assassin or something. Night vision resulting in glowing, white eyes, camouflaged skin to blend in with statues, lighter bones to better climb and scale buildings, and a tail for balance. Sharp teeth, claws, and horns all as backup weapons. Enhanced speed and strength. He’s now a man made demon! his creators are likely pleased! They’ve created a perfect being to do their biddings. Perfect to steal artifacts, to spy, and to kill.

They realize they’ve made a mistake when they try to send bbh on his first mission. All their work resulted in Bad’s brain changing as well. He goes from a reasonable guy they kidnapped to an instinct filled, FURIOUS demon. They didn’t do much psychological upkeep or brainwashing when they altered him, they might have assumed or had a plan to mess with his frontal lobe and amygdala but either, oops, forgot, OR accidentally altered it to make him 10x more unruly.

the second his feet hit the ground he immediately turns back and probably takes out a scientist or two before being sedated.

no they have an absolutely livid and untamable perfect assassin that they continuously try to hypnotize or brainwash but it never works. They try sedation or drugging but every time Bad just naps it off and wakes up angrier. It isn’t until they introduce Bad to the child subjects, idk why they would actually do that there’s like a fifty percent chance he would just fly into homicidal rage, and he becomes fiercely protective and loyal to them.

finally they have leverage over him.

and then eventually he either breaks out or gets rescued with the kids but I haven’t really got there yet 😗

idk about you guys but I love reading what people are thinking about or their personal Brain aus.

this sparked from rewatching the analogue horror videos from the Poppy Playtime devs. I really enjoy the plot and horror they have but also find it very amusing that these people just didn’t really have a way to actually subdue their experiments in times of disaster? They literally had Huggy Wuggy just standing in the atrium what were they thinking

#qsmp #badboyhalo #AU #lab au

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thefriendlyferretwriter · 7 months

Text

A new side of you: Waltz of emotions

Pairing: Eugene 'Flash' Thompson x reader

Summary: Surprised, again and again.

Warning: 13k words, Tension, tension, tension, angst, a bit of fluff, OCs, don't know what else to warn you about.

A/N: I feel like this is standard by now but sorry again for being such a slow writer, I hope the fic is enough to be forgiven for my usual tardiness. Might have edited but I'm not a native speaker so get ready for plenty of mistakes, enjoy!

Tags: (Don't hesitate to tell me if you want to be added or removed, and thank you again for your feebacks ❤️) @loxerclu8 @wheelerzluv @ray-of-sunrise @m00nkn1ghts

People's view of the costume is accurate. The fabric is thin and flexible but unfortunately, it is quite a cold way to fight crimes during the chilly nights of New York.

"That was awesome! I wonder if it'll end up on the internet?"

"I doubt it. If it does end up there it'll be out of frame and shaky. The police were quite insistent when they were shoving people to safety," I say feeling the breeze as I swing around at full speed.

Landing with a huff I realize I'm out of breath, "Ned." I pant, "Remind me to get a custom binder, this one is killing me."

"I told you! You can't just buy any binder from the internet. It's like corsets, of course they are uncomfortable if they are not tailored for you!"

Your vendetta against Hollywood has reached another level," I say taking another deep breath.

With a leap I swing from the American Museum of Natural History and land on a school's rooftop.

A buzz makes me pause and crouch to check my phone and see a second call coming in from May.

"I got to go May is on the other line."

"Okay, 'night."

"'Night."

Swiping on my phone I wait for the inevitable.

"Where are you?!"

I try to defuse the damage as I look around, "I am at the park close to the flat," I draw out slowly.

"…Which park?"

…

"Do not tell me you're close to Central Park which is on the other side of the city."

"Okay, I won't say it."

"Damnit! you know I don't want you farther than Long Island at night!"

"I know, I know!" I whine, "But there was this guy with a huge Scorpion armor and he was doing mass destruction! The police couldn't do it alone they needed help!" I protest.

"Before being Spiderman you're my niece and my niece will obey the very few rules I put in place for her safety."

"Don't you think the fact that I can knock out people 3 times my size should allow me a bit of indulgence on those rules?"

"No young lady I read a ton of books on this and I know how this ends."

"How?" I ask curiously.

"Mostly teen pregnancy."

"Wow! Okay let's not be dramatic now, shall we?"

"And juvie," May continues her list.

"May I fight crimes, I don't commit it."

"Listen we have a system and it works, I don't get sarcastic with my boss and you don't go farther than Long Island past 11 PM."

"In retrospect, I think we should've thought harder on those rules."

"Too late, the system works and it's flawless. Now swing your ass back home before Spiderman gets grounded."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you," she says smugly.

The line dies and I breathe out the annoyance I feel to then breathe in the fresh evening air.

Tearing off my mask I try to crack my neck and let it hang down to massage and release the night's tension when my eyes catch a familiar sigh.

Flash?

He sits on a bench with his phone in hand looking perplexed.

It's been a week since we last saw each other, or even talked. I didn't want to bother him and I have the feeling it's the same for him.

I look down at my wrist and fumble with the different settings before I find and activate the voice modificator.

Swinging down, I drop on the cemented ground and accidentally startle him as he jumps and stumbles to the floor.

"Oh shit, sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I say genuinely with my voice coming out deeper thanks to the device.

Stumbling around to step back up, Flash looks at Spiderman with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor.

A torrent of curses comes out of his mouth along with an excited laugh of disbelief.

"I can't believe it, it's you!" he says and motions to me up and down.

"Oh yeah, it's me!" I say rethinking my decision to offer guidance disguised as Spiderman in front of Flash Thompson.

"Oh my god I was having such a bad night and now I'm talking to Spiderman!"

"Yeah, that's awesome! Listen, I saw you from up there and you looked troubled and honestly a bit underdressed," I point to his light shirt.

"Oh yeah," he says more calmly looking down at his outfit, "I just needed to take a walk to think about-"

He hesitates.

"No that's not important."

"No way, tell me, that's why I came down here," I say sitting on the bench inviting him to join me.

It's not the first time that Spiderman has a sit-down with someone in distress; words being as useful as a handful of punches.

He sighs and sits down, "There's this um-Charity thing and my mom told me I had to bring a date and I told her I would but let's say it's easier said than done."

"Why's that? Having trouble finding a date?" I tease.

"No," he chuckles, "No actually I already know who I want to invite, but I don't know if she would say yes, and even then I don't really know where we stand. Inviting her could compromise everything," he says sliding his hands down his face with a pained sigh.

Is it me?

Who am I kidding? It's not because we kissed once that I'm his only date choice.

"Alright, so you have an idea. Why not ask her?"

"Because she could say no and I really do not want to have the conversation that would follow after that."

"What conversation?"

"You know the conversation!" he shouts full of frustration as he stands up from the bench, "The one a girl gives you when she's not interested in you. The one that goes 'It's not you, it's me' or the 'We're just friends' except in this case I'm not even sure we're friends to begin with!" he finishes his rant pacing left and right.

"That seems complicated," is the only thing I can say after a few moments of tense silence.

"Yeah and also what kind of date would be a charity event?"

"A date?" I choke out.

"I just-I've always been good at reading people, I know whether they hate me or they tolerate me. But recently it's been hard to read her."

I listen silently nodding my head from time to time.

"Before, she just rolled her eyes or would just snap back at me but now she listens to me and she worries about me and I just-I like being around her. I just worry it is all just a front and she's simply gonna drop me or tell me we're not actually friends and she just had pity on me and took me for some sort of charity case."

He finishes sitting back down his head in his hands.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed her." he groans.

I'm thankful for the mask covering my flushed face.

So it is about me.

It couldn't be anyone else. Flash Thompson is a lot of things. Sometimes an idiot, an asshole, even a jerk at times but what everyone always seems to agree on is that Flash Thompson is no player.

"You could always invite her as a friend," I loudly blur out after an awkward pause.

Flash frowns.

"You ask her to be your date and you precise it's as friends," I precise my thought.

