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freesia-writes · 7 days

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Ch 5: A Heart to Heart

GUEST WRITER!! This chapter comes to us courtesy of @letsquestjess!! 🥹💕

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 1.8k

“Hey, look, the lunar blossom has started falling,” Wrecker said, motioning to the path ahead where the overhanging hedges had shed their sleek silver petals over the low wall and onto the cobblestone. Some had been torn by birds in search of nesting material and others were slimed over in a glistening gunk by soft, slow-moving insects. “It’ll be festival time soon.”

Omega remained quiet, gaze downcast and fixated on the few scuff marks that marred her school shoes.

“Kid?” He intentionally slowed down, hoping she would speak to him, but she kept her silence, avoiding both him and the muted foliage. “We’ll come this way later in the week and collect some blossoms for your festival crown, if you want. Last year’s looked great, but I reckon we can make an even better one this year.”

Gripping her backpack straps until her knuckles paled, she muttered an inaudible reply and shook her head. For a stomach-sinking moment, Wrecker swore he glimpsed tears, her lashes preventing the dam from breaking and the determined set of her jaw holding them at bay.

“Omega, are you all right? Is something wrong?”

He caught the meager “I’m fine” before she turned away, hunching her shoulders to conceal her face. He knew she was far from fine, but her shrinking demeanor begged him not to push the subject. Despite his concern, he refrained from asking further. Whatever was bothering her, she would approach her brothers in her own time, as she usually did.

Raising a little sister and shielding her from harm had presented its own challenges, but a sense of accomplishment swelled within him, knowing they had provided her with unwavering care and encouragement during difficult times. Watching the downtrodden expression fill her eyes, however, he began to wonder if any of that was true. Had the support not been enough? Should they do more? Were they failing her?

It was unusual for her to withdraw like this; she always faced any hardship undaunted and defiant. Now, she looked as though the burden had grown too much. If it were possible, he would have lightened the load as she confronted the adversity blocking her path. He’d toil night and day to forge her a happy future, even travel the galaxy to bring her a handful of pure starlight if she needed it, all while bearing her troubles on his back.

After settling on the picturesque world, his brothers had convened to discuss how they would raise her, intending to present a united, stable front considering the tumultuous life she’d had. They had agreed that they would give her independence to handle her problems as she saw best, only stepping in if she was in immediate danger or if she directly asked them to. But it was proving difficult for the towering clone who just wanted to smack every obstacle out of her way and see that sunshine smile of hers again.

“How about we take the trail up to school today?” he suggested.

At the idea, Omega’s pinched expression relaxed and her distant gaze drifted to her brother. “We wouldn’t be late?”

“Course not. We left earlier than usual, so we have plenty of time.”

Omega ruminated on the plan, the birdsong-tickled calm and the mint-scented wildflowers calling to her, promising a refuge, a pocket of solace to soothe her apprehension and dispel her unease. “You’re sure we won’t be late?”

“Totally sure.” Wrecker gave her his signature hopeful smile and pointed her towards the signposted turn that ascended into the forest. “After you.”

Lulling birdsong welcomed them beneath the leafy canopy. Tiny, bushy-tailed creatures scurried down the tree trunks on delicate paws to steal quick glances at the passers-by and dash to their cozy dens. A spirited one scampered across their path and slid to a halt in the dry dirt in front of them, gazing up with curious, unblinking eyes. Ears twitching back and forth and sensing for danger, it wriggled its nose, let out a chirp, and hurried on its way again.

“I bet Tech could tell us all the scientific names for those little critters,” Wrecker commented. “He’s probably mapped out this entire forest.”

“Not all of it,” Omega replied. “I think he said he has the eastern reaches and some parts of the river to check.”

He glanced at his sister and noticed the blot of dirt on her coat. While no longer as dejected, there was still a persisting hopelessness in her slouched walk and occasional watery eyelashes that troubled him. “You know, if there’s something on your mind, you can share it,” he said. “A problem shared is a problem halved.” He felt impressed with his recall of such a profound (and somewhat ridiculous) phrase.

“Tech would disagree with the calculations on that.”

In a throaty chortle, Wrecker was forced to concede. Their brother had undoubtedly analyzed every outcome associated with the proverb to verify its validity. “Okay, I’ll admit that it probably isn’t totally accurate, but the point still stands.”

Omega went to speak, but the words hung heavy and tangled in the back of her throat. How could she explain what had been going on? Would Wrecker be disappointed in her? Would he be mortified?

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” he assured her as she nervously wrung her hands and scratched at her palms.

“It’s just some trouble I’ve been having at school,” she explained with an apathetic shrug, seeking to downplay the situation. She dithered for a moment, not wanting to add to his worries, but she needed to share the ongoing problems with someone, if only for a new perspective and guidance, since her own attempts had proven futile. “My friends have started getting into things that I don’t think are good. No matter how many times I try discussing it with them, they laugh and throw insults at me.”

All humor evaporated from the former soldier quicker than steam off a fresh cup of caf. His expression darkened and a sickening roil nestled in his gut. “I can talk to your teachers about it. They have a duty of care.”

“No, no, that would only make things worse.” Omega’s shoulders sagged, burdened by the weight of struggling to support the people she cared about. “I’m not sure what I did wrong. I was trying to look out for them.” Like you and the others always do for me, she left unsaid.

“You have done nothing wrong,” Wrecker promised. “Some choose not to listen because they are convinced their actions are correct or because they want to look a certain way. They don’t think about consequences like you do.” He wished he had a solution for her problem, but he could never truly understand what she was going through, never having had the chance to navigate the difficulties of adolescence. He was denied the opportunity to make those messy errors and grow from them.

“If you wanted,” he whispered in a low tone so that the scampering wildlife wouldn’t overhear, “I can beat them up.”

Omega’s focus locked onto him like a laser from a sniper rifle, noting the firm tilt of his chin and the tightness in his jaw. Despite the half-smile pressing into his facial scar, she recognised the sincerity in his eyes. His offer would not resolve her problems. If anything, it would only present her with new ones, and she didn’t want her friends to be harmed. That was the exact thing she was striving to avoid. But they persisted in testing the boundaries, daring each other to take things a step further, and she couldn’t shake the gnawing intuition that a terrible repercussion awaited them.

“I’ve not been doing anything stupid, I promise,” she rushed to get out, her heart pounding and the parched mud crunching beneath her shoes as she abruptly halted. “I wouldn’t… I haven’t…”

“Omega,” Wrecker hushed. He crouched down to her, a sickly discomfort sticking in his chest at the thought that she’d believe he held such a poor opinion of her.

“I have no idea what to do,” the girl admitted through a trickle of tears. “I’m scared I’ll end up alone.”

Wrecker’s hands settled on her arms, applying a gentle yet firm pressure to assure her of his presence. “Kid, you are not on your own. You’ve got your family who would do anything to make you happy. If your friends are doing things you aren’t sure about and are making you feel bad, they’re not good friends.”

Although the truth stung, she understood, but this was an issue that tactics and strategic planning wouldn’t fix. It wasn't a battle with a clear enemy; it was a tangled web of trouble and conflicting interests. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to mention it to the others?”

“Course.”

“Some of them have been talking about boys… and other things. And the ones who have boyfriends have told me that if I want to fit in, I have to find someone or I’ll wind up on my own forever. But I…I don’t even know how I feel about that stuff yet.”

Wrecker didn’t need to ask for specifics; he could assume all too well what they would have been discussing. “Listen to me, Omega, you do things at your own pace. Okay? Doesn’t matter how old you get, if you are ever in a situation you are uncomfortable with, you can count on us. It’s what family does.” He couldn’t have been more proud of her if he’d tried. She had faced terrifying monsters, and an Empire that ceaselessly sought to deprive her of everything, yet she never wavered. The mere thought of those pushy kids getting to her like this after all her brave battles ignited an irate frustration within him, and he grappled to bury it for her sake.

When his sister gave him a sliver of a smile, Wrecker returned it and lightly nudged her nose with his fingertip. “That’s what I like to see,” he said, pushing on his thighs to hoist himself up again. “You ready to carry on?”

Omega nodded and wiped the lingering tears, lifting her chin a little higher. “I’ll race you,” she challenged.

Wrecker let free a boisterous laugh that rose from his toes and vibrated in his ribs. “Oh, I’m game!” he whooped. “Go on, I’ll give you a head start!”

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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latelyanobsession · 2 years

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Harringrove’s Kindergartner

tags: @eddiebillysteve thanks for indulging me pal! and also @deedoop for reigniting my power rangers nostalgia phase, a lil shout out for you!

Monday, August 23, 1999.

The dated maroon beamer hurriedly pulled into the bustling elementary school parking lot.

“Did you get her -?” Billy questioned in light panic from the passenger’s seat opening the door.

“Yes hun I did....” Steve calmed him, turning off the engine. “It’s in her bag...”

Billy opened the back door. “You ready for your first day?”

A little face beaming up at him. “Yeah!”

Reaching in, he helped his kiddo undo their buckle, as they climbed out wrapping their hand in his.

Steve came around the driver’s side, a bright blue backpack strapped over his shoulder. A plastic lunch box in his other hand.

“Whaddya say kiddo?” he smiled, a broad hand resting atop her head.

Billy waving it away fussing, “Don’t mess up her hair Stevie...”

A little hand entwining itself between Steve’s big fingers.

“Yeah! Don’t!” she chimed in, ganging up on him, laughing.

They walked a brief distance to the kindergarten, through a small chainlink fence and greeted a husky woman with a round and kind face.

“Good morning”, she greeted them, “And who might be joining us today?”

Steve gave her their child’s name as she looked over he clipboard.

“Ah yes!” she smiled broadly, leaning down slightly, “we’re so happy you’re here! We’ve been waiting for you!”

Their child withdrew at the sudden attention. Curling into Billy’s leg.

Steve gave her hand a small squeeze, “Hey, how’s about you go play on that cool looking rocket ship for a bit while your Daddy and I talk with this nice lady?”

She looked up at Steve with suspicious eyes, looking over at the playground already full of children. It did look pretty fun, but should she leave her dads?

She looked at Billy. He nodded, “Go ahead. We’re right here.”

That was confirmation enough. As their child boldly took her first steps towards her classmates and the unknown.

Steve and Billy talked with the teacher’s aide about the school’s policies. Expectations. Pick up times.

The woman, scribbling out the pick-up permission form, handing it to Billy.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the pen and clipboard.

“Well it’s a permission release for your friend to come pick up your child if you’re unable to...” she explained simply. Ignorantly.

The two men exchanged looks. They had been expecting something like this.

This had been a point of many discussions, tears, and some choice post-beddy-bye fights behind doors in their bedroom.

California was not Hawkins, but it still had a lot of room to grow.

Billy and Steve looked over the form.

Parent/Guardian in bold across the top of the form. William R. Hargrove

I hereby, spelling out their own ability to fetch their child from school. Their child. The child they shared as partners. As two souls invariably tied to one another.

Billy’s grip was bending the pen, setting it to snap, as Steve reassuringly put a hand on his shoulder.

“S’ok. Remember?” he soothed.

Billy exhaled audibly, scratching out a hurried signature before handing it over to Steve. Not wanting to think about that stupid paper and what it meant for a second longer.

Steve handed back the clipboard as the bell rang through the schoolyard.

The teacher coming out beside the teacher’s aide. She was a tall thin, aged woman. Her glasses hanging around her neck on string of brightly colored beads.

“Everyone it’s time to line up!” she clapped her hands.

The children were buzzing. Some already in pairs, chattering eagerly between themselves. A couple crying.

“Daddy! Dad! Daaaaddy!” a loud little voice yelled, running from the group.

Billy looked down, big watery eyes looking up, wrapped tight around his leg.

He laughed, kneeling down and wrapping her in his arms.

“Hey kiddo, it won’t be long. We’ll be here to get you before you know it.”

She nodded sniffing, waving her open arms at Steve.

Dropping her backpack and lunchbox, he knelt down as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Don’t cry.” Steve reasoned, “like Daddy said. It’s gonna go fast. Enjoy your day.”

She shoved Steve, mussing his hair. “I’m not crying! Big kids don’t cry! And I’m a big kid!” she pointed a sharp thumb at her chest in indignation, wiping her eyes not so subtly.

Billy kissed her forehead. “Yeah ok big kid. You’re gonna be late...”

Steve held out her backpack as she strapped it on, taking her Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers lunchbox.

One last big hug from them both, before the small feet hustled to the last spot in the line to head in the door.

“She gets it from you y’know...” Steve said smugly.

“What?” Billy questioned.

“That spunky little attitude...” Steve smiled at his partner, bumping shoulders as they both stood, waving at her.

“No idea what you mean...” Billy feigned innocence, smirking.

They stayed until she was inside, the other parents still milling about, many doing the same for their own children.

“Coffee?” Steve offered, turning on his heels.

“Sounds good.” Billy hummed.

Heading into the lot they intertwined their fingers. Some parent’s raising eyebrows, as the lovers, partners, fathers... exchanged a small peck before getting into their car.

Later that afternoon when Steve arrived home, he found Billy on the telephone in the kitchen.

“Yeah? Well... I don’t blame her for that... Yeah. No. I understand. We’ll talk to her about it. Yeah, yeah. Thanks for calling.”

Steve raised an eyebrow in concern, placing his briefcase on the counter.

“That was the school...” Billy answered without needing to be asked.

“Your daughter punched a girl in her class....” he stated patting his pockets, looking around the counter for his cigarettes.

“What?!” Steve sputtered, “Why would she do that?”

Finally finding the cig package hiding under a book, he pulled out a stick and lit it.

“The other girl made fun of her lunchbox... said it was ‘only for boys’...” Billy mused exhaling, lifting the window open and waving the smoke out.

Steve crossed his arms, “You bought her that lunchbox....”

Billy shrugged, taking another inhale, “She likes ‘em.”

“Your daughter is too young to watch things like that.” Steve reasoned.

Billy chuckled, “well my daughter has a hell of a right hook...”

Steve rolled his eyes, “unbelievable...”

#harringrove #ficlet #harringrove parents

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forerussake · 1 year

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one line any fic! rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people

I was tagged by the amazing @lynne-monstr thank you!! this one was a lot of fun! most of these are quite recent. tt became hard to pick, at some point i wanted to just include everything i’ve ever written, but that wasn’t playing nice :( some of these got a little long too, but “chunk” wasn’t very specific so i’m saying not my problem xD

1. Spirometer (DMBJ, Reboot, Pangxie)

“The same nightmare?” Pangzi asks, his voice soft and deep and so very warm, still a little rough with sleep.

He steps around Wu Xie, sits down on the edge of the bathtub, still easily within reach, one hand still on Wu Xie’s shoulder, the other not stopping its gentle motions in his hair.

Wu Xie nods.

“I couldn’t breathe,” he whispers, and he hates it.

2. in tune (Guardian, Weilan)

“Dark energy is not alive in the biological sense. It’s not an organism comprised of living cells, and yet it does live in a way. I don’t know how else to describe it. It feels alive. It’s a life force. I wouldn’t exist without it. It’s as integral to my existence as my brain, my nerves, my heart, my DNA.”

He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and tuning out the sound of the rain and the thunder outside, closer now, focusing on his own energy instead. He feels it humming under his skin, swirling around in his core and flowing through the rest of him, tingling at his fingertips.

“It’s almost like a symbiotic relationship,” he murmurs, opening his eyes and looking up Zhao Yunlan again, “except it really is a part of me. There’s patterns to it. Like energy signatures. Unique to every individual. Like frequencies of sound waves, or of light, except a thousand times more complicated than that. It’s– not uneven, but… it breathes. It’s alive. I can’t describe it any other way.”

3. As though the sun has come to call (Z1L RPF)

Zhu Yilong wishes sometimes that he had more time to spend with friends, and to visit his parents. He thinks he could probably make some more time for it if he tried. He doesn’t have to sprint from one project to the next, from filming to photoshoots to interviews and back to filming without end, at least until Chan-jie makes him take a break.

He doesn’t have to do that, but it is how he works. Choosing the noise to surround himself with instead of letting it wash over him until he drowns.

4. Kaleidoscope (Guardian)

“Why wouldn’t you?” one of them asks after a moment, and Deng Suyin looks back at her, then at her other friends, and then across the room at Li Qian and the professor, and then she bursts into tears.

Li Qian is frozen in place for a moment, wanting to come to xiao-Deng’s rescue but not quite knowing how. Professor Shen has no such doubts.

“Some people don’t,” he says, his voice firm and even, either consciously or unconsciously slipping into lecture tones, albeit a little softer, “and that is perfectly normal, and those people don’t have to have sex or get married anyway just to conform to what society has wrongfully deemed to be the norm.”

5. a hand within a hand (holding light), chapter 5 (Guardian)

Professor Shen looks frazzled. He looks exhausted and shaky and… upset? His jaw is clenched, lips pressed tightly together. There’s so much tension in his posture that it looks almost painful to Liu Chang. His fingers are clenched around the straps of his backpack in a white-knuckled grip, seemingly to keep them from shaking. He looks the most out of sorts Liu Chang has ever seen him. As if that sense of familiarity behind the concern Liu Chang saw in his eyes when he asked the professor for that extended deadline and the hidden tiredness he’s been observing for weeks and the sense of miserable restraint and longing he has seen in him during his conversations with chief Zhao, have all been combined into one and magnified by a factor of ten thousand.

from here on i was running out of space and had to start picking and choosing one thing from every fandom i’ve written for *wails*, under the cut!

6. With the changing of a thousand seasons (DMBJ, Mystic Nine, Fuba)

He can’t, because he’s the one who has to keep it together, who has to hold down the fort, until Foye is better and Erye is too, until Zhang Rishan has pulled himself together again, and madam Yin is able to stand still for long enough to take a proper breath for the first time since all of this nonsense started.

“He’s not going to die,” Qi Tiezui says, “he’s not going to die, he’s not going to die.”

And he’s aware his eyes are starting to fill up with tears and it’s making his glasses fog up, and every time he says those words they sound less like a statement and more like a question, more frantic, borderline hysterical, less and less like he actually believes them.

“He’s not going to die, he’s not going to die, he’s not going to die?”

7. A ballad of burning lungs and bated breath (Tolkien, Silmarillion)

“It’s always the same story, isn’t it?” Maglor scoffs. “It’s always time, or fate, there’s never a choice around here.”

Finrod looks like he wants to protest that statement, but Maglor doesn’t give him the chance to. Instead he mounts the brown horse, and leaves his cousin standing in the dust.

It takes a while for Finrod to catch up with him.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he says, as soon as he does, and Maglor wants to roll his eyes at him but can’t. Not when it’s that sentence. Not when it’s spoken in that tone. By a person with those curls in their hair.

8. Of stars and city lights and sun, of all the lights that lead us home (QZGS/TKA, Sun Xiang/XIao Shiqin)

“But how do you know?” Sun Xiang asks again, frustration seeping into his voice, frustration and fear, so much fear, and Xiao Shiqin can’t bear it. Just as much as he cannot say no to Sun Xiang anymore, he cannot bear to see him so afraid.

So Xiao Shiqin repeats:

“You just know. You look at them. Really look at them. And you know.”

Sun Xiang stares out the window some more, jaw clenched and throat bobbing as he swallows, his breath shaking as he exhales.

“You just look?”

Xiao Shiqin nods.

“You just look.”

9. In pieces yet at peace (YYM: DOE)

Killing Stone breathes in, a sharp gasping breath, surprised at the fire in Honey Bug’s words, the worry and pain and, yes, anger, anger not at him, but at the situation, at the darkness playing tricks on his mind. He can only nod.

“Then live,” she whispers, her voice shaky with tears, “Let me help you, and live.”

“Yes,” he says, “alright.”

