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kaywinchester · 3 years

Text

Last Resort

anon asked: Hey! I love your work! Do you think you could do a sister!reader fic where Dean, Sam and Cas are away on a long hunt, and the reader (younger, maybe between 11-14) has a panic attack? Since her brothers nor Cas can help, Crowley shows up... Thank you!

Word Count: 1,762

A/N: I know panic attacks can be different for a lot of people, so I kind of just made the panic attack in this story how mine usually are. I also set this before the boys found the bunker since Crowley is still around. *Also not my gif*

“Hey, wake up.... Y/N c’mon wake up.” Sam said as he shook your sleeping form.

You rolled over to your side and blinked your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light shining in from the hallway.

“M’what?” You mumbled.

“Y/N, Cas called us. Dean and I have to leave to go help him, it’s important.”

“What’s going on?” You wondered, looking over at the clock on the nightstand to see that it was 2:30 in the morning.

“We’ll call you and explain everything later, but we have to leave. We might be gone for a few days but I wanted to let you know.” Sam said frantically.

“Okay, call me in the morning.” You said, still half asleep and not really understanding what was going on.

Sam nodded and shut the lights off as he and Dean gathered their things before leaving the motel room. You rolled to your other side and fell back asleep within minutes.

....................

You woke up the next morning and sat up in bed, looking around, you were confused as to why Sam and Dean weren't there. It took you a minute but you remembered Sam waking you up. Just as you were thinking about where the hell they went, your phone rang.

“Sam?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, where are you guys and when are you coming back?”

“Sorry for leaving in such a rush. Cas called us about some other angels that are going around taking people out. Normally he’d be able to handle this himself but they're moving pretty fast.” Sam explained.

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure, but this one might take a few days. Maybe a week at worst, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“What about food?” You asked, glancing at the small motel kitchen.

“Dean went on a supply run after you fell asleep last night, the fridge should be stocked. We wouldn’t leave you alone if we thought you couldn't handle it.” Sam said.

“Okay, well, hurry back.”

“We will. Gotta go, we’ll talk to you later.” “Stay safe, Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say in the background.

....................

It had been 4 days since the boys left and you were bored out of your mind. You had opened snack after snack, watched way too much tv, and even snuck two of Dean’s beers. You knew he would notice and be pissed off but you didn't even care at the time.

Just when you thought you would be fine by yourself, you weren't.

The paranoia started to set in, which happened often when the boys would leave on longer hunts and not take you with them. Sometimes, you were able to brush it off and be patient until they got back. Other times like this, it was like a nagging feeling of terrible thoughts that would set off a panic attack.

There was a string of bad thoughts that kept rushing through your head. Wondering if Sam and Dean would be okay, if they were going to make it back safely, or if they were already dead and you just didn’t know it yet.

These thoughts sent you pacing back and forth around the motel room. You chewed your lip as you imagined Sam and Dean walking through the door with their bags, trying your best to calm yourself down.

You sat down on the edge of the bed as you felt your breathing picking up, feeling so panicked and uncomfortable, being alone for longer than you were okay with. You wanted to call Sam and Dean to check in but you didn’t want to be a bother. Your brothers knew that you had occasional panic attacks, but they didn’t know the extent of them. It was also a little embarrassing, so you decided to keep it on the low.

That’s when your phone rang, seeing it was Sam, you answered almost right away.

“Sammy?” You breathed out.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?” Dean answered instead.

“Uh, hey.... nothing much.... Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep in the passenger seat. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, just um.... when will you be back?”

“We just finished up actually. We were able to track down the last string of dickhead angels so were on our way back right now.”

“How long?” You asked a little too eagerly.

“Should be there in about 4 hours, could be less.... You know how I drive.” Dean let out a chuckle.

“Ok great, hurry back.” Was all you could think of saying before hanging up the phone.

....................

Sam stirred in his seat, waking up and turning to Dean to see his phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Y/N called, she was just asking where we were.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good... sounded a little weird though.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I dunno. She’s probably just getting impatient.”

Sam took a moment to think about how Dean worded that, realizing you might've been having an episode.

“No more stops tonight, let’s get back as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“She might be panicking a little bit, we’ve been gone for almost a week.”

“She’ll be fine, she just needs to get used to being on her own.” Dean started being insensitive.

“Dean, I don’t think you know how panic attacks work.”

“She doesn't still have those, does she?”

“Yes, as far as I know she does, and depending on the person, they can get pretty bad.”

Dean didn't say anything after that and continued to drive faster.

....................

You sat on the floor up against the motel bed and talked to yourself in your head, praying to Cas since your brothers were still a long ways away. You repeated the same message over and over, expecting to see Cas pop up in front of you, but it never happened.

You started to panic even more that you started to repeat your cry for help out loud, not to anyone directly, but in hopes of feeling like someone was listening.

You weren’t expecting it but someone was listening.

And that someone was Crowley.

Crowley appeared after minutes of you talking, it scared the shit out of you, making you spring up from where you were sitting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Well, someone is a little uneasy from what I heard.” He glanced back at you.

“Why are you even listening to me?”

“You clearly wanted someone to, and I was in the area.” Crowley said jokingly.

“Sam and Dean aren’t gonna like it when they see that you’re here.” You said as you backed up out of habit.

“Sam and Dean aren’t going to be here for a while now are they love? I might as well give you some sort of company.” He smirked, as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.

“Why are you acting nice?”

“Who said I was acting? The king of hell can’t do little Winchester a favor?”

“Why would you want to though, it’s pretty unlike you.”

“Let’s say I owe you and your brothers one, I can’t always be ruining things can I? That would just be bad for my reputation.” Crowley sassed.

You scoffed at his sarcastic remarks, then realizing that he did a good job of distracting you from how you were feeling.

“Thanks” you gave a small smile, accepting the nice gesture Crowley gave.

“No need... Well, I guess my work here is done.” Crowley sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.” Before you could turn around to hear what Crowley was talking about, he was gone. Moments later, you heard a familiar car engine pull up in front of the motel room.

Perfect timing.

You drew the curtains to reveal your brothers emerging from the car, with Cas already walking up to the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you welcomed all three of them inside.

“Hello Y/N.....” Cas paused and looked around with suspicion growing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a sense that one from the opposite side was lingering in this vicinity.”

“Okay, I literally understood none of that.”

“There was a demon here at some point. I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, what’s he rambling about?” Dean asked as he hauled in the last of the things from the impala.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You lied.

Sam could see right through you face and knew something had happened. You didn’t look okay.

“Y/N, was there someone here? Did something try to hurt you?” Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s attention, stopping him from what he was doing.

“Well, Crowley...”

“Crowley!? Was he here?” Dean’s voice boomed.

“Dean, can you please not make a big deal...”

“Big deal!!?”

“Dean, dude seriously chill out. Just tell us what happened, Y/N.” Sam interrupted.

You told the three boys everything that happened. Sam immediately felt bad that he wasn’t there. Dean was worried that his little sister dealt with panic attacks this bad, but he still wasn’t happy that the king of hell just decided to pop in without warning.

“Y/N/N, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, you were too far anyways.”

“Well next time that happens, you call us, no matter where we are. I promise, you mean more to us than our work, we’d drop everything, even if we were miles away just to get to you.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, what he said.” Dean chimed in.

“Wow, I love how much you care.” You joked.

“You know I love you Y/N/N..... but I’m gonna have to lay down some rules with Crowley, and one of them is no dropping in when I’m not here. I don’t trust that shady punk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his arms, motioning for a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Nothing but chick flick moments over here. Get a room.” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up!”

“So, where is Crowley now?” Cas asked innocently.

“Were you even listening the whole time?” Sam asked confused.

“No, there is many things being said over angel radio.”

“God dammit, Cas.” Dean said as he got up to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Who drank my beers?”

“Wasn’t me...” Sam shrugged.

You knew you were in big trouble, forgetting about the choices you made earlier. So you slipped out the front door to let Dean cool down, but he had other plans. Sam quietly ratted you out as he motioned to the door that had just shut.

“Y/N! Get back here!”

Requests are open again!

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui @hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

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wizardouxie · 3 years

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PANTONE 2046 C

Genre: Fluff, #ZoeAppreciationWeek

Pairing: Zouxie

Summary: The Pink Hair Origin Story (alternatively also the Blue Hair Origin Story)

Word Count: 2788

Author's Note: First day of Zoe Appreciation Week! Wanted to participate so have this not so little one shot to showcase our lovely pink haired witch <3

"Wow, the dye came out really nicely," Zoe murmurs as Douxie exits the bathroom, his hair freshly blown dry -- from its tips to the full bangs dipped in a deep yet striking blue. He smiles widely at the quiet compliment and waves over to Archie.

"How does it look Arch?" they ask, though the answer is pretty clear, if Archie's fond gaze is anything to go by. The familiar flies in to nuzzle his face.

"Dashing as ever, Douxie."

Zoe leans back into the couch with content, taking in the beautiful sight that is her best friend. She did really good. The faint buzz of adrenaline lingers on the pads of her fingers. Right, she forgot. That was her first time.

"Are. You. Crazy? I've never even dyed hair before!" the natural brown haired girl hissed. She begrudgingly wiped the bubblegum that had exploded over her lips -- a result from the initial shock when Douxie first made his request. Granted, she felt honored that they would come to her before anyone else, but still! She can't risk ruining his hair, she doesn't have experience, plus the hair salon could totally do it better and-

"I'd rather it be you than anyone else," the wizard confirmed firmly. Zoe turned to the familiar. Surely the cat who lived with this stubborn kid could knock some sense into them. Archie could only provide a shrug in response.

"They're pretty sure about this."

She groaned.

"Fine, fine! But give me a few days unless you want me to pick out the wrong dye and end up with neon green."

[ 1 Week Later ]

Zoe couldn't keep track of just how many hair channels and blogs she'd gone through. She mimicked their hand movements, using cheap wigs and mannequin heads to simulate the experience. Through it all, one voice echoed the same message: "You can't mess this up."

She bought all the necessary tools. Gloves, hair clips, bleach, foil, just to name a few. Oh, and of course the dye -- though you'll be surprised how one can forget the simplest things while getting caught up in trying to memorize everything. Blue, Douxie had asked for. But what kind of blue? Sky blue? Cobalt? Midnight? Which one? She pinched the bridge of her nose before angrily texting the wizard. It went a little something like this:

DOUX: go with whatever you think will look good! i'm fine with anything tbh :]

ZOE: i Hate you so much

DOUX: ??? WHY

ZOE: IDK SHIT ABOUT HAIR DYE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT LOOKS GOOD

DOUX: let's talk about this in person before you electrocute your phone again

ZOE: you won't let me live that down will you

DOUX: you know me so well ;)

She shoved the phone back in her pocket. There's no way she was actually doing this for him.

She was.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" she asked for what would be around the 73rd time. Douxie pulled his face down with both hands.

"Ugh, the answer is still yes, love. I'm not asking you to dye the whole thing, just the front part, bangs and sides."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname and smacks the clean brush against his head. She smiles at the little 'ow' that Douxie lets out with a pout. Hm, cute.

"Alright, but don't start moping around if it doesn't come out the way you wanted it!"

"Nothing that a little magic can't fix if it gets to that point. Which I hardly believe it will."

And now here they are.

Douxie crashes on the couch with Zoe, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at the sudden physical touch, but it's never unwelcome. Not when it comes to him.

"You know of all human creations, I gotta say, this one really takes the cake," they start and Zoe snorts.

"You say that about nearly everything."

"Can you blame me?"

She looks at them and no, she really can't. In fact, she finds herself agreeing with him. He looks... really nice. A faint blush spreads over her face; not that it is noticeable by any means -- the two of them happen to have done this dying process starting from the evening to night, so the dim lights in her home do little to highlight her features. This is still her Douxie, lovable guitarist and wizard nerd who cares about everyone. Yet there was something about the hair dye that changed things up a bit. Something good, naturally.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, doing whatever is usually available. Sometimes it's texting, scrolling through social media, or listening to music. Other times it's zoning off and reminiscing about the past.

Zoe decides to go for her phone, unconscious of the way her hand finds its way into Douxie's hair, carding through the locks and untangling them with nimble fingers. It's peaceful. Maybe even a little too peaceful, considering the two of them are adrenaline junkies.

"Douxie, I can hear you thinking..." she begins. It's a common way to start the conversation between them, and oftentimes she's right.

He turns around, her hand still in his hair, but enough to meet her eyes. Their own eyes look serious and her heart sinks. Were they not happy with their hair?

The answer is quite the opposite.

"You ever considered dying your hair too? Maybe we can match."

The untangling stops.

And then the tugging starts.