"I guess I could try but what if she says no?"

"Well, best case scenario she says yes and you do have a friend. Or worst case scenario, she does pity you and says yes allowing you to hang out with her and convince her to see you as more than that."

He stays silent staring out into the void before snatching his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling her right now before I chicken out."

Oh shit!

"Wow! Hey there how about we think about it before we make any rash decision," I say standing up from the bench in a hurry.

"What do you mean? you just told me to ask her."

"Listen," I panic and rack my brain for any last-second plan, "Here's what I propose. You walk back home and think about what you're gonna say to her on the way there, and then you call her once you get there."

He pauses, "Yeah okay, that makes sense."

A buzz startles me and reminds me of my curfew.

Trying to stay calm I hurriedly try to bid my goodbyes.

"O-Okay well, I got to go. Hope it works out for you!" I say carefully stepping backward, "As for me I'm expected somewhere so I'm gonna head there!"

"Oh yeah for sure. That's crazy man, I've always wanted to meet you, and now that it's the case you've just helped me!"

He looks back down at his phone's contact and slowly takes a few steps back nodding to me as a goodbye.

"You know what they say. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, emotionally and physically!" I shout jogging back.

When I'm sure he's far enough, I leap into the air and swing away.

"Wait! Can we take a picture-?!" his demand fades as I shoot my next web.

Answering the phone I reassure May I'm on my way and get a few more calls from Flash that I cannot answer.

The last swing sends me to my bedroom window with a thud as I slide the glass panel up and throw my phone in first before climbing inside in a hurry as my cell buzzes again.

"Is that you?!"

"Yeah, I'm home!" I say sliding my mask off before trying to unzip my suit as I stomp around attempting to slip out of the gear.

Jumping on one foot I try to snatch the blue and red material off my feet and trip falling on the cool wooded floor.

"What was that?"

May's panicked tone and the incessant buzz coming from my phone is overwhelming.

Out of breath and my head still on the floor, I raise my hand and blindly pat around my covers before they brush against the device.

I sit myself up with a grunt and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hi!" I say enthusiast and breathless.

"Hi," he answers back abruptly.

"Everything okay?" I ask dipping my elbow amongst my blanket and burying my hand in my hair to ground it.

"Yeah!" he says back quickly with a lighter tone, "Sorry I just thought I would end up leaving a voicemail and now I just don't remember what it is that I wanted to say," he awkwardly confesses.

"Oh yeah sorry about that I was taking a shower," I skillfully lie.

"You often run out of breath after a shower?"

"No! it's just, I left my phone in my room and I heard it in the shower and started panicking the third time it rang I thought something horrible happened," I spew out.

I'm getting really good at this.

"Oh crap, my bad I didn't think it would-" he sighs, "Of course you would think that, I shouldn't have called at this hour I'm sorry I didn't think."

"No! Really it's nothing. What did you call about?"

Silence on the other line. I let it run until I start thinking he must've hung up and asks if he's still there.

"Yeah um, okay so here I go. There's this charity event that happens like every year and it's kind of badly seen to go alone."

My heart speeds up and hammers against my ribcage. It feels like my blood skyrockets through my body leaving an ice-cold feeling behind that gives me chills. This feeling gets stuck in my throat making me believe I'm struggling to breathe.

"And you'd like me to be your plus one?" I attempt to finish the sentence for him.

"Not like a date or anything like that! More like as…friends?" he ends his sentence with hesitation.

Leave the blood impression right now it feels like I was punched in the guts as the air escapes my lungs in a swift.

"Friends?" I repeat meekly to make sure he is comfortable with the term.

"Yeah if you're up to it?" he asks anxiously in return.

I feel frozen for a moment before my eyes are drawn to my wardrobe.

"Yeah of course. I'd love to go with you," I say putting my phone on speaker before laying it down on my bed.

Standing up with a grunt and newfound confidence, I skip to my closet and push stuff back and forth.

"So what type of event is it exactly?"

"Well, it's a charity but it's a charity on the Upper East Side so…there's going to be a lot of snobby people," he says with an awkward chuckle, avoiding talking about our apparent new friendship.

"So," I draw out, "Dressed up."

"Yup," he confirms.

I sigh pushing a few hangers back, "Well I don't think they'd be much impressed with me," I chuckle embarrassed, "When is the event exactly? Maybe I could go grab something that won't cause a public humiliation," I chuckle throwing yet another hanger back with a huge cling.

"That's where you hate me," he says with a pained voice.

Frowning I look at my phone still lying on my bed.

"The event is tomorrow."

My eyes bulge. I don't feel angry, I'm more surprised than anything else.

"Oh, so that really was a last-minute decision to invite me," I try to say light-heartedly.

'Actually, I already know who I want to invite.'

"It wasn't," he replies softly.

I'm getting better at making him open up. A fact that makes me smile, but I realize that I can't push my luck at the risk of going too far and having him close back up in a blink.

Trying to brush off his confession I decide to joke.

"You know Flash, when people invite you to events they tell you days beforehand," I laugh, "Now I don't even have anything worth wearing to your fancy charity!"

"I'm sorry."

"No I'm not mad it's just-I don't want to walk in with a summer dress on," I chuckle trying to reassure him, "And it takes more than a few hours of shopping to find a dress that looks expensive but is not."

"You don't own a black dress?" he asks confused.

"No."

"Not to generalize but I'm ready to bet every girl owns at least one plain black dress."

"I mean I do but it doesn't fit me anymore," I say putting the black dress at least three times too small against my much-grown self.

After a few moments of silence, I start thinking the invitation is gonna be retracted.

"I might have a solution."

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you."

"And why is that?" I frown trying to conceal my offense with a teasing tone.

"Can't tell you either."

"I'm not liking this."

The other line stays silent for a moment.

"Does that mean you don't want to come anymore?"

"No, that's not what I said," I clear up.

"Good, I'll take care of it, and thank you again. Would you like me to pick you up? Tomorrow I mean."

"Oh no, thank you but I'm sure I can find my way around."

"Okay," I wouldn't bet on it but I think I hear the hint of a smile in his words.

"Hum, when does it start? When do I have to arrive exactly?"

"Oh well you know, there is no designated time but people generally arrive later and leave earlier so no pressure."

"Okay so let's say around 9 PM? How does that sound?"

"Awesome."

"Cool," I smile.

I look around my room sheepishly waiting for a goodbye or any other signs he would like to continue the conversation.

Walking to my bed I spin around and let my ankle bump into my bed's rail letting myself fall back on my covers.

"Cool," he repeats.

"Cool," I reiterate chuckling.

"Thanks again, really."

"It's no big deal I'm sure I'm gonna have fun anyways," I say with a smile.

"Well you know it's a charity event so people are gonna do a LOT of talking."

"Why are you making it sound bad," I chuckle.

"I wouldn't say bad, I'd say boring," he says nonchalantly.

"I think I can handle boring for a night."

"I'll take you on that one," he says almost as a challenge.

My door creaks open and May's frown makes my smile drop.

"Hum I'm sorry but I have to go, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

When the line goes silent I awkwardly sit up waiting for a scolding or a rant or anything else.

"So?" she asks with her brows raised.

I know she's waiting for an explanation but the news is too important, "I might've been invited to an event tomorrow."

The warmth is too much and in the heat, I throw my cover to the side with the help of my feet to turn around and try to go back to sleep in my haze.

Having opened my blinds and window during the heated night to let in the fresh breeze, the sunlight shines through and highlights my cluttered mess of a bedroom.

The usual New York rumble is accompanied by a merry voice.

"Wakey wakey night owl!"

"May," I whine sleepily, "It's the last days of summer, can't you let me oversleep?"

"Nope because you have a package and I've been trying to guess what's in it for about twenty minutes now."

"Huh?" I say with a hoarse voice.

"Come on, stand up!"

"I don't remember buying anything," I try to reason.

"And I don't remember buying anything either so come on up, up!" she says jumping up and down.