10. Counting the promised as yet unbroken (MDZS/CQL, Nielan)

“Mingjue!” he howls, all thought of anything but his friend’s approaching death fleeing his mind.

He has never moved so fast in his entire life. Two steps he rushes up the hill, Baxia raised above his head, to kill, to save. He has never moved so fast in his life and yet he knows it is not enough. He wasn’t quick enough to get them to safety and now he won’t be quick enough to save his friend from being stabbed to death. He won’t be quick enough to keep his promise.

Time seems to slow as the soldier’s sword descends, getting ever closer to Mingjue’s chest, closer to the heart only barely still beating within it, closer to ending the life of one of the three people Xichen cares about the most in the entire world.

Tagging: @pangzi @stupid-lemon-eater @psychic-waffles @scaredysap @programmedradly @the-marron @lunarriviera @lucientelrunya @hils79 @sharkbeneaththelotus @elenothar if you want to do this :)

#tagged #my writing #fanfiction

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tatelauritzen62 · 2 years

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dippedanddripped · 2 years

Photo

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years

Text

Secret Talent-Link Larkin

I walked out of the house, fixing my backpack strap. I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear when I heard the neighbor's front door open. I glanced over to see Link fixing his hair in his reflection. I quickly looked away and started walking to school with my head down.

Link Larkin and I have lived next to each other our entire lives and gone to school together since preschool. Our parents are really good friends so we've hung out a little, but whenever we did hang out, it was never just us.

He's nice to me when our families have dinner but that's it. As soon as we go to school, he acts like he doesn't know me. It only got more over-the-top when he started singing and dancing on The Corny Collins Show.

It hurt at first, but as we've gotten older I haven't cared. Instead of focusing on him trying to save face at school by ignoring me, I focused on surviving the other kids.

At school, I was known as the intelligent mute. I could answer any question the teacher had, but I could never answer it loud enough for the whole class to hear. They called on me when no one else would answer it and they needed some participation.

By the time Link and I got to high school, he was the singing and dancing star while I remained the smart mute. I was also the student aid for the choir teacher, often playing the piano for her. When it comes to singing, I freeze in front of a crowd. Piano on the other hand is different. With the piano, the focus isn't on me; it's on whoever's singing.

During my lunch, the choir teacher allows me to come in and practice the piano. I looked over my shoulder to check that no one was here before starting to rehearse one of my grandma's favorite songs. My grandpa asked me to play it for her birthday next month and I was still shaky on the bridge.

Wise men say, Only fools, only fools rush in. Oh, but I, but I, I can't help falling in love with you.

Shall I stay? Would it be, would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you.

Like a river flows, Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes, Some things, you know, are meant to be.

Take my hand. Take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you.

I jumped when I heard a music stand being knocked over. I looked over my shoulder to see Link standing in the doorway with one of his friends from the show behind him.

"Link," I gasped.

"Wow," he said with a small chuckle. "You sound amazing."

I bit my lip, my cheeks burning as I reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Thanks," I stuttered, barely a whisper.

"I didn't know she could sing," Link's friend laughed as if I wasn't within earshot. Link looked over his shoulder and glared at his friend, making him drop his smirk.

While Link was focused on shunning his friend, I grabbed my backpack and slipped out the other door.

* * * * *

I quietly hummed to myself as I walked home from school. I had just turned onto our street when I heard someone calling my name and trying to catch up to me. I turned, my heart jumping into my throat when I saw Link jogging towards me with his signature Camera Ready smile on his face.

"I'm glad I caught up to you," he said when he stopped next to me.

"What are you doing?" I stuttered. "Don't you have rehearsal or filming or something?"

"They had to push it back due to a lighting problem," he shrugged.

I tightened my grip on my books, clutching them closer to my chest as he continued to smile at me. I glanced over at my house, wishing I had gotten a few feet further and he wouldn't have caught up to me.

"Listen," he said, slightly clearing his throat. "I'm sorry about what Bryce said at school. That stupid comment about you being Little Mermaid who just got her voice back from the evil Ursala. It wasn't funny."

"It's fine," I cut him off.

"No, it's not," he sighed. "He shouldn't be making those comments. It was rude and. . ."

"Really, Link. It's nothing," I tried to laugh off. "It's not like I haven't heard those kinds of comments before."

"Wait, what?" He asked, concern consuming his face.

"Nothing," I quickly said.

"What did you mean 'those kinds of comments'? Have people made those jokes before?"

"You mean the Little Mermaid jokes?" I scoffed. I tightened my arms around my books and looked away from him. "I've been hearing myself being compared to her ever since the movie came out."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. I could tell he was about to grab my hand so I quickly turned on my heel and started walking to my house. I chewed on my bottom lip when he ran to catch up to me.

"Y/N, don't you think we should talk about this?"

"What else is there to talk about, Link?" I sighed. "It's not like we're. . ."

I quickly stopped talking when I realized what I was about to say to him. I glanced over to see him figuring it out without me saying it. He reached over and grabbed my hand, stopping me.

"Y/N, not like we're what?" He asked slowly. I expected him to release my hand, but he didn't.

I opened and closed my mouth, hesitating. I sighed when I realized that he already knew the truth so I might as well say it.

"Not like we're close, Link."

"We're close," he shrugged, laughing a little. His smile fell when he saw the look on my face. He cleared his throat, finally letting go of my hand. "I mean, I know we don't spend a lot of time together, but it's not like I ignore you. . ."

My heart sank when he dropped his sentence.

"Y/N," he sighed.

"It's fine," I interrupted him. "It's never bothered me that we weren't close. When I said that, I just meant that what people say about me at school shouldn't concern you. It's not your job to protect me from childish insults."

"Still," Link said softly. "They shouldn't be treating you that way."

"But they do," I shrugged. "And it's not your job to stop them."

* * * * *

I was rehearsing the choir's set during lunch when I heard the door open. I looked over my shoulder, my fingers hovering over the keys.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked softly.

"I wanted to talk to you," he smiled. "Is now a good time?"

"I guess," I shrugged as I turned around on the piano bench. I bit my lip when he walked over and sat next to me.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked as I played with my fingers.

"I wanted to talk to you about your secret talent."

"My what?" I stuttered, looking up at him.

"You don't just play the piano," he chuckled. "I heard you singing yesterday. You were amazing."

"Thanks," I blushed, looking back down at my fingers.

"How come you don't sing more?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, going back to stuttering.

"Your voice is beautiful, Y/N," he smiled. "It should be shared."

"Shared," I repeated, my voice barely audible. "You mean. . ."

"Why haven't you ever auditioned for the Corney Collins Show?"

I started laughing but quickly stopped and cleared my throat. I looked away and went back to chewing on my bottom lip and nervously playing with my fingers.

"Why was that so funny?" Link asked, his voice softer than before.

"I just meant. . ." I stuttered.

"Why is the idea of you joining the Corney Collins Show so funny?"

"Well. . . I'm not really. . . I'm not the performing type," I finally got out. "You were born to be in front of the camera. I'm more the type to be behind it."

"That's not true," Link said to try and lighten the mood. "I think you would steal the spotlight."

"I never would," I said as I stood up and instantly straightened my skirt.

"Y/N."

I gasped when he stood up and grabbed my hand, spinning me back towards him. The way he was looking at me made my stomach do flips. Looking into his blue eyes gave me butterflies like I'm never had before.

"If you're nervous about not fitting in with the rest of the cast, your voice would fit in really well. The girls might take some time getting used to you but the boys, well, the boys would warm right up to you. But don't worry about them. I'll keep them away from you. I think the audience would eat you up."

"Link, just stop," I said forcefully as I pulled my hand out of his.

"Y/N," he said slowly. "I didn't mean to. . . I was just trying to. . . Why do you keep such an amazing talent hidden?"

"There's a reason singing is a secret talent of mine," I said my voice slightly breaking. I cleared my throat before adding, "And besides, not all of us are born to be in the spotlight."

* * * * *

The next day at school, I avoided Link as much as I could. We don't have any classes together so other than the hallway, I knew I wouldn't run into him. I made sure not to walk by his locker and avoided his usual route to class.

At lunch, I debated eating in the library but at the last minute, I decided to eat in the lunchroom. I had barely sat down and gotten my lunch out when I was no longer alone.

"What did you mean?"

His sudden voice made me jumped. I looked up and watched speechlessly as he sat across from me. I looked behind him to see everyone from his show watching us. My cheeks burned when Amber glared at me.

"What?" I stuttered, finally looking back at Link.

"The other day," he began to explain, "you told me that there was a reason singing is a secret talent of yours. Why is that?"

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to find the strength to tell him the truth. Right when I finally got up the nerve, I glanced over at Amber again.

Her glare made me shake my head and look down at my hands. Link turned around and made eye contact with Amber. Her glare quickly lifted and turned into her innocent/flirty face.

"What did she do?" He asked before looking back at me. "Y/N, does your secret talent being a secret have anything to do with Amber?"

I bit my lip when Link stood up. I fought the tears as he reached down, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up.

"What are you. . ." I stuttered, finally looking at him.

"Come with me," he whispered.

I watched as he grabbed my stuff along with his. I didn't object as he grabbed my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers. He led me out of the cafeteria and through the school. The closer we got to the library, the more my hand burned.

"What are we doing in here?" I asked as he led me through the library, to the back where our librarian set up a small reading nook.

"This is your favorite place," he said with a small chuckle.

"How did you know that?" I asked under my breath.

"It looks like the one your dad built you in the window," Link said, his cheeks slightly changing color. "You used to sit there all the time and read until your parents dragged you out of it. I used to. . . I used to watch you."

"You watched me?"

"I know how that sounds," he stuttered. "It was just so interesting. While I was practicing my dance moves and stretching my vocal range, you were always reading a book. I used to wonder if you'd ever run out of books to read."

"I hope not," I chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. He looked up at me and smiled. I felt my cheeks burn the longer he stared at me. I looked away and played with my fingers.

"What are we doing here, Link?"

"Does Amber have anything to do with your secret talent being a secret?" He asked his question again.

"Link," I started to say but he interrupted me.

"Did she do something?" He started to ramble. "Did she say something? What could she possibly say or do that would lead you to hide your amazing talent? I mean, I've never heard anyone sing as well as you do. All the girls on the show combined can't sing as well as you can. Amber is the only one who would ever try and manipulate or sabotage you. Is that why? Did she. . ."

"Link, stop." I cut him off. "You're really making a bigger deal out of this than you should. It happened years ago."

"What happened?"

"It has nothing to do with Amber," I tried to reassure him. "I mean, yes we were in the same voice lessons growing up, but she didn't do anything. It happened when we were twelve."

"What?"

"When I sing in a choir or with other people, I'm fine. But when I sing on my own. . ." I cleared my throat, the memories and the embarrassment coming flooding back. "It was my first solo. Amber and I had been going head-to-head for this solo. When we found out that I got it, she was furious. Every rehearsal she would tell me that I was going to blow it. Well, the night of our performance finally came and. . . She was right. I blew it."

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I looked up, expecting Link to be laughing, but there wasn't an ounce of judgment in his eyes as he waited for me to continue.

"I went up to the mic and our pianist started the song. When it was my cue to sing, I couldn't. I opened my mouth, but for the life of me, nothing came out. I saw everyone staring at me, waiting for me to start singing, and all I could hear was Amber's voice telling me that she knew this would happen. Next thing I knew, I ran off the stage. I didn't wait for the show to end, I had to get out of there. I grabbed my stuff and started walking home."

Why was I telling Link Larkin this story?!

"What about your parents?" Link asked, sounding like he wasn't sure this question was okay for him to ask. "Weren't they waiting for you in the audience?"

"They were," I sighed. "My dad actually caught me down the street. They took me home and I went straight to my room. They didn't ask any questions, they didn't give me a lecture, they didn't push me. They allowed me to lock myself in my room until I was ready to come out. The next day, my mom asked if I wanted to go to the party my voice group was having but I didn't. She didn't ask why. Instead, she asked if I wanted to continue my voice lessons. After a lot of thought, I decided not to. I shifted my focus to the piano."

When I stopped talking, I waited for Link to say something about it, but he didn't say anything. I could tell he was thinking about everything I just said.

"Is Amber's comments the reason you didn't go back to voice lessons?"

"Not fully," I shrugged. "I was embarrassed but. . ."

"But you were worried about Amber saying, 'I told you so'," he finished for me. I bit the inside of my cheek as I nodded. He sighed as he reached over and took both of my hands in his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to pressure you. It's just. . . I've been thinking a lot about you."

"You have?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Yeah," he chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. "Ever since I heard you sing, I can't seem to get your voice out of my head."

"Link," I whispered as I slowly pulled my hands out of his.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said eagerly. "Ever since we were kids. . . I always wanted. . . I was worried you thought I was just your parents' friends' kid. . . So I never. . ."

"Link," I cut off his rambling. "You aren't making any sense."

"I've always had a crush on you," he blurted out.

My heart jumped into my throat as I tried to study my neighbor. My mind went all over the place as I tried to digest what he just said.

"I've had a crush on you ever since we were kids," he continued. "I know we didn't spend that much time together, but I noticed how cute you were and how kind you were, and soon I wanted. . ."

"Wanted what?" I barely asked.

"I wanted to be more than just your parents' friends' son."

"You wanted more?"

My breath got stuck in my throat as he grabbed my hands, slowly pulling me closer to him.

"Want," he corrected as he leaned in.

I let out a shaky breath as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. Our lips didn't start moving in sync, they just pressed together. Link slowly broke the kiss, instantly looking into my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I let go of his hands and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I hesitated for only a second before standing on my toes and pressing my lips back to his. I felt him smile as he wrapped his arms around my waist and started kissing me back.

We broke apart when the school bell rang. I felt a blush creep onto my face as I stared into his eyes.

"We're umm. . . We're going to be late for class," I whispered.

"You're right," he chuckled. I smiled when he still hadn't let me go.

"And we should probably go before the librarian finds us," I added. Link laughed as he slowly let me go. The second his arms were unwrapped from around my body, he grabbed my hands and intertwined our fingers.

"Before we go," he said softly, "I'm sorry for pressuring you into joining Corney's show. It's none of my business why you don't want to perform. What is my business is what happens with you and me."

"You and me?" I asked under my breath.

Link reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as he nodded. My smile fell when I realized who I was talking to and what we were talking about.

"Are you sure?" I stuttered.

"What?" Link chuckled. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"Well, because," I stuttered. "You're Link Larkin, the best male dancer on the Corney Collins Show. Why would you want to be with a girl who has stage fright?"

"That's not what I see," he smiled. "I see the girl next door. The girl who I spent way too much time staring out my window and watching her read. The girl who I'd see in the hallway and wish I had the guts to talk to. The girl who I've had a crush on since we were little."

"Link," I stuttered as I tried to walk away.

He shook his head as he pulled me back into his chest. He instantly leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft and gentle. When he broke it, his Camera Ready smile was there.

"You and me, Y/N."

"But Amber. . ."

"Forget about her," he said instantly. "What other people say, doesn't matter. What does matter is what we want. And I want you, Y/N. So what do you want?"

I bit my bottom lip, looking into his eyes. As I stared at him, I realized that all the snap judgments I've made about him since he joined The Corney Collins Show were wrong.

Before I could stop myself, I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. Link smiled as he let go of my hands, wrapping his arms around my waist, and kissed me back.

I broke the kiss, slowly lowering off of my toes. Link smiled down at me as he subconsciously tightened his arms around my waist.

"You," I whispered. "I want you, Link."

He let out a relieved chuckle as he pulled me closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. Our lips immediately started moving in sync as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

We broke the kiss when we heard voices walking into the library. I slowly unwrapped my arms from around him, chewing on my bottom lip.

"We should go," I said, barely audible.

Link smiled as he nodded. We hesitated before finally pulling away from each other and grabbing our backpacks. I was just about to walk out of the library when Link stopped me. He grabbed my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers.

"I won't let anyone come between us," he said, looking down at our hands. "If anyone, and I mean anyone, says something about you or how you're quiet, I'll handle it."

"Link," I tried to calm him down.

"I mean it," he said, looking up at me. "I won't let anyone say we aren't good for each other."

"Promise?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Link leaned down and pressed his lips gently to mine. He broke the kiss and smiled at me. This wasn't his Camera Ready smile. It was his real one.

"I promise."

undefined

youtube

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159 notes · View notes

slytherbun · 3 years

Note

🌼 jj maybank fluff with the prompt, “Stop smiling at me. I can’t keep stuttering and messing up my sentences.”

— i personally love this one <3

icee

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.1k

note: kinda longer then a drabble and i'm not sure how i feel about this one 🙈 lol but i hope you like it. 💘

another note: 99% of the italics are flashbacks.

you sat on the curb in the downtown area of outer banks. the wreck wasn’t too far from the location of the gas station behind you.

none of that mattered with a cup of icee in your hands with the straw of it wrapped around your lips. jj couldn’t believe how easy it was to please you. not that you were the type to fold at simple words and actions.

it still surprised him that a quick trip to get you an icee had you smiling in glee. “y/n i have to a-ask—”

“—ask what?” you questioned him after putting down the drink and licking your lips. jj knew exactly what you were doing when he glanced down at your lips and held back a groan.

he’s wanted to kiss you for forever now and the ‘no pogue on pogue macking’ rule was the only obstacle in his way.

jj wanted to punch john b so bad right now.

instead of doing what he wanted, jj picked up his cup of soda to take a sip. “i still can’t believe you didn’t get an icee with me. we could have gotten two different flavors and shared.” you frowned but the playful tone suggested you were joking and he sighed.

a freaking straw would probably be the closest he'd ever be to your lips and jj pouted at that particular thought.

“next time i will. i just wanted some sprite though, i’m sorry.” he shrugged.

even though it wasn’t the cherry flavored icee you were eyeing in the mini store, he held out his cup and offered it for you to take anyway.

you watched jj push the dispenser’s button for coke earlier and despite the fact he said it was sprite, you took a small sip. he watched your eyebrows scrunch together and you questioned once more. “but this is coke?”

after coming to that conclusion you realized that he was, in fact, acting weird.

jj looked away and his eyes widened but he shook off the surprise before turning back to look at you with one of his signature smirks. “oh well you know what i meant, sweets.” and he didn't even have to ask you what you were laughing about after hearing you chuckle.

jj realized his mistake right after finishing his sentence.

you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before looking back at jj for his reaction. “sweets, huh? that’s a new one.”

jj did not want to admit that he was a little distracted and called you a nickname that he only used while talking about you to pope.

he desperately tried to change the topic of conversation and pointed to your mouth. “oh, hey look! let me take a picture so you can see how blue your tongue is.”

a smirk instantly formed on your lips at his attempt and not being able to help yourself, you escalated the situation. “no way am i letting you get away without an explanation to my new nickname maybank.”

“what? i can’t try something new?” the blonde was bouncing his knee up and down in anticipation and was practically quivering in the work type of boots that he usually had on, like today.

you picked up the icee from the curb and held it up to him with a gesture to take it from you. “you can call me anything you want. i was just teasing you silly. here, drink some of this and cool down.”

he took your suggestion and leaned down to take a sip from the straw without grabbing it from you. and while he was sipping the straw you could see the blue colored ice coming out from the cup.

you kept looking upwards until you spotted his lips, feeling the same way jj did about the ability of not being able to kiss another pogue.

if only.

he pulled away which broke you out of your thoughts. and you smiled at him, gazing into his blue eyes that you deemed your favorite color the second you met him because they reminded you of the ocean.

jj must have heard those previous thoughts though because one second you were just sitting there, taking in the view and then the next he was speaking with complete honesty.