"Ow ow ow-"

"Hisirdoux Casperan you are a menace to society."

She does though. She considers it for weeks. Of course, Douxie doesn't push; it's her hair at the end of the day, she can do whatever she likes. But after seeing how well she did with the wizard, she kinda felt excited. She definitely can't forget the exhilaration she felt when she saw people compliment Douxie at Benoit's or at the GDT book store. Her heart started beating faster when he looked back at her with a proud smile on his face-- damn that wizard, they told the others that she did it for them, didn't they?

After a few days, a young girl in a cap comes up to her at the record store. Probably from Arcadia High, if her backpack stacked with books is any indication.

"Hi! I'm Claire. Claire Nuñez," the girl starts. Zoe raises an eyebrow in interest.

"Hey Claire. What can I get you?" she asks, raising a flask to her lips. There's no water. Damn.

"Um, it's not really a standard request, but um, I was wondering if you could dye my hair?"

Zoe chokes on her water. Dye her what?

"Kid, are you new here? This is a records store. I can give you the direction to the hair salon it's really not that far."

"No, no, no! It's just, this guy got their hair dyed and I asked if he did it himself and they said you did it for them so I came to you. It's nothing too big! Just a strand really," Claire rambles. She gestures to the invisible front of her hair, currently tucked away behind the cap, outlining it with her fingers. The hedge witch groans.

"That would be Douxie. Now, here's the thing I don't do this for just anyone. Douxie happens to be a close friend so what I did was a little gift for him. I don't even know you, so what do I get out of this?"

Claire pales.

"Uh, $20? I know a full head of hair costs way more but like I said, just a strand..."

Zoe's stomach rumbles in response. She had $5 currently in her wallet which could buy a snack at most. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm hungry. Catch me after my shift is done okay? And I only got one color on me, which is blue, you good with that? Otherwise bring your own."

"Yes of course, of course! Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah, now scram if you're not here to buy anything."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if you had anything Papa Skull released recently!"

Curse this girl and her good taste in music.

[ 45 minutes later; 2:00 PM ]

"Thank you for doing this by the way," Claire starts. Zoe waves it off. She doesn't really know why she agreed to this. Well kind of. She wanted to eat. But besides that, she also was curious to see if she could satisfy another "customer". Hair dying was never a profession she had properly considered and right now? It doesn't hurt to entertain a thought.

"Alright so I have the bleach, you'll need to let that set in and keep that before dying the strand you want. We can even add toner to neutralize the color post bleaching if necessary," she lists off. Claire shakes her head.

"That won't be necessary!"

The girl pulls off her cap and surely enough, there's a light blonde lock, similar to Douxie's, just a little lighter. Zoe's impressed.

"Well that definitely makes my job easier. Especially since this is my second time."

"Wait, second time?"

"You didn't know?"

"No?"

"Of course Douxie leaves that part out. You want out? I'll pay you back the $20 in four days."

"No, I trust you."

Zoe always believed that she had tough and cold demeanor. Clearly she's doing something wrong if people are finding her trustworthy just by looking at one dye job.

"Alright then, here we go! Don't say I didn't warn you," the witch replies. She wraps the cloth around Claire softly, and pulls up the bowl with the dye in it. With a gloved hand she separates the pale strands from the brown ones. The blue will definitely be more prominent here than it would be with Douxie's. Something tells her that Claire wouldn't mind.

From the looks of Claire's surprise, wonder, and delight, she definitely didn't mind.

"It. Looks. So cool! You're really good at this. Maybe you should start a hair dying salon or something," the girl rattles off. Zoe raises a hand.

"I'm already working two part time jobs so... no. But I'm glad you liked it. The blue looks really good. Stands out well."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Claire repeats, putting back her cap on. A feeling of confusion overcomes Zoe.

"Wait, why are you putting your cap back on? Don't you want to show people?"

"Duh, but um, my mom doesn't know about, uh, all this. You know, councilwoman things."

Zoe's mouth drops, the $20 bill crumpled in her hand. So that's why she didn't go to the hair salon. Nuñez is the councilwoman, so she'd know pretty much everyone in the town. And word spreads pretty fast. In summary: Claire would have gotten caught.

"See ya!"

These kids are going to land her in some serious trouble one day.

With a burger and soda in her tray, Zoe takes a seat and pulls out her phone. That Claire girl though, she's sort of inspiring. Adventurous. Not hesitant in taking chances. And you know Zoe, she absolutely loves the thrills of life. Whether it be hunting magical creatures or refining her usually unpredictable magic. The humans tend to have mellow definition of risk taking, in her opinion, but their examples are fun enough in their own way: crossing the speed limit, riding rollercoasters, anything along those lines. The brunette clicks on a familiar contact and begins typing.

ZOE: which color looks good on me

ZOE: don't ask it's for a stupid job thing

DOUX: which job?

ZOE: WHAT PART OF DON'T ASK

ZOE: hex tech, something for employee uniforms

DOUX: i was going to say pink since it brings out your eyes but if it's for uniforms i dunno, light blue?

ZOE: hm interesting

DOUX: you should just work here at the book store it's chill

ZOE: but then i'd have to deal with you

DOUX: now is that really a bad thing?

DOUX: zoe.

Light blue is definitely a no go, Zoe decides. Too much blue dye going around. But pink, hm she could work with that. It's a pretty bold color and it would compliment her eyes as well as her face in general. A win-win for her.

And as for how far she's willing to go? She decides to go all in. No tips, no ombre, just complete bubblegum hair. Of course this takes a few days to gather the guts.

'You can do it Zoe, just go for the bleach,' she thinks to herself. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement. Frankly, hunting niffins didn't compare to the rush she's feeling right now. She closes her eyes and brings the brush to her hair.

Well, here goes nothing.

She winces as she feels the tingling sensation, but loads of videos have assured that such symptoms were normal. She continues to work at it, using the foil to make sure she doesn't bleach a part of her hair to death. It's long and strenuous, but she knows the results in the few coming weeks would be worth it.

She doesn't have to worry about Douxie finding out thankfully. Turns out these weeks are essential for Merlin's "To-Do" List. Apparently it was to find Camelot?

"The castle he means. Not the actual kingdom. That's been gone for centuries. Anyways, I'll be back once I actually find it. Dunno how I'll do it and it probably will take me and Arch a month or so, haha. Oh! And if my hirers ask you anything, it's a family emergency."

Hm, whatever. A brief thought of Merlin dying his hair neon green amuses her, before she goes back to watching more hair dye videos. They've become a little addicting nowadays. She's amazed at how often people do it. How do they keep their hair so healthy?

It's been four weeks now and Zoe's eyes stare at the pink concoction in her hand. PANTONE 2046 C. This was the shade that stole her heart in the middle of the hair dye aisle. No other color could compare in the slightest. Even the cashier who packaged her order hummed in approval.

"Nice color! Not many go for it, but it'll suit you for sure."

This time her movements are calculated, not clumsy or fear driven like it used to be. One could even say she's getting the hang of this. Her hair over time changes from platinum blonde to a dark matted pink. She lets it sit for a bit, meanwhile focusing on getting the dye out of her hands. This turns out to be harder than she thought and she sighs. Well, maybe another day.

After washing and blow drying her hair, she stands in front of the mirror. The witch staring back at her is almost unrecognizable. As if she were a new person completely. And she liked it.

The blank stare shifts into a grin and she tugs at her own locks. Goddamn. She looks really good.

And well, Douxie's reaction is priceless to say the least.

DOUX: you said to meet up at the museum where are you

DOUX: i swear if you slept in i'll send archie to knock down everything in your apartment

DOUX: ok no i won't but still it's been a month since we last saw each other come on

DOUX: wait a second

DOUX: you're joking

DOUX: IS THAT??? YOU????

DOUX: IN THE PINK

DOUX: oh fuzzbuckets you look stunning

DOUX: Hello this is Archie. You broke Douxie so could you please finish your conversation with whoever it is you're with and come pick him up? Your hair is absolutely lovely by the way.

ZOE: omfg

ZOE: can't take you guys anywhere

The witch smiles at the girls and nods over to a gaping Douxie and his cat before gracefully exiting the conversation. She approaches her friend and pushes his jaw up with her index finger.

"So I'm assuming you're digging the new look hm?" she teases.

"You have no idea," Douxie responds. A pink tint lighter than the shade of her hair blooms across Zoe's face at the expression of adoration in her best friend's eyes. The two of them have been through a lot together, seeing each other grow and change. And this time, it was a really fun and welcome one.

"I might try this again with a different color some time. You wanna join then?"

"Don't have to ask me twice."

It's crazy how all of this came from a chaotic, impulsive research project to help a friend. But honestly Zoe wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe Douxie was right. Of all human creations, this one beats pretty much everything else.

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #zoeappreciationweek #here's my entry hehe #enjoy!#toa #tales of arcadia #zoe #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #zouxie #archie #claire #claire nuñez #ophelia #ophelia nuñez

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next? I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on.

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you. A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up. You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth.

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

“Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room – he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes floof #it's a deal #it's a deal chapter 7

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eddiespaghettti · 6 years

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20 FOLLOWERS I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

Tagged by: @camocrowned and @itisagift <3 <3

Tagging: A loooot of people on my dash have done this one already so to avoid tagging people for it multiple times you can just!! do it if you want to!!

1) Name/Nickname: Milky! (sorry I know it’s funny lmao)

2) Gender: female probably ya know??

3): Star sign: Aries but it doesn’t really fit at all?? I’m told that my chart is dominated by Capricorn though, whatever that means?? Does that mean I should be looking at Capricorn shit instead of Aries shit????

4): Height: 5′4″ ahhh

5): Hogwarts House: Slytherin!!! Slytherin represent!!!!

6): Favorite Animal: ahhh snakes, goats, corvids (like. crows and ravens), dogs, cats, and octopuses!!! Did you know!!! goats and octopuses (octopi??) both have rectangular pupils^^

7): Hours of Sleep: honestly 3-6 hours typically I’m a w r e c k

8): Dogs or Cats: Do I really have to pick?????

9): Number of Blankets: 1-2

10): Dream Trip: I’ve been to Japan before but I’d love to go again, and luckily I am in a little over two months!! Aside from that though I’ve always wanted to go to the Ukraine.

11.) Dream Job: I mean being an author would be like Ideal ya know?? But also like. translator or editor would be cool basically I like writing and language related things

12.) Time: 10:53pm

13.): Birthday: April 17th

14.): Favorite Bands: Tool, A Perfect Circle, the pAper chAse, Florence + the Machine, Rise Against, legit like 748375837y388375 others that I can’t think of right now?????

15.): Favorite Solo Artist: ummm I consider John Congleton & the Nighty Nite and Puscifer to be solo projects pretty much aha

16.): Song stuck In My Head: .................................africa by toto, ngl....................

17.): Last Movie I Watched: The 1990 IT Miniseries!!

18.): Last Show I watched: uhhh ST2 I’m p sure

19.): When did I create my Blog: I wanna say like. October 8th? I think?

20.): What do I post/Reblog: honestly idek at this point I’m being somewhat productive with replies rn but a lot of the time I just rant about my boy

21.): Last thing I Googled: uhhh I think I googled maynard james keenan so I could show my friend a picture of him in one of his weird constumes

22.): Other Blogs: honestly nothing atm but!!! Sooner rather than later I’ll have a will byer.s and a mike hanlo.n added to the list!!!

23.): Do I get Asks: Sometimes when I reblog memes, yeah! Never really any anons though

24.): Why I chose My URL: BECAUSE EDDIE SPAGHETTI IS LIKE OBJECTIVELY EDDIE’S BEST NICKNAME I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

25.): Following: I think roughly 100?? I gotta clean up a bit and unfollow some unactive ones I think though

26.): Followers: Almost 100!!! I’ll hopefully get to do a bias list or something like that soon!!!

27.): Lucky number: 11, 12, and 13 have always been the best for me!

28.): Favorite Instrument: uhh well I play bass an piano and I really love both of those a lot!! As for instruments I don’t play though I’m oddly into the english horn?? and a lot more tbh. I love music.

29.): What am I wearing: pajamas lol like flannel pants and a big t-shirt it’s super comfy

30.): Favorite Food: not to be That Guy but when I was in Japan I had udon and sukiyaki and after that nothing could compare

31.): Nationality: american :0

32.): Favorite Song: oh man I really don’t think I can pick only one >< It changes so often guys I listen to so much music

33.): Last Book I Read: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens!! Just finished it for class tomorrow like two hours ago actually

34.): Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like to Join: you mean that I’d like to rp in or that I’d like to live in?? Because I really love being in the IT fandom honestly and I’m branching into Strange.r Thing.s! I’m also lowkey a weeb though so persona and dangan ronpa would be cool because there are some muses I’d really like to write for (even though the dr fandom kinda scares me, eep ><). There’s probably a bunch more but for the most part I’m happy where I am though!!