Sliding off my bed a box is thrown onto it. A huge white rectangular box closed and flattered by a black bow wrapped around it like a Christmas present.

I groan.

"I know what it is."

"What?"

"I have nothing to wear for the charity and Flash proposed to help but I thought it would just be a quick drop off not…that," I say with a gesture to the box.

"How nice."

"I guess but I'm uncomfortable getting a dress from him. If it wasn't so last minute I would've bought one for myself but-"

"Didn't you say it was a fancy event?"

"Yeah?" I answer not getting her point.

"Rich people smell a fraud it's better if he's the one dressing you up for tonight."

"Dressing me," I bark a laugh, "Flash would not dress me, maybe his mom helped or-"

I'm cut off by the phone going off in the other room.

As May walks out to reach it I admire the simplicity yet classiness of the box. I smile as I fidget with the bow before tugging on it and letting it loose.

Half-listening to May's phone call I push off the ribbon and lift the lid.

"Holy fuck!"

I throw the lid back on top of the box the corner not fitting back properly and let it slide aside.

"I'll call you right back-what?! What happened?!" May says in a hurry with the phone still glued to her ear.

I face her with my back turned away from my bed where the dress is sitting, "I can't wear that."

"Can't wear what?" she asks walking to my bed and opening the box back.

"Oh wow."

"I know."

"This is gorgeous."

"I know, I can't wear that."

"Wait-why not?"

“It’s too much. It’s the kind of dress you wear to attract attention, not just to walk around at a charity event,” I spit out at full speed as May puts the phone back to her ear and asks the person who is on the other line and who has not bothered to hang up to come forward and open the front door which is not locked.

"I think you're overreacting a little bit. It's just a pretty dress."

Listening to her I gather up the courage to turn back around and have another look at the black glittery dress.

"It's too much! He told me it's an event full of snobby rich people and you know what's gonna happen if I wear this around snobby rich people?"

May straightens up and takes a posh accent, "What a promiscuous little lady you are," she scolds before laughing.

"I'm serious!" I whine taking the dress out of the box.

The dress's length reaches the ground and the long sleeves hang loose. As the front of the dress faces Aunt May, the back view horrifies me.

I choke on my gasp and swiftly turn the dress around.

At the view of the open back of the dress May's eyes match mine as they widen like sausages.

"Oh wow now that's promiscuous," she says with no accent or tease this time.

"What was he thinking?!"

"Nothing. I doubt Flash handpicked this dress himself," she speculates feeling the fabric of the dress.

Her observation is followed by the front door shutting and a voice calling out to May.

"We're in here Happy!"

With a frown, I watch as Happy Hogan appears at the threshold of my bedroom.

"What is he doing here?" I question as I point to him with the dress still in my hands.

"Your aunt said you're going out tonight and she didn't want to stay alone so I proposed to stay with her," he says all the while analyzing the dress up and down before pointing to it, "Where did you get that?"

"It's a gift," May explains.

"No! No no no no no, it's temporary, a temporary borrowed and very expensive looking dress."

"Not just looking," Happy informs me.

My body proves that it is in fact possible to get even more tense.

"What do you mean by that exactly?" I ask with a meek voice.

Seeing my distressed face Happy makes eye contact with May, gauging the situation.

"Well I mean," he draws out walking up to me and grabbing the dress raising it to examine the fabric, "It looks like the kind of dress Tony makes me pick up for Pepper so I figured-"

"Oh my god!" I shout throwing the dress back on my bed.

I walk to my nightstand and reach for my phone.

"What are you doing?" May ask.

"I'm canceling," I say hurriedly.

"What? No!" she protests.

Flash's number is already dialed and the phone is placed at my ear as I shoo both of them out of my room.

Hurrying May out I close the door as the fourth dial rings in my ear.

Somehow the sound of his voice allows me to breathe out.

"Hey, what is it?"

"What the fuck Flash!"

The warmth leaves his voice and worry takes its place, "What is it?"

"The dress!"

"What? what's wrong with it, you don't like it?"

"It's too much!" I exclaim.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry."

"What were you thinking?" I said feeling a little guilty knowing he couldn't have guessed that I wouldn't like the dress.

"Hey in my defense I didn't choose the dress."

"Then who did?!"

"Well I wasn't sure so I kinda asked Lea to choose," he hesitates to say.

My brain freezes and a headache is right around the corner, "Wait, isn't she supposed to be on her honeymoon?" I ask pinching my nose and scrunching my eyes closed.

"She was but she's a big part of the charity so she is flying back for tonight and is gonna finish her honeymoon here in New York."

"Oh and so you let her choose a dress for me not thinking that our way of dressing up might be way different?" I ask incredulously.

"You make it sound bad."

"It is Flash!" I shout hyperventilating, "She's a model and this type of dress is made for the runway, not charity, and not on me."

"Wait so the problem is that it doesn't fit?"

"No!" I groan falling back on my bed beside the same dress that is making me break down.

"I'm sorry but I'm having a hard time understanding the problem right now, do you hate the dress is that what it is?"

"No, I don't hate the dress," I say.

It's true I like the dress, it's a pretty dress.

"Have you tried it on?"

I pause and answer 'no' in a tone that says it should be obvious to him that I would never try on a brand-name dress.

"So what's the issue exactly? You don't dislike the dress and you haven't tried it on so you can't complain that it doesn't fit, so what's up?"

"It's not a normal dress," I explain as a matter of fact.

"A normal dress?" I can hear the tease in his tone.

"Yes, a normal dress." I reiterate.

"And what is a normal dress exactly?"

"A dress that doesn't look like it was made in a studio in a fancy part of Beverly Hills!"

"Okay, I understand, Lea has a particular style."

"And Lea knows how to walk around with people's eyes on her!" I shout convinced that he now understands my point of view, "I just-" I sigh, "I don't want to walk in there and have people looking at me and judging me, especially rich snobby people."

"Oh if that's what scares you I can reassure you right now and tell you that no one will pay you any attention."

"You haven't seen the dress," I say as a matter of fact.

"No, but I can tell you that standing beside me as my da-my plus one, everyone will obviously be too busy admiring me to be paying you any mind."

I snort and try to muffle the noise by cupping my mouth but the unflattering cackle reaches the other end of the phone.

I know he's reassured now that I laughed but it doesn't erase my worry.

I calm down and weigh my request before verbalizing it.

"Could you drive me to the event?" I decided to just come out with it hoping for the best.

"What happened to taking the bus?" He asks genuinely.

"Again, you haven't seen the dress and I'd rather not travel around Queens dressed to the nines. I just want to be safe, you know?"

I know that my safety isn't at risk but dressed like that, a judging stare would be as dreadful as a wandering hand.

I can't hear him but I'm certain he nods agreeing with me.

"Well, it would be an honor to be your knight in shining armor for the night knowing you're actually my savior," he jokes, "But sadly there isn't any carriage available so we will have to settle for my car, I hope that's alright."

"Oh what a shame, I expected nothing less than the fanciest vehicle," I chuckle.

"Sorry Cinderella but fairy godmother only managed to get the dress."

"And I still wonder how she managed to do that," I say turning on my side and feeling the fabric.

"That's a secret…Try the dress on and call me back to tell me how it fits. Or better yet text me, It's kind of crazy around here today."

It is only now that I realize there is noise around him, a lot of noise and that makes me gather that he must already be over there helping to set everything up and I'm here having a meltdown and calling him having a tantrum about a dress.

"I'm so sorry I didn't, I mean if I knew you were busy I would've-"

"No no, it's alright really-" He tries to chime in.

"No I mean you're probably busy, I can't believe I didn't think of that-" I ramble before he cuts me off.

"No really, you're a life-savor Parker. Those events are old-fashioned and you're like forced to have someone with you and I really didn't want to spend my entire night answering the same question over and over again-"

It's his turn to ramble and I find myself listening on liking the idea of him opening up to me.

It is not every day that I get to listen to Flash Thompson ramble, let alone to me.