“stop smiling at me. i can’t keep stuttering and messing up my sentences.” the confession and honesty of his words had you speechless. you were too busy to respond. processing every little thing of what jj said and he ran a hand through his blonde hair out of nervousness.

before jj could take back what he was about to do—he went for it, leaning in and stealing that kiss he’d been craving since he met you in junior high.

after bidding farewell to your parents you got out of the car and looked up at the new school that you were transferring to.

you just moved about three days ago and was still fairly new to outer banks. you didn’t know anybody yet and you fidgeted with the backpack straps on your shoulders.

the building of the school looked intimidating.

the four pogues were walking on the sidewalk after making a stop at the coffee shop on the way to the school. as usual, jj had been complaining about his hunger due to the lack of food he had at home.

of course john b and the others had agreed to make a quick stop since they all wanted a variety of drinks and coffee as well.

the maybank’s boy stopped on the concrete at the sight of you standing there. the other’s continued walking until pope noticed he had stopped.

“something wrong? we got you your breakfast.” kie chuckled and jj looked at her with a quick smile but glanced back over at you again.

he was half paying attention to what the others were saying and walked over to you instead. the blonde held up a paper bag in your direction.

“what’s this?” you questioned and hesitantly took it from him to peek inside. "a glazed donut. i hope the flavor is okay.” he said and you nodded with a blush.

“i don’t usually take anything from strangers though.” you said with a hint, playing it cool and not wanting to make the introduction awkward.

he thrusted a hand out for you to shake and you took it with a grip as firm as a seventh grade girl could have. “i’m jj maybank and you are?”

with a smile you replied. “y/n y/l/n. it’s nice to meet you jj.”

and jj was happy he arrived later than usual that day because met you.

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a-smile-hides · 3 years

Text

A WARM CUP OF COFFEE - A.H.A.

Pairing: Alex x reader

Warnings: none, just ... not really - that great?

Sum: This was a request (thank you for that!) and I would like to apologize because it took so long and.. Yeah. The request:

"Hi 🥰 do you still take request for Alex Andersen? Something like the OC is alex teacher at university and they fall in love with each other but the age gap is a problem so she broke up with him but BOOM they really love each other!! With some fighting and fluffy 🤤🥲hahah sorry if its bad 🥰 thank you!"

A soft ‘thing’alerted the old man behind the desk, making him look up from today’s newspaper and push his glasses further back on his nose. The small café he owned was somewhat concealed from the busy streets, tucked away in between two large buildings. It created the perfect escape for the chaos of life. Oh, how he was proud to own this little palace. A simple, ‘back to basics’ coffee shop where people could enjoy a good cup of coffee. Where people could talk or just relax, or in your case, find some inspiration to prepare for a new class.

Returning his friendly smile, you easily manoeuvred between the mismatched tables and chairs until you reached the one next to a small window. As usual, a silver sign stood on the table reading ‘reserved’ in a beautiful font. And as usual, you plopped down on the chair that gave you a look out on the street, sliding the sign to the end of the table so that it could be picked up by one of the staff members. Throwing a notebook and different prints out on the table, you breathed in deeply.

It had been a long day already... And it was like... what? – 11 a.m.?

“There you go, honey.”

Without even looking up you already knew who stood next to your side, presenting a large cup of coffee with one of those delicious self-made biscuits.

“Jer, I can’t thank you enough”.

The man laughed, seemingly pleased with himself after seeing the frown on your eyebrows clear up for a second. He waved your gratitude off and returned to his kitchen.

He had grown used to your visits over time. It wasn’t hard to miss you, sitting stressed in the corner of his little café, browsing through pictures and notes trying to decide which was the best one.

It hurt him every time he saw a lost soul enter his little café, in a rush and completely lost to the world around them. In you, he saw one of those lost souls. Busy, busy, busy... Overloading themselves with work.

It seemed as today would bring no exception. And you once again would ignore the beauty and comfort his café hoped to give to its customers. Especially when he saw you fiddling with a large package, no doubt filled to the brim with new photos for a possible lecture, he knew you only came here to work even more. Sighing, the old man turned around, reaching towards the different treats and cakes his little shop offered. He knew you would be there for a while and figured that the need for sweets may come soon. In the background, he could hear the familiar sound of your papers falling onto the ground. Accompanied by some swear words, immediately followed by mumbled apologies. And he could not hold himself back as a laugh passed his lips. It became a routine really...

Still chuckling, he turned around and placed a large piece of cake on a plate, decorating it with an extra piece of dark chocolate. The sound of someone entering his café made him look up momentarily, greeting the young man who just entered with his signature smile. The young man returned his smile warmly, before letting his eyes wander over the place. He had clearly never been in here before. His eyes narrowed once he focused on something in the back of the café, furrowing his eyebrows in worry. Skilfully, he walked between the tables and chairs as if he had decorated the place himself. To a small table next to the big window, where you were still mumbling under your breath about how life seemed to hate your guts. And it made the young man chuckle. Loudly.

Freezing for a second, you immediately collected all the pictures that had fallen off the table, carelessly throwing them back on the table. Refusing to meet the eye of whoever found enjoyment in your clumsiness, you side stepped back to your table. Hoping and praying that they would just go away. But they stayed.

“It’s good to see you’re still as clumsy...”

It was a good thing you were leaning against the table, otherwise you would have been knocked to ground right now.

“Mister Anderssen.” You nodded your head.

The young man pressed his lips together in a tight smile at the greeting, feeling a sting in his heart that he believed to have been long gone by now.

The long silence that followed felt dense and awkward. He was trying to make eye contact, his lips were turned up in a little, comforting smile. He did not know what to say or feel as he looked at how your body seemed to turn away from him. Your arms were wrapped around your middle, your eyes glued to the pictures on the table without truly looking at them. And then, his gaze fell on the smallest amongst them. He could recognize that gloomy setting from anywhere. His heart jumped, he felt overjoyed and the smile on his face grew larger.

“You kept it?” He breathed out, making it sound more like a question.

Slowly, he crouched down, careful not to make you run away. As he took the card from under one of the chairs, brushing some dust of it. Looking up, he waved with the picture he once offered you to use in your classes.

Nodding to himself, he kept his eyes locked with yours as he slowly came up. “You kept it.”

“I did” You spoke out softly.

***

“Fuck”

The curse had left your mouth before you could hold it back, as you watch yet another one of your cards fall on the ground.

It was good that none of your students had the habit of arriving in time for your class. Choosing to rather arrive just in time for the lecture to begin instead of showing some interest and being there before it began. Otherwise, they could enjoy this little comedy show as you desperately tried to stick those cards on a timeline.

You had never thought that one day, you would stand in front of class, as a teacher. Talking about something that had been a passion for so many years. Movies are a piece of art, a way to express and communicate. And now, you had the power to let others see that as well.

And even thought the path of being a teacher had crossed yours rather unexpectedly, it had made you happier than you’ve ever been.

And it had let you to some beautiful and interesting moments.

Looking down at the picture in your hands, a warm feeling overcame you, painting a very small smile on your face. It was a simple photo of a man standing alone in the street. The sky was pitch black; the only light provided by a single streetlight on the far right. The yellow light cast dark shadows on the ground. And on the left, almost completely hidden in the shadows, you could see the silhouette of another man. His back was turned to the man he had left behind under the streetlight. And thus, he missed how the other reached his hand out in a desperate attempt to call him back.

Every year you would collect pictures to show off how a simple setting can bring out different emotions to an audience. This scene would often bring feelings of sadness, grief, loss, misery and heartbreak to your students. Ironically, this scene brought you only a warm feeling. The beauty of the shot together with the memory of how you had come across this movie, cancelled out those unhappy emotions.

Completely lost in the moment, you almost jumped up when two hands sneaked around your hips.

“Morning”

His voice was raspy as he failed to conceal the chuckle that passed his lips.

“Morning, mister Anderssen”

He laughed, rubbing his nose in the crook of your neck. He found it almost amusing how you spoke so formerly to him now when at night...

“Mister?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your way out of his grip. Without giving one look to the young man behind you, you picked up the card that fell out of your hands. Looking down at it again, you sighed and returned to your desk. The classroom needed to be ready before the students would arrive.

“I thought we made an agreement; you would not visit me this early to avoid suspicion, right?”

Alex smacked his lips, nodding his head slowly. He played with the straps of his backpack as his mind brought him back to that memory. It was around three weeks ago; you were collecting everything to go home after a long day when the young man suddenly sneaked in to share some ‘alone time’. Sadly enough, another student had forgotten her scarf that day and ran back to retrieve it. Even though you tried your hardest to not succumb to his advances, his willpower was way too strong. And the poor girl had almost walked in on you and him kissing. He had pushed his luck too far that time.

Still, if he could, he would not take that moment back. Every second spend with you was worth it.

“It’s nice to see you still like that picture...” He said, pointing to the card in an attempt to effort to change the subject. “After you told me what subjects we would discuss in the future, I immediately thought of that movie and-”

Alex’ voice died once your eyes met his. He was always the first to enter your classroom. In those moments you always could be yourselves. There was no reason to hold back. In that way, these few minutes of privacy would always be filled with love and jokes, stolen kisses and hugs. He couldn’t really recall the precise moment his dream came true, and you returned his affection. The way to earn it had been long and filled with obstacles. The boundaries that needed to be crossed were great. And it felt unlawful, disgusting, wrong... And still, so right.

Now, as he stood only a few feet away from you, it felt like a mile. Your eyes danced across the room, only meeting his for a mere second before quickly darting away again. Your hands brushed some imaginary dust of the picture, while you tried your hardest to breath normally. Little signs of how the nerves started to creep up.

“If you want other recommendations...” He tried, but again... The strength in his voice died before he even finished his sentence. Alex grew concerned as he watched you turn around and hung up the card. The whole thread portraying different scenery throughout film history over the last 50 years shook as you clumsily pined it next to a very bright photo, depicting two children running around at a fair.

Alex frowned when you still did not respond to him. Softly, he moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, trying to turn your body towards him. His head was lowered down a bit, a friendly look on his face as he shakily asked: “What’s on your mind?”. Hoping that whatever bothered you, he could help you solve it.

You didn’t need to see his face to know how his eyebrows were scrunched up with concern. Or how his mouth was slightly twisted as he pondered over who or what could have made you behave so coldly.

But the reason was crystal clear to you.

The adoration you had received from the man in front of you was overwhelming. These past months have been a dream. Almost indescribable. Just as all those sappy quotes on Pinterest say: some things just need to be felt. And this, this felt great.

It had been great.

Felt.

Had.

You bite your lip, feeling nervous all the sudden. Turning around, you tried your best to avoid his blue eyes. They were hypnotizing, demanding for a reason, an explanation.

“Mister Anderssen-” You started again.

“You know, we never did that kind of play, but I am open to anything.” He tried. His attempt to lighten the mood was only met with silence. A silence that felt deafening. And it made his stomach turn.

With his finger and thumb, he slowly lifted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eye. He was a bit taller than you, and he loved that. He used it to his advantage on every occasion he got.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked again.

You sighed, feeling it was better to speak the truth. “This.” You answered, “Us.”

Alex lifted one of his eyebrows, scratching the back of his neck. “Us? What's wrong with us?”

“You’re smart, Alex.” You answered. “Deep down, you know.”

Alex eyes widened. He was speechless, dumbfounded.

“I am a teacher, your teacher to be exact.”

“And you’ve been teaching me amazing things.” He snickered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted, shaking your head. Until you remembered what you wanted to share with him, and your face went blank again. It was almost impossible to not give in, to hold back your laughter when he was around. But you had to.

“Alex.” You said, pushing him lightly away. “The age gap is way too big.”

His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he turned your body more towards him. His eyes narrowed. And although they still sparkled, the hurt he felt could not be hid. The time he could hold back secrets had long passed.

“What made you start doubting us?” He asked.

You sighed, looking down at the ground.

“What if I said... What if the doubt never left? What if it was a thought that always bugged me?”

That made him halter. His muscles stiffened for a second. A millisecond in which he let the guard down and his pain became visible. But just as quick as it fell, the wall was back up again. He stood upright, the hands on your hips now slowly making their way up towards your shoulders. The corner of his lips was pulled up, a fine grin that silently asked you to laugh or say it was just a joke. That it wasn’t the truth.

Alas, it was the truth.

The lingering thought that had been filling your mind with doubts and questions for a while now. Making you question yourself and your choices, but above all, the day on which you gave into his charm.

He was a young, handsome man filled with life and chances. He was almost at the end of the first big chapter in his life, ready to begin a new one, to step into an adventure. After this... Did he want to work somewhere? Move back in with his parents? Maybe he wanted to travel? See the world after being closed off from it after keeping his nose in his books all the time. He could explore, try to discover who he really was. And... Fall in love with someone else. Someone … more of… his age.

How could you hold him back from that?

His thumbs started to stroke small circles of comfort on your neck, while he kept on trying to make eye contact with you. With each passing second, he felt himself grow more uneasy and lost.

“Little one... Love.” Alex winced as he saw you flinch with each nickname that passed his lips. His voice pitched and he sounded in a rush, as he wanted to find a way to ease those doubts. “Y/N, what...?”

The corner of your lip twitched in a weak effort in making a smile appear on your face. It failed horribly, as you felt yourself get overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. “We have to stop this now, Alex.” You managed to make out. “It’s done.”

In the back of the room, he could hear the slow ticking of the big silvery clock. It was only five minutes until the lecture would begin. Any time now, someone could enter the room and walk in on their teacher standing in a, what they would think, romantic embrace with her own student. It only made you more nervous and desperate to get out of his hold. To just say goodbye. To leave this all behind and start new.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head widely. “The age gap is just a number, not even a high one. You want me as much as I want you, right?”

“I do- I- I did. And now, I am ending it.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the stinging feeling in your eyes. “I am letting you go.” you whispered, finally pushing his arms away.

Alex breathed in deeply, stepping forward as you took a step back. Again, and again, you shoved his hands away. He tried to make contact, to touch your arms, to hold your hands, but every time you slapped his hand away. And his heart broke as you kept on avoiding him. He grew frustrated.

“What do you want, Y/N? Since when are you afraid? So, what if they say something? We- We are the ones in love! They-”

“Alex! It’s done! I don’t want this anymore. I don't want- I-”

At this point, he felt the blood in his veins boiling. His heart clenched. His stomach turned. “So, we-this meant nothing to you?”

“That’s a low blow, Alex” You bit back.

“What do you want, Y/N?!”

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore, Alex! This is done! Over!”

He scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides while his chest went up and down with every heavy breath.

“Over? Why are you acting like this? When have you turned into this scarred shell of-”

“I don’t care if you don’t see the problem. Someday you will. And you will understand I made the right call.”

The clearing of a throat ended the discussion sooner than Alex would have wanted. Another student had entered the classroom. Her eyes were wide open as she stared at her teacher and the class top student. Her mouth was slightly open as she tried to form a sentence, but no sound seemed to pass her lips.

You swallowed, quickly wiping a fallen tear off your cheek, stepping even further away from Alex, whose eyes were still glued to you.

“Good afternoon, miss Tuffin. Please take a seat.”

Alex slightly shook his head from side to side, unable to comprehend the situation.

“So, mister Anderssen. Now that you know your answer, please take a seat.” You said quietly, flinching as your voice cracked a bit. Your eyes did not meet his anymore, even though he was hoping you would look him in the eyes again. He knew deep down you did not mean one word of the things you had said. "Class will begin soon.”

***

The silence that had formed was killing the both of you. No one knew what to say or do. The awkward tension held him back from taking the first step, the fear mixed with the embarrassment from a few moments earlier made it impossible for you to move. It felt strange to be in each other’s presence without having the ability to look each other in the eye for longer than a few seconds. And even stranger to know how different this was only a few months back. You had resorted to dust off the pictures that had fallen onto the ground while Alex let his eyes wander around. He did not know what overcame him as he walked up to you. The little café had never come to his attention before. He blamed the big buildings that flanked the warm place for that. As he stepped in, looking for a place to enjoy a good cup of coffee, he wished he had discovered it a long time ago. The mismatched tables and chairs, the hanging lightbulbs, the old paintings decorating the flower wallpaper… Everything breathed out comfort and safety.

The older looking man had greeted Alex with a warming smile, until both men were distracted by the loud curses of a woman in the far back of the café who had dropped her papers all over the floor. Alex did not know whether to laugh or run away when he saw that you were the poor soul collecting all the different photos of the ground. And before he even knew it himself, he stood in front of you. Trying his best to make a casual conversation, without losing his cool.

He was failing miserably.

He really wished the sudden urge of confidence hadn’t left so suddenly.

Jeremy frowned upon the sight in front of him from his place behind the counter. The large piece of cake he had prepared for you earlier stood abandoned next to him. He had never seen that young man in your presence before. Every day you visited his little café alone. Never were you accompanied by a friend, nor had you ever invited one. He could not help the chuckle that passed his lips as he saw the strange boy fumble his way towards your table. But by the way his steps slowed down with each second and how he now stood before you as if he had committed a crime, the old man could not help but wonder what your relationship had damaged to become so uncomfortable.

“Y/N…” Alex started, sighing as he noticed you close your eyes for a second, turning your body slightly away from him.

“Y/N.” He tried again; his voice sounded a bit stronger, more certain. As if he had found his courage and willpower again. But then it crumpled again, his shoulders dropped as he frantically tried to make eye contact. “I am happy to see you again.”

This made you look up. “Me too.” You nodded. “How are you?”

Alex snorted, looking around the café as he tried to find words. Why had it become difficult to speak to you? “Good?” He nodded, more to convince himself than you, “Yeah, I have been good. Taking pictures, trying to improve my photography-“

This made you laugh, the sound making his heart jump for a second. “As if you needed any more improvement.”

Alex bit his lip, glad that you weren’t paying attention to his red flushing cheeks. He breathed out deeply as he looked down at the different cards. His eyes glided over the different pictures depicting scenes of romance, hope, grief and so on. Without saying anything, he sat down, flipping through them one by one. Some of the pictures made the corners of his lips slowly turn up, while others made his brows furrow.

This gave you the opportunity to finally take a look at him. His hair had gotten longer since the last time you saw him. Back then it was cut short, but now his long locks were held together in a little man bun. His jaw was accented by a subtle beard. It’s crazy how much he changed in a few months time… Yet he still looked as dashing as back then.

“I still think this one is the best.” He smiled, showing you the gloomy picture from earlier.

His words made you snap out of your daze, clearing your throat as you took a seat opposite from him after he arched one eyebrow, pointing to the empty chair.

“That’s a shocker,” you shrugged, “You came to me with that movie.”

Alex nodded, the confident smile on his lips reached his eyes for the first time, making them shine bright. However, that light quickly died. Absent-mindedly, he let his finger wander over the picture, contemplating if he should speak up about the shared past or not.

“I… I knew we would meet again, you know? Well, I hoped”

You looked down at your coffee, once again escaping his eyes while wrapping your hands around the lukewarm beverage. It didn’t offer you much comfort anymore.

“Now that I am older,” He lightly joked, “More mature, more-“

“Alex” You interrupted his train of thoughts. “Don’t- Don’t do that.”

“Maybe now you can give me the real reason as to why you gave up on us so easily.” He continued, his voice was low, almost a whisper but the sneer in it could not be ignored. All of the sudden, it felt as if you were on the artic. The blood in your veins ran cold as he had backed you up in a corner. Alex knew he could have pushed you even further away from him, but simply needed to know. The young man sat there before you with his heart beating loudly in his throat. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers lightly drummed on the table.

You sighed, not daring to look into his eyes. Before you even opened your mouth to answer his burning question, he softly spoke up again. “The truth, please.”

You laughed dryly, now really feeling trapped under his demanding stare and the growing tension between the two of you. “I did not want to.” You confessed, feeling your eyes well up. “I really… I really loved you, you know? The time I shared with you was wonderful, and I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault or anything… I just let myself get carried away by my feeling for you, Alex.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” He asked, not understanding your motive.