#ooc #wow I can never just give an answer I always gotta ramble why does this happen #long post

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beecherdrysdale · 3 years

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Project Partners - Brendan Brisson

Hey guys, so here’s a fic I started like a month ago and then kind of forgot about. Please send feedback bc I’m trying to improve my writing skills! Also, covid doesn’t exist in this.

warnings: language, underage drinking, that’s all i think?

///

“Y/L/N and Brisson.” You groan as you hear your professor name your partner for the term-long project. Of course you know who Brendan Brisson is. You had grown up as a huge hockey fan, so of course you had been watching the draft when he got drafted by the Golden Knights, and of course you had seen him playing for Team USA at World Juniors. From what you could tell of him, he seemed like the kind of guy who would make you do all the work and use hockey as an excuse as to why he couldn’t help. That’s too bad for him though, because he’s not the only varsity athlete, and swimming takes up just as much time, if not more, than hockey. Your professor continues to drone on about the project requirements as you contemplate why you even decided to take this course in the first place.

Finally, class ends, and you see Brendan walking toward you. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right? I’m Brendan,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. Guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of the semester, huh.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know I have hock-” he started.

“Save it, Brisson,” you cut him off, “you’re not the only athlete here, OK?”

“Wow, someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just really tired of having to do all the work in group projects. I did it enough in high school, and I’m just so done with everyone’s excuses y’know?”

“Well, what I was trying to say is that I have hockey a lot so we should coordinate our schedules to work around it.” He pauses a second, then adds, “And whatever sport you play.”

“Swimming,” you supply.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Swimming is the sport I do,” you clarify. “Anyways, does the library at 8 on Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you? Besides when you have games or I have meets obviously.”

“Yeah that works.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” you reply, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he stops you. “Can I get your number or snap or something in case I need to talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, quickly typing them into his phone.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow at 8,” he says before jogging to catch up to his friends.

///

The next day when you get to the library, the first thing you hear is, “You’re late. Where were you?”

“Sorry we got out of practice late and then I had to shower cuz chlorine and then I couldn’t find my hat and I didn’t want to go outside without it cuz my hair would freeze...” you begin to ramble.

“Hey, calm down, I was joking. You’re literally only like 2 minutes late.”

“Ok but I lowkey still feel bad.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says, “Come on, let’s choose our topic.”

“Ok,” you respond, “so I don’t know if you have any ideas but I was thinking maybe we could do the effect of hockey on the Cold War? Cuz like you play hockey and I watch it all the time. Plus, I did a research paper on it in high school, so we could pull info from that and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, seeming distracted. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ummm, cuz you never asked? You’ve literally only spoken like 3 words to me before yesterday so I don’t know why I would tell you.”

“Ok, I guess that’s true,” he responds. He then proceeds to quiz you about hockey, seemingly trying to make sure you’re an actual fan and not just trying to use hockey to get to him like some other girls he knows. You seem to pass his test, because it’s not long before the two of you are messing around, making fun of each other’s taste in hockey teams. Two hours later, the two of you have gotten to know each other a lot better, but you haven’t even started your project.

“Shit,” you say, checking the time on your phone, “I gotta go. I still have to help my friend with her math and I have morning practice tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he says. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late.”

“Omg shut up. You’re not funny,” you say playfully, as he laughs his ass off.

“You know I am,” he shoots back.

“Sure, Brisson, whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave.

///

After a few more library sessions, the animosity between you and Brendan which, you admit, was your fault had completely dissipated. The two of you quickly learn you actually have a lot in common, like your love of sports and your music taste, and despite his fratboy vibes you quickly grow to trust him. That’s why you don’t hesitate to say yes when he asks if you can meet at the hockey house to work on your project instead of in the library.

When you arrive at the house, you are greeted by the sound of the entire hockey team arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner. “I have to work on my project though,” you can faintly hear Brendan.

“It’s OK Brisson, sounds like you have more important things to do. We’re somehow ahead of schedule anyway,” you say, entering the kitchen.

“Seriously Y/L/N?” he groans. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrugging.

Your apology is interrupted by Cam, “Hey Brisson, who’s this? Wanna introduce us to your new girlfriend?”

“Funny,” you say. “We’re just friends. We got assigned to work on this project together. Isn’t he wheeling like 3-4 girls a weekend anyways?”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I only do what they want.”

“Beside the point Brisson,” Johnny jumps in. “Just introduce us to your new friend.

“Fine,” he groans. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the guys. Now,” he says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the stairs, trying to make his escape, “let’s go work on our project.”

“Not so fast, Brisson,” Nolan cuts in. “You’re making dinner. Y/N said it’s fine.”

Brendan sighs in response.

“C’mon,” you say. “I’ll help you. I promise it’s not that hard.”

Brendan begrudgingly follows you back to the kitchen as the rest of the guys scatter. You begin to pull the ingredients to make tacos, which thankfully they have, out of the fridge. “Here,” you say, tossing Brendan a tomato. “Can you dice this?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes before you decide to turn some music on. As you turn to reach for your phone, you glance over to see Brendan’s pile of tomatoes. “Seriously, Brisson?” you ask, staring at the haphazard pile in dismay. “Have you ever cut a tomato before? I had better cutting skills than that in preschool.” You hear a few guys snicker from the other room at that. After showing him how to cut it properly and turning on your Spotify, you continue to work, chirping Brendan occasionally. Once you and Brendan finish making dinner, you call the rest of the guys back into the kitchen to come eat.

As the guys eat, they drill you with questions, trying to find out as much as they can about Brendan’s “project partner.” You answer all their questions, and by the end of dinner you fit in seamlessly with the boys, even joining in their good-natured chirping of one another. Eventually, you have to leave, but the boys are quick to let you know you’re always welcome back whether it’s for your food or your company, you don’t know before you go.

///

As soon as you leave, all eyes are on Brendan. “So Briss, you wanna tell us about your new girlfriend?” Nolan asks.

“She said it herself, we’re just friends. We’re working on a project together,” Brendan is quick to reply.

“Sure...” Cam counters. “Friends don’t look at friends like that Brisson.”

“Like what?” Brendan asks.

“Like she hung the stars in the sky or some shit like that,” Johnny responds. “Look Briss, just go for it. It’s not like she’s gonna say no, she literally looks at you the same way.”

“But she would say no,” Brendan protests. “She’s the one who said we’re just friends first so obviously she doesn’t like me like that. Why should I go for someone who’s gonna reject me when I an go to a party and pick up whatever girl I want, like she said?”

“Because you can’t get whatever girl you want, Brisson. She’s the one you want. We can all see it,” Johnny replies.

“Ok you know what, fuck off. Leave me alone. The two of us are just friends,” Brendan reaches his breaking point. At that, the guys let it drop, Brendan’s outburst giving them all the proof they need.

///

Meanwhile, you are back in your dorm chastising yourself. Why did you have to say you and Brendan are just friends? You know any chance you had of him liking you back is now gone, because he thinks you only think of him as a friend. You debate what to do, even going so far as to pick up your phone and tap on his contact, before changing your mind and getting ready for bed. Guys like him don’t go for girls like you anyway or so you think. You’re sure he wants one of those perfect girlfriends who are always put together and dress cute, not some athlete who always walks around in sweats, and the last thing you want to do is fuck up your friendship by confessing. You ignore the feeling of jealousy that rises in your chest when you think of Brendan with another girl and force yourself to go to sleep.

///

It’s not even two days before you get a snap from Nolan asking if you want to go to a party with all of the guys. You agree immediately because you don’t have morning practice tomorrow and your plans with friends got cancelled and you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to see Brendan outside of working on your project.

That night, you try to dress extra cute, even going so far as to ask your roommate to help you choose your outfit as she seems to have no problems picking up guys. You finally settle on an outfit and hurry out the door, wanting to make sure you get to the party on time so you can meet the guys outside and not have to walk in alone. As you walk out the door, you hear your roommate call, “Have fun! Be safe! Use a condom!” You flip her off as the door closes.

When you get to the party, you see the guys outside waiting for you. “Hey Y/N,” you hear a couple guys say.

“Heyyy,” you reply, as you guys start heading toward the house. Brendan lags behind the group, eyes trailing down your body. As much as he loved the fact that you wore what you wanted read: sweats and didn’t try to be a Barbie doll, he had to admit seeing you like this was hot. He hurries to reach the rest of the group, deciding you were standing just a little too close to Cam for his liking. He may not be able to be with you, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna watch you date one of his teammates. He catches up and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey Brisson,” you greet. “What’s up? You learned how to cut a tomato yet?”

“Haha, very funny Y/L/N,” he responds.

“Oh come on, you know it was,” you protest.

As soon as you guys enter the house Johnny says, “I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want one?”

“Yeah, can you get me a Natty?” you’re quick to respond. “But please make sure it’s closed.”

A couple other guys request drinks, and Johnny goes to get them while the rest of you head further inside. You stay with the guys pretty much the whole night, not wanting to get separated because you know what happens to girls who are at parties alone.

At some point in the night you guys end up near the beer pong table, and when it’s Brendan’s turn he makes you be his partner not that you’re complaining and drags you over to the table. The two of you quickly get on a winning streak and you end up winning the tournament you got pulled into. At this point you’re pretty drunk, so you don’t hesitate to go along with it when Brendan hugs you, the two of you stumbling a little bit. Both of you are reluctant to let go, reveling in the feeling of each other, as each of you thinks the other doesn’t like you back so you’ll never get to experience the feeling again.

You and the guys stay at the party a little longer before they realize how drunk you are because you had had more beers than any of them and decide its time to leave. All the guys come with you back to your dorm in order to make sure you get back safe, a gesture both you and your roommate thank them for before they leave.

///

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re hanging out with the guys, as has become usual for you, when Johnny ask, “Hey Y/L/N, how come you never come to any of our games? I thought Brisson said you’re a big hockey fan.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, “I just usually have swim when you guys have games. Plus you guys never invite me so...”

“Well we kinda assumed you already knew you were invited,” Nolan says. “You’re always welcome at our games, and if you tell us you’re coming we can probably get you good seats.”

“OK, well we actually don’t have swim practice on Friday for some reason, so I can probably come,” you say. “I’ll try to drag my roommate to come with too.”

The boys groan, “Really, Y/N? You want us to get two tickets? Do you know how much work that is?” before quickly revealing that they’re joking and telling you that of course they’ll get you two tickets.

///

True to the boys’ word, when Johnny sits next to you in your class together on Friday, he hands you an envelope with two tickets. “What are you wearing to the game tonight?” he asks with a plan up his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “Probably my Michigan swimming hoodie.”

“You wear that everywhere though,” he protests.

“Yeah, so?” you fire back. “It’s a Michigan hoodie. School spirit.”

“Or you could wear this,” he says pulling something out of his backpack. He unfolds it to reveal that it’s one of Brendan’s hockey hoodies.

“Doesn’t he need that for the game tonight?” you ask.

“No, he has two,” Johnny replies. “Now stop trying to get out of wearing it. You have to wear something hockey related to support us.”

“Ugh fine,” you give in, knowing Johnny will be persistent.

///

That evening, you arrive at the arena with your roommate, begrudgingly wearing the hoodie with “Brisson” boldly stamped across your back. You are not enjoying yourself, because knowing what it feels like to wear Brendan’s sweatshirt and smell his cologne makes you all the more aware that this will never be your reality. Nevertheless, you force a smile on your face as you and your roommate sit down to watch warmups. You can feel the energy in the arena even now, before the game begins, as UMich is playing rival school Ohio State.

Once warmups are over you and your roommate go to use the bathroom and get snacks. The line for the bathroom is so long you don’t think you’ll make it back to your seats before the game starts, but thankfully you get to them just a second before puck drop. The game gets off to a rough start, with Ohio State scoring twice early, but by the end of the first the guys have picked up their pace, and you hope that they’ll be able to tie it up in the second.

After intermission, the boys come out guns blazing. Brendan scores just 30 seconds in to the period off an offensive zone face-off win. As he cellies, he makes eye contact with you up in the stands. “He is so into you!” your roommate squeals when she notices.

“No he’s not, shut up,” you reply, turning your focus back to the game. The guys stay on the forecheck pretty much the whole period, and it finally pays off when Johnny scores with 5 minutes left to play in the second. When the period ends and the guys head back to the locker room, the game is tied 2-2.