"It's annoying when people crowd you and ask why you don't have a date with you and they end up dissecting what must be wrong with you to not have a girl on your arm."

"Sounds annoying."

"It is. Sometimes I manage to avoid that kind of event but for this one my family is in charge so," He finishes dragging his word.

"You are forced to participate."

He confirms and gets interrupted by another voice. I frown trying to listen and make up a bit of the conversation going on before he comes back to the line with a sigh.

"I'm sorry it's a bit crazy right now. My mom always goes nuts the day of these events," he says as I can hear Mme.Thompson shouting in the back.

"Okay, that's my cue. Try the dress on and text me okay?"

"Sure," I say with a smile.

"Bye," he says along with another sentence that I cannot decipher, presumably aimed at someone else before the line dies and I'm left lying on my bed retracing the conversation.

I look at the dress once more. The sparkles look more and more inviting instead of revolting and I stand back up fixing myself before I open the door to face both May and Happy.

Making awkward eye contact I see that they are half bent toward my door before they stand straight up and cough to ease the tension.

After a moment of silence where my gaze is enough judgment, I speak up and ask for help.

"Can you help me do my hair?"

Meddling with the final strand of my hair May stands back to admire her work as I add the final touch to my makeup applying the red lipstick with precision.

Closing the cap I stand up and have an overall look at myself as May squeals and hands me my jacket. She asks a few more questions when I head to the door and check if I have everything I need placed in the pouch she lent me for the night.

My brain barely has time to register the questions before I hum and give a half-assed answer as I put my jacket on and try to exit the apartment.

I turn around to hear her give me rule after rule for the night.

"Flash drives you to the event, you stay at this event," she points out referring to the birthday incident where the only reason I wasn't grounded was the fact that my exit saved me from a potential wound from the blowout of fireworks.

"You have your fun and you come home at 1 AM. Not 2, not 3, 1 AM, got it?"

I nod.

"And Flash drives you back, no one else, Flash."

"Yes," I say a bit exasperated.

"And you stay glued to him all night."

"Yes, Aunt May I promise! Can I go now he's waiting for me outside," I lie.

He's not waiting for me outside, as a matter of fact I haven't even sent him a message informing him I'm ready for him to pick me up.

"Okay be careful-And text me both when you arrive and when you're coming home."

I nod at her as I walk backward to the elevator and watch as she smiles before closing the apartment door. I huff loudly and turn around to look down to my phone texting Flash that I'm ready and will be waiting for him outside.

It's when I'm halfway down the elevator that my phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I just got your text and huh," he draws out.

I don't answer and just let him bask in the silence of the line.

"I'm sorry things were crazy. I'm just now getting ready."

"Wait you're getting ready?! Then when are you coming to pick me up?" I ask walking out of the elevator and pushing the door of the apartment building open letting the New York ambiance bask me in its hurriedness.

The breeze reaches me and I rub my arm getting used to the weather slipping up the back of my jacket and biting at my open back when I notice a…no way.

"Flash what did you do?"

"What-what do you mean what did I do?" he stutters.

"I mean why is there a guy looking at me waiting by a car that looks like it's worth more than the neighborhood," my question is more of a statement.

I hear him curse under his breath.

"I'm really sorry. She told me she would be subtle."

"Who?" I ask taking my eyes off the supposed driver.

"My mom. I told her I had to come to get you but she still needed me around so I insisted and even said I'd call you to push back our meeting but she said it would be disrespectful and that she would send someone."

I stay silent processing all of it.

"I'm sorry I wanted to call and tell you but I just got to my room."

I look back up to the driver and make eye contact before we exchange hasty smiles.

I sigh thinking of this all over walking down the stairs one by one slowly.

"Okay, I guess it wasn't really in your power. But you better be here when I arrive I will not show up and walk around alone." I say firmly.

"Of course," he says in all seriousness.

Telling him I'll see him soon, I hang up and focus my gaze on the driver as I approach him.

"Miss Parker?"

I nod before confirming my identity verbally.

He then motions to the car before opening the door and gesturing for me to step in.

When it clicks shut I am left with the silence of the empty vehicle.

As the buildings go by and I get closer to the venue my stress level rises and I start fidgeting and falling into a cycle of grabbing my phone, second-guessing texting Flash, and then abandoning the idea and letting my body fill up with more anxiety.

The arrival doesn't stop that nagging feeling that causes goosebumps to rush down my spine, that or the wind nipping at my back through my coat.

Walking up the stairs my nerves run wild through my body as my legs shake walking up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I make eye contact with a man standing in front of the doors. Approaching him carefully, I struggle to find my voice and I am cut off in my stutter as he guesses my last name.

Confused, I confirm his guess and my frown must ring a bell for him as he turns to the door, "I was informed that one of Mme.Thompson's guests would arrive alone and I'm guessing it's you," he says as he buzzes me in.

I nod to him as a thank you and continue to walk ahead this time on a soft and long red carpet instead of stone.

The voices, which were mere mumbles turn into booming voices coming from every corner of the room and my coat is starting to make me sweat reminding me that I'll have to discard it soon.

The thought makes me sweat even more.

Like fate, my eyes scan my surroundings and immediately fall on him standing in front of the counter right beside Lea.

He's fidgety and I see Lea receiving a glass of alcohol before making eye contact with me as she nods in my direction.

I feel hands on my shoulders and jolt stepping aside to see who touched me. I see a man who stumbles back apologizing and realize he is trying to gather my coat to let me join the crowd and a cold sweat replaces the regular sweat.

As the fabric leaves my shoulder my voice stays stuck in my throat and instead, a small squeak manages to slither out.

Still looking for my voice, I turn to him walking away with my coat.

I'm left standing there helpless.

When I see the man disappear I turn back to my previous position to look back at Flash when I see him getting hit behind the head and scolded by Lea. I also notice the glass now empty on the counter as I hear his voice more distinctly dismissing Lea with a 'Whatever' as he rushes to my side.

"He took my jacket," I husher panicked but still trying to be subtle.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely taking off his jacket.

"I feel naked," I whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he reiters putting his jacket on my shoulders before ushering me to walk ahead leading us towards Lea at the bar.

His hand is placed on my back flaring shiver with the new sensation of his hand on my back, or maybe it is just the fresh jacket on me?

My brain focuses back and sets on Lea greeting me.

With her asking how I've been I let my hand play with the jacket and nod along with the conversation. Flash himself messes with the blazer by first securing it over my shoulder and then playing with the sleeves that hang loosely.

When my mind stops fixating on him, I blink in surprise when my ears register an apology coming from Lea about the dress. I try to protest and instead thank her for the last-minute save when Flash's mother appears to join and inform us that we need to scatter around.

I stand clueless for a moment before I feel his hand on my back gently pushing me to walk alongside him.

Led around once more I decide to stop being dragged around like a clueless puppet and tug the hand placed on my back to entertwine our arms and walk together instead of letting him direct me around.

I don't talk much. I mostly nod and answer small questions here and there.

The evening runs along pretty smoothly as each interaction the two of us have only lasts few minutes before Flash skillfully finds a way to bid our goodbyes and walk us to yet another couple beckoning us over.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" I ask him trying to glance in the direction he was looking at to see an older lady standing there motioning us to join her.

"That's Garret's grandmother."

"And she's a mean old lady," I deduct.

"No worse, she's a passive-aggressive bitch."

I'm taken aback by his name-calling and look back at the woman waiting impatiently for us.

"I think she's waiting for us," I suggest.

"Okay, don't talk and stay close to me," he instructs.

"You mean like I've been doing for the past hour and a half?"

My teasing provokes a smile to appear on his face for a moment but it quickly disappears when his head turns back to the lady as he walks us toward her.

I hug his arm getting closer to him as he uses his opposite hand and brings it to our linked arms as a sort of comfort I'm guessing.

"Eugene," she beckons us over with a honeyed voice.

Her mask falls for a moment and I can see a glimpse of irritation before, like any other influential figure, she morphs her face into a more pleased expression.