You grinned, looking at his confused face. “I was your teacher, Alex. We had this conversation before, I wasn’t-“

His hand immediately flew towards your hand, making you fall quiet. “So what? I never cared. Not then, not now. I am no longer your student, there is no reason anymore to hold back anymore.”

You snorted; he would never change. He would always be this cocky little brat and-

“Wait. What do you mean… ‘no reason to hold back anymore’?”

He grinned, squeezing your hand a bit. “I always hoped we could meet again, so I could tell you should not be afraid of our relationship anymore. Or your feelings. Or… us. Don’t say anything because I know that fear held you back. We can be together, Y/N! Please, just-just leave behind your doubts for once. Don’t give a fuck about other people!” He said, his voice becoming louder with each word, growing with passion. “Put yourself first…” His face sprouted a smile, but it was not one of happiness or relief, no, it was because he felt helpless. He could feel you slipping right through his fingers again as he saw you shaking your head. He saw the doubts written all over your face. The questions rummaging through your mind. Was he being truthful? Was it unethical? Could you just start over again and continue this relationship? Was it worth the risk? “Just, choose with your heart for once. You know my feelings for you, but I am waiting for you.”

His words warmed your heart and made the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly. The worries clouding your minds made it hard to really focus on his words, still… You could no longer deny how he made you feel deep down.

As you licked your lips, the both of you suddenly got shaken out of your little bubble by a friendly voice complimenting the handsome man in front of you.

“My dear boy, you could not have a better timing. She really needs someone to make her laugh and escape that world of hers full of work and deadlines she dares to call a life.” Jeremy laughed, waving off your shocked expression, knowing you were about to contradict him. “You both need each other, children.” He paused, placing down two cups of coffee, accompanied with two large slices of one of his famous cakes. “Listen to an old man’s wise words.” Without any further words, and still ignoring your shocked face and Alex’ gestures that he had not ordered anything yet, he left the table to go back to his counter.

From there, he watched how you both broke into a fit of laughter, figuring it was better to enjoy the food and drinks than let them spoil. As Alex shrugged his shoulders and took a careful first bite of the pie, you took a first sip of your new and cup of coffee, never breaking eye contact with him. And… it felt good.

The old man behind the counter watched proudly as the two of you slowly picked up a conversation, sharing what you had been up to these past months to the finest details. The words suddenly came easily and talking felt comfortable again. Laughs, giggles, and loud exclaims of shock and delight were audible throughout the whole café, often making the other customers look up from their spot in the far back of the café. But you couldn’t be bothered by them. No, you were far off in your bubble. A bubble that was warm and joyful, filled with light and love now that Alex was in it.

And as the hours passed and the second slice of pie had been devoured, Jeremy’s heart filled with joy as he saw how your hand was still in the hands of that handsome boy.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! xxx

#alex hogh andersen imagines #alex hogh andersen imagine #alex andersen imagine #alex andersen imagines #alex hogh andersen x reader #alex x reader #vikings imagines #vikings request #alex andersen request #alex høgh andersen #alex høgh #ivar the boneless #vikings season 6 #i am still alive

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artist-assassin · 3 years

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Perspective [Destiny 2 Fic]

[[Title: Perspective

Description: As a challenge from a Destiny server I’m in, I wrote a piece about the same scene from three different perspectives. Bryviks and Senri are original characters. Everyone else is just a throwaway character I’ll likely never mention again in future writings. I hope it’s easy to follow, and hope you all enjoy!]]

High upon a hill overlooking the flattest plains of the frozen planet of Europa, where the vantage point was unbeatable, sat a lone Eliksni vandal named Bryviks. He held a high caliber sniper rifle in his top set of arms, bound in rags in a half-hearted attempt to conceal the weapon from sight if anyone spotted him on the cliff edge. He sat and pondered his future, and where he could go from here. House Salvation was doomed, according to the radio he’d scavenged from supplies found among the corpses of his fallen brethren. The Guardians killed the leaders, encased Eramiskel in a dark ice that other Eliksni whispered would never melt (was she dead in her frozen tomb? Or was she still alive, seeing and feeling the world around her but unable to speak her thoughts aloud or ask for help?). He tried not to think about that, for it was a gateway to thinking about every other horrible thing the Guardians were capable of.

They always destroy what the Eliksni build.

A familiar anger burbled in his chest, the only thing keeping him warm in the otherwize icy tundra he found himself stuck on. He had no ship, had no idea where to procure one. Every ketch that House Salvation or even House Light ferried to and from the planet were often shot down out of the sky with blazing guns that burned everything their accursed bullets touched. Bryviks had seen other Eliksni shot with such bullets. There is never anything left of their bodies to mourn over, nothing but a faint trace of ash in the snow where they had once stood.

Bryviks shook his head firmly, checking and rechecking the tubes that connected his breathing apparatus to the dwindling ether supply strapped to his back. Perhaps he hadn’t had enough Ether, perhaps his thoughts were taking such dark turns in delirium. He wanted to stop thinking about the Guardians and everything they have stolen from him and his kind since the Great Machine blessed them with immortality.

The shake brought him back to his present, sitting upon slick ice in a frozen wasteland. He lifted his rifle to his inner left eye, surveying the surroundings attentively. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he refused to sit in a dark cave somewhere and starve to death.

---

The snow across the icy lands of Europa sparkled beneath the planet’s sun, nearly blindingly bright if it weren’t for the helmet that the woman wore shielding her eyes. She trudged onwards even as the small white flakes began falling from the sky once again. A storm was on its way, she knew, and she wanted to find shelter before it began.

“Guardian,” Her Ghost said in an urging tone, hidden safely in her backpack and talking to her through the helmet’s communication systems. He didn’t use her name even when it was just the two of them.

“I know,” she whispered back. There was no need to whisper, but she did it out of force of habit.

There was a sniper on the ridge to her left, several kilometers away. She’d known about their presence for half an hour now, when her Ghost had warned her about his scanners picking up a heat signature a fair distance away. His next warning was of the poorly concealed weapon he carried on him.

“If it shoots us...” he began, worried.

“We’ll be fine,” she hushed him. She did not pause as she trudged onwards. She lived and fought by one rule and one rule alone: she does not shoot unless they shoot first. She may be renowned for her ability to finish the fights, but she will never be the one to start it.

She didn’t want to start any fights. She hated the unnecessary violence, hated the bloodshed of it all, with a burning passion. She fought only when she thought it was necessary, and now… She pulled out her Dead Man’s Tale, making sure it’s fully loaded (it is, of course, she never goes anywhere with unloaded weapons) and resting a finger on the trigger just in case. Her grip on the weapon is light, but the weight of it felt heavy in her arms. If they shot at her, at her Ghost, she would defend herself. That was all.

She saw the lone figure pull the covering off of their rifle and aim straight at her.

---

The snow began falling again, dark clouds gathering in the skies of this forsaken frozen planet. Bryviks wished he were anywhere else in the universe than here, right now. For a moment, he even considered trying to find a way to the Tangled Shore. He has heard terrible things about the Spider, but he has also heard that he pays his workers a fair wage for their work. Bryviks is a good worker, a hard worker - he could do well in the Spider’s lair…

Suddenly, he paused. The blood in his veins turned as cold as the wasteland around himself. There, beneath the crosshairs of his rifle’s scope, was a lone figure. Not an Eliksni - this was the shape of a human body. And Bryviks knew that mortal humans did not leave their planet for any reason - rarely did they ever even leave their shining City.

A Guardian.

He had a Guardian in his scope.

He climbed up onto his knees, tearing off bits of fabric from the weapon so he could position and aim it better. One clawed finger hovered over the trigger, and he finally paused. What was he going to do? He’d acted purely on instinct upon recognizing the Guardian - a hunter, by the intricately detailed cloak it wore over its shoulders - but now, he tried to form coherent thoughts over the fog of his mind. Was he going to kill this Guardian?

He wanted to. Bryviks thought about his two sisters, and his little brother, and all of his ketch family that had fallen to Guardian hands for no reason at all. His father had joined Eramiskel in her fight against the Great Machine, and had been gunned down by a Warlock and his body looted for more ammo - more ammunition to shoot more Eliksni. A burning feeling surged through his body, and he shook in fury as he looked at the Guardian between his crosshairs.

His hand paused, his clawed finger hovering above the trigger just a breath away from shooting. If Bryviks shot this Guardian - even though he knows the little machine will appear and bring them back to life once again in a miracle of Light, he’s seen it happen so many times before - it will close so many doors of his future.

What options would he have, after this? Where could he go? He was all alone in the universe now, no family left to guide him. He had to find his own way, somehow. His grip faltered, and he lowered the weapon with several distressed clicks of his mandibles. He thought about going to House Light. They live in the Guardian’s gleaming City now, don’t they? A part of him thinks of them as traitors to their own kind, cowards willing to turn over and dock themselves before a human Kell just for another day of survival, but another part of him wonders... Could they welcome him, possibly? He knows they wouldn’t if he tried to kill one of their precious Guardians.

He put his weapon away hastily, wrapping it up with eager, rigid movements, as if somebody would know of what he’d just tried to do if he waited even another second on this cliff. Once it was properly wrapped up again, he stood to leave. He was already thinking about how to tune his radio to a frequency that could get in contact with Misraakskel.

A golden, burning bullet tore through his chest carapace.

He fell to his knees in an instant, more overcome with shock than pain, and looked down at his own body. It melted away into ash, and for the last split second of life he had left, he saw the Ether leaving his body in a haphazard shape of a lonely, wandering Vandal.

---

Senri was no friend to House Salvation, or to any Eliksni who attacked her or other human-kind, but there was a familiar sensation of guilt twisted in her gut when she saw the lone figure disintegrate into ashes as the Ether seeped from its corpse.

She hadn’t fired the bullet - hadn’t even summoned a Golden Gun. In her arms was her Dead Man’s Tale, and nothing else.

Within seconds, another figure appeared on the ledge where the Eliksni once stood. Another Guardian, a Hunter with annoyingly bright yellow and orange armor, traipsed through the Vandal’s ashes with no regard to the life they had just ended and waved jovially at Senri. She could just imagine a big grin on the Hunter’s face. She frowned in her helmet, eyes narrowed. She turned on her heel, slung her rifle over her shoulder once more, and simply went on her way. The storm was approaching faster by the second.

She wanted to leave this damned place.

---

A week later, in some ruined little hut somewhere in the EDZ, sat two Hunters huddled around a fire. Well - there were three of them, but they had all had more than enough to drink that night and one of them had passed out cold an hour ago. The passed out man wore all black and grey clothes, using his tattered cape as a blanket as he snored soundly in one corner of the broken room.

“Wait, wait, there’s no way-!” One of the others, still awake but very much drunk, tried to whisper-shout excitedly. She wore purple and blue armor, with an electric blue cape to match her glowing Awoken eyes. The final Hunter, sitting across from her, laughed energetically and nodded his head fervently, swinging a liquor bottle as he continued his story.

“Yeah, way! That sneaky bastard snuck right up on ‘er, got his gun out an’ everything! I saw the thing power up, he was ready to take the shot!”

The Awoken woman cooed in awe. “You saved… The Guardian. Like, not just any Guardian, but, like-”

“The Young Wolf,” the Hunter clad in obnoxiously bright yellow and orange armor nodded, far too proud of himself and not ashamed at all to make it obvious. He spoke her title in reverence, then giggled in a drunken stupor and stood up to put on his helmet and summon forth his Golden Gun once more. The Awoken Hunter grinned, stood up as well, and crouched down and put her hands out into a claw-like stratagem, mimicking a scary, bloodthirsty Eliksni warrior.

“Grrr!” She play-growled, stomping around the fire to approach her friend. She stuttered as she tried to seem threatening. “I’ll kill your Red War Hero, and then- and then go after your City next!”

“Y’er not goin’ anywhere, monster! Not if I have any say in it!” The yellow Hunter said proudly, heroically, and aimed his Golden Gun straight at his friend. He made a pew sound with his mouth, and both Guardians fell into fits of laughter.

“You’re a hero, man!”

And to them, that was the truth.

#allies writing #weehee i love writing my guardians its so much fun #destiny 2 #destiny #guardian oc #eliksni oc #cant believe the first time i do anything with bryviks and its just to do this to him... so tragic #senri and ghost #the young wolf #bryviks the vandal #there we go. new tag for my lovely eliksni son #even though i killed him in this fic im still going to write and draw for him in the future lol

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

REQ #1 & #2

Synopsis:

req #1 @xavestory | Catching the last train home and seeing your muse seated across you while the pages on your sketchbook calls for you to mirror the reflections in his irises.

req #2 @mrs-kuroojinguji | Sixteen hour flights to a new city with a photographer who has an eye for sunsets and people may have its perks.

Characters: Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kuroo Tetsurou, You

a/n: This is the first two requests of Stories in Passing! Three more in a separate post will be posted sometime tonight!

[ Sakusa Kiyoomi | For Xave, ] | Platform 2 of JR Line, Miyagi Station

The perks of taking a train to the lesser populated side of town had as much perks as taking the last train scheduled for that day. For one, rush hour both in the mornings and evenings meant that you wouldn’t have to compete for seats or give up yours for a senior citizen. Second, or perhaps, your more favorable reason was that you were able the extra hour of commute both to and from work to catch some much needed down time and sketch.

Your sketchbook had taken permanent residence in your work bag at this point. There was something about the constant flip between the train’s motion stopping and starting that feels like it’s still constantly on the go despite the stops. And people were in a sense, the most beautiful when they were relaxed. Or at least you think so.

If someone were to flip through the pages of your sketch book, they’d see the faces of strangers staring back at them. The little girl who dozed off on her mom’s arm last week, the profile of a man standing by the door, and now—the stranger who’s occupying the seat across yours.

Even as you were standing on the platform you were automatically drawn to him. Despite the mask, he was irrefutably gorgeous. Sharp eyes, perfectly curled hair that fell on his eyes just right, and two moles that looked perfectly in place right above his eyebrow. As soon as he took a seat and nodded in your direction when your eyes crossed, your hands itched to sketch the living art in front of you.

The hour passed by a lot faster than you had anticipated with your stop being the next. You’re standing in front of the door waiting for the train to slow in to a stop when you notice him stand up and follow you out.

You’ve made it about twenty steps away from the train and the platform and into the elevator before the really good looking stranger looks at your sketchbook and then up at you.

“Artist?” he asks, and you can already feel your face warming up at the baritone of his voice. You nod, then grip your sketchbook closer to you.

“Can I see how you drew me?” he asks again, after some silence and instantly you pale as you turn to gawk at him.

“Excuse me?” you manage to sputter out.

And again, despite half of his face covered his mask—the intensity of his eyes as it bares down on you has you scrambling to look at anywhere but him. You hear him chuckle when you sprint out of the elevator as soon as the doors open.

Cursing yourself, you take a few deep breaths thinking of what to say before turning back to face him. Though, to be frank you didn’t expect him to still be standing in front of you, one arm in his pocket and the other holding the strap of his backpack.

“So,” he begins, beating you to starting the explanation you know you don’t have, “if I buy you dinner will you finally show me?”

Your mouth drops and you stare at him. “Sorry,” you begin, “what?”

He sighs in a way that has you even more confused, then reaches up to pull his mask down. “I said if I buy you dinner will you finally show me? I know you draw people when you’re in the train, just surprised that you finally picked me this time.”

You’re still staring, or rather, gawking, at his face up until he smirks in your direction and turns, saying, “I’ll take that as a yes since you’re not exactly saying no either. See you tomorrow, Xave.”

If possible, your mouth drops even further as your cheeks turn even redder when you realize he must have read the signature you sign near the edge of your sketches. Has he noticed you that long?

Your cheeks continue to stay red even as you turn and walk home. It’s when you’re some blocks away that you finally let yourself think about how beautiful that man really looked. The contours of his nose as sharp as the edges of his eyes, lips stretched to the most perfect grin and his eyes—dark and analytic as he stared straight at yours.

You smile; your hands itch to sketch his face again.

xave’s sketch is the reference to this!

[ Kuroo Tetsurou | For Ana, ] | Jakarta - London, 7:18 PM

When people stare, there’s sort of a social etiquette one usually adheres to and that is at least trying to not make it obvious.

Not in this case, though.

Waiting for your flight was usually enjoyable for you. People watching, for one was interesting; by the time you’ve checked in you could already gouge out at least ten stories of people either parting or reuniting. Then, it was the constant feeling of just being in motion; a solid destination in mind too.

Plus, the smell of coffee just constantly around the air easily became one of your favorite comforts you associated with airports. There was truly nothing better to perk you up for a long flight ahead than the smell of caramel on coffee and swirls of whip cream kissing your lips.

But this—or rather, the guy just blatantly staring at you felt odd.

He didn’t look like he was necessarily out to get you, but he just stared straight at you in a way that seemed too analytic for “just” people watching. At this point, you’ve probably shifted your body with a complete 90 degree angle just to face away from him, but you could still feel his gaze burn on the back of your head so you sigh. A quick glance at your watch told you that there’s only twenty minutes away until boarding.

And of course, it’s just your luck when the grandmother who was supposedly seated next to you switches seats with the man across the aisle.

“Hey,” he greets and you offer a tight smile at best. Great, you think, almost a sixteen hour flight next to the dude who can’t stop staring.

He’s quiet for a majority of the time. A majority. The minority was the conversations he slips in between meals and lulls in the atmosphere. Kuroo Tetsurou, twenty six years old and works for the Japan Volleyball Association as his career, but has a habit of people watching and photography from time to time.

“Does this mean you take photos of random people?” you joke, and he lets out a laugh that you catch is quite endearing as a response.

“No, no—“ Tetsurou explains, laughing again. “Not in the creepy way I swear.”

You’re look at him in between bites of your dinner and nod for him to continue. He smiles at your cue and continues, “People are interesting.”

“Maybe it’s because I was a captain back then or that observing people now is my job, but keeping that observation in candid photographs is pretty cool,” Tetsurou finishes and you take note he has a glazed look over his eyes; like he’s far away.

He’s quick to snap out when he notices you still staring so he smiles, laughing, and looks down at his dinner. “At least, I think so.”

“You have a point,” you tell him. He nods, looking out at the window beside your seat and directs his smile there.

“Wanna switch seats? Sun’s about to go down and I think you might wanna take a photo of the view.” you ask and he’s quick to shake his head. “It’s okay, the view here is nice too.”

You smile and nod your head not realizing he meant that he was looking at you.

It’s about thirteen hours later when you’re finally stretching and standing by the arrival area with your suitcase in tow in line at a starbucks. Tetsurou, the stranger in passing peeked his head in the entrance and shot you a smile as he spotted you.

“Morning,” you wave, smiling.

He returns your smile and that’s when you notice him fidgeting with the strap of his backpack.

“I, uh—“ he starts avoiding to look straight at you. “I was taking photos of the sunset earlier and you happened to be in one of the shots by accident, I swear. I can dele—“

You cut him off with a nudge to his shoulder and a laugh. “Let me see.”

He stands next to you while you scroll through the images. You have to admit, though, he definitely had an eye for color. The skies over Jakarta looked like a different kind of beautiful especially in the photos you happened to turn and shoot him a smile.

“Not to be creepy,” Tetsurou starts and you snicker. “—that’s exactly what a creepy guy would say,” you cut him off as a retort.

“On a scale of one to ten, this photo of you would be a hundred.”

You laugh at his comment and tug your suitcase, walking forward to the counter. “Guess I have to buy you coffee as payment?”

Tetsurou’s eyes gleam when you shoot him another smile, then his hands itch to click the shutter of his camera.

“As long as I get your number too, Ana.”