The third period begins with an Ohio State faceoff win, and they quickly get off a shot attempt. Thankfully, the shot goes wide and play continues. The teams go back and forth all period getting good scoring chances, but neither team is able to capitalize. It looks like the game is going to go to overtime, but then Brendan scores again with just 43 seconds remaining. Once again, he makes eye contact with you and smiles as he cellies, and once again your roommate freaks out and says that he definitely likes you. You make her shut up and start to grab your stuff as the final seconds wind down.

“Woah, slow down. Where are we going?” she asks.

“The guys told me to meet them outside the locker rooms,” you say, beginning to lead the way.

///

When you get to the hallway outside the locker room, you lean up against the wall and start scrolling through Insta as you wait for the guys to come out. Eventually the guys slowly begin trickling out of the locker room and heading over to their various girlfriends gathered in the hallway as all the single guys congregate around you, but you ignore them so you don’t get dragged into one of their arguments.

Finally, you see Brendan come out of the locker room so you put your phone away and push your body away from the wall. He starts to make a beeline toward you and does a double take when he realizes you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts. The guys had been bugging him for weeks to ask you out and he had been thinking of maybe doing it tonight, but seeing you in his sweatshirt has finally given him the confidence to make a move. As he reaches you, you say, “Hey Briss.”

“Hey,” he replies, and then his lips are on yours, and you don’t know where this is coming from but you’ve been wanting it for a while now so of course you kiss back, and it just feels so right you don’t ever want to stop. When you finally break apart, all the guys are cheering and whistling and you hear a couple guys mutter “finally”.

As the guys quiet down, you ask Brendan, “What was that for?”

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have done it,” he panics, thinking you were mad, even though you kissed back so you obviously weren’t.

“No, I liked it,” comes your reply. “It just kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” he calms down. “Well I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was kinda nervous so I kept putting it off. But then you looked really hot in my hoodie, so I just went for it.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes, what?” he asks, looking confused.

“You said you wanted to ask me out. I said yes,” you explain.

“Ok, so do you want to go get Chipotle or something tomorrow then?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. “But for now let’s go out and celebrate with the other guys.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk with the team, and you are finally content.

#brendan brisson #umich #brendan brisson fic #brendan brisson imagine #brendan brisson x reader

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thirstyforoc · 3 years

Text

🎂

I know his birthday was a couple days ago but my brain doesn't work that well and I'm always early for everything else, I can be late for this.

Here's something to read that's probably not great and wordy and rambly and really only relevant to my own interests. I had to hammer this out because I just had to and it took longer than I expected because I can't shut the fuck up. Read it if you feel like it or don't, I'll still love you either way.

Using real names so don't keep going if that bothers you. I didn't post the picture but I make a reference to that one pic of him at Medieval Times, you know the one, at least I hope you do. Enjoy.

Idk, I just like picturing every single birthday Dustin and Jim have spent together since they became friends. Sue me. I have too much time on my hands and like to think about their relationship so I have to get this out. Here. Take it.

It's early in their friendship, a few years in. They're in Philly for a show and Dustin knows it's almost Jim's birthday, he's aware it's coming up but he forgot what day it fell on and that it was so soon until Jim brings it up. He's never super sober or super clear on what day of the week it is, that's just how he lives. If anyone has a problem with it that's on them. Jim never seems to take issue with it though. Maybe that's why their friends?

It's the Friday before his birthday. They're hanging out at Dustin's place before heading to the show and Jim reminds Dustin when his birthday is. "Tuesday? Your fucking birthday is on a Tuesday this year? Gross. Jim Day on a Tuesday. Lame."

Jim laughs a little, the soft laugh he always gives Dustin when he's being a certain kind of ridiculous or obnoxious, like he can't believe he's saying what he's saying. "You know I don't get to pick what day my birthday falls on, right? Tell me you know that. I need to hear you say you know that."

"I mean, yuck. What's there to do on a Tuesday?"

"I dunno. I don't really have any plans this year." Truth be told Jim's not all that concerned with how he's going to spend his actual birthday. Perhaps he'll do something with friends or family back in Jersey? Maybe he won't. It's not a big, special, milestone birthday or anything. No reason to go all out.

Dustin absolutely, positively will not shut up about it. No matter how many times Jim grunts or rolls his eyes Dustin just keeps talking and babbling about how it's a crime for someone's birthday to fall on a Tuesday. Jim's on the verge of asking Dustin exactly what is wrong with Tuesdays anyway when Dustin pauses to look right at him. "We should just start now."

"Huh?"

"Today."

"Today?"

"Yeah. Like, spend the whole weekend partying. Today is your birthday. Tomorrow is your birthday. Keep the Jim Day train on the tracks through Sunday, Monday, your actual birthday. You said you didn't have plans, right? Just stay. You'll stay and it'll be like...like one long birthday instead of a fucking boring ass birthday on a Tuesday of all days. Yeah, you'll stay and...and you'll stay and we'll find things to do every day. So, you'll stay." It's never a question. It's already been decided that Jim's going to agree. Dustin never sounds uncertain, says it with such confidence. He's not fearful even for one second Jim might say he isn't down.

Dustin wants him to stay so Jim does. Sure, he's got things he could be doing at home, was planning on staying maybe through Saturday and heading back Sunday morning, Sunday evening at the latest but he could stay. Yeah, he will stay. Dustin wants him to stay so he's staying.

Work will go on without him. He'll call his family and tell them something came up. If his parents or siblings are upset they can find a way to celebrate his birthday once he's home and recovered from what's bound to be a bender if he knows anything at all about Dustin. Dustin wants him to stay. He'll stay.

Man, go home where he's made no plans, where there's no party, and most of all no Dustin or have the time of his life all weekend with one of his best friends? Wow, that's a hard choice. Dustin really seems to want him to stay so he's staying.

Friday night they head to the nearest bar after the show is over, close down the damn thing and stay up laughing and talking on Dustin's couch for three hours once they get back. They're not even paying attention to the time, neither one cares. Drinking and partying with all their wrestling friends was fun but at the end of the night it's nice that it's just the two of them. It's nice.

The next morning is a bit rough. Ok, they aren't conscious until afternoon but 2pm counts as morning when it's Dustin and Jim you're talking about. Saturday-it's Saturday, right?-is pretty much the same only the drinking begins much earlier, like pretty much as soon as they're both showered and get some food in their stomachs. Day drinking is a lot of fun, so much fun that a short nap is necessary before they head out to meet their friends again. Actually, they kind of passed out together on the couch watching tv, it was completely unintentional and unplanned. They probably would have slept the rest of the day away if not for Dustin being startled awake by Jim's loud snoring. "Thank god we don't live together." Dustin thinks for a moment while watching Jim sleep. Well, maybe that wouldn't be all bad. Whatever, can't think about it too long, they have to get up.

Saturday night is even wilder than Friday night. They drink too much. Way too much. They're tanked. Bombed. Blitzed. Completely fucked. Dustin kept buying them shots and when their bar tab got a little too high he simply shifted to telling everyone who would listen it was Jim's birthday, coaxed a bunch of other drunks into buying them more shots.

Sunday is the worst. They're suffering when they finally roll out of bed and off the couch for good and both agree easily, immediately they should take it easy today. There's a shitty, cheap diner close to Dustin's place so they stop there to eat dinner, share a huge plate of greasy diner food that Dustin pays for. Friends keep asking if they're coming to the bar again but both of them are in rocky shape from the night before. They sit Sunday night out, convalesce on Dustin's couch quietly, chug water and make small talk while they recover.

Monday evening Dustin takes Jim to Medieval Times because the little guy has talked about it so many times since they first met, drops hints constantly about how he wants to go-not this weekend but Dustin remembers him mentioning it-so Dustin figures now would be good. It's the little hunk's birthday after all.

On the drive there they swear they're going to take it easy, agree to have a couple glasses of wine with dinner and call it good. What a crock of shit. After cracking open their third bottle of the night Jim insists he's going to sit on that throne because he'll look badass so Dustin follows. He follows his little drunk blond friend everywhere, why wouldn't he? Gotta keep tabs on him, make sure he's safe, keep eyes on him. Jim doesn't ask but Dustin takes several pictures of him on that throne, laughs the entire time because Jim is hilarious and fun and cute, really fucking cute, especially with almost two bottles of wine in him.

"Ooh. C'mon." Jim grabs Dustin's wrist so fast he damn near drops his phone, leads him towards the photo booth in the lobby. The little shit is lucky Dustin has some cash on him, Dustin can tell from the look on his face he isn't going to take no for an answer. Jim shoves Dustin in first and almost crashes down on his lap, drunk on wine and apparently really fucking excited about them taking pictures together.

The booth is tiny. The seat is narrow. Jim's a compact little guy but Dustin's certainly not. To say they're crammed in there would be an understatement but they manage. Dustin forgets to look where he's supposed to look, far too preoccupied with staring at the little blond planted on his lap. "King for a day." Jim laughs, flashes Dustin a huge, vibrant smile as he points to the novelty crown on his head.

Maybe Dustin's going soft? Maybe he had more wine than he thought? Maybe they've spent a little too much time together the last few days? Maybe. Maybe not. All Dustin knows is it's easier for him to blame the urge to kiss Jim right in this photo booth on one of those things instead of being honest with himself and admitting he has feelings for the guy.

"Maybe Jim shouldn't have such pretty pink lips if I can't kiss him." Definitely can't say that out loud. Hold on. Rewind. Go back to the beginning. Jim's drunk and smiling and the booth is still snapping pictures of them. "Say something that doesn't involve his lips, you moron!"

Easier said than done. Dustin's brain makes it sound so simple. The truth is it's really difficult, borderline impossible to stop thinking about his pretty mouth. Jim's still looking at him so Dustin smiles back, reaches over and brushes his fingertips across Jim's cheek. "You're always a king to me, baby." Why the fuck did he say that? He would have been better off just kissing Jim. Jim just laughs, a huge, easy laugh that goes on until the little voice in the booth tells them to wait outside for their pictures to process. Jim climbs off his lap and the moment is over, gone, finished just as quickly as it came. Oh well. Maybe next time. It's not like Dustin's going to forget he wants to kiss him anytime soon.

They're so drunk at the conclusion of their night at Medieval Times they need to leave Dustin's car there and catch a cab home. Whatever. He'll have someone drive him back so he can pick it up in the morning. They had fun. No harm done. A friend gives them both a lift to pick up Dustin's shitty old car and they're already out so they kick off Tuesday by going out for brunch. It's a lot pricier than the greasy spoon diner by Dustin's place and they'll both be broke by the time they're done celebrating but that doesn't really matter does it? Birthdays only come once a year and today is literally Jim's birthday. It's Jim day.

They're full of delicious food by the time they're through and stop at a liquor store to buy supplies for mimosas to drink at home because they both agreed it'd be the cheaper route. They're not trying to get hammered, just sip throughout the day and maintain a nice buzz until it's time to head to the bar. It's Tuesday. Fuck, when did they start this again? Who cares. It's Tuesday. It's Jim Day. It's not until almost midnight on Tuesday that Dustin realizes neither one of them has bothered to talk to a single girl all weekend. Huh. Weird.

Shortly after midnight they toast with a couple shots of whiskey. They call it a night before last call and pick up the most unhealthy food they can find on the way back to Dustin's place, devour it while relaxing on his couch. That's where they fall asleep too, Jim slumped over in a heap on Dustin's shoulder, Dustin simply smiling before putting an arm around the little guy and drifting off shortly after.

Wednesday is pretty chill. Jim's actual birthday has passed and they've been going pretty hard for the last few days. Dustin's suggestion to hit up the grocery store and make dinner at his place is half because they're almost broke and half because they're both sorta worn out. Jim agrees, seems happy about it if Dustin's being honest and that's a relief. He's not much of a cook but for Jim he'll make an exception. It is his birthday, or was his birthday. It may never end, may never stop being his birthday.

They leave the dirty dishes in the sink and waste the rest of the night playing video games, stay up damn near long enough to see the sunrise before they remember it'd be a good idea to get some sleep. It's strange watching Jim curl up on the couch that final time. Dustin knows he's got to go home at some point. The guy doesn't live in Philly, doesn't live here. He's got a life to go back to. He can't just spend all his time hanging out, that's ridiculous. Dustin knows it's completely, utterly ridiculous but he wants Jim to stay. He can't stay.

When they finally wake up on Thursday Dustin is oddly nervous, uneasy. They've never spent such a long stretch together, this is easily the most he's seen of Jim, the most time they've shared since they became friends. It's difficult to admit to himself but Dustin liked it. He liked having Jim around. He liked what he saw. Yeah, they were already friends, best friends but it seems different now and Dustin isn't sure what to do with that knowledge, that feeling.