"Madam Pennington," Flash says with an edge.

I first think that his tone might've been hesitation, but that changes when the woman gets that sour look back on her face and I realize his tone is subtly bitter.

Without trying, my brain does the math in a matter of seconds and I realize that if Flash refers to her with another last name than Garret's it must mean she is divorced.

She makes eye contact with me as my face must've shown that I figured Flash's comment out and her burning stare drives me to get closer to him for protection.

He clears his throat driving her murderous stare back to him as I abandon the idea of nodding along to their conversation and instead subtly look around the room.

The buffet, the people, anything other than the two of them.

"My grandson seems to be upset. When I tried talking to him about it he refused to speak but I did overhear that you two fought over a girl," she ends her sentence looking at me up and down.

"And by overhear you mean that you snooped around against your grandson's wish," his argument is aimed not only at defending himself but McCoy's privacy as well which surprises me.

"Excuse you?"

Her voice getting louder I notice McCoy himself standing just a few feet away from us looking at his grandmother about to blow a fuse and I decide to diffuse the tension.

"I believe your grandson is looking for you," I say nodding toward him standing there frozen, "And Flash your mother is looking for us over there."

Pushing him into motion I look back to see Garret approaching his grandmother but decide to not dwell on the talk they're about to have.

"Are you okay?" I ask as we hurry away from them.

He doesn't answer and just nods with a hum. He does however ask where his mother is and that's when I frown.

"You know I made it up so we could flee the conflict, right?"

He stops in his tracks before turning to me and I can see the gears turning in his head.

"Oh, yeah."

We keep eye contact and it must take a toll on him because he then avoids my stare and decides to look forward, all stiff.

I'm guessing the only reason he doesn't flee is the fact that our arms are still tangled together but I don't want to let go.

Maybe it's selfish but since the last time we talked, or more precisely the last we talked and I was not in gear, he ran away and ghosted me.

I want an explanation.

"This place is beautiful," I say looking around at the structure trying to pry a conversation out of him.

"I have something to tell you."

His tone is particular and I can't make out if he's hopeful or desperate.

My own tone embarrasses me as I egg him on full of anticipation.

"There's this type of dance and-" he cuts himself off and stares behind us.

Turning around, I spot McCoy staring right back at him.

"Not again," I hear him say under his breath.

I want to ask him if he's gonna be okay or if he'd like me to stay with him to talk to Garret but he shakes my hands off his arm and grabs it before taking off in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on follow me."

I can only let out a small squeal of surprise before catching up with his footing as the previous noisy venu dies down when we reach the second floor.

Once up there he doesn't stop and continues to sprint down the hall before taking a turn and tugging me to a corner away from McCoy.

My back is placed against the wall and I rearrange the jacket on my shoulders as I see Flash look around the corner to see if Garret is following us.

I suppose he gave up the idea as Flash visibly relaxes and turns back to me.

The proximity reminds me of that night at the laser game and the sudden look on his face tells me he must reminisce as well.

He knows that I know what we're both thinking about because we avoid eye contact and I let my eyes bounce between the multiple decors as a decoy.

"This place is beautiful. I wonder what it would feel to go to sleep in a place like that," I try to deflect from the tension.

"It's like any other place, you go to bed and you fall asleep," he brushes off trying to avoid the tension as well.

The simple statement makes me turn back to him and make eye contact as the realization slowly sets in.

"No."

"No, what?" he frowns.

"You slept here before?" my question sounds more like a statement.

"Yeah."

"But you live like 20 minutes away."

"Oh so now you know where I live Parker?"

My eyes widen at his insinuation.

I'm not a stalker!

"Well after you pointed out that I didn't know where you lived I was curious. If anything you're the one who told me I should know where you lived."

"Yeah and by that I meant coming over not googling my address."

"I did not Google your address!" I lie, "You're making me look bad!"

My restlessness makes him laugh.

Still chuckling he points ahead silently asking me to follow him.

"It's more of a tradition. My mom wants us to stay and sleep here every year," he says walking peacefully beside me.

It's a change compared to his erratic running just a few minutes ago.

"So you also slept at the fairytale mansion?"

"Fairytale mansion?"

"Yeah, the one where Lea got married."

Confused, it takes him a few seconds before his frown disappears and his mouth opens with an 'Oh'.

"Yeah," he simply says opening a door as I stand here frozen.

I know he probably wants me to enter but I'm confused and look at him waiting for an explanation.

He doesn't answer and instead walks inside reaching the other side of the bed to retrieve something.

With hesitation, I take a cautious step in looking around as if the room is full of boobie traps when I hear a dull thump and look back to see him throwing a gym bag on the queen-sized bed.

It must be the glamour of the night inhibiting my ability to be logical at times because it takes me a few seconds before my confusion turns into curiosity.

"Is that your bag?"

"No, I just love going through other people's stuff."

I don't answer or laugh and just raise my brows.

"Yes Parker, It's my bag."

I relax and close the door behind me before walking toward the bed warily and sitting down softly as the mattress sinks under me.

"I thought if I have to run away from Garret, why not pause before going back out there?" he explains throwing a book on the bed covers.

He dives back into his bag as I grab the book.

"Hey, I know that book!" I note joyfully.

I see him stop scrambling through his bag and look back up at me.

"Really?" he hesitates.

"Yeah I talked about it with Susan on your birthday. Usually, she's not into these kind of books but she's been watching a show similar to it so I mentioned it to her."

When he doesn't answer and doesn't make a move to dive back into his bag, another question comes troubling me.

"By the way, how did you hear about this book?"

"Oh um, someone told me about it," he says fumbling with the clothes inside the bag.

"Really? Who?" I ask knowing this isn't his type of book.

He doesn't answer and I assume it must be Garret who told him about the book and he simply doesn't wanna talk about him.

"You know as much as I don't like Garret, he's been your friend for years," I tip-toe around the issue and remember that he must not know about the video I saw where he's going off on McCoy and his clique.

"And?"

"And. With such a great taste in books, how could you not forgive him?" I try to turn the tension into something lighter with a chuckle gesturing to the book.

His frown turns into surprise, "Oh yeah, yeah! It's Garret who told me about it a few weeks ago."

"I never thought Garret would be the kind of guy who reads outside of school," I try to say without sounding mean.

A flash of red in my peripheral vision attracts my attention to turn away from the papercover and fills me with excitement when I recognize the sight.

"You brought him!" I say gripping the plushy and letting the book fall back on the covers.

He seems satisfied with my reaction and tugs his bag to fall back down before he too takes a seat beside me.

I lean down with my feet dangling as my back makes contact with the lavish bedding.

I take a look over at the Spiderman plushy wondering if in the small period of time any harm came his way. My detective work comes out dry as the plush doesn't seem to have been put under any distress when I hear him lay down as well.

I turn my gaze to him ready to make another joke and congratulate him on the plush's wellbeing when I see him already looking back at me and lose my smile as the memories flash back.

The muffled music, the way his curls were laying on his bed. He's been growing them out.

I like his hair long.

I like his lips too.

The calmness I feel is cut short when the bedroom door swings open and the sound of heels thud on the carpeted ground.

I raise up in my seat in a rush and grip the plushy hard against my chest in a panic as if I had just been caught having sex.

"Jee! Ever heard of knocking?!" he shouts sitting up after me.

"Coming from you?" Lea says looking up and down at him with an incredulous expression.

He sighs. I don't know if it comes from annoyance or relief from the previous scene.

"I've been looking for you two, your mother sent me to get you, come on now it's about to start," she says turning back on her heels and pulling the door behind her to leave it half closed waiting for us to join her.

"What's about to start?" I wonder looking at him after admiring her walk away.

The face I find makes mine fall. The paleness and distress plastered on his face makes me feel like I'm about to be the butt of the joke.

His blank stare angers me and figuring out I won't get any explanation from him I jump on my feet straightening the jacket on my shoulder to run after her.