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wkemeup · 5 years

Text

The Other Side of the Door

summary: Bucky would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Even if it took him to the bottom of the ocean. pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 8.8k warnings: canon level violence, drowning (again? yes) a/n: this was written for a writing challenge for a user who was exposed for plagiarism sooooo.... but anyway..... this is based off the score of Taking a Stand - Henry Jackman (Captain America TWS).

Bucky never wanted to hurt you like this. He never wanted to be the reason for the tears burning on your cheeks or the violent trembling of your hands as you so desperately tried to reach him through the steel lock of the door between you, to change his mind before it was too late.

He didn’t want to do this. It was imperative that you knew that, but you were so furious, so pain-stricken and terrified to see that he didn't have another choice. He’d lost his recklessness, his willingness to throw himself headfirst into flames and bullets the day he met you. He had something to fight for now, something to live for, and he had no desire to throw it away. It was the last thing he wanted, and still, here he was.

Trapped in a cold, empty control room aboard a sinking cruise liner with his hand on the lever holding open the only door to your escape. The handle broke in the fight between him and the dead man currently laying at his feet; the ricochet of a bullet rendering the lever useless without a hand to keep it latched. Everyone else got out in time, but not you. No, you rushed back into the flooding halls, dripping wet with ocean water in search of him.

He was the one to lock the door, trapping himself inside. A barricade between you. A lifetime.

The devastation in your eyes, the betrayal, nearly crumbled his resolve, but he held his ground. He’d break your heart a thousand times over if it meant you survived this. He’d done so much evil in his life, saving yours might be the one decent thing he could do before the water took him under, back to the ice where he belonged.

***

T W O H O U R S E A R L I ER

“I don’t like this,” Sam grumbled into his headset as he gripped tight to the strap above his head, glancing down out the open door of the helicopter to the rocking of the ship below, sitting upon unsettled waves and shockingly forceful gusts of wind.

“You don’t like much of anything, do you?” Bucky shot back. Sam rolled his eyes at him, though the moment he turned back to the ship, Bucky winked at you, smile spreading over his lips.

“There’s a reason I wasn’t in the Navy, Barnes,” Sam frowned. “Don’t like water.”

“Well, don’t get wet,” Steve laughed, clapping Sam on the back and causing him to flinch and grip onto the handle above him tighter.

You held your laugh under your breath, eyeing Natasha as she smirked in amusement from her seat behind you, completely unphased by the crash of the water below. You reached out to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder encouragingly.

“No one is going in the water, Sam,” you reassured him, nudging Bucky in the side as he was clearly mouthing the opposite and threatening to throw Sam in himself.

Sam pursed his lips, nodding at you in appreciation, before he shot a glare at Bucky.

“You should lay off of him,” you warned quietly, curling up against Bucky’s side as he held onto the beam above with his left arm, securing you to his waist with his right.

Bucky chuckled. “He’s knows I’m messing with him.”

“Well, be careful about it before you two might start another civil war,” you teased.

“We certainly don’t need that again,” Nat commented from her corner, legs crossed and sharpening a knife casually as the helicopter swung with the wind. She winked, tapping Steve with the toe of her boot, only to laugh when he turned around, not having heard either of your comments, causing you both to laugh.

Steve narrowed his eyes, glancing at Bucky for support but only earned a shrug in return.

“Alright team,” Steve said in his ‘captain voice’ as Bucky often referred to it, “we all know what the plan is here. Get the hostages and get the hell out.”

“And the bad guys?” Natasha inquired, the flicker of the reflection on her knife clear as day.

“We’re not taking prisoners,” Steve responded shortly. You all knew what that meant. He turned to Sam. “You’ll go in first, get a good read on the heat signatures. Bucky and I will follow and clear a path for Y/n and Nat to get to the hostages.”

Nat held her hand out and you slapped her palm down against hers, grinning at one another. You always did make an exceptional team.

It was rare Steve assigned you to work directly with Bucky, but neither of you minded that much. It was hard to see him in the field and though you knew he was more than capable of handling himself, it didn’t ease the worry you felt as enemies charged at him with knives and guns with the intent to kill.

Once, when you’d been partnered, he nearly compromised an entire mission after an assailant almost got a knife into your stomach. Thankfully, you swerved away from the blade at the last second and brought him down yourself. Bucky’s intervention wasn’t needed but he’d left his post to help you and he had Steve berating him for weeks for that mistake.

“So, I’m thinking when we get home, maybe I take you to that place out in Queens you like so much,” Bucky said casually, as Sam jumped out the door of the helicopter, wings out and flew down to the ship below.

“The one with the spicy calamari?” you asked excitedly, stomach growling at the thought.

Bucky nodded. “’Course. We have an anniversary coming up, you know.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms tight around his waist as he held you secure against him in the unsteady movement of the helicopter. “Do we now? How long’s it been again, Sergeant?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, “could be seconds, weeks, decades. Can’t tell how fast time is moving when I’m with you.”

“Oh my God, will you two saps turn off your coms if you’re going to be that disgusting?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker, following by a gagging sound that had you and Bucky doubling over in laughter. “We all know it’s been three years. Three years of hell!”

“That’s very kind of you, Sammy,” you replied, struggling to contain your laughter. Nat was smiling to herself as she holstered her knife and even Steve was shaking his head, grinning over at Bucky as he waited for the signal from Sam.

“Maybe I’ll turn off the noise dampener in our room tonight and show you what your hell really sounds like,” Bucky shot back, winking at you and dipping down to kiss your lips, his right arm still snaked around your waist and holding you flush against him.

“Someone restrain that man before I personally fly back up there and toss him in the ocean!”

“Sam, focus,” Steve warned, though he was smiling, trying to suppress it with no use.

Sam grunted, though the muffle of the wind on his mic had stilled. He must have landed down on the ship. “We’re clear. Cap, you and the massive pain in my ass can head down.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, reluctantly stepping away from you to line up at the open door with Steve. He turned back over his shoulder.

“See you in a second,” he smirked, leaning over to kiss you again before he jumped out the door, Steve close behind him.

You watched as they blended into the dark of the ocean and the night sky. Natasha came up beside you, trying to get a decent look herself.

“You think they’ll ever learn to use a parachute?” Nat smirked, handing you a backpack to shrug up over your shoulders. You shook your head, laughing.

“Definitely not. They enjoy the adrenaline too much.”

Sam’s voice coughed through the coms, alerting you and Nat to make your jumps. Without a second of hesitation you threw yourself out of the chopper and into the open air. It was cold against your face, but your suit as designed by Tony Stark and he had more than a few alterations to ensure that while the material remained breathable, it also shielded you from the impact of the wind. The churn in your stomach through the freefall was an exhilarating rush.

You released the parachute, looking over to Nat who had just done the same, and began to steer the cords to lead you down to the deck.

From above, you spotted Bucky and Steve fighting in hand to hand with a few watchmen out on the deck while Sam made his rounds in the shadows to ensure your cover was secure. It was nothing they couldn’t handle. You knew Steve would have his back without fail, so you worry for him decreased significantly when they were together.

By the time you reached the deck, the last of the guards were taken out and lying unconscious on the ground. Bucky reached up and steadied you as you landed and planted your feet to semi-solid ground. Wasting no time, he kissed you again because he simply could, and helped to unclip the buckles of the backpack to free you of the parachute.

“Hey Sammy,” you laughed, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to find him standing with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes rolled so far back to his head, you wondered if they might get stuck there.

“We’re on a mission. Can you not make out for like, ten minutes?” Sam groaned, waving his hand at you. Though as he was turning to make his way back to his rounds to watch for threats, you spotted a smile on his face. He was all talk and cared a lot more for Bucky that he’d ever admit aloud, and though he said it once to you and swore he would deny it to his grave if it came to it, he was happy you and Bucky found each other. It was just simply more fun to constantly berate the two of you.

“You ready?” Steve called back quietly, preparing himself by the door.

“Coming, pal,” Bucky replied. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and jogged his way over to Steve. He turned back to you and gave a single wink before Steve opened the door and the disappeared behind it.

“So, three years, huh?” Nat smirked, arms folded over her chest as the two of you waited patiently listening to the soft grunts of the boys as they made their way through mercenaries to clear your path.

You shrugged, smile burning in your cheeks. “Yeah, seems that way. Went by fast.”

“Glad he finally learned to accept some good in his life,” Natasha said, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve really made such a difference in his recovery since he’s been out of Hydra’s control and, maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad we all got you out of the deal, too.”

“Guess we should all thank Sam for calling out sick all those years ago and giving me the opportunity to sneak my way into Bucky’s heart,” you laughed, thinking back to the mission in Kiev where Fury had assigned you to take over Sam’s position alongside Bucky.

He was still quiet and reserved and working on earning the trust of the Shield agents on his team outside of Steve, and your wit and charm and inability to tread lightly while others kept purposeful distance started to crack at the ice on his heart. You trusted him without question and treated him like he was actually a crucial part of the team, and he was, though most of the agents largely ignored him at the time. Steve saw how well you worked together and started insisting you join their ops more often.

Over time, Bucky started to edge of out from behind the wall he constructed around himself and started falling into you. You started to seek one another out in the gym during training, started coming up with excuses to go out for food or to run into one another in briefing rooms.

It evolved to rushing down the hall at two in the morning when his mission came back later than scheduled and crashing into his arms because you couldn’t still the race in your heart until you felt the pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips. It became phone calls in the dead of night and crawling into one another’s beds to fight off the nightmares together. It went from timid touches and stolen glances to kisses in the shadows of the halls and laying bare upon his chest, wrapped under the thin layer of sheets on his bed.

“I cannot believe this is all my fault,” Sam grunted, the breeze of the wind picking up in his mic as he soared overhead.

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled, slightly out of breath. “We’re ready for you, doll. Shouldn’t be too much trouble on your way.”

“Got it, heading in now,” you responded, rolling your eyes at the way Natasha was practically beaming at you. She got too much of a kick out of your relationship with Bucky, and maybe if you weren’t so terrified of how she’d retaliate, you’d start poking holes at her less-than-subtle-more-than-friendship relationship with Steve.

Making your way down the hall, you stepped over a series of unconscious bodies left behind by Bucky and Steve. It certainly wasn’t as though you and Natasha couldn’t have handled the influx of guards yourselves, but sometimes it was nice to let someone else get their hands dirty for a change.

At the end of the hallway sat a single door. Bucky and Steve had already moved further into the ship to work on taking down the rest of the crew to avoid further catastrophe once the hostages were running loose. Tony was supposed to show up sometime in the next few minutes with an escape plan big enough to cart forty terrified passengers to safety. It was the moment between leaving this room and getting to the escape, that worried you. Civilians were... unpredictable.

You signaled for Nat to shoot the lock on the door and it snapped off with in a single bullet. The two of you pushed your way inside only to be with three guards waiting for you, all armed and ready to fire. Expecting resistance, you and Nat charged at the men, tossing aside their weapons they so clearly used as a crutch and overpowered them quickly in hand-to-hand. All three men were on the ground in a matter of minutes.

You panted, glancing up to the room full of hostages huddled together in the corner, all with tape pressed over their mouths and rope securing their hands. You tapped Natasha’s forearm, nodding to the group of people watching the two of you with wide, fearful eyes.

“We’ve got the hostages,” you said quietly into the mic, not waiting for a response before you addressed the crowd. “My name is Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Romanoff. We’re here with Shield. I need everyone to remain calm and we’ll get you out of here safely, okay?”

Quick nods came in waves through the crowd and you and Nat rushed to start working on the ropes around their wrists. The first woman you met had tears on her cheeks and a child no older than four sitting contently in her lap. Thankfully, he wasn’t gagged and bound the way she was, and he was playing mindlessly with a toy airplane, seemingly unbothered.

It didn’t take long to release the hostages and once you did, Nat started to direct the crowd to the exit. She took up the front and you held the rear, explaining to the stragglers in the back that they needed to stay ahead of you, even though their legs were worn and tired and aching.

“We’re moving out to the deck,” you said into the coms, eyeing the open hallways every time you walked past.

“Guess I made good timing then, kid,” Tony’s voice came through and you could hear the whirring of his suit through the mic. “I’ve got a getaway docked on the side of this monstrosity so get those hostages here as quick as you can before the waves start getting higher.”

“On it, Stark,” you confirmed, smiling ear to ear and checking over your shoulder for company.

Your movements were slower on the way out then coming in, seeing as you had forty people to watch over. You started to wonder where Bucky and Steve had disappeared to, when suddenly you heard a door slamming behind you. You spun around to find a guard charging in your direction and those in the back of the crowd began to scream and push their way to the front.

“Nat! I’ve got--” you dodged a punch from the guard, swinging under his arm to kick at the space between his shoulder blades until he stumbled forward, “-- company back here!”

“Me too!” she shouted back, clearly out of breath and the commotion of the hostages separating the two of made it difficult to hear the coms at all.

You yanked the gun from your holster and attempted to fire at the assailant but he was too fast for that and knocked the weapon from your hand.

“Shit!”

“Y/n! You okay? What's going on?” Bucky’s voice echoed in your ear and you could hear the strain behind it, the panic, and you knew he was struggling to keep his position with hearing your distress through the mics.

You grunted, thrown to the wall in the impact of the hit you sustained. “Nothing I can’t handle, baby.”

Before the man could take another swing, you grabbed the gun draped at his hip, released the safety, and fired two shots at his chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and you exhaled a breath of relief, wiping the sweat from your brow that turned out to be blood.

“I’m clear back here. Nat?” you called up and she confirmed that she had taken care of her end as well. You turned back to the crowd, hand on a young man’s shoulder and trying to calm a teenage girl who had burst into tears at the sight of blood on your face. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll get you out of here. You just need to--”

A sudden jolt ripped through the ship, shaking the floor like an earthquake as a thunderous echo bounced through the walls. The lights turned out suddenly, replaced by a soft red glow of emergency strips along the linings of the halls. The hostages were screaming. Panic was spreading.

“What the hell just happened?” Steve shouted, his voice breathless and it sounded like he was running.

“Some idiot set off an explosive in the engine room!” Sam replied, frantic. “It’s taking on water fast. Gotta move quickly or we’ll--”

Silence. You tapped on the edge of your com placed security on your ear. You froze dead in your tracks, not able to even hear the soft undertones of the buzz of the coms, and trying to ignore the concerned stares of the hostages as they turned back to you, unsettled by your obvious distress.

“Sam?” you called, but there was no reply. “Nat? Bucky?”

Nothing.

Shit shit shit.

Natasha would know to continue forward. She wasn’t that far ahead, but shouting up to her over the chaos of the hostages would only make things worse. You steadied yourself and with one firm grip on your weapon, and another urging the crowd to continue moving, you tried to ignore the shaking in your legs and the painful twist in your stomach.

You only had one directive. Get the hostages out. Meet on the escape vessel.

You could only hope the rest of the team did the same.

***

Bucky was going to lose his damn mind if he didn’t get off this boat soon. He could barely see a few feet ahead of him and the glowing red light did little to help his perception as he trailed behind Steve, picking off mercenaries like they were fish in a barrel.

They were heading to the control room to try and delay the emergency procedures the ship would automatically begin to route the moment the lowest desk flooded. The doors would start to slam shut in an effort to contain the water, trapping the hostages, along with you and Nat below deck. The fact that the coms had gone out completely didn’t help to ease the panic in his veins.

He was never a big fan of improvising.

The carpets were already starting to soak wet with water under his boot, which meant the floods of water wouldn’t be far behind. Bucky couldn’t think straight, trying to concentration on the center of Steve’s back as they raced through the halls towards the stairs.

By the time they made it to the stairwell, taking three steps at a time as they bounded up to the higher floors, another ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes of silence, of not knowing where you were or if you were out on the loading deck like you were supposed to be, not knowing if the water had already taken you. Bucky’s hands were shaking.

Steve pushed open the door out into the hallway, and suddenly, without warning, the coms came back on.

“What-- hell ar-- we suppo-- to do?” you voice came through in scattered connection, laced with panic, and Bucky could hear the frantic cries of the hostages in the background. You must have slammed your hand against something solid because you hissed at the impact.

“Y/n!?” Bucky called out; a finger pressed tightly to his ear in hopes of hearing you clearer. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

He exchanged a look with Steve, who only nodding in encouragement. They both paused, hoping that the position they were standing in would give a better signal to you.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, relief aching through his name. “Bucky, the doors shut on us! We’re trapped and we’ve already got water at our knees.”

A jolt swept through his chest and he tried to contain the shaking in his hands as he urged, “okay, okay, baby listen to me. I don’t know how long we’ll have the coms on for, but I’m heading to the control room. I’ll get the doors open but I need you to keep me updated on where the water is.”

“I can do that,” you replied and though Bucky could hear the smile in your voice, he could tell it was forced. Your tone was too tight, too tense. You were scared and it wasn’t something that sat well in Bucky’s chest. It was unlike you.

Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow down the hallway leading to the control room and the two of them sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them. It shouldn’t be too far, he told himself, but that didn’t seem to ease his stress when your voice came through not even two minutes later warning him to was up to your hips. Ocean water in the dead of night and you were half submerged and trapped behind locked steel doors. The temperature would take you before you even had a chance to drown.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, teeth chattering, and he wasn’t sure if he was even meant to have heard that but scared him unlike anything else.

“Five minutes, doll. Give me five minutes,” Bucky urged, shooting a terrified look over to Steve with an urgency that ran like ice in his veins. That was, until they came upon an adjoining hallway where dozens of the ship’s mercenaries stood in wait, clenching onto weapons and holding their ground.

Steve froze instantly in his tracks. “Shit.”

One by one the mercenaries started to aim their weapons at the two of them, and Steve shoved Bucky hard in the chest, throwing him out of the line of fire.

“Get to the control room!” he shouted, charging at the closest of the guards he could get his hands on. Yanking a gun from one of the men beside him, Steve shot a single bullet at each of the two men in his path before he moved onto the next. “I’ll take care of them! We need those doors open, now!”

Bucky nodded frantically, not wanting to leave Steve on his own but knowing he had no choice. He rushed down the hall, spotting the control room door and a shaky breath of relief in his chest, even as he heard the echoes of gunfire and hoped it was Steve on the right end of the weapon.

“Bucky,” your voice cried out, and Bucky knew he was losing time.

“I know, I know, I’m almost there,” he replied, shoving his shoulder against the door and thankful it was unlocked. He scrambled up to the control panels, skidding on his boots from the excess water on the tile floor until he located a lever. “Found it.”

Hand gripping onto the latch, he moved to yank it back when suddenly the discharge of a weapon fired and a sharp burn scraped his right arm. Bucky dove back, hissing at the scrape of the bullet as his hand latched onto his arm, holding back the blood as it seeped through his fingers.

“I’ve got company,” Bucky muttered into the coms. “Give me a second.”

“We're running out of seconds, Barnes!” Natasha replied, out of breath, and panic coursed through his veins wondering why it wasn’t you that answered him. “Water’s at our shoulders. We’re swimming in it!”

His eyes shot over to the lever, knowing it would only take a second to lift the hatch but the guard stood in his path; larger than the others with thick Kevlar securing his frame against the raid of bullets and a dozen weapons strapped to his chest. He was twice Bucky’s size with scarring on his face and evidence of previous injuries healed over crudely.

Knowing he had little time to waste, Bucky charged at him, knocking the man to the ground. He tried to reach up for the lever while he pinned the guard to the ground but it slipped from between his fingers as he was yanked back by the straps of his jacket.

Neither you or Nat were coming through the coms anymore as he threw fists and dodged blocks from his opponent. Part of him hoped the signal had died out again but he could vaguely make out Steve’s grunts from his own fight a few halls down and the breeze of Tony’s and Sam’s mics in the wind outside.