Time for Jim to leave comes quickly. Before Dustin's had an opportunity to process everything that transpired from the time Jim got to his place Friday afternoon to now Jim's ready to make the trip home. It sucks. There's got to be another excuse, another reason to ask Jim to stay, right? No. He can't do that. He won't do that. Jim can't stay. His birthday has passed. Back to normal, regular life. He'll see Jim in a couple weeks for the next show anyway. He can't stay.

Dustin's not expecting Jim to hug him goodbye. Normal people, friends hug goodbye all the time, he's not sure why it comes as a surprise when Jim's hands are on the back of his neck and the little guy is mumbling something about how much fun he had, thanking Dustin. "You're welcome. Happy birthday." Dustin barely manages to say. Fuck, he's such an idiot. He's not even hugging Jim back. He really should do that.

He does hug Jim back after a few awkward moments, squeezes him a bit too tight judging by that little noise Jim just made. Why else would he make a sound like that? Dustin eases up, lets go of his waist and looks down at his little blond friend. Yeah, this sucks. What, like he's supposed to spend almost six full days with a guy like Jim and not be bothered when it's time for him to leave? He can't stay.

He can't stay but Dustin's not about to let Jim escape without joking around with him one last time. "So, same thing next year? Holy shit, your birthday is gonna fall on a Wednesday next year! Lame. A birthday on a Wednesday is even worse than one on a Tuesday. Gross, dude."

"Shut up. Your birthday rolls around first, remember? Let's plan for that first."

"Deal."

#I swear this was supposed to be short #I just think they're neat #I'm going back into my hole now don't look at me

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paintingwithdarkness · 3 years

Note

"i run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead” with BluePulse please!

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes. Y’all just listened to ‘Today is the Day’ by Yo La Tengo. Next up we have ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes.” Jaime pressed a button on the console in front of him, starting the next song before adding on to his commentary. “If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to call in!”

Jaime switched off his microphone and let the song play, flopping back in his chair. Running the night segment of the Houston University campus radio was a pretty chill gig. It paid him above minimum wage for every hour he worked, he only had to work six hour shifts, and it was only five days a week. Besides that, it was a solo job, and no one was there to tell him what to do. Obviously there had been some ground rules when he’d been hired— no cursing on air, and he had to take call-ins from students— but other than that, he had free rein of the radio frequency and he could play whatever music he wanted from 6 pm to Midnight, Monday through Friday. All he had to do was press buttons on a control console, sit back, relax, and occasionally answer the phone.

Speaking of which... Jaime checked the time. 10:28 pm. Great, that meant it was almost time.

With a groan, he raised a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, eyes squeezing shut. Every night for the past two weeks at exactly 10:30 pm, without fail, the same jackass student had been calling in to insult his music taste and request High School Musical songs instead. The first time it had happened, Jaime had been shocked at the audacity of the student, but had granted the song request anyway. (He had to. It was part of his contract. If a person called in with a song request, Jaime had to grant it. The only exception was if someone requested a song that was inappropriate to air. As long as it had clean/sensored language, and was free from overly explicit themes, Jaime queued up the song).

He mentally prepared himself. ‘Seven Nation Army’ was just about over, and Jaime already had his next song selected. If he timed things right, he could take the annoying student’s call during the next song, and wouldn’t have to subject himself to humiliation where everyone who was listening to his station could hear. It had only taken Jaime three nights to catch onto the trend.

As the guitar faded out, Jaime switched back on his microphone and addressed his audience, “That one’s a classic. ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Hope y’all enjoyed that one. I’ve got a few more songs in store for y’all with the time we have left-”

The tell-tale ring of the phone interrupted him. Jaime had to bite his tongue to prevent the string of Spanish curses that wanted to fall from his lips from actually coming out. He had spent too long talking, and now he had to take the dreaded call on-air.

He took a deep breath, and had to layer on the enthusiasm thick as he ‘cheerily’ exclaimed, “It looks like we have our first caller of the night!” Jaime picked up the phone and gave the scripted greeting, “Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

Like all the nights previous when Jaime had asked this question, he got the same response. “Nah. I think I’ll stay anonymous. Keep things interesting. Though if you want a clue, I’ll tell you; I’m on the track team.”

Jaime scrambled for his notebook. That was the biggest clue he’d gotten yet about this mysterious student caller. It was almost like some kind of game. So far, every night when this student had called in, they’d said they wanted to remain anonymous, yet would give a clue about their identity. So far, Jaime had a bulleted list of eight items, with ‘track team’ being number nine. The other clues he’d received were ‘hates Indie Rock’ (which was Jaime’s favorite genre of music, thank you very much), ‘favorite movie is High School Musical 2’ (which was blatantly obvious, based on the songs this jackass student always requested), ‘favorite color is red’ (which told Jaime squat about who this kid was), ‘favorite food is chicken whizzes’ (once again, jack shit), ‘red hair’ (which was the first major clue Jaime had gotten), ‘green eyes’ (now it was obvious the kid wanted Jaime to figure out who he was), ‘5’9”’ (somewhat helpful), ‘Freshman’ (which eliminated 3/4 of the students on campus this caller could be), ‘mechanical engineering major’ (another somewhat helpful clue), and ‘gay’ (which, wow, Jaime would never out himself live on the air. This guy had some balls...).

After the mad scramble for a pencil, Jaime flipped the notebook open and single-handedly jotted down the new piece of information, balancing the phone against his ear with the other hand. When he was finished, he leaned back in the big leather chair, kicking his feet up against the edge of the desk in front of himself, feeling satisfied. Jaime knew he had enough information now to track down this annoying student and put an end to these stupid calls interrupting his radio show every night. Tonight would be the last time ‘We’re All in This Together’, ‘Bop to the Top’, or ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ would play during his segment, and Jaime was RELIEVED.

“Is that why you feel the need to call into my show every night?” Jaime fired back at the student. “So you can rope all of your track mates into singing ‘We’re All in This Together’ while you run in circles?”

An airy laugh was the response. And there a slight second where Jaime thought to himself, ‘Wow. That’s actually kinda cute,’ before his brain rebooted and he realized how counterintuitive that was. This guy was an annoyance that had to be dealt with. So what if he had an attractive laugh? It didn’t erase all of the other judgements Jaime had already formed of this student. And they were that this guy had terrible music taste and needed to find another hobby besides calling in every night to bug the shit out of Jaime.

“What better song to commemorate mutual suffering?” The other man laughed again.

Jaime scowled. ‘Mutual suffering’? Sure, Jaime knew the vexing student was talking about his track mates, but he couldn’t help catching the irony in the choice of words. As far as Jaime was concerned, the only one doing any suffering was him.

“So is that your request for tonight?” Jaime just wanted to get this over with already.

A contemplative “hmmm” made its way down the line, before being followed with, “Well, I was originally gonna ask for ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ but ‘All in this Together’ works nicely, too.”

“Por Díos,” Jaime mumbled under his breath. “¿No puede este idiota tomar una decisión?”

“Woah, hey, is that Spanish?!” Apparently Jaime’s mumblings hadn’t been quiet enough. “Yo hablo español!”

Jaime cringed. The pronounciation was terrible, but the enthusiasm was endearing. And dammit! He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. His train of thought was off the tracks again.

Without saying anything else, Jaime turned to his computer, quickly punched ‘We’re All in this Together’ into the song search bar, and hit play. He switched over the audio connection so that the only thing his audience could hear was the music, took a deep breath, and then made his rebuttal to the annoying student.

“You might want to work on that pronounciation, ese.”

The response was whiny. “Aww, it’s not that bad!”

Jaime cringed. “It’s not great, either.”

The student on the other line sighed. “Fine. But at least I have good taste in music!”

“That’s debatable.” Jaime didn’t know why he was dragging out the conversation. Usually after he granted this annoying caller’s request each night, the student rattled off a final jab at Jaime, before just hanging up. Why was he staying on the line tonight? Maybe Jaime just had to direct the conversation in that direction?

“My music is better than what you play every night. I’m doing you and your radio station a favor!” And yep, there it was.

“I don’t think people are tuning into my station to listen to the one High School Musical song you insist I play every night.”

Jaime could practically hear the smirk through the line when the other student responded. “Even if people are tuning in to listen to your crappy music, my song is still the highlight.”

Jaime groaned. He was growing weary of this conversation. “Do you listen to anything besides terrible High School Musical songs?”

That cute laugh caught in Jaime’s ears again. “Doi. A guy needs to have a little variety in his music. I’ve also got ‘Can’t Stop Singing’, ‘Turn Up the Music’, ‘Determinate’-”

Jaime’s eyes rolled skyward. “I’m gonna stop you there. Does your playlist contain any songs that aren’t from Disney Channel movies?”

A horrified gasp marked the beginning of the indignant response. “What’s wrong with Disney movies? High School Musical is the crashest movie series in existence.”

Jaime didn’t have enough time to think over the choice of the word ‘crashest’ before the other student continued rambling on.

“What other kind of music do you need?! Disney movies have great numbers, teach you about life and friendship, and growing up, and you gotta be kidding me if you don’t think Zac Efron is hot playing Troy.”

Jaime snorted a laugh for the last amendment to the other student’s statement. He’d only watched High School Musical once, and that was enough for him. And despite occasionally finding other men attractive (being bisexual himself), Zac Efron had never really done it for Jaime.

“I wouldn’t exactly call those ‘musical numbers’ as you put it, any type of masterpiece, however, I suppose you earn a pass for the friendship and growing up part.” Jaime smartly decided to skip the Zac Efron comment altogether, “I would say I’m more of a fan of the Disney animated movies. At least I can tolerate the Lion King and Aladdin sound tracks.”

A little puff of a chuckle, and then, “You should really get a better hobby than bashing on Disney movies.”

Jaime scoffed and immediately fired back, “You’re the one who calls me every night to bash on my music.”

“Oooh.” The other student made a hissing sound, as if a flame were being extinguished. “Caught red handed. But—” And here, Jaime could sense something dangerous was about to be said— “how about we settle this once and for all. You obviously don’t get out of the radio studio enough. What say you come to the next Houston U track meeting? We can settle this music debate once and for all.” Yep. That was a challenge.

Jaime took a few seconds to deliberate. He was curious to see who this mysterious caller was. Besides, what harm could it do? Jaime was not the type to back down when he was challenged. He had his pride and dignity. He would not be bested by this asshole. He was going to go to that track meeting.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, ese.” If the other student were there in person, Jaime could imagine shaking his hand to seal the contract.

“Alright,” the other student said, and if Jaime wasn’t mistaken, he sounded rather gleeful that Jaime had taken the bait, “I’ll see you there.” And then the line went dead.

Jaime ran a hand through his hair as he hung up the phone with the other. What had he gotten himself into?

The next Houston U track meeting was a week and two days since the fated phone call. Since that night, the mysterious student caller hadn’t rung Jaime’s radio station. It was a power move, and a good one at that. He had put the ball in Jaime’s court (or passed him the baton? That was a track thing, right?), meaning all responsibility was on him. In all honesty, Jaime was tempted to skip out on their ‘deal’. Sure, he’d agreed, but only because Jaime’d thought it was the key to get the student to stop calling. Now that the calls had stopped, Jaime saw no reason to get involved and draw attention back to himself. Maybe if he didn’t go, the annoying student would just leave him alone.

On the other hand, if he didn’t go, wouldn’t that just give the other student more incentive to start calling him again? Not only would Jaime continue to get bashed for his music taste, but then the other student would also be able to expose him as a liar. That was definitely NOT the reputation Jaime wanted to have. He had no choice. He HAD to go to that stupid track meeting.

It didn’t mean he didn’t drag his feet the whole way to the field though. Even with his ticket and getting there five minutes early, it was near impossible to find a seat. Jaime had no idea a sporting event like track would be so popular. What was so special about a bunch of guys running around in a circle?

It took a little shoving and some mumbled “sorry”s and “excuse me”s before Jaime was finally able to plunk down next to a young couple, in one of the only empty seats left. They seemed like nice enough people; the man even tried making small talk with him once Jaime sat down; but Jaime’s shy demeanor prevented the conversation from launching into something deeper.

Once the couple was no longer paying him much attention, Jaime surreptitiously slipped his little pocket notebook out of his jeans and flipped it open to the page where he had noted all of the little clues his mystery caller had given him.

Unfortunately, only some of them were usable in this context. Clues about the other student’s personality and preferences wouldn’t help Jaime identify anyone. Only the clues the track star had given Jaime about his physical appearance would be of use. He was looking for a redheaded, green-eyed, 5’9” Freshman. Should be simple enough.