Any other day it would've been to get an autograph but right now my only hope is to get reassured that all of it is just a huge misunderstanding.

Surely 'It's about to start' cannot be that bad? Maybe just a toast, or a speech?

"What's about to start?" I say trying to catch up to her but my question goes unanswered when we reach the top of the stairs and I see the Thompson matriarch taking the venue by storm as she speaks up in the middle of the stairs with her voice reasoning through the immense space.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

I hear her call out before my arm is engulfed and my gaze is redirected to him.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you really, but I kept being interrupted and then there was Garret and then we had a moment of calm and we started to talk and-"

"This evening has been fulfilling and I enjoy each and every one of your presence-"

My ears cannot keep up in between the two speeches. I'm even more overwhelmed when I realize that Lea has left us at the top of the split stairs, walked beside Aliyah, and joined her newlywed husband down the stairs.

"The time has come, and I know you enjoy it as much as I do," she says with a cheeky smile and a look of knowledge across the room sending the surroundings into a fit of chuckles.

"So now. I invite you to take your partner by the arm, and let's join each other in the other room so the waltz can take place."

The end of her speech sends a cold sweat down my back and I turn back to him unable to scream.

I'm speechless and incapable of voicing my anger and frustration.

The words want to come out but my brain is mushing together my two arguments, the one where I tear him a new one for not warning me or the one where I yell that I don't know how to dance.

Why didn't he think of inviting someone who knows how to dance?!

"A waltz?! I don't even know how to dance!" I say loudly enough to share my panic and frustration without attracting any looks.

His newest excuse gets cut off by his mother reaching us at the top of the stairs, " What are you two still doing here, come on chop chop," she finishes clapping her hands to drive us to hurry downstairs.

Another gasp fights its way into my lungs when I realize I'm about to disappoint her as well.

It's only logical for her son to dance in an event she organized.

I'm standing here looking like an idiot with my mouth wide open when my own voice surprises me, "I don't know how to dance!" I say point-blank.

"Of course you do! You went to the same elementary school and I distinctly remember your grade took ball lessons," she says proudly.

The new information confuses me and I doubt the woman's memory.

Maybe she's confusing me with another girl.

Not knowing how to question her or flatly deny her version of the event, I start to babble as I notice Lea walking back up the stairs with her arm under her husband's.

"No-I. I don't. I mean-I never," I ramble, any argument dying on my tongue leaving me a stuttering mess.

I don't know how to word my sentence when my eyes notice Flash's face getting sour the more his mother insists.

"Mom she said she doesn't want to," he says dryly.

I don't know if it's out of annoyance or out of shame but both possibilities are taking a toll on me and I feel the tears coming alongside the lack of oxygen.

"Well, what do you propose we do? Your father isn't here so I can't dance and one of us needs to!"

"We've been hosting this event every year for 5 years now I think we can sit this one out," he says somewhat confidently.

"I would've liked a bit of a heads up Eugene," Aliyah scolds him through her teeth.

Yeah, me too.

"They're waiting for us. Flash come on, come dance with me," Lea says extending her hand to him and taking a look at her proposal I see Mme.Thompson's bulb light up atop her head.

"You didn't even tell her there would be a dance?!" Her accusation seems rhetorical as the deep frown on her face doesn't seem ready to welcome any excuses.

He scrunches his eyes close and rubs them but doesn't answer and opens them back up to look at me.

I see regret and wonder if he regrets inviting me. A ball clogs my throat and I try to stay as stone-faced as possible instead of making a scene by dropping on the stairs and starting to ball like a baby.

He breathes in before following Lea's lead and I stop him. Placing my hand on his chest, I then shrug off the jacket he gave me and hand it back to him, my subconscious somehow realizing he would need it to look put together.

He walks down the stairs as his mother softly takes my arm under hers.

"I'm sorry, I would think my son would have the decency to tell you about this," she sighs as we walk down the stairs.

"But then again I should have known better with how different he's been acting lately."

I didn't intend to answer but that last bit of rant resonates with me and the wave of embarrassment and sadness I feel take a step back to leave place to my curiosity.

"Yeah I think Lea made a comment about it," I say looking at his back.

He suddenly turns his head around and looks at me following him before he turns back around and walks ahead taking his place with Lea in the middle of the room with the others.

Mme.Thompson stops us to stand around the crowd around the room and leave enough space for the others to dance in the middle of it.

Taking her attention away from me, she nods away seemingly to someone before music starts resounding in the area.

"I shouldn't burden you with that," she says with a warm smile while she rubs my arm in comfort.

"Oh no it doesn't burden me. I just hope he gets better."

My well wishes widen her smile.

"I'm glad he has you to hang out with," she says warmly.

"You're a good influence on him. and I can only hope you two stay close, it's not every day my son doesn't complain about this event."

"Yes, he told me about that. He was very thankful for saving him from those stares about him not having a date," I remember our conversation.

"Stares? Why would anyone stare at him fo not having a date?"

I frown, "You know. The rule about having a date for this charity in fear of being the talk of the night," I say trying to nudge her to remember.

"There was never such a rule. Who told you that? Eugene? Léa?"

I'm left speechless and with my mouth hanging open as the frown orning my face doesn't subside.

Her own frown is quickly replaced by a smile before she abruptly apologizes when a woman motions her over.

The loss of her arm is like a warm blanket has been ripped away making me notice the stares I was previously blind to.

A couple stares at me while another switches their stare back and forth between me and Flash, probably wondering why his date is not the one in his arms.

I look at him and see he's arguing with Léa while they waltz around and the sight would impress me if I wasn't confused as to why they look like they're ready to bite at each other's throat.

Another peep and I see that same man watching me with a nasty look before not-so-subtly whispering to his wife who makes eye contact with me before she answers him with a snarky smile.

I look around trying to convince myself I'm being tricked by my own paranoia when I start hearing my own intakes of breath and know it's a sign that it's all getting too much.

In my panic and without Ms.Thompson around to take my mind off things, I search for his face and find him already looking at me.

The panic sets in my chest and I know I need to step out for fresh air but I hesitate to do so in worry of the scene looking bad to the public.

Feeling the meltdown creeping up closer and closer, I look around and notice an arch under the stairs leading to a hallway and remember seeing multiple people passing through during the night and I conclude it must be the path towards a bathroom.

Sending a tense smile his way, I turn around to walk away.

Getting closer to my goal I step aside to let someone exit before walking in and locking the bathroom door behind me.

With the door shutting off most other noise from outside, I stand in front of the mirror and take a deep breath filling my lungs and trying to shake my head off those thoughts before hanging my head down and blowing out.

I raise my head and look at myself in the mirror to see the tears pricking my eyes and silently scold myself before reaching for a towel and trying my best to chase away the tears without messing up my mascara.

Another breath in and I take in my appearance one more time giving myself a pep talk before straightening my dress and deciding to go back out there before anyone starts to whisper about a possible date on the run.

I wouldn't want him to be surrounded.

Or maybe he'd like me to go.

I remember his face, the one he had on those damn stairs where I wondered why I accepted his invitation and why I let myself believe it could be that easy.

I violently shake my head off those thoughts and unlock the door ready to indulge the rest of this night before cutting all contact with Flash Thompson as I hear the distant music flooding back in my ears.

Lost in my thoughts I run straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry I-" My automatic response is cut short when I recognize him and the words get stuck in my throat.

"Hi," he blurs out.

I can only say hi back coldly as I believe any other response would send me back into the bathroom to place another tissue under my eyes.

"I swear I was gonna tell you."

His voice breaks the silence and when my ears register his words, I can't respond and instead walk around him to the other side of the hallway with my mind fixed on the idea that tonight was a mistake.

"No need to say sorry Flash-" I say nonchalantly, done with this poor decision of mine to accept his invitation.

"But I want to!"

I mess with a bust displayed on a table and let my finger slide on the statue trying to avoid his stare.