The guard fired his weapon several times in Bucky’s direction and he was able to escape all but one of the shots, leaving him with a second hit, this time on his thigh. Bucky yanked the knife from his holster and swung it at the man, panting and exhausted by the time it implanted itself in the man’s neck and he slumped down to the floor in a mess of blood.

Bucky hulled himself back up to the control panel and yanked hard on the lever. Relief surged through him as it pulled back and he could hear the steel doors on his own floor opening.

“Good work, Barnes!”

Bucky felt no relief at Stark’s voice.

“Where’s Y/n?” he replied, breathless.

“Her and Nat must have lost their coms in the water. I can see them beyond the door now,” Tony confirmed.

Bucky nodded, trying to convince himself this was over, it was going to be okay and he’d get the hell out of here soon, but as he released his hand from the lever, it snapped back down to the panel and the doors slammed shut along with it.

“What happened!” Sam shouted. He must be with Tony now.

Bucky shook his head in shock, panicked, only now noticing the fray of the wires left behind in the damage down in his fight with the dead man on the ground beside him. It was preventing the lever from staying open on its own. A startling realization rushed through him and he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

“N-Nothing! I’ve got it,” Bucky replied, thankful your com wasn’t working because you’d be able to detect the lie in his voice, the fear, and he couldn’t have you knowing what he was about to do.

***

Cold didn’t even begin to describe the trembling ache of ice on your skin. The toddler in your arms was crying, clinging onto you with wet hair dampened and sticking to the sides of his face. Rushing over to the edge of the ship where Tony managed to arrange for a SHIELD cargo vessel to load the hostages onto, your legs were numb under you and you nearly stumbled and collapsed if it wasn’t for Tony’s sudden grip on your shoulders.

He took the boy from you, though the child’s hands were gripped anchor tight to your suit and it broke your heart to pry him away. Breaths burning in your chest from the cold, you spun around looking for your team.

Nat was helping hostages onto the boat, winging out her hair in the free moments between holstering terrified passengers aboard. Sam was flying above and taking out stray mercenaries before they even had a chance to cross the deck of the ship and get within range of you. Meanwhile, Tony was shouting orders to the few SHIELD crew members he brought along.

Then suddenly, Steve raced through the open door, blood covering most of his face and with several open cuts and wounds on his suit. He was limping, deep red seeping from a wound on his stomach. He looked like he’d been through hell and you noticed instantly that he was alone.

“Steve!” Nat called, rushing towards him and checking for damage.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, brushing off the bullets lodged in his body as if they were nothing. He glanced around the open deck before he spotted you, worry filling his eyes. “Where’s Buck?”

You froze, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t a question he was meant to ask. “He’s not with you?”

Steve shook his head. “N-No, we had to split up. He was supposed to get the doors open and get the hell out. He hasn’t been responding on the coms for the last few minutes.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and with a single look in Natasha’s direction, your name on her lips in a plea to not do what she knew you were about to, and you sprinted back into the heart of the ship. No hesitation. No concern for the water that awaited you.

You could hear Steve and Tony calling your name, but you had disappeared into the ship’s halls before they had a chance to restrain you to the deck.

***

“What the hell do you mean she ran back inside?!” Bucky shouted, gritting his teeth and wiping away the sweat that had started to fall onto his forehead. Ice water was at his ankles and he was burning hot.

“Oh, so now you respond to me!” Steve snapped, more panic in his voice than anger. “She ran back to get you, you idiot! Where the hell have you been? This ship is on its way under!”

“You don’t-- Steve, you don’t understand,” Bucky shot back, hand shaking. He glanced down to the water at his feet, knowing it would only take a matter of minutes before it was at his waist. “Someone needs to come get her. I can’t-- I’m not leaving, pal.”

There was a pause on the other hand. Bucky’s hand was cramping from how tight he was holding the lever.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s voice was small, afraid.

“Doors won't stay open without me,” Bucky replied as flatly as he could. Any trace of emotion in his voice and he would have broken down on the spot. He had to be stone cold or he’d never get through this. “I let go of this lever, the doors shut. Someone had to stay behind.”

“Bucky, you know she’s not going to let you do that.”

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps splashing through the water in the hallway alerted to your closeness and in a panic, he slammed the emergency button on the end of the panel. The door to the control room closed on itself, locking behind several steel clasps.

“She won’t have a choice,” Bucky exhaled, wincing as you rushed up to the door with a relief etched into your smile that burned like lit gasoline in Bucky’s chest. As you tried to get the door open, only to find it lock, your smile quickly faded, brow furrowing, confusion in your features.

“What are you doing? We have to go!” you shouted through the door, shouldering it in an attempt to get it to budge though it would do no good. The door was made of solid steel and you were so incredibly human. Exceptional and skilled beyond most, but still human.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Was there anything he could say to you to make this any easier? Was there anything that could possibly convince the love of his life to leave him behind?

“Sam,” Bucky choked out, clenching his jaw in an attempt to will the tears away. You hadn’t made the connection yet. You didn’t know what he was about to do. “Sam, I need you to get Y/n out of here.”

“On my way,” Sam replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still working at the door you’d never be able to open. “Bucky, let’s go! I don’t need Sam to get me out of here if you’ll just come with me!”

“Sweetheart, I’m-- I’m not leaving.”

You froze, movements stilling, though that only lasted a second before you shook it off, switching yourself back into combat mode because Bucky knew you well and you couldn’t stand to hear what he was trying to tell you.

“Shut up,” you argued back, yanking hard on the latch of the door. “Don’t say that. I’ll get you out of there.”

“I’m the one that locked the door.”

The flash of heartbreak, confusion, anger, that ran across your face almost made Bucky’s knees give out.

“What did you say?” you voice was barely a whisper and it stilled echoed throughout his chest.

“This lever is the only thing giving you a way out of here. I let go and you’re trapped. The emergency doors all come down again and you’ll drown.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he needed it to be, not with the way you were looking at him like your whole world was collapsing around you.

“So what? You want me to leave you here?” you snapped and when Bucky didn’t respond, too afraid of the broken cracks in his voice, your eyes widened in shock. “I’m not leaving you here to die! We’ll figure something out, Buck. We always do!”

You pulled out your gun when Bucky only shook his head in response, defeated, and you fired an entire round of bullets into the window of the door. He flinched as it cracked at the glass, but it remained solid as steel.

“Y/n, please, you have to go. You don’t have much time,” Bucky pleaded, growing desperate as the water rose to his shins. He could see you shivering on the other side, already soaked wet from the water you escaped with the hostages. Your lips were turning a shade of blue that set a stone deep in his stomach. Hair was clinging to the side of your face. Your breath was fogging the window and he was losing sight of you.

“Sam, please,” Bucky begged, voice breaking. “Get her out of here.”

“I’m on my way buddy, hold on--”

“Bucky! Don’t do this. Open the door,” you begged, slamming your palms against the glass window, your only connection to him. Your voice was breaking, cracks in the ache of your tone and despite the fractions in the glass, it remained impenetrable.

“Baby, I need you to run,” Bucky urged, shaking his head and willing the tears from his eyes. The water was at his hips. “You can meet Sam out by--”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” you screamed, tears blurring your vision and burning down the sides of your face, mixing with the ice-cold water dripping from your hair.

He glanced over to a vent in the corner of the room to find water dripping out from the cracks, like a damn about to explode. The room would be flooded in a matter of minutes.

“I love you,” Bucky said suddenly, knowing it might be the last time.

“N-No! Stop, just--- just come with me! We’ll-- We’ll get out in time,” you cried, shoving your shoulder against the door and Bucky was certain you’d find dark blue and purple against your skin by morning.

“We won’t,” he said softly, longing to reach out and hold you. “Let me save you, baby. Please. Let me do this one good thing.”

He’d never seen such fear in your eyes before.

“B-Bucky, please--”

He couldn’t tell if the cracks in your words were from the cold or the lump in your throat, but Bucky could hardly gather enough willpower to look at you. He couldn’t stand to see the tears on your face and the red in your eyes, the devastation, the betrayal. He loved you, more than he’d ever loved himself or anyone else, and he needed to do this. He needed you to be safe, to be alive.

“I love you so much,” he said again, spotting Sam in the distance flying above the water. Relief ached in his chest and he closed his eyes, letting the tears blink from his lashes and fall to the pools of ocean water rising below him. He could hear you crying, hear the pants of your breath and the thud against the door as you so desperately tried to reach him.

You wouldn’t be able to.

“Bucky, d-don't—don't do this,” you begged, scratching at the window. You were losing energy fast, the cold of the water aching in your muscles. Sam touched down into the water behind you and you didn’t even notice. Your eyes were falling heavy.

“I love you. I love you,” Bucky chanted like a prayer as you fell back into Sam’s arms, weak and losing consciousness. He met Sam’s eyes through the window, a startling devastation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Sam was at as much of a loss as he was. “Buck--”

“Go,” Bucky urged. “Get her out of here. Please. Just go.”

With a single nod, knowing a man’s last wish when he heard it, he kicked off the floor and held you tight to his chest as he flew above the water further down the hallway until you were out of view. Bucky’s hand was cramping on the lever, but he only needed to hold it for a few more seconds. He could hear the wind on Sam’s mic and the crash of rushing water below him.

“We’re out,” Sam reported dejectedly. None of this felt like a victory.

Bucky nodded, releasing the lever and stepping back into the room, sloshing water around his waist. He was shivering.

“Buck,” Steve called out gently, “Bucky you still there?”

Bucky nodded, though he knew Steve couldn’t see that. Everything was numb; his legs, his arm, his brain. It all felt fuzzy.

“Is she safe? Are you--” Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to keep the sob from breaking through him completely, “Are you all okay?”

“We’re-- We’re fine, Buck, but--”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky confessed, eyes focused on the cracks in the walls leaking water down into the pool slowly rising up to his chest. It wouldn’t hold much longer. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I lov--”

A rush of water.

Ice on his skin. Then, in his lungs.

Burning. Aching. Fire within his chest.

Darkness.

***

One week later and they still hadn’t found his body. He wasn’t locked in the control room where he had been the last time you saw him, hand clenched on that lever, body shaking from the cold of the water, and tears in his eyes. The divers had come up empty, searching the entire ship without a trace of the man you loved.

You tried not to picture him surrounded by the crashing of violent currents and impossible darkness. You desperately pushed away the image of him sinking into the endless abyss, hair floating around him in a halo, skin pale and blue. You couldn’t stand to think of him so alone.

This was worse, your decided, to lose him in this way; to lose him to a cruel and impossible choice to trade his life for yours. He had always thought he’d die on the end of a bullet in the field, in the line of duty. It was something you accepted for yourself, as well, though you always hoped the two of you would make it long enough to retire and let your age pull you under.

With no body, you had nothing to bury. A funeral felt pointless and you didn’t think you could stand to see the protesters outside the gates of Arlington. There would always be those on the fringe who would never accept Bucky as he was, who would only ever see him as what Hydra made him to be. He had learned to deal with it, often took it as he penance, but it was never something you got over. It hurt deep in your chest and the idea of those people ruining your final goodbye was unthinkable.

So, you didn’t give them the chance.

You sat in a black dress, legs folded under you, upon the grass overlooking the lake in the back of the compound. It was a quiet place, one Bucky often found himself in. He used to find peace in the water, watching the subtle ripples at the slightest disruption to the surface, the clear endless tranquility, the reflection of the trees above. You weren’t sure you could find beauty in it anymore. Not knowing that it was water that filled his lungs and suffocated him until his body gave out.

Steve arranged for the team to gather and just talk; a memorial of sorts amongst only those who truly knew him. You stayed silent the whole time, clinging onto Sam’s hand and staring off into the space between Natasha’s and Tony’s shoulders. You couldn’t focus on much of anything, couldn’t listen to their stories or the way Steve tried to hold back the sob etching through his chest.

Amongst the memories, you could only picture Bucky on the other side of that damn door. The look in his eyes as he watched you, knowing you’d never reach him in time. The shake in his hand and the tears on his cheeks. The defiance in his voice and the rush of heat and fire in your veins at the realization of what he was trying to do.

You hated him.

You loved him.

But everything burned in your chest and all you knew was he wasn’t here with you.

“Y/n?” a voice called behind you, urgency in tone. Sam.

You closed your eyes, though you didn’t move a muscle. You weren’t sure you could face anymore of your friends today. You couldn’t take another ‘are you alright’ or ‘can I get you anything’ because the answer was always ‘no’ and ‘Bucky.’ They weren’t answers anyone wanted to hear.

“Y/n,” Sam called again, relief upon his voice. He must have spotted you. You could hear him jogging towards you, slightly out of breath. He must have been looking for a while.

“There you are,” he exhaled, reaching down to grab you hand and tug you to your feet, but you remained still. “Come on, kiddo, you need to come with me right now.”

You shook your head. “Just let me be alone, Sammy.”

“You don’t understand,” Sam urged and when you looked up at him, he was smiling wide, with teeth. It was almost unsettling as he was still in his black suit from the makeshift memorial earlier that day. “Y/n, just follow me.”

You clenched your jaw. “Sam, please. I can’t--”

“They found him.”

You heart ached. It burned and broke. Was this better? To have a body to bury? You weren’t sure anymore. Tears slipped past your eyes before you could stop them and you brushed them aside. Sam kneels down beside you, but he was still smiling. You wanted to punch it off his face.

“I don’t-- I don’t think I can see him like that,” you muttered out, envisioning discolored skin, sunken lids, blue lips. It wouldn’t be Bucky, not anymore.

Sam exhaled, relief and joy in his voice you couldn’t understand. “Y/n, you’re not hearing me. They found him. He survived.”

“What?”

You couldn’t have possibly heard him right, breaths coming in fast and shallow, heart pounding, and Sam was smiling so wide it nearly stretched to his ears. He nodded, tugging on your hand again and your whole body was so light with shock, he pulled you to your feet easily.

As Sam led you back into the compound, keeping a steady hold with an arm draped around your waist because your legs were like Jell-O under you, he told you that Bucky was found by a fishing vessel not long after the ship sank. The men had pulled him aboard, administered CPR and brought him to a hospital off the coast of Portugal where he’d been recovering for the last week.

No one knows how he was able to get out of the control room or through any of the locked doors, but he had burn marks on his face so Tony believed another explosive went off right before Bucky’s coms cut out, flooding in water at a rapid pace but also opening a gaping hole in the side of the ship. The current must have pulled him out, sending his body to the surface long after your team disappeared.

He’d apparently been trying to get ahold of you, of the team, since he’d woken up but without a secure line and only able to access the Shield inquiry phone number, no one would patch him through, believing him to be a fraud as they were all certain he had died. He jumped on a plane over to the States the very second he was cleared by the doctors.

Sam pushed open the doors to the med bay with you still in his arms. Agents parted like the sea for you with every step, all eyes scanning you for a reaction they wouldn’t find. You were too numb for that. Nothing felt real and you wouldn’t believe Sam’s story until you saw him with you own eyes.

Leading you a room at the end of the hallway, you spotted Steve, Natasha, and Tony through the open windows of the room, huddled around the bed. Steve was sitting on the edge of the cot, laughing, while Nat stood just over his shoulders, hands running along his back. Tony was pacing, clearly lost in thought.

“Sam, wait,” you said suddenly, planting your feet before you could enter the room. Sam paused, turning to look at you with nothing but a gentle kindness in his eyes. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure he’s alive?”

“Go see for yourself,” Sam smiled softly, giving you a slight push into the room.

You stumbled in, arms folded around your waist and trying to ground yourself with handfuls of the black fabric of your dress. Steve stood up instantly upon seeing you, retreating back to the edge of the wall as he gently pulled Nat along with him. Then, Tony looked up, a brief moment of clarity amongst the dozens of equations running through his mind, offered you a smile and moved to the corner by Sam.

Sure enough, sitting at the center of the bed with one leg tucked under him, the other swung over the edge, was Bucky. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the burn marks Sam had told you about, discolored and slowly healing thanks to the serum in his veins. He wore a light grey t-shirt supplied by Shield, exposing the reflection of his left arm, and sweatpants from his room. He looked like he just rolled of out bed and so incredibly normal, as if you hadn’t just spent the last week grieving and crying and in agony over him.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips as he started to stand, taking a step closer to you, but you stepped back away from him, holding a hand up.

He froze, concern etching in his features as he shot a glance over at Steve who couldn’t offer him any help.

“Baby?”

“Can I get a minute?” you asked quietly, looking over at Sam from the corner of your eye and he ushered for everyone to leave the room, giving you space to be alone with Bucky. The moment the door closed behind them and you were left alone, you surged forward, shoving Bucky’s hard in the chest.

“You self-sacrificing asshole! What the hell is the matter with you!?” you shouted, throwing another hit in his direction that he took with ease. He held his ground, trying to grab onto your hands before you really did some damage, but gave you the release you needed. “How could you do that to me?!”

“Y/n,” Bucky started, and the sound of his voice alone broke the damn in your chest, sobs shaking their way through you as tears burned down your cheeks.

“I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to me!?” you cried, your closed fisted hits to his chest losing energy quickly. “This-- This is a fucking funeral dress, Bucky! B-But we didn’t have a body so— so—”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, pulling you into his arms and without the will to fight back, you fell against him with ease. He still smelled the same, though you weren’t sure how that was even possible. He was warm under your touch and you could hear his heart beating behind his chest.

“D-Don’t ever do that to me again,” you exhaled, gripping tight around his waist and you sighed against his lips as they pressed to the crown of your head.

“You know I can’t promise that,” he confessed and you squeezed him tighter, knowing he was right. “I’d choose your life over mine. Every time.”

“Well,” you sniffled, pressing your face tight to his chest so you could clearly hear the thumping of his heart under your ear, “try really hard to not be in a situation where you have to, okay?”

Bucky chuckled at that, the soft vibrations of his chest like heaven against you. He kissed your forehead, hands running in soothing motions down your back.

“Done,” he agreed, tracing patterns on the zipper of your dress. A few moments of content silence passed before he said, “I missed our anniversary, didn’t I?”

You nodded, unwilling to tell him that you’d spent the day holed up in his room, hiding behind the sheets of his blankets and crying for hours on end.

“You still want that spicy calamari?” Bucky asked sweetly, a slight laugh in his voice. “I’m sure I can convince Stark to get them to do takeout for us. I might have some extra leeway for a while after the whole self-sacrifice-coming-back-from-the-dead thing.”

You pulled back, swatting at his chest with tears in your eyes. “That’s not funny,” you whined, though you were laughing. “But, yes.”

Bucky grinned and you almost forgot about the burns on his skin and the ice water that had filled his lungs. He was warm and soft under your touch and his hands were running in patterns along you back.

“Thought we could spend the next day just eating food and watching movies,” he said, gazing down at you with the kind of radiance in his eyes that made your stomach swoon, “but without clothes, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you laughed, pressing up to kiss him against his lips, the image of them cold and blue gone from your mind, because he was here. He was warm and alive, and in your arms, and you’ll fight him until your dying breath if he pulled something like this again.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #eliza’s 15k challenge

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dahbeez · 4 years

Text

MIRROR CONFESSION

Paring: peter parker x reader

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, and with the help of his awkward rehearsing, you find out the truth.

Warnings: fluff, language

Word Count: 2.6K

Author Note: English isn’t my first language and this is my first fic here on tumblr! Reader is female unless specified otherwise.

Lately, your friendship with Peter Parker has been the most confusing thing in the world. Well, Peter alone was a mystery most of the time. Sneaking out in the middle of sleepovers, skipping classes and then coming back with bruises that took only a few hours to heal; that was all Spider-Man’s signature, you knew that. Plus, Peter constantly looked around him like he could hear every single conversation in the hallway, every sound and whispers. But you got used to all of it, and you had put two and two together quickly after finding out that he was the infamous web-slinger.