When Jaime glanced down to where the runners were stretching by the starting blocks, he immediately noticed three boys with red hair. Luckily, this track meet was only a Houston U event and other schools weren’t participating. That meant one of the three was his mysterious caller.

From this distance, Jaime couldn’t judge eye color, and height was difficult to gage. He supposed he would have to wait for the announcers to give the names and grades of the competitors. Hopefully only one of the redheads would be a Freshman, and Jaime could find his culprit.

Within a few minutes, a runner was at the blocks for every lane. The first event was the 100m sprint. Everyone on the team would be participating. Only six could go at a time, and the announcer said that there would be three heats. Unfortunately for Jaime, the announcer didn’t bother with the names of the competitors since everyone was running, but he hoped that at least the winners would be announced, in case his redhead happened to be one of them.

In the first heat, two of the three red-haired boys were lined up at the blocks. Jaime trained his eyes on them. The first boy was in the second lane, and the other in the sixth lane. Hopefully one of the two would win so that Jaime could narrow down his suspects.

When the starting gun fired, all six runners took off like rockets. The pure speed was quite a shock for Jaime to witness. Within fifteen seconds, all six runners crossed the finish line.

“Winner!” The announcer shouted, once first place for the heat had been determined. He held up the arm of one of the redheads Jaime had been watching. “Senior Wally West with a time of 10.8 seconds!”

An elderly couple three seats over from where Jaime was sitting sprang out of their seats cheering. “Yeah, Wally!” shouted the man. His wife was enthusiastically clapping.

When they sat down again, the couple next to Jaime (conveniently sandwiched between him and the cheering couple) turned to face them.

“Wow!” the blond man next to Jaime exclaimed. “That’s his fastest time yet!”

The other blond man laughed (and it was then that Jaime noticed the striking resemblance). “He’s been working hard. Of course, he’s no match for Bart, but just maybe Wally might have a shot at beating him in the 3200m.”

The brunette woman of the younger couple hummed, a smirk resting on her lips. “I don’t know about that one. Our Bart’s got Thawne blood, too. He’s got runners from both sides. Wests... not so much.”

“Mel!” the man next to Jaime gasped, scandalized. “I thought we said no family rivalry at track meets?”

Immediately the brunette woman, Mel, appologized. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s right,” the man from the elderly couple interjected. “You have to remember Donny’s got some West blood himself. Iris was a West before she married me.” He slung an arm around the graying red-haired woman sitting beside him.

It was then that Jaime was able to piece it together. The young blond man— Donny— sitting next to him, was the son of the elderly couple— Iris and her husband (unfortunately Jaime didn’t have his name yet). The younger brunette woman— Mel— was Donny’s wife, and one of the runners— Bart— was their son, and the grandson of the elderly couple. Wally— the runner who had just won the first heat was a relative (?) of the two couples.

By the time Jaime was done puzzling out the relations, the next heat of runners was already at the starting blocks. Unfortunately, the other redhead, whom Jaime guessed was Bart, was not in this heat.

The starting gun fired, and the race was over within fifteen seconds again. The winner was announced, and the runners of the third heat took their places.

Jaime’s gaze zeroed in on the redhead in the first lane. That must be Bart. Mel and Donny were balanced on the edges of their seats next to Jaime.

As soon as the gun fired, Bart was nearly a quarter of the way down the lane. He was insanely fast. Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if he hit an Olympic time. His teammates stood no chance.

When he was announced the winner, Jaime had to do a double take at the 9.63 second time blinking on the screen behind him. That was more than a second faster than Wally, who had won the first heat.

“‘Attaboy, Bart!” Donny yelled.

The exclamation caused Bart’s attention to be drawn towards them. He waved proudly at his parents, and then his gaze caught on Jaime. Even from this distance Jaime could see the electric green eyes trained on him. There was no mistaking it now. Even with the other redhead to consider (since Jaime hadn’t heard his name or grade announced yet), he was certain Bart was his mystery caller. There was something in his eyes— a knowing glint— that made Jaime nervous. Could Bart know who he was?

It wasn’t completely impossible. Because he ran the campus radio at night, Jaime had a page on the school website. His name and picture were plastered right along side Cassie and Gar’s. Cassie had the morning shift from 6 am to noon, and Gar’s comedy segment ran from noon to 6 pm, when Jaime started. All Bart had to do was look him up and he would know exactly who Jaime was.

In retrospect, Jaime easily could have done the same to figure out who his annoying caller was. Once he’d received the track team clue, he could have pulled up the roster and narrowed his suspects down. He could have ruled out Wally because he was a Senior, and possibly even the other redhead based on his year. The announcer had said that Bart was a Freshman when he’d announced him as a winner, so Jaime figured he was the most likely of the three to be the caller. He matched all of the physical descriptors.

There were two more sprinting events that followed, each doubling the distance of the previous. After witnessing the 100m event, Jaime wasn’t surprised when Bart came in first for the 200m and 400m. It was honestly impressive. Bart was talented both in the art of running and annoying Jaime over phone calls. Truly difficult feats.

Once the sprinting events were finished, the competitors moved onto the field. Unlike the sprinting events, some members of the team sat out. Jaime noticed only six members of the team were participating. Two for discus, two for shot put and two for javelin. Neither Bart nor Wally was one of the six. The other redhead on the other hand, was lined up at the javelin throwing line.

Jaime paid him little mind. As soon as the announcer introduced him as a Senior, Jaime tuned out completely. Now there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever. Bart was his mystery caller.

While the field events took place, Jaime watched Bart stretching out on the side of the track. He was surprisingly limber. And Jaime had nothing to blame but the part of his mind attracted to men when he watched Bart bend over in his running shorts to stretch out his hamstrings. He had really nice legs, among... other things.

Jaime shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. He’d come here to put Bart in his place because of the annoying phone calls. Not admire his amazing calves.

When the field events were over, some members of the team moved back onto the track for the hurdle events. Again, Bart was not amongst them.

“He doesn’t do hurdles either?” Jaime accidentally mused aloud.

Donny turned to look at him. “First track meeting?” he asked, kindly.

Jaime felt a blush crop up on his cheeks. He hadn’t meant for his comment to be out loud.

“Yeah,” he admitted, despite his embarrassment.

Donny gave him a smile. “They each only do one event plus the sprints. You’ve got the three field events, hurdles, and long distance.”

“Oh.” Jaime nodded to show he understood.

Donny outstretched his hand. “I’m Don.”

Jaime shook Bart’s father’s hand. “Jaime,” he returned.

When Don took his hand back, he used it to point to his wife. “This is my wife, Meloni.”

The brunette woman waved at him.

“And my parents, Barry and Iris.” He gestured at each member of the older couple as well.

Jaime ducked his head shyly. “Nice to meet you all.”

The pop of the starting gun drew their attention back to the track where the hurdlers had just taken off from the blocks. Jaime watched on in interest, amazed at the skill that had been displayed today. He’d never imagined a track meet being this entertaining.

After a few moments, Don turned back to him. “Who’re you here for?” He pointed down at the track members surrounding the edge of the rubberized circle, cheering on their participating teammates.

Jaime felt that blush bloom on his cheeks again. Should he be honest? He was sitting right next to Bart’s parents. What if they started asking questions he didn’t have the answers to?

“Uh, I-I’m here for Bart.” He didn’t really have any other options. He didn’t know the names of any of the other track members.

Donny’s green eyes suddenly lit up. “Bart didn’t tell us his boyfriend was coming! It’s quite a coincidence we ended up sitting next to one another!”

Jaime gave a hard blink, processing the sentences that had just exited the blond man’s mouth. “Uh, we’re not-”

Meloni cut him off. “Oh! You’re the one who runs the campus radio! I knew your name sounded familiar. Bart talks about you all the time!”

The first thought that went through Jaime’s mind was, ‘Does he now?’. There was no mistaking it. Bart was 100 percent the annoying student who called into his radio segment each night. And Bart knew who he was. As soon as this track meeting was over, Jaime was definitely going to have some words with him.

“It’s so nice to finally get to meet you!”

Jaime didn’t know whether he should burst their bubble. Don and Meloni seemed like genuinely good people, and they were happy for their son having seemingly found a relationship. Although their assumptions weren’t true, Jaime knew he would feel extremely bad telling them otherwise.

Luckily, there wasn’t much time for him to dwell on the subject. As soon as the winners for the hurdling events were determined, the obstacles were cleared off the track and the next set of runners were lining up at the starting blocks. Two heads of red hair immediately caught Jaime’s attention. Bart and Wally were lining up in lanes one and two, while a few more of their track mates joined them in the other lanes.

“Who do you think it’ll be this time?” Barry posed the question aloud.

“I think Bart’s got a running shot.”

Everyone groaned at Don’s poor-quality joke.

“I apologize on my husband’s behalf,” Meloni mostly addressed Jaime, “What he meant was that Bart’s been working on his pacing. He’s the fastest on the team, and has always taken first in all of the sprinting events, but Wally always gives him some good competition for the long distance stuff.”

Jaime nodded thoughtfully. Bart had definitely been fast; no doubt about that. But he was curious to see how he would do in an event that required more endurance. Apparently he would actually have some competition this time, unlike in the sprinting events where Bart had left all of his teammates in the dust.

When the starting gun fired, Jaime found himself actually holding his breath. This first distance was 1500m, just shy of a mile. Jaime could remember having to do the one mile run in P.E. back in high school and how much of a pain it had been. The best time Jaime had ever gotten was just over six minutes.

For the first lap or so, Wally and Bart were neck and neck. The rest of their teammates were about half a lap behind. Then, when they went into the second lap, Bart kicked it up a notch, pulling ahead. Wally kept his own even pace, a schooled look of determination set over his features, while Bart’s lips transformed into a confident smirk.

By the final lap, Bart and Wally were shoulder to shoulder again. It was clear that Wally had the superior skill when it came to pacing, as he had been able to keep the same speed the whole time, whereas Bart’s speed had varied in spurts, depending on his level of endurance. It was unclear which one of them was going to win.

When Jaime looked around at the stands, he could see fans eagerly debating which one of the redheads they thought was going to win. The general consensus seemed to be Wally, but Jaime had a feeling his High School Musical-song-loving caller had a trick up his sleeve.

When they reached the last 100m or so of the race, the stadium burst into cheering, each person of the audience shouting encouragement to their respective runner. Against all odds, and to the surprise of many, Bart burst into a full out sprint, easily overtaking Wally, and crossing the finish line with an enthusiastic whoop.

Jaime was absolutely shocked to say the least. After running three laps, how had Bart found the energy for that last burst of speed?

A time of 4.02 minutes flashed on the screen behind them as the announcer proclaimed Bart the winner. Meloni and Don broke into cheers beside Jaime, and Barry and Iris clapped as well to show their support. Even Jaime found a small smile working it’s way onto his lips as he clapped, in awe of the impressive speed Bart had just displayed.

There was a few minutes between events while the results of the race were recorded and the next set of runners lined up at the starting blocks. Again, both Bart and Wally were among the competitors. This time, the distance was more than double what they had just run at 3200m. Jaime was curious to see how Bart would hold up against the longer distance.

When the starting gun fired, all of the runners took off as a group, rather than Bart and Wally distinguishing themselves from the pack right away. With eight laps to go, Jaime supposed it made sense. No point in going all out during the first half of the race, only to burn out when it really mattered. Bart and Wally would probably wait until the final few laps to burst ahead of their teammates.

Around and around the track they went, keeping pace with one another until the sixth lap. As soon as they passed the starting line, all of the runners kicked it up a notch, and gaps between the competitors became more noticeable. As expected, Wally and Bart pulled ahead of everyone else, and chatter broke out amongst the crowd about which redhead it would be this time.

Barry and Iris seemed to have their money on their nephew (Jaime had finally pieced it together when Barry made the comment about Iris being a West before marriage), whereas Don and Meloni, being the proud parents they were, were betting on their son to come out on top. Jaime couldn’t help being biased, and was also rooting for Bart. After all, he was the whole reason Jaime was at this track meet to begin with.

Bart was giving his all. Halfway into the last lap, he was ahead of Wally by a few steps. It seemed like he had the win in the bag. Then out of nowhere, Wally pulled the same stunt Bart had last time.

Jaime could see Bart do a double take when his cousin passed him, but there was nothing he could do. Bart’s strength was his speed; not endurance. He was only able to give about 80 percent, whereas Wally had paced himself better, and could pour 100 percent of his speed into the last leg of the race.

While Jaime was disappointed to see Bart take second, he was still impressed overall. Wally had beat Bart by two seconds, but Bart had beat the rest of his team by nearly ten seconds, meaning he and Wally had had quite an impressive lead.