"Listen, it's completely my fault and I'm an idiot for not telling you. I was freaking out when I asked you to come here with me and I had my mind set so hard on you telling me you wouldn't come that when you said yes I was taken by surprise and the dance completely slipped off my mind."

I listen on with a frown. I stop messing with the bust and turn around leaning on the table as I look down avoiding his stare.

"My mom was the one who reminded me of it and then you called freaking out about the dress so I focused on that and I forgot again and then you walked in with your dress and then there was Garret's grandma and then Garrett and everything else followed so when there was just the two of us I just couldn't remember. And then Léa came in and you looked so sad and scared and angry I didn't know what to do."

I stand there listening to him spit out everything weighing on him before he suddenly breathes in for the first time and looks at me.

"I'm so sorry. I really am."

His gaze traps me and the remorse drowning his irises drains the anger out of me.

"You also lied about the date rule," I say, my voice barely able to convey any emotion.

I don't even find it in myself to yell at him, any scolding coming to mind being one he already gave himself.

"I'm an idiot and a coward and I completely get it if you never want to talk to me again."

At that I don't even know what to answer.

I did say I'd cut all contact with Flash Thompson after tonight but just a few weeks back I would've also said I'd never talk to him outside of schoolwork.

"Okay," I say after a while of silence trying to set us back in a way we can both be comfortable discussing with each other.

"If we're going on an apology spree I think I should be apologizing as well."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for? I'm the one who invited you last minute, so last minute that you didn't even have anything to wear."

I hear his step closing up on me before I put distance between us and walk back and forth down the hall.

"You invited me here to be your partner and I couldn't even participate in the important part of the night. Then there were the stairs and then people were talking and looking at you and Lea and then at me and it was all just so-"

My apology turns into a ramble and the simple retelling of the event produces that same panic inside of me.

Getting ready to excuse myself to go to the bathroom a second time, I turn around to see him standing right behind me. I can't look at him and instead focus my gaze on the floor trying to breathe properly when I feel his arms gently wrap around me and pull me in for a hug.

My finger messes with the fabric at the back of his jacket as my face is buried in the front of it trying to hide my face and not make eye contact.

I fool myself into thinking if I avoid eye contact with him we will stop talking in circles or better yet stop avoiding each other like the plague.

I also hope this way he won't see me on the verge of crying for the second time tonight.

"If anything," he says using my words as I feel his hand come up to stroke my hair, "I'm the one who should've thought better than to think you would still remember those dance classes," he says in a lighter tone.

I recognize his attempt to lighten up the situation and change the topic.

His comment makes me frown and against the warm feeling blossoming in my chest, I lift my face from the depth of his jacket to look at him.

"Yeah your mom talked about that but I don't think I ever took any dance classes, I think she mistook me for someone else."

His face, previously relaxed, falls and a sympathetic smile appears, "No you did," he says quietly, matching the hushed hallway.

My knitted brows are enough indication for him to continue his explanation.

He exhales through his nose and looks down messing with my hand to avoid making eye contact, "It was back when we were…around six? Seven?"

My confusion only deepens as I'm unable to rack my brain for a memory when I feel him tug on my hand gently drawing me closer to him and my frown turns into a muted gasp.

I don't have time to ask what he is doing when he laces our hands together and asks me in the quietest voice if he can.

It is then I realize he's asking to put his hand on my bare back to, I assume, teach me how to waltz.

I can't find my voice, the situation taking me aback so much so that instead of voicing my consent I decide to instead nod and place his hand myself to reassure him of my agreement.

I did not realize that my back was cold, most likely due to getting used to the lack of coverage but I feel it now as his hand feels hot against it.

My full attention is on him before my eyes are drawn down as I see him taking a step forward driving me to respond and step backward.

The motion has me uncontrollably giggling as my left foot follows his right to step to the side.

"Why exactly are we doing this right now?" I ask with another titter.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing Flash," I laugh, "Waltzing in the hallway."

"Dusting up memories. Proving to you that you do know how to dance or if you're right, to teach you how to waltz to apologize for not telling you there would be a dance."

My previous smile falls and I tilt my head back with a loud sigh.

"I apologized again," he awkwardly notices.

"Yes Flash, stop apologizing," I say looking at him straight in the eyes and raising my brows to emphasize my demand.

"I can't, I feel bad."

I reposition my hand on his shoulder with a light stroke as I squeeze our hands letting us continue swaying gently.

I find myself frustrated at his confession when my brain clears up and suddenly remember our last time together.

He feels bad about not telling me about the dance but he doesn't feel bad about running off the last time we saw each other?!

I remember waiting an entire week for a call or even a text. Jumping to my phone at every notification hoping it was him giving me an explanation for running off on me.

I force myself to brush it off when the feeling of his thumb stroking my back envelops me in a daze I want to hold onto until the night inevitably ends.

"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about the dance and I couldn't fulfill my side of the bargain."

"It wasn't a bargain, you just did me a favor."

I can't argue back and decide to look away.

"See, you're doing it."

I look back at him with panic thinking he's going to call me out on my avoidant stare and start a new argument when I see him smile before I notice that he's talking about us dancing and it is then that I look down and realize I'm naturally mirroring his movements.

I laugh impressed at myself before looking back at him as we acknowledge my accomplishment.

Our shared smile diminishes as he stops our dance.

"I didn't invite you because I was desperate," he confesses, "I just really wanted to hang out with you."

I stand there frozen before he gently nudges me sending us back into a soft waltz.

His honesty stuns me and I follow his lead again.

"I think it might be the first time you've been honest with me," It's my turn to confess.

"I don't always lie," he defends himself.

"No, but you never opened up like that before."

I see him trying to avoid eye contact and I silently scold myself as my words seem to drive him away once again.

"I like that," I quickly follow up.

That does it. his eyes raise back to meet mine.

"Why don't you do it more often?"

At that, he seems to hesitate as we gently sway side to side.

"You know friends share their feelings," I remind him of our conversation yesterday where he invited me to come here as a friend.

I can see that the memory rings a bell as he stops our movement once more.

I see his eyes desperate to say something but he's struggling with himself to find the right words as I witness his mouth open and close over and over again.

"See, like riding a bike. It comes back naturally," he manages to say stepping back trying to avoid the subject.

"You're doing it again," I say trying my best to not sound frustrated.

He huffs and slides his hand down his face.

He huff?!

How is he the one pissed off right now?!

I cross my hands taking a harsher stance.

"Okay, you said open so I'm gonna be open," he says fidgeting around.

"If you want us to be friends, you can't expect me to just tell you everything that goes through my head at every moment."

I sigh, "I guess it's fair."

My response appears to relax him.

"But," he interjects, "I guess I could make an effort."

I smile despite myself and look away to try and hide the fact that he turned the situation around once again.

My attempt fails when he looks for my face to catch me smile.

I turn away but he walks around me trying to catch me.

In a last attempt, I hid my face on the verge of laughter.

"Hey wait, you're cheating!" he protests with a chuckle.

I feel his hand on my wrists and yet he doesn't use force to uncover my face.

We stay like this for a moment before I muster the courage to slide my hands away from my eyes and meet his.

He smiles back and that feeling comes again, the one where I feel electricity run through my body.

Like the night he kissed me.

I feel frozen in space like I'm only able to breathe and blink.

He gets closer, so close that our forehead touches and I instinctively close my eyes waiting to feel his lips on mine like that night.

He's so close and yet doesn't make a move to close the distance between us. It makes me groan internally when I remember he's probably waiting for me to make a move.

He's literally two inches away from me and I'm still here what more does he need? for me to swing a flare in the air? Scream at him at the top of my lungs to kiss me?

The tension is suffocating and it's cut short when I feel a breeze of air where I should feel him.

"Thank you, I really wanted to dance with Lea. And don't be mad, I promise, you'll get a dance too," he says cheekily as I stand there completely confused.

He's quick to hold my shoulders and push us to the side. It's when I get my senses back and see a man walk past us to access the bathroom.

I get the answer I'm looking for when I look back at him and see him smile at me.