Recently, the way he acted around you had your eyebrows knot together in a frown most of the time, especially since you couldn’t attached his weird behaviour to his alter ego. He would be his normal, nerdy self, rambling about the next Star Wars movie, a Lego puzzle he had yet to build or, the most frequent topic of discussion, the 'Stark Internship'. You would smile up at him, beaming at the constant happiness that seemed to radiate from Peter. Then, as his eyes would meet yours, he would immediately blush and stutter. Of course, Peter was a shy person, which actually made him look even cuter than he already was. But every time he would caught you smiling at him, it’s like he forgot to breathe. And in the next seconds, he would find a reason to escape his feelings and run towards the next class, or whatever else excuse he had in mind in those moments. It left you eyes wide and jaw dropping every times, you being completely obvious to the real meaning behind Peter’s actions.

It didn’t help that you had fallen head over heels in love with your best friend. You were a living cliche teenage girl who was infatuated with her closest friend, and you couldn’t help but feel sad that Peter was avoiding you. Part of it was because you missed your best friend, but the other part was because you couldn’t bare to lose this unique connection you had with your first crush.

Any third party, let’s say Ned, would hit their head against a wall repeatedly at the sight of you two. You were obviously in love with each other’s but also completely obvious to one another’s feelings. Ned had given up long ago on the two of you confessing their feelings, and he simply resumed on looking desperately at his two clueless best friends suppressing their feelings like it was some kind of disease.

"Y/N," Ned’s muffled voice brought you out of your thoughts, his mouth half-full with whatever was on the cafeteria menu today. "You with us?"

"Yeah," you nodded, brushing away a strand of hair that fell from your ponytail, "sorry, I was just thinking."

You then noticed how Peter seemed to have been stuck in a daze just like you, letting his fork mix the food on his plate without taking a bite, and furrowing his eyebrows in deep thought. It also often happened around you, but not when he was just with Ned. It made you rethink about the previous events of the week, trying to find out what you could have possibly done to either make him so flustered or lost in his mind. Had he found one of your tampons at his place? Your cheeks flushed at the possibility, thinking that most guys would be uncomfortable at the discovery of a bloody pad in their bathroom’s trash can.

"I can’t make it tonight, for movie night," Ned continued, not letting Peter’s lack of words and attention affect him. "My mom wants to spend some 'family quality time' or whatever that means."

He groaned and you chuckled, not registering quite yet that Ned’s absence meant that your sleepover at Peter’s would be awkward if the boy kept acting like a stammering mess in front of you.

"That’s a bummer," you sighed, actually a bit disappointed that Ned couldn’t make it. "Guess it’s just you and me, Peter. Peter?"

Ned waved a hand in front of his friend’s face, breaking whatever trance Peter was stuck in. He flinched, eyes peeking up to meet yours and immediately his cheeks flushed pink.

"Earth to Peter, Peter do you copy?," Ned joked, and a hint of a smile ghosted on Peter’s lips before he suddenly grabbed his barely touched tray of food and stood up. You frowned.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m gonna go, I- I have homework to do, uh," he looked around a bit, which gave away his lie as he seemed to pounder what he should say next, "at the library! Yeah, studies you know, big exams coming. Okay, bye."

Both you and Ned were left mouth agape, eyeing the escaping form of your best friend exiting the cafeteria.

"That was weird," you murmured, eyes squinting in the direction Peter had taken after getting rid of his plate. "The library’s literally the opposite way."

Ned shrugged. "Peter’s just weird."

But you couldn’t possibly compare Peter’s usual weird antics to the scene that had just unfolded in front of your eyes. Holding back a huff, you brought your attention back on your other friend, and resumed your lunch break.

***

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

That seemed to be the only word swirling around Peter’s mind, which would’ve probably made Aunt May and Captain America scold at him if they could hear his thoughts right now.

He groaned internally, gripping the pole tightly as he waited for the subway to bring him closer to his apartment. The rest of the day after lunch break had been filled with his not so subtle attempts to avoid you. And the look of hurt that you sent towards him every time your eyes met in the hallway had his heart beating faster than ever and guilt eating away at his soul.

He had undeniably, harshly, strongly, irrevocably, fallen in love with you.

And he realized quickly that loving you platonically, was not the same as being in love with you. You were gorgeous, one of the smartest person he had met (and his mentor was Tony Stark), kind and generous, and gosh your smile.

His grip tightened on his backpack strap as he exited the subway, walking the few blocks that kept him from his apartment.

Ever since he had realized the true feelings he arbored for you, he had tried to hide them. Which, when you were Peter Parker the open book, wasn’t easy. At all.

He just couldn’t act normal around you anymore, knowing that all he wanted to do was confess his feelings. He wanted to hug you, hold your hands, kiss your cheeks, your nose, your temple, your lips, your jaw, your neck, the valley between your—

Peter’s eyes widened at the filthy thoughts, and he bit his lower lip. All day, and all week, he had been trying to figure out how to confess his feelings for you. Unknowingly, he had shut you out, too deep in thoughts or too embarrassed to keep up the best friend act.

The boy sighed as he walked in his apartment, barely acknowledging May who was making cookies. He was ready to jump on his bed and fall asleep for the rest of his miserable existence. But first, he needed to figure out what to do. And with the nerve wracking idea of finally telling you how he truly felt, Peter looked at his disheveled hair and pink tinted cheeks in the mirror. With a deep breath, he started rehearsing.

***

Unbeknownst to him, you were not so far from his place. You had dropped your schoolbag at your house and gathered your things, determined to go at Peter’s place and find some answers. Plus, he hadn’t called or texted to tell you that your night at his apartment was canceled, which gave you a little bit of hope.

You kept replaying every second spent in his presence in the last few weeks and you couldn’t find a clue on what could have gone wrong between you two. The tampon theory was actually the best explanation at the moment.

Your mom dropped you at his place, noticing how you had filled your backpack to the brim with numerous movies, snacks and clothes for the night and the next day. Grateful, you kissed her cheek before escaping the comfort of the car. For the first time in forever, you were nervous at the perspective of spending the night at Peter’s. Part of it was because of his behaviour, and the other main reason was because of the butterflies and fireworks that erupted in your stomach whenever you got lost in his doe eyes.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow, honey. Just call me if you need anything!"

Your replied a simple 'see ya' and made your way inside the building.

Knocking at the Parker’s door, you were greeted by one of your favourite human being and the smell of burnt cookies.

"Hey, Y/N," May opened the door and smiled, bringing you into a small hug which you returned immediately.

"Hey, May," you smiled. She led you inside, and you got rid of your shoes, leaving them next to the front door.

"I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever," she deplored, going back to the kitchen and grimacing. You held back a laugh, noticing how the smell of ruined cookies lingered in the air.

"Yeah, uh," you went and grabbed a cookie on the counter, eyeing the black burning snack with doubt, "I missed your cooking."

She raised an eyebrow, amused at your words. You smiled sheepishly and put the cookie back in its plate, knowing that it will probably end up in the trash anyway.

"You don’t know how to lie, honey," she chuckled and grabbed the nearest bowl to clean. "Peter’s in his room."

You gulped and nodded, remembering what you came here for in the first place.

You walked down the small hallway towards your best friend’s room, fist raising in order to knock on its door and announce your presence.

It was already cracked open, you noticed, and you heard your friend’s mumbling through the tin walls. Ned probably made it after all, you thought, pushing the door softly as to not startle them.

The sight in front of you could’ve been either amusing, extremely weird or embarrassing.

Because in the middle of the room, facing the small mirror not so far from his bed, stood your best friend and first ever crush. Fidgeting with his fingers and slightly swaying on his feet, he was talking to himself. No, rehearsing.

"... that doesn’t work," he let out a deep breath, and you stood there, witnessing his nervous rambling. He surprisingly didn’t noticed you despite having his sharp spidey senses. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, uh. Right. So, Y/N," your eyes widened at the mention of your name, but the boy still hadn’t picked on your presence yet, "you are the prettiest— no no, that’s not enough. Uh, you’re gorgeous and funny and super kind, and uh, yeah!— your smile is like, so fucking bright. Erm, you— you’re my favourite person and I love how you ramble about your favourite books and how you always look out for others and put them first, even before yourself. And uh, you’ve always been there for me, always accepted and understood what Spider-Man means to me, and, well, what I’m trying to say is that— that I’m in love with you—"

"What!?"

"AHH!" Peter spun on his heals, turning towards you and tripping over a forgotten pile of clothes on the floor. With another yelp, he fell to the ground, eyes wide with shock and cheeks reddened by surprise and embarrassment. His blush reached his ears, and he sat there, looking in horror at your beet coloured face.

"I, uh, was rehearsing for the— the thing with... well it’s more of a— a presentation kinda thing, you know?"

"You’re in love with me?" you whispered, finally walking past the doorstep and closing the door behind you, trying to keep this conversation private.

Peter couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d never felt so embarrassed in his life, and fear was eating away at him. What if you rejected him? What if your friendship was ruined because of this? Oh gosh, this was a mistake...

"I, uh, well no?— I mean, yeah," he kept stuttering, pushing himself from the floor and looking around his room, trying to avoid your stare, "but wait, what are you doing here?"

"Sleepover," you answered simply. You let your backpack fall next to his things and started fiddling with your fingers.

"Oh... OH! Fuck, I completely forgot."

You smiled faintly at the teenager who had just unintentionally confessed his feelings for you. You took a few steps towards him, noticing how he let out a shaky breath. Peter gulped. He didn’t know what else to tell you, so he stood frozen, eyes widening some more as you approached him and stopped only when you were a step away from him. You looked up at him, eyes soft and confused. You brushed away the giddy fireworks that danced in your belly with a shuddering sigh.

"Do you really feel that way about me, Peter?" you asked, your voice low and gentle. Both of your hearts were beating fast, and Peter could actually hear yours due to your close proximity and his super powers.

"Yes," he whispered, his warm chocolatey eyes still avoiding your surprised ones. "But, uh, I know you probably don’t feel the same way... fuck, forget I said anything. Gosh, I’m so sorry, I ruined—"

The thought of how cliche the situation may looked like from a third point of vue crossed your mind, but you didn’t care. You leaned forward, stopping Peter’s rambling with your lips on his own soft ones. He let out a gasp, his sentence dying in his throat as he fluttered his eyelids shut. Without a doubt, he started kissing you back, head tilting so your noses would stop bumping against each other’s.

You hummed appreciatively as his lips glided over yours, moving in sync. You raised your hands and intertwined them at the back of his neck, fiddling with the small curls of hair that rested there. He let out a moan at the feeling, blushing at the sound that escaped his lips and hit yours. You smiled, and in that moment, Peter decided that kissing you, feeling you smile against him and tasting your apple flavoured chapstick was the best thing in the world. His hands rested on your hips, and the distance between you was inexistant, yet still filled with the innocence of a couple’s first kiss.

"You love me back," he mumbled against your lips in bewilderment, pulling back slightly to take a few gulps of air. You did the same, eyes gazing into his as he finally got the courage to look into yours.

"I do," you answered breathlessly, eyes sparkling at the sight of your best friend, well, hopefully not a friend anymore. Peter blushed at the meaning behind those two words, and you giggled. "Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?"

He looked sheepishly at the ground, removing his hands from your hips so he could wash the nervous sweat away by brushing his palms over his jeans.

"Yeah... I— I didn’t know how to tell you."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at the shy boy that you hoped you could call yours.

"So, you decided to confess to your mirror?" you teased him, and he winced at the cringe situation he put himself into.

"It’s— it’s not like that, I was rehearsing..." he tried to explain, a cute pout showing on his lips. You let out another giggle.

"Well," you brought a hand back up to his hair, going through the wild curls gently. Peter could feel himself melt under your touch, "I’m glad you did, because I’m in love with you too, Peter Parker."

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sunkissedpages · 4 years

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breaking curfew [part one] || th x reader

A/N: did i proofread this??? uhhhhh...

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, few mentions of anxiety symptoms

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter!!

Word Count: 3.5k

Prologue | Series Masterlist

“And she’s allergic to shellfish! It should say on the form, but I just wanted to be extra sure you knew!” You nodded reassuringly as you listened to the nervous mother ramble on about her daughter’s health. The little girl, May you thought her name was, looked eager to join the others who were coloring on the floor inside the cabin, but her mother kept a tight grip on the strap of her backpack. You couldn’t say that you blamed the woman. She was about to leave her child with you for two whole months with only one visiting weekend in between. It was enough to make any parent anxious. “She always keeps her epipen on her too, and she knows how to administer it to herself, but if you want to show the other kids how to do it at some point tonight that would be really he-“

“Mom!” the girl sighed, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You smiled. “I’ll show all my campers how to use the epipen before bed tonight. One of my other girls has a good allergy as well, so we’ll all be sure to be extra careful.”

The mom seemed to relax a little at that and let go of her daughter’s bag. “Okay, thank you. I guess that’s my cue to leave then.”

May turned around to give her mom a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before skipping past you into the cabin to color with the other girls.

“I love you, May!” the woman called after her, eyes glassy. “Make sure to behave, okay? I’ll see you soon!”

May waved noncommittally from inside, and shouted a weak ’I love you’ back at her mom. She was already engrossed with the Disney Princess coloring sheets you’d spread out on the floor and was currently trying to decide what color Anna’s outfit should be. That was clearly too important to be distracted from by anything else, even her own mother.

You watched as May’s mom turned and walked back down the steps towards the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief. Three down, two to go.

Drop-offs were always a tossup. Sometimes they went off without a hitch, and sometimes there were tears from both parties, parent and child, and having to gently separate them from each other was a nightmare. So far, though, things had been running relatively smoothly. There had been some sniffling from your first camper, Grace, but as soon as another camper showed up she was too busy making a new friend to even think about missing her dads.

You glanced back at your campers, all chattering and coloring excitedly. Grace, Evangeline, and May. You tried to memorize the distinct features of each girl so you wouldn’t get them confused later, or worse lose one of them.

May had fair skin, and light brown hair done in neat, small braids down to her shoulders. Eva had a few missing baby teeth already and dark curly hair. And Grace, your first camper, had dirty blonde curls and a few freckles dotted across her nose.

You already knew a little bit about what they were like from reading through their files and stalking their parents’ social media accounts, but you tried not to make judgements based off of what you’d already seen. You wanted to get to know your girls organically. As much as parents liked to think they knew their kids better than anyone, they often only got surface level versions of their childrens’ personalities by only seeing what they chose to see.

Amalia was dropped off next by both of her parents. She was your only international camper, coming all the way from Senegal. You had been wondering why she’d travel halfway across the world to go to a tiny camp in the Smoky Mountains, but that question was answered when her father explained that they had business up in Maine for the summer.

You shook his hand as well as her mother’s before they kissed Amalia goodbye and sent her off into the cabin. You watched her join the group no problem. Eva even made a space for her in the circle and handed her a coloring sheet.

That just left Theo. She was the last camper you were waiting on and the dropoff window was starting to get narrow. Parents and campers were supposed to check in between three and five pm so that everyone would be there in time for dinner, but it was already a quarter till five and still no word.

You left the front door propped open in case they showed up and took a spot on the floor with your girls.

They all stopped coloring and looked up at you expectantly. You cleared your throat awkwardly and smiled tightly. Why were you so nervous all of the sudden? You were the cool college kid... right? And they were just second graders... who were you kidding, you really wanted them to like you.

“Hey guys, I’m your counselor for the summer,” you said, “and I met all of you individually, but I wanted the chance to get to know you as a group! So we’re gonna go around the circle and introduce ourselves with your name, where you’re from, and showing everyone what you colored. I’ll go first. I’m y/n, I’m from New York, and I colored this picture of Belle from Beauty and the Beast earlier.” You pulled the folded piece of paper out of your pocket and showed it to the girls. You’d rushed it this morning so it was subpar at best, but they all complimented it anyway. “You wanna go next?” you asked Grace, who was sitting to your left.

“I’m Grace, I’m from Washington, and I colored this picture of Jasmine and Raja.” She showed you and the other girls the sheet. She’d given Jasmine her signature blue outfit, but the tiger was now pink. Respect.

You turned your attention to Eva and the girls followed in suit. She held up a picture of Ariel to show everyone.

“I’m Evangeline, I’m from Arizona, and this is what I colored.”

Then, “I’m May, I’m from California, and I did this picture of Anna and Elsa.”

“I’m Amalia, I’m from Senegal, and I colored a picture of Mulan, but I didn’t finish it.”

With introductions out of the way, the four of them turned their heads back towards you, waiting for further instruction. You checked your watch and sighed quietly. There was still a bit of time to kill before dinner.

“Okay, let’s start making our beds and unpacking our things before we head to dinner and meet everyone else.”

The girls scrambled for their bags that you’d stashed over in the corner to keep out of the way and started pulling sheets, blankets, and random clothes out all at once. You quickly realized none of them would know how to put a fitted sheet on a bed and cursed under your breath. You should’ve done things in a more organized manner, but now here you were, standing in the midst of chaos. And several pillow pets.

You decided to do beds one at a time, which is really how you should have done it the first time, and got the other campers to help you. Each girl took a corner of the fitted sheet and wrestled it onto each mattress. By the time you got to the last bunk the five of you were like a well-oiled machine. The final bed was able to be made in under a minute flat, pillow pets and all.

The girls all congratulated each other on their hard work with high-fives, and then asked if they could do it again. Unmaking and remaking all of the beds sounded like a nightmare so you promised them you’d let them try and break their bed-making record on the next laundry day and they seemed satisfied with that.

It was almost time for dinner and your last camper still wasn’t there yet. You decided to round up your girls anyway and head over to the mess hall. They were probably getting hungry and you didn’t want to be known as the late cabin so early in the game- though knowing you it was inevitable at some point.

Only Eva needed help tying her shoes, and then they were all ready to go. You were about to leave when you remembered May’s allergy band. Forgetting it could’ve been potentially disastrous. You quickly fastened it around her wrist before slipping into your own already-tied sneakers and beckoning the girls to follow you out of the cabin.

You locked the door behind you and hustled down the stairs two at a time onto the wet grass. The sky was streaked with thin pink clouds, alluding to the sunset that would follow. You admired it as you walked, thinking about how good it felt to be back in this place. The girls chatted behind you as you walked, but you were zoned out and focused on the scenery around you.

A light layer of fog was draped over some of the mountains in the distance, sparkling where it caught the light from the sun. From where you were standing it looked like a big blanket had been thrown across them and it reminded you of those early morning hikes your counselors made you and your friends do when they caught you sneaking out at night.

The mess hall was already buzzing one you arrived with your campers. There was already a line of kids weaved around the room, waiting for food. You ushered your group over to table eleven to put their stuff down and then go hop in line. You watched them go and started after them, but stopped to talk to Z. She was leaning against her empty table, waiting for her campers to come back from getting dinner so she could make sure they all got food before she did.

“Nice outfit,” you quipped nodding at the stiff blue polo tucked into khaki shorts.

She looked unamused. “We’re literally wearing the same thing.”

“Yeah, but you just wear it so much better.” You popped your collar and winked.

“Don’t do that, you look like a frat dude who’s about to get expelled for hazing.”

“You sure you’re not talking about Tom?” you asked, looking around for the curly-haired boy.

Zendaya snorted. “Well in that case the both of you look like frat boys.”

“I know you’re joking, but I’m still offended.”

“For what it’s worth, you’d make a much hotter frat guy than Tom.”

You didn’t know about that, but you appreciated the sentiment. “How’s your first day so far?” you asked, “everyone getting along?”

“Yeah, things are going okay,” she cocked her head to the side in thought. “I mean as ‘okay’ as they can be with fourth graders.” You chuckled. “Why did I do that to myself? Puberty starts in fourth grade, that’s common knowledge I’m a fucking idiot.”

“I mean we were angels as fourth graders.”

“We were assholes as fourth graders,” Zendaya corrected with a roll of her eyes. “And this is my karma.”