Barry, Iris, Don and Meloni were engaged in a chat about the outcome of the latest race, but Jaime found his eyes glued to his not-so-mysterious (anymore) caller. Despite losing the last event, Bart seemed to be a good sport. He and Wally were standing on the sidelines, getting a quick drink and catching their breaths before the final event was set to start. Between gulps of water, Jaime could see the cousins teasing one another, egging each other on, and hyping one another up for the competition of the next race.

When they were called over to the track for the last event, Bart elbowed Wally in the ribs with a cocky smirk on his face, and Wally retaliated by pulling the smaller man into a headlock to ruffle his hair. Jaime didn’t quite know what to make of it, other than that Bart seemed to have a cocky, playful personality. It explained why he had been so adamant about playing the stupid identity game he had roped Jaime into over the phone during his radio segments each night.

The last distance was 5000m, or approximately 12 laps. Just thinking about that much running made Jaime want to cry. Needless to say, he wasn’t a huge fan of running. Other sports, sure, but running was not something Jaime enjoyed for himself. He would have to give massive kudos to Bart for having enough dedication to running to put himself through the 12 lap race.

Again, all of the runners stayed in a pack for the majority of the race. By about lap eight, it was clear who the real endurance runners were. The six competitors had spread out, a few feet behind one another, with Wally leading. There was a black-haired guy on his heels, and following behind him were Bart and another black-haired runner, a little shorter than the man in front of him. Two more runners were taking up the rear.

Laps nine, ten and eleven passed without much change. It wasn’t until they got into the final lap that Bart mustered the energy to pull ahead of his two black-haired teammates and take up the trail behind his cousin.

Wally’s winning time of fourteen minutes and two seconds flashed up on the scoreboard, followed by Bart’s time of 14.08. Jaime almost had to do a double take. When he calculated the math, it meant Bart had averaged a time of approximately a minute and eleven seconds per lap, and Wally had been faster still!

While the judges and officials were confirming the results of all of the events that had taken place, the stadium around Jaime burst to life as audience members began to make their exit down to the track to meet with and congratulate the athletes they had come to support. Beside him, Don, Meloni, Barry and Iris stood from their seats and gathered up their belongings, preparing to go congratulate Bart and Wally on their wins in today’s events.

“You should come with us, Jaime,” Meloni suggested when Jaime didn’t stand up with the rest of them.

Immediately, a stone sank in the college student’s stomach. What would Bart think if he saw Jaime with his parents? He and Bart hadn’t even met yet. How would Jaime be able to explain if Bart’s parents brought up the boyfriend issue?

Reluctantly, Jaime got up to follow the two couples down to the track. He was sweat-dropping. He really hoped Bart’s parents wouldn’t make things awkward.

As soon as he was in range, Don slung an arm around his son’s shoulders, congratulating him on his multiple wins. Meloni also smothered Bart in a hug when she got her opportunity, cooing over how well he had done. Beside them, Barry and Iris were doing much of the same to their nephew, expressing their awe of Wally’s endurance in the long-distance events. Meanwhile, Jaime stood awkwardly by, waiting for a chance to hopefully have a chat with his not-so-mysterious caller.

When the Allens finally separated from their son, Jaime locked eyes with Bart. There was a glint in those green irises that Jaime couldn’t place. It wasn’t good or bad per say; Jaime could only describe it as making him feel on edge, ready to tip one way or the other.

As soon as Meloni noticed the stare between the two boys, she immediately turned on Bart, much to Jaime’s horror.

“Bart! Why haven’t you introduced us to your boyfriend? He’s such a handsome young man.” She used an insistant hand to push Jaime forward, so much so that he almost stumbled and fell into the chest of his supposed “boyfriend”. Luckily, Bart’s hands came up and caught him by the biceps before that could happen.

Both his and Bart’s eyes widened. Pink burned hot on each of their cheeks. Jaime took a quick step back. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Well?” Don goaded. “Don’t be shy! I’m glad to see my son’s finally been able to put the Allen-family charm to use! How long have you two been together?”

Jaime could feel the color in his cheeks getting darker by the second. Bart was still giving him this weird look, as if it weren’t his parents who had instigated this whole conversation in the first place. The prolonged awkward eye contact was making Jaime uneasy, and he was tempted to just speak up and shut down Bart’s parent’s idea about him and their son being in a relationship, but before he had the chance, Bart was clearing his throat to speak.

The track star raised a hand to the back of his neck, and Jaime had to do a double-take at the innocent “embarrassed” façade he was now putting on. “Well,” he said, playing bashful, “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Babe.”

Jaime’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates upon hearing the pet name. Bart was just going to go along with this?!

Without preamble, the redhead slung his arm around Jaime’s shoulders, crushing him into his side in a display of “affection” for his parents’ benefit. “Jaime’s a little shy,” Bart said, when Jaime failed to fill in the silence. “He wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I’m actually a little surprised he came to the track meet today.”

Bart subtly bumped Jaime’s hip with his own, which was a cue for him to talk. It took a moment for the raven-haired boy to scramble for a response. He would play along... for now.

“I had to see if you were as good as you were making yourself out to be,” Jaime had noticed Bart’s encoded message; he hadn’t expected Jaime to take his phone call seriously and show up. Jaime was giving his own back in return (I had to discover who the annoying caller was).

Bart chuckled. “Would I ever lie to you?”

Jaime had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Now the guy was just laying it on thick.

“Of course not, Chiquito.” The pet name came out from behind clenched teeth.

Luckily, Mel and Donny seemed to buy their act. When it was clear they were in the clear, Bart asked, “Mom, Dad, is it okay if I have a few minutes alone with my boyfriend?”

Meloni and Don shared a look before Don said, “Okay. But no hankey-pankey behind the bleachers!” He waved a finger at them, teasing smile in place over his lips.

Jaime felt himself going pink. “Of course not, Sir,” he managed to get out, in spite of how mixed up this situation had gotten.

Bart grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him a little ways down the track so that they were out of Meloni and Don’s hearing range. As soon as he had the opportunity, Jaime whirled on him.

“What the hell was that back there, ese?” Jaime hissed.

Bart shrugged. “They bought it, didn’t they?”

Jaime felt his eyes narrow into a glare. “Why didn’t you correct them?”

Bart did another shrug, this time with a knowing expression on his face. “It’s not like you said anything either.”

Jaime’s glare fell apart under the truthful accusation. It was his fault for not immediately shutting down the idea when Don had first brought it up to him in the stands.

Bart placed his hands on his hips and began rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels. “In all honesty, I’m actually surprised you showed up.”

Jaime emulated Bart’s pose, resting a fist against his hip and gesturing with the other. “Well, I couldn’t risk you calling back during my segment tonight and accusing me of being a liar in front of my entire audience, now could I?”

Bart tilted his head in such a way that Jaime had to repress the thought of ‘Oh, that’s cute,’ before it accidentally slipped out of his mouth.

A faint pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks. “I guess I did kind of back you into a corner, didn’t I?” He raised a hand to the back of his neck, and it was the moment that Jaime realized Bart was genuinely sorry for having done so. While he may have wanted Jaime to show up today, it was clear now that he wouldn’t have used Jaime’s absence as blackmail against him if he had decided not to show.

Not wanting Bart to feel guilty, Jaime shrugged it off. “No es gran cosa.”

A smile worked its way onto Bart’s mouth. “I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing by the look on your face, you’re not actually all that bothered by it.”

Jaime sighed. “Well, besides inviting me here so I can tell you how much I hate granting your High School Musical requests every night, what exactly is the reason?”

Bart scoffed. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to say that to my face!” He was trying to deliver the line seriously, but the smile on his lips told Jaime that he wasn’t actually offended.

Jaime shrugged, a small smirk working its way onto his own lips. “What can I say? Disney Channel movies are cheesy, and their sound tracks are even worse.”

Bart chuckled. “Your music is too depressing. You need something more upbeat. Less lyrics about death, sad childhoods, and oppression. ‘We’re All in this Together’, right ah-me-go?”

Jaime cringed, both at Bart’s pronunciation and at the stereotypes. His music was more complex than what Bart was making it out to be. Besides, Jaime wasn’t here to argue anyway. Bart had invited him to this track meeting with ulterior motives, and Jaime was determined to figure out what they were.

“Not all of my music is depressing,” Jaime countered. “Besides, you ignored my question. Surely you had some kind of motive in inviting me here besides to just discuss your terrible music taste. I want to know what it is.” Jaime raised both eyebrows.

An unexpected pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks, covering up the freckles sprayed like paint across his Caucasian skin. “I wanted you to notice me.” Jaime nearly missed the words, for they came out of Bart’s mouth in a whisper.

“You wanted me to notice you?” He repeated the statement, hoping for a bit of an explanation.

Bart’s blush deepened, skin in competition with his hair for reddest feature. His green eyes were piercing the ground, seemingly in an effort to burn a hole big enough to burry himself in to avoid such embarrassment. His fingers twisted harshly against one another. His whole aura had changed from the confident runner he had been on the track to nervous schoolboy.

“We’re in the same physics class.” Bart’s sneaker kicked up a puff of dirt as he ground his toe into the sand.

Jaime blinked. He’d never seen anyone like Bart in his physics class. Was he that non-observant that he had missed him?

“I-I usually sit behind you.” It sounded like Bart was struggling to admit something difficult. Usually Jaime was the shyer one in conversations, so he completely understood what it felt like having to lead a difficult conversation. But he wanted to get to the bottom of this. Bart was on the edge of a confession, and Jaime had to know what it was.

“I noticed how a-attractive—” Bart’s blush deepened yet again— “you were pretty much as soon as I laid eyes on you. I-I wanted to get to know you better, so I asked around a little. Turns out Cassie’s a mutual friend of ours. She told me a little bit about you, from working with you at the radio station, and I did a little bit of research on my own. I looked you up on the school website. I started calling in to your station. I kept asking Cassie if she could find out more about you for me. Your favorite color, food, movie... Any hobbies, or things you like. I started piecing together this picture of you in my mind, using our conversations on the phone to confirm or deny my theories about you. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was desperate for you to notice me, so I started dropping hints on the phone, hoping you would take an interest. But you didn’t. And I-I can understand if-if you don’t feel the same way but IthinkIaccidentlyfellinlovewithyou.”

Jaime blinked hard. “¿Qué?” That last bit had left Bart’s mouth in an unintelligible jumble of sounds. Had Bart just admitted he was in love with him?

When Jaime snapped out of his confusion and looked back at Bart, he saw that the track star was struggling to hold back tears. A salty droplet fell from his chin and landed on the ground between them, creating a dark spot in the dirt. His shoulders were trembling with the effort to not let out a cry.

Guilt settled hard in Jaime’s stomach, like a boulder being dropped into a lake. The aftershocks were still rippling through his system. The pieces were slowly coming together.

Bart was in love with him, and wanted the feeling to be mutual. He had called in to Jaime’s radio station, hoping that he could get Jaime to take an interest in him. He wanted Jaime to pursue him, that way he would know for sure that Jaime felt the same way. And Jaime had taken an interest; he’d just done a poor job at showing it.

Hesitantly, Jaime reached a hand forward in an effort to get Bart to look up at him. “Por favor, no llores. Lo siento, I-”

Bart took a step back, angrily wiping his tears away with his fists. “No. I-it’s stupid. I built this idea of you up in my head, and it’s probably not who you are at all. I was just desperate and wanted you to like me back. And I know that me calling you every night was probably annoying and that you probably aren’t even into guys-”

Jaime surged forward, grabbing onto the other boy’s bicep with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other, and did something that surprised himself probably even more than it surprised Bart.

Bart froze, teary eyes wide in shock as Jaime’s lips smashed against his own. He was too surprised to react.

As soon as Jaime realized what he had done, he pulled back, blushing madly. Despite his embarrassment however, he couldn’t help the truth that fell from his lips.

“I am.” When Bart still looked confused, Jaime rushed to clarify. “Into guys. Into... you. I’m bisexual.” He raised a hand to nervously rub at the short raven hairs along the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly.

Bart seemed to snap out of his stupor. “You’re into me? I didn’t think you were interested. I thought you only came today because I was blackmailing you.”

Jaime’s awkward laugh turned amused. “If you think I showed up today because of your so-called ‘blackmail’, you need a new definition for the word.” He moved his hand from his neck, slipping it into his pocket to pull out his notebook. Jaime flipped it to the page where he had taken down all of the little clues Bart had given to him over the phone and turned the book around to show it to the track star. Bart’s green eyes widened slowly as he read over all of Jaime’s scrupulously written notes.

“I wrote down everything you told me about yourself.”