That's when I have to hold back my laugh with him as the bathroom door closes.

Placing my hand on my mouth, I snort before I see an arm presented to me and look up to see Flash waiting for me.

With the tension now gone I happily hold his arm as he directs us away from the lonely hallway to the booming evening when we cross paths with Mme.Thompson.

"There you are!" she says joyfully.

"I was talking to a few colleagues and they were adamant that I at least ask you to join us."

I open my mouth trying to find the words to politely decline when her son beats me to it.

"No Mom I think it's time for her to go home. Her aunt will kill me if I don't drive her back before 1."

Sharing her chagrin, Mme.Thompson bids me her goodbyes before she shares a look with Flash and tells him to come back as soon as possible telling him he'll be spending time with Garret.

The end of her sentence isn't met with agreement or joy but silence as I'm ushered outside with the cold temperature that doesn't get to reach me before I feel his jacket engulf my shoulders once again.

Another gesture he makes is to offer his hand to help me walk down the stairs of the building. I pause and look down at my heels and conclude like him that it's going to be harder to step down the stairs than it was to climb them.

The thought makes me laugh to myself before I accept his hand and carefully make my way down with another set of giggles.

"I'm never borrowing heels from May ever again," I manage to let out in between giggles.

"Miss Parker forgot to calculate the probability that those heels were gonna be a problem?"

The remark takes me by surprise and makes me stumble.

I crouch to make sure I don't end up face-first on the concrete and my position makes me snort as I hide my face behind my hands and kneel in the middle of the stairs to ground myself.

From any other perspective, I look drunk and I'm being chaperoned by Harrison Thompson's son.

My laugh turns into a fit and I'm left laughing out loud, gripping my aching stomach and praying the feeling doesn't kill me.

"Okay I think I got it, sit down," he says laughing about my situation.

Lost in my euphoria I barely manage to sit up on one of the stairs waiting to see his plan to help me down.

I try to calm myself down when he stands in front of the stairs and places my hands on his shoulders. I finally understand his idea when I'm lifted in the air by my hips and grip his shoulder in a reflex as I'm left gasping when I land on the ground.

I gaze at him and his previous smile falls a bit as he stands there with a blank expression.

I'm almost sure I see his eyes switch to my lips.

"Sorry," he apologizes for his sudden plan to get me down those stairs with a small smile trying his luck at diffusing the tension.

I reassure him before he gently directs me to his car.

The silence is calming and comfortable and I notice I had never been in his car before.

I bask in the comfort, all giddy as I look outside the window admiring the city I love to swing in so much.

He chimes in with small talks here and there and in my new feeling of serenity, I mindlessly make one-word answers.

After a while of admiring the scenery, I look back inside the car when I notice him fidgeting around looking tense.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you mad?" he asks as his hand tightens up on the steering wheel.

"No, why do you ask?" I return the question fidgeting in my seat to get more comfortable.

"I don't know, you don't talk much. Usually I can't get you to stop talking," he says scratching his face before returning his focus to the road, his side eye gauging my reaction.

I guess the comfortable silence wasn't shared and so I rattle my brain to find a topic we could discuss to fill the apparent discomfort he feels.

Trying to take the attention away from the topic of 'us', I remember the look he and McCoy shared and decide to ask hastily.

"Are you gonna reconcile with Garret?"

"Is that what you're mad about?"

"No Flash, I'm not mad. I'm just trying to make conversation since you seem to think my silence means that I'm angry."

"So you're not mad," he affirms one more time.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Cool," he finishes before he falls himself into silence.

"So? Garret?" I ask after a few beats of silence.

"Let's not talk about Garret."

"Too late, now I'm curious," I say turning on my side to give him my full attention.

"I reminded you how to dance cut me some slack," he whines.

"No," I laugh, "You taught me how to dance. I told you I didn't take dance courses."

His own laugh is short-lived, "Yes, you did."

"When?" I challenge him.

He pauses and takes a deep breath as we reach a red light, "It was during that time you moved to your Aunt May's."

The confession throws a cold in the vehicle.

"Oh," is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

"I remember," he says messing with his steering wheel waiting for the light to turn green, "You looked out of it during that time. It was what? 1st grade? 2nd grade?"

I wish he wouldn't pause in between bombs because the multiple aspects of the current situation make everything point to us being forced to look at each other.

I audibly exhale and wait for anything to come and fill the heavy silence of the car.

I even think about reaching over and turning on the radio.

"Why would we talk about my friendship with Garret?" he tries to distract from the conversation with a new topic.

"Oh, so there IS a friendship," I point out jumping on the occasion to step away from the previous topic, proud we have succeeded in shifting the subject.

In a streak of luck, the light turns green, and new chatter fills the car with a newfound lightness.

He sighs, "I don't know. Would that be a problem?"

"Why do you ask me? I don't manage your friendships."

"I don't know. I thought about just leaving that friendship behind but who knows," he says glancing at me with a teasing glint in his eyes, "If you root for him I could find it in myself to grace McCoy."

I chuckle as I change my position deciding to hug the headrest with my arm to rest my head on it.

"Sounds to me like you're afraid to choose for yourself."

He scoffs and laughs it off, "No, I'm just asking for someone else's opinion. Second opinions are important too."

It's silent as he shifts gears and I realize we're getting closer to my neighborhood.

"I thought about just ghosting him for a while. And with what happened last time, it feels like he's never gonna change," he confesses, "And maybe that's how it's supposed to end between us two."

"Ghosting?"

"Yeah, I don't think a discussion could get us anywhere useful. Garret is not the type of person to apologize anyways."

His demeanor is nonchalant but his expression shows a rare vulnerability.

"Some people just don't grow up," I barely manage to hear him mutter.

I hesitate but the observation kills me.

"That's very wise of you," I notice out loud.

He realizes I must've heard him and chuckles mostly at himself.

"I am wise," he proudly states as he turns the car again.

"That's just something Léa said," he adds.

He notices when I frown, "Believe it or not but my problems with Garret started before his attempt on your life," he jokes as he parks.

With the car now off I place my hand on his shoulder as a silent encouragement, squeezing and smiling at him before letting go of the headrest and looking out the window to see my apartment building.

I don't think much of it and open the car door to slip out of the vehicle.

"You know I'm supposed to be the one that opens the door for you, right?"

I turn my focus away from the building to see him getting out of his car, his head poking up from his car's roof.

He gets closer and stands right beside me at the bottom of the paved stairs.

He faces me and with newfound courage, I try my luck.

"Didn't you say we were going to this event as friends?"

"Opening a car door doesn't mean anything. It just says I have manners."

I hum impressed by his quick answer and see his hand already out for me to take.

Frowning, his smile turns my grimace into a bright smile when I recall the stairs incident.

I chuckle and grip his hand as he leads me up the stairs.

"See," he says as we reach the top of the stairs, "Just a gentleman."

My laugh dies down as we face each other with an awkward silence that I break when I slip his jacket off of my shoulder and hand it back to him.

He grasps it and looks down at it. He seems to hesitate before he looks back up at me clutching the fabric in his hands.

"School starts back tomorrow. See you there?" he asks.

"Yeah," I let out, my voice softer than it should be, "See you there."

I end the night with a kiss on his cheek, taking the risk of letting it last longer than it should.

The silence isn't tense or awkward and I know this time it goes for the both of us as we share a smile and I grip his shoulder squeezing it one last time.

"Good luck with McCoy."

His serene expression turns sour as he scrunchs his eyes shut and rolls his head back.

"You didn't have to bring up McCoy," he whines as I let a quick laugh escape me one last time tonight.

"Good night," I say with a smile, satisfied with how fulfilling this evening has been.

"Good night."

I let go of him and step back towards the door before I have to inevitably turn around and leave him there.

My last view of him is his figure standing right there looking back at me with a charming smile.

I'm not sure but I could swear he grazes his cheek where I kissed him goodbye in-between the smallest gap of the building's door as it shuts close.

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