“Oh yeah... stealing Tom and his friends’ mattresses and putting them in the lake in fourth grade must’ve slipped my mind,” you mused.

“Five bucks he’s still bitter about it and brings it up at some point this summer?”

“Oh that’s guaranteed, but fingers crossed I don’t even have to talk to him at all to find out.”

“You’re just gonna, what, avoid him all summer?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Let me know how that goes for you.”

All of the sudden, the walkie-talkie at the waistband of your shorts crackled to life, and you all but shouted in surprise. You’d been carrying the thing around for days, and you had been starting to suspect that it was just for looks and didn’t even do anything, but clearly you were wrong. It was Lorraine telling you that your last camper had just checked in and that you need to meet her and her mother at the office.

“Can you watch my cabin while I’m gone?”

You turned to go, but Zendaya held out an arm to stop you. “Hey, I wanna hear all about your day later, okay?”

“Wanna sit together at the bonfire tonight?”

“Sure, if my campers don’t kill me first.”

“Best of luck to you.” You saluted her with your fingers before breaking into a jog and running out of the mess hall. Your camper probably felt bad about being late already, and you didn’t want to make her feel worse by taking forever to pick her up.

When you got to Lorraine’s office the door was already tapped so you went ahead and knocked lightly before pushing it open. She was currently speaking to who you assumed to be your camper and her mom and didn’t notice you come in until you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Oh, y/n! That was quick, come meet Theo and her mother, Jeanne.”

You smiled and stretched your your hand for Jeanne to shake, then turned to Theo. “Nice to meet you both.”

Theo had her dark hair tied up in a ponytail on top of her head with little strands escaping the hold of the elastic. Big green eyes blinked up at you shyly and you offered a small grin to try and ease her nerves.

“Sorry we’re so late,” Jeanne apologized. “I thought the drop-off time was at six and then once I realized we were still four hours away and then I blew a tire- we’re a bit of a mess if you can’t tell.”

“Well you’re here now! That’s what matters, and now that Theo’s here our cabin is complete!”

The little girl smiled and stepped across the invisible line that separated her mother’s guardianship and yours. Wow, apparently that was all it took. You were surprised when she grabbed your hand in hers, but went with it, using your free arm to grab her duffle bag off the ground.

“Does anymore paperwork need to be filled out?” you asked Lorraine, looking back and forth between her and Jeanne.

“Nope, Theo’s all set if you’re ready to bring her back to the mess hall to join the rest of your girls before they run out of nachos.”

“They might run out of nachos?” Theo screeched in disbelief and you couldn’t stop the laugh that followed.

“Not if we hurry!” you urged and she was almost dragging you out the door before her mom reminded her to hug her goodbye.

She let go of your hand for just a second to give Jeanne a quick hug before rushing back over to you.

“Bye, mommy! I love you!” Theo shouted over her shoulder and she led the way out of the office and onto the path.

You tried your best to keep up, but she was deceivingly fast. You weren’t sure how she knew where she was going since this was her first year, but somehow you ended up where you’d started at the mess hall in less time than it had taken you to get there.

Your kids were all back at the table, talking amongst themselves and picking at their nachos. They perked up when they saw you in the doorway and peered curiously at Theo, who was looking overwhelmed by all of the chaos. While everyone else had slowly acclimated to the atmosphere, Theo had been thrown right in and you were worried that it might be too much for her.

You made your way over to the table with her on your heel and introduced her to the rest of your girls.

“Girls, this is Theo. Theo, this is the rest of cabin eleven.”

Instead of cowering behind you like you thought she might, Theo hopped right up to the table and started learning everyone’s names, eager to get to know her new friends.

“You guys keep talking, I’m going to grab my dinner and I’ll get some for you too, Theo, okay?” She nodded, still absorbed in whatever Eva was saying.

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself as you got in the back of the line. The sun hadn’t even fully set and you were already ready to go to bed. To be fair, you’d been up well before the sun had this morning getting ready for the campers, but as you looked around you noticed that all of the other counselors looked like they’d shotgunned six to seven energy drinks after chugging a few cups of coffee. How the fuck did they look so awake? And what were you doing wrong?

Almost as if life wanted to rub it in your face, the doors to the mess hall flew open and Tom’s entire cabin came running in, yelling at the top of their lungs. He must’ve taught them a cheer or something because they were all in sync, but their words were too jumbled to comprehend. You checked your watch. Late. Typical. And they were all dripping wet, no less. Technically, everyone had to wear a shirt and shoes in the mess hall, and Tom’s boys were adhering to neither rule as they were all in swimsuits, but you knew he’d never get in trouble for it. He never did when he was a camper.

Tom whooped and shook out his curls like a dog, spraying water everywhere. His boys followed in suit, making even more of a mess. You rolled your eyes when you saw them make for the food line, not interested in engaging.

As luck would have it, Tom was a counselor for second grade boys, so the plan you’d told Z about was probably unrealistic, but you were still going to do your very best to avoid him at all costs.

“Evening, y/n.”

You tensed and scowled even though he couldn’t see your face.

“Thomas.”

“People only call me that when I’m in trouble.” He sidestepped so that he was parallel to you and leaned up against the wall. “Am I in trouble?”

You flicked your eyes between him and his campers who were all staring at you and decided it wasn’t worth it. You shrugged casually. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You brought your hand to your mouth and faked a cough “fuck off”.

He didn’t answer, but gave you a satisfied look that you ignored. You continued through the line without further incident, stacking as many nachos as humanly possible onto your tray for you and Theo, only vaguely aware of Tom’s presence behind you.

And you were almost in the clear too, your table was in sight and your campers were waving at you cheerfully when you stepped in something wet and slipped, completely losing your balance and eating shit. Your tray went flying and made such a loud noise that it got everyone’s attention and all conversation in the mess hall stopped.

In all of the confusion you realized what you’d slipped in was just water, but you didn’t connect the puddle to its source until you looked up into his deep brown eyes.

You wanted to kill him. Your pants were wet, your food was all over your shirt, and your ass hurt. All because he thought it was okay to track all this pool water into the mess hall. In fact, he was still dripping as he stood over you.

“Tom,” you growled.

For a moment his smirk fell away and an expression of concern flashed across his face. But it was fleeting. The playful gleam you knew too well reignited in his eyes and he licked his lips, holding out his hand to help you up.

You didn’t take it and pushed yourself up off the ground without help. You started brushing the chips and vegetables off your polo, but you knew the queso stains would have to be revisited later. It had already saturated the cheap whatever-the-fuck material the shirt was made of and there was no way you were getting it out without some sort of chemical.

“Y/n I’m sorry,” Tom tried, but you weren’t having it. You could tell his apology was genuine, but this all felt too familiar and you could feel your chest getting tight.

“Can you just leave me alone?” you pleaded desperately under your breath, knowing your night, week, month- the summer would go a lot smoother if he did.

He winced and pushed his damp curls out of his face. “Um, that’s going to be kind of difficult.”

You glared at him. “Why?”

“You didn’t check the activity assignments? We’re instructing arts and crafts together.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony, but you physically couldn’t. “Every day?”

“Every day.”

You didn’t say another word to him, just picked up the tray off the ground from where it had fallen and walked away slowly back to your table.

Out of all the staff members here you were assigned to instruct an activity with Tom? What were the fucking odds. How could you have been so naive to think that this summer would be different from all the others? Because evidently nothing had changed, even after all these years.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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seungminotes · 4 years

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A Walk Home

best friends to lovers w/ Kim Seungmin

a/n: I'm back from my hiatus and happy to say that I really like this piece tho it got kinda dramatic lmao hope you like it too! Always feel free to leave feedback!

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: cursing (like twice?) / gender neutral (please tell me if I messed up with something) / sort of slow-burn and not much payoff but I'd like to think it's very fluffy throughout!

"What took you so long today? I've been waiting here for at least 5 minutes," Seungmin complained at the sight of you finally approaching him.

It usually didn't take you this long to reach him from your last class, heck sometimes he even had to drink water and you'd get to your usual meeting spot before him.

Seungmin wasn't particularly the best at waiting on others, for whatever the reason really, he would have probably left anybody else behind by now. But alas, it was you he had been waiting for, and if facing the possibility of having to wait even longer for you, he most likely would.

"Sorry, I had to talk to someone before leaving," you smiled at your friend, who was now pouting slightly.

You reached up to pinch his cheeks only for him to slap your hands away.

"No pinching, let's go," he grabbed your wrist, dragging you in the direction of your usual route home.

You'd known Seungmin for nearly six years now. Having met him when you both were in middle school after moving to the then new town, Seungmin had once been quite fickle towards you, but once he got over his initial disinterest, he realized you were quite special. You'd spotted him taking pictures of the daisies in his front lawn and annoyed him to no end to explain his interest in them. You remember the day vividly, especially now that the firm grip Seungmin held on your wrist highly resembled the same he held on that very first day you met him.

"Aren't daisies a bit plain?" You snuck up behind the boy crouching in an awkward position, clutching his camera so tight his fingers were losing color.

Seungmin held no reaction to the sudden appearance of someone around his own age spying on him from the sidewalk in front of his own home. In fact, he sighed with a tinge of annoyance at your unwithheld statement and hardly looked up at you, why couldn’t people mind their own business, he thought to himself.

"I find them quite interesting, actually." He deadpanned, no intention of expanding upon his opinion to someone who he already deemed to be unworthy of his time.

Damn Seungmin was quite stubborn back then, he had barely even glanced at you, but good thing you were quite nosy.

"How come?" You inquired further.

Thirteen-year-old Seungmin was not in the mood to explain the complexities of a perfectly amazing daisy to someone who would most likely not care as much as he did about capturing their beauty.

Nonetheless, he glanced back to where he had seen you standing to notice your figure now hunched over, examining a daisy closely, nose almost touching it's petals, as your lips parted slightly to blow softly onto the flower, clearly in your own little world.

Your rather odd gestures told him you may actually be interested in what could possibly be interesting about the small flowers sparse all over his lawn.

He slowly approached you, more aware of your presence than before, and snapped God knows how many photos of your posing.

That was at least until he saw your hand reach up to pick the delicate flower from its stem. That’s where he drew the line! Promptly walking over to you and tightly withholding your hand with his awkward grip on your wrist.

You’d taken the opportunity to look into his big, brown eyes and examine his now blushed face, ultimately deciding this boy was inexplicably ethereal. You could drown in the deepness of his irises and the urge to pinch his pouty cheeks was overpowering your own sense of respectfulness to this stranger.

You remember how he later apologized and quietly explained to you the meaning of daisies. After bringing out two peanut butter jelly sandwiches from the kitchen onto his porch, where the both of you shared the lunch, he began to ramble on to you about the perfections of a simple flower that was not so simple at all and it's symbolism of true love.

And from that very moment on, you knew you had fallen in love with Kim Seungmin, the nerd next door who explained the very composition of flowers to you over a sandwich at age 13.

And unbeknownst to you, Kim Seungmin had developed a disgustingly soft spot in his heart for his absent-minded new friend next door.

Nothing much had changed now. You were still hopelessly in love with Seungmin, who was as focused as ever on his studies and baseball team activities just six years later.

The memory and realization fade just as soon as it came to you with Seungmin's grip on your wrist, which now that you look back down was still quite firm about a minute into your usual walk home.

Though you could almost guarantee it wasn't anything intentionally done by Seungmin, it didn't fail to put a stupid smile on your face.

So far Seungmin had noticed your rather quiet disposition, something he deemed off about you.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Perfectly fine," you grinned, narrowing your eyes into happy crescents as you lifted the arm that currently clinged Seungmin's own hand, much to his embarrassment.

He'd quickly released your arm at your teasing, opting to scratch the back of his head as he scoffed.

"Who'd you stay to talk with today?" He asked. You'd assumed he was simply trying to change the subject from his embarrassment, but in fact, the thought of who you could have possibly spent just five minutes with after school had been eating him alive for the past minute. You had never made him wait, at least not without some sort of warning.

"Just a guy in my chem class, I met him by my locker on the way out," you responded, not giving your answer much thought.

"What did he want?" He asked again.

Seungmin sure had been asking an awful lot today.

"Don't be so nosy, Seungmin! It really doesn’t suit you. It doesn't really matter much anyway. And how do you know I wasn't the one who wanted something from him, huh?" You teased him slightly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Can't I ask about the whereabouts of my best friend when they leave me out in the hot, melting sun waiting for them!" He teased back, stopping in his tracks to begin to poke your sides harshly.

"Fine, fine, fine!" You give in. "Just stopppppp," you shook his hands away.

"Hyunjin offered to tutor me in chem. I'm officially failing," you laugh off, "he wanted to ask what days we should schedule our study sessions for." You explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin? As in Hwang Hyunjin? The pretty one?" Seungmin's eyes widen at the thought of a rather good looking and outgoing guy offering you tutoring lessons out of the goodness of his heart, he almost scoffs out loud.

"Stop asking so many questions, Min!" You softly punch his arm, bursting his thought bubble.

"Besides, 'the pretty one', Min? I didn't know you liked Hyunjin like that? Want me to put in a good word for you?" You teased further, laughing at his choice of words. Sure, Hyunjin was pretty well known by most for his good looks, but he had simply offered you help in your studies in a subject he happened to excel in and that had no such thing to do with his looks.

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, taking his turn to lightly punch you back from before.

Afterwards the walk fell to a comfortable silence between the two of you.

At least that was how you would describe it to be. While you happily hummed and thought of what snacks you could whip up once you got home, Seungmin seriously pondered why you hadn't told him you weren't doing so well in chemistry. Or why you hadn't come to him for help first, he had already taken the class after all? And why the very thought of Hwang Hyunjin being with you by your locker afterschool while he had to wait outside for you made him so uncomfortable. Was uncomfortable the right word in this situation? He thought some more and concluded the thought of Hyunjin near you at all made him exceptionally mad, not just uncomfortable, for whatever the reason may have been (though he did have a hunch as to why he was feeling this way).

You looked over at the quiet boy next to you, noticing his intense state of thought, as he harshly bit his lower lip, furrowed his eyebrows slightly and kept an adamant gaze ahead of him. The sight was quite cute actually, cute enough to make you laugh.

"Earth to Kim Seungmin, you are wanted here immediately, please report for duty," you giggled, dramatically waving your arm in front of his face to snap him out of his daze.

"Sorry," Seungmin suddenly looks at you, cheeks hot and hands clenched onto the straps of his backpack.

His gaze is not like anything you'd ever seen come from him. It looks serious, yet almost sad? The way his eyes look glossed over have you wanting to kiss his cheeks and lift the corners of his mouth to reveal his signature smile, the one you love so much.

But you know better than to let your imagination get the best of you and you quickly shake your head to get rid of such thoughts about your best friend in his very presence.

"No worries, just talk to me if you need to, okay?" You reach over to comfort him, rubbing his arm softly in assurance of your words.

Little did you know you were killing Seungmin RIP.

You were now approaching your front porch, ready to whip out your keys and say home sweet home. Seungmin always came over for a bit after school to talk and mess around a bit before starting homework and today was no different.

But just as you opened the door with the thought about what video game Seungmin would want to play today floating in your head, you noticed the boy had yet to move from the step of the porch.

"Seungmin? Don't you want to come in?" You walked back over to him, choosing to stay standing on the step above him.

"Y/n," he practically whispered.

Suddenly, at this close proximity, you realize the tension in his face and the worry behind his eyes and the burning of his cheeks.

You softly reach over and unclasp one of Seungmin's hands from the strap of his bag, taking his hand into your own and rubbing your thumb over his numb knuckles for comfort.

"Are you okay Minnie? Do you need water? Are you sick?" You reach up to his forehead with your other hand to check his temperature.

"No, I just think I need to tell you something, now." He spoke formally, no hint of his usual teasing or playfulness when it came to you.

You could only nod at his strange current state, you were quite concerned.

"Don't take Hyunjin's help." He stated firmly, as if reading it from a list of rules. His serious disposition did not falter one bit, as if he had given out the most simple order.

"Is this what this is about? Min, how am I supposed to pass that dumb class. Seungmin I'm failing, like with an F, I know you don't know what that's like, but neither did I until now and I have to fix it somehow! We can't all be straight A students without even having to try!" You were practically tearing up at the intensity of which your words came out, you'd slightly lost control of your emotions in the moment, but Seungmin remained calm through the sharp words you threw, knowing you were simply frustrated with your grades and held no ill intentions with them.

"I can help you study, I can stay with you at the library all day explaining it to you if I have to, I'll take notes on your textbook and give them to you. Why didn't you tell me you needed help sooner?" He looked at you even more intensely, if that were even possibly. Then reaching over, he held your free hand in his own free hand.

At this point the worry in his eyes only made you want to hug him for the rest of your life, but there was so much tension surrounding the two of you right now.

"Min, you don't have to do that. If you don't want me getting help from Hyunjin, I won't. I trust you. But you don't have to waste your time being my teacher, trust me on that, you'll regret it." You attempt to laugh off your answer while swinging his hands in yours to lighten the mood, even if it's just a bit. Unfortunately, your teary eyes from your previous outburst give you away as a tear rolls down your cheek.

Seungmin was unsure about how to go about this further. He wasn't sure how you didn't seem to get it? That he would sacrifice his sleep to help you pass a class, just so he could be the one to help you, not some Hwang Hyunjin. That he wouldn't hesitate to do anything, and he means anything, if you simply asked. That he currently had more photos of you on his camera and phone than he did selfies of himself. That he liked you for fuck's sake. How could you have not seen it in his blushy mess of a nervous state right now. Was he really that freaking deep in the friendzone?

"I want to waste my time teaching you chemistry because I know I won't regret it. Because I'd never regret time spent with you." His words remained calm and precise, again as if he had prepared them and read them off a notecard. He looked down at his shoes, unable to confront you after the cheesy words left his mouth.

He felt his hands begin to moisten with sweat in your grasp and tried to remove them from your hands. However he was met with your refusal, as your hands tightly gripped his own.

"Kim Seungmin, I like you. Like really like you. Like, like-like you. And you cannot say those things to me and be protective of me and be cheesy with me and expect me not to want to just hug you and kiss you as if we weren't just best friends!" You blurted, in a sing-song whine much like your usual tone with your best friend.

You took in a very long breath of frustration and looked down as well.

You were so caught up in thoughts of the implications of the words that had left your mouth so quickly, that you did not bother to notice how Seungmin had in fact perked up at your words and practically resembled a tomato at this point, not that you looked any less of the shade of red.

“Wait what????” Seungmin was awestruck from your outburst, was he hallucinating? This was not the time for his imagination.

“There is no way, I’m repeating that,” you pouted.

“Not even if, I tell you I feel the same?” Seungmin smiled.

“Maybe after…” you swung your intertwined hand again.

“After ….?” he mocks

Seungmin suddenly closes the already small distance between the two of you and lands his soft lips just barely on the surface of your cheek.

“Can you say it again now?” he teases.

All tension dispelled, the mood is suffocating with the puppy love-struck expressions emitting from both your eyes.

“Seungmin, how can you kiss me before you even tell me you like me?”

You’re both inside now, after your apparently long-awaited confession, Seungmin had decided a cuddle session was called for in celebration, not that you were complaining.

“I thought it was just obvious?” Seungmin replies

“We could have been dating for so long by now,” You both sigh to one another at the thought you’d both had looming in your heads for the past hour.

“Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,�� Minnie nuzzles his head into your neck trying to hide from his own sly remark.

“Can we study chem now though, I’m still failing,” You whisper into his ear, the notion of that failing grade still very much prominent in your head.

“In a bit, do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” The arms around your waist tighter their loose grip and Seungmin pulls you even closer to him, enough to feel the warmth emitting from his chest and suddenly you thought chem could wait.

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