Bart’s gaze slowly ascended from the page, an awed look in his eyes. Hastily, Jaime closed the notebook and placed it back in his pocket. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in consideration before finally saying, “I’d like a chance to get to know you. I want to give us—” Jaime used a finger to gesture between himself and Bart— “a chance. If that’s... crash?” He tested out the word he’d heard Bart use during a few of their phone calls.

The redhead’s face lit up like a child’s after receiving a piece of candy. “Yeah! That’s totally crash! When are you free?”

“Uh-” Jaime pulled out his phone to check his calendar, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Time to get this show on the road, Kiddos.” When Jaime looked up to see who the hand belonged to, he saw Bart’s father standing between them, his other hand grasping onto his son’s shoulder. “Who knows what you two would get up to if Mel and I left you alone any longer.” Don playfully shook his head, before turning the eyes Bart had inherited from him on his son. “Your mother and I were college sweethearts, too. We know what kind of things kids your age get up to.”

Both Bart and Jaime blushed at the implications.

“Dad!” Bart groaned in embarrassment.

Don chuckled, as if it were all in a day’s work embarrassing his son. He turned to Jaime. “We usually go out as a family after track meets to celebrate. Everyone’ll be there. It’s a good opportunity for Bart to introduce you to the family. If you’re up for going, Jaime?”

The raven-haired student shared a look with his boyfriend? friend? person-he-thought-was-very-attractive-but-wanted-to-get-to-know-a-little-better-before-dating? Bart shrugged.

Jaime felt put on the spot. He and Bart had just discussed the possibility of beginning a relationship, and now he was supposed to meet the ‘rents? Not that he hadn’t already, but that was beside the point. Going out for a meal with Bart’s parents, grandparents, cousin and who-knows-who-else, and having to pretend that he’s madly in love with someone he was just meeting for the first time today? This had the potential to kill any chances he and Bart had at actually beginning a real relationship.

“I’m sorry, I already have plans,” was what Jaime wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Sure. I’d love to get to meet your family, Cariño.”

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes-”

“-and his amazing boyfriend, Bart Allen-”

Jaime had to stifle an ‘oomph!’ as his boyfriend of three glorious months slung an arm around his neck and plopped down on his lap, leaning in close to the microphone so that he could be heard, too.

“-Next up we have ‘Flourescent Adolescence’ by Arctic Monkeys-”

“-And after that, ‘I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’ from High School Musical!” Bart slammed a finger into the ‘play’ button, starting the next song in the queue, before swinging his leg around so he could straddle Jaime’s lap and drag him into a kiss.

When they pulled apart, Jaime had a pout on his lips. “Who let you in here?” Bart wasn’t supposed to be in the studio, especially when Jaime was live on the air.

The younger smirked deviously. “Cassie might have loned me her key so that I could pay my boyfriend a visit while he was working...”

Jaime shook his head. “Of course she did.”

Bart booped his nose with a fingertip. “Don’t act so put out. You know you looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head, trying to keep a poker face. “Nope. You just tainted my reputation by saying that we’re gonna play High School Musical songs voluntarily. How could I love someone who would pull such a slanderous act against me?”

Bart poked his nose again. “You looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head. His lips threatened to quirk up into a smile. His poker face was cracking. “Nope.”

Bart hovered his lips dangerously close to Jaime’s own. “Admit it, Babe. You love me more than anyone in the world.”

Jaime’s mask crumbled. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “Te amo con todo mi corazón.” He pulled Bart that little inch forward to kiss him again.

Unfortunately the phone cut their loving moment shorter than either boy wanted. Jaime picked it up.

“Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

“Yeah, Jaime, it’s Gar. I’m glad to hear that you finally found yourself a good partner, but next time you might want to make sure your mic is off before making any declarations of love while you’re live.”

Crimson bloomed to life across the entirety of his face while Gar hung up on the other end of the line. Immediately, the radio host leaned forward and flicked off the switch to his microphone. Jaime buried his face in his hands.

“I hate you!” He directed at Bart in an embarrassed moan.

Bart chuckled. “Nah. You looooove me.”

Here it finally is @purple--waffles! I’m so sorry it took me so long! I’ve been slowly working on it since the day your request arrived in my asks. Life is crazy, and I haven’t had a whole lot of time to write recently, but I really wanted to finish this for you. My mind ran with the prompt, and even though it took me awhile, hopefully the length makes up for it??? Maybe? Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

#young justice #yj #bart allen #jaime reyes #kid flash #impulse #blue beetle #bluepulse #asks #answers #writing requests #sorry this took me a little while to finish

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youllneverknowrac · 4 years

Text

Oscar Diaz-First Encounter Pt.2

Leave a request

You didn’t see Oscar for the rest of the day after he gave you his number. You spent the remainder of school all giddy, not actually believing that he came up and talked to you. Or was even interested in you! His confidence,humor, and attractiveness was enough for you to overlook all the rumors about him being in a gang. You know most people would run, but you felt this weird connection that you couldn’t explain, it was pulling you to find out more about him. To get closer to him. Which is exactly what you planned on doing, but first things first...you had to sneak the house phone off the hook and not get caught.

“Good night.” You tell your parents as you sit on the couch, finishing up some homework.

“Night mija.” Your mom says as your dad ruffles your hair,”Be in bed by 10:30!” She calls out as they walk down the hall and into their bedroom.

“Okay, I will.” You reply, annoyed that a bedtime was even a thing at your age. You give them a few minutes, wanting to make sure they didn’t forget anything or just come back in general. You put away your stuff and tip toe to the small table near the front door. You grab the phone and quietly go into your bedroom, locking the door and laying down on your bed to dial the now smeared numbers. It rings a few times before you hear Oscar’s smooth voice answer.

“Who’s this?”

“Wow, did you forget about me already?” You smile,”You gave me your number, remember?”

“Nah, I remember.” He replies with a chuckle,”Just didn’t know if you were actually going to do it with your parents breathing all down your neck and shit.”

“I told you I would do it, did I not?”

“You did Chiquita, you did.”

“Chiquita? Are you ever gonna call me by my name? Or is it easier this way so you don’t get your girls messed up.” You joke

“No girls, you know that.” He says, which you did,”But it’s only day one and Chiquita is one of the more appropriate names I can call you.” He smirks.

“Day one? Who said that there is going to be more days? Getting a bit ahead of yourself don’t ya think?” You say suppressing a giggle, wanting to hear what other pet names he had in mind.

“Nah, I don’t think I am. I’m a go getter and I work hard for what I want.” He says causing you to bite down on your lower lip.

“So you want me?” You ask with a smile,”You don’t even know me Oscar.”

“Ima get to know you though...and from what I know already, I can tell you ain’t gonna disappoint me.”

“I just want to warn you then, it’s not gonna be easy. My parents are really strict and...” You ramble, Oscar cutting you off.

“It ain’t suppose to be easy right?” He asks rhetorically,”I want to get to know you. No matter what obstacles may be in my way.”

“Okay, I’m down...on one condition. Tell me why you’re so interested. No cliche answer either.”

“Well your looks aside, I heard your cute loud ass laugh in the hallway and it caught my attention.”He teases,”Honestly though I could just instantly tell you have this certain aura about you. And it made me want to go up and talk to you. Not even two seconds into the conversation and I knew we were gonna click. Your vibe matched mine.”

“Yeah...I felt that too.” You admit,”Crazy.”

“Crazy, for sure.” He says,”So what do you say to me picking you up tomorrow? I’ll pick you up down the road or something so you’re parents won’t see.”

“I’m glad your catching on.” You tell him seriously, you’re parents were such a nightmare,”I live on third street. I’ll meet you at the stop sign at 7:45. You can’t be late though, I don’t like being late.”

“You got it...Chiquita.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, bright and early.”

“Till tomorrow. Bye, ten dulce sueños(Sweet dreams).”

“Good night Oscar.” You sigh happily into the phone, hanging up and sneakily putting it back on the hook before going to bed. You did in fact have sweet dreams that night.

You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t wake up a bit earlier so you could put more of a effort into your look. This was the first time a boy was picking you up, a cute boy at that. So you can’t help but feel confident as the cherry red car comes to a stop in front of you, your pin straightened hair blowing in the wind. You decided on a pair of tight ripped skinny jeans, a white shirt that was a little too tight, and your all white air forces. You paired the outfit with your thin gold hoops and dainty necklace. You didn’t go over board on the make up, just a natural look with bold eyelashes and winged eyeliner, like usual. You had on a hoodie when you left the house not wanting your parents to send you back upstairs to change...it was currently stuffed in your back pack.

“Looking gorgeous.” You hear Oscar call out as he reaches over to push open the passenger side door.

“Thank you, I obviously woke up like this.” You grin as you get in and buckle up, Oscar laughing at that. Your backpack gets thrown to the floorboard,”Nice car.” You compliment

“Thanks Chiquita, I take good care of her.” He grins and pats the dash before putting it in drive and taking off.

“I can tell.” You say as you glance around the small space,”You have siblings...or a kid?” You ask curiously when you see a soccer ball along with some other little toys in the back.

“Little brother.” He answers,”His names Cesar but he might as well be my kid.”Shrugging as the words leave his mouth.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, but it’s cool you have somebody. I’ve always wanted a sister.” You say

“Yeah, I love his little ass.” Oscar smiles,”But it’s not really much to explain you know? Dads a piece of shit who’s in jail and moms a deadbeat.”

“Well they suck.” You say,”Looks like you’re handling it well for both you and your little brother.” You tell him, leaning over to give his arm a squeeze. Even though you didn’t want to let go, you did a few seconds later.

“Thanks for that, most people just say sorry and try to avoid the subject completely.” He chuckles,”However they do suck, so they should be the ones apologizing, not other people.”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway enough about me, I want to hear about you.” He says as he glances over at you, giving you a wink. You can’t help but blush and look away, not wanting to get embarrassed if he noticed.

“Uh what do you want to know?” You ask with a slight cough,”Just ask and I’ll answer.”

“Aight, favorite color.”

“Pink, or maybe white.”

“Cute.” He chuckles before thinking of something else,”Favorite movie?”

“Don’t really have a favorite but I love the gory slasher type films. Or rom-coms from like the 80’s.”

“Two completely different ends of the scale.” He replies amusingly.

“I like what I like.”

“Yeah, so do I.” He says, glancing at you again when he does and catching your gaze.

“Eyes on the road Oscar Diaz.” You say and bat your full eyelashes at him.

“My fault. The view was just to good.” He adds smoothly.

“Always a charmer.” You playfully groan and lightly shove his side,”On with the questions.”

Oscar laughs and asks you about 30 more random questions until he pulls into a parking spot on school grounds.

“Did you learn enough about me?”

“Never enough, I want to know more. What do you say that we kick it during lunch? Or go to the park when school let’s out.” He asks hopefully

“Well why don’t we do both?” You reply smugly as you grab your bag off of the floor.

“Sounds good. I’ll come by the sophomore hall before lunch, aight? Wait for me there.”

“I will.” You smile as you push open your door and climb out, Oscar doing the same as you join him on the other side,”No backpack?” You ask him when you notice he gets out with just a folder and a pencil in his ear.

“Nah, I gotta carry yours.” He jokes and takes the bag from you, hoisting it on his shoulder,”Let’s go, can’t be late to first period and what not.” He teases, you smile and walk into the building with him, a few more eyes on you that usual. You didn’t care, let people talk because something deep in your gut told you this new ‘relationship’ was going to be a forever type of love.

#spooky x reader #on my block imagines #netflix on my block #omb #freeridge #relationship #couple #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #teenagers

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luckyricochet · 3 years

Note

I want you to answer A-Z on the fandom asks so I can peer into your psyche 👀

Wow I love you. This actually took around three hours since I wanted to think about the answers. See them under the cut!

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

From Hanyou no Yashahime — Sesshomaru and Rin

From The Mandalorian — The Mandomera’s been creeping up a little bit.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

Honestly can’t think of one. I’m very set in my ships.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

From Naruto — SasuSaku. Sasuke was cute as a kid so I get Sakura having a crush on him then, but I think she would have gotten over it when he became a homicidal clown who abandoned the village and tried to kill her and her teammates multiple times.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

From Harry Potter — Ron x Hermione. I’ve always thought their personalities didn’t match and not in the good “opposites attract” kind of way.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

I only know how to write angst, drama, and introspective musings so no.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Over fifteen years in the Harry Potter fandom, but I’ve had to separate that from JKR herself in the recent years.

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

“Have I ever had an OTP”? *laughs from shipping hell*

From The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare — Nat and Kit were my first OTP. Read this book in fifth grade and was immediately loved them. Boy literally risks banishment from the colony to help prove she’s not a witch.

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

I love visual media, so TV, anime, and film

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

I’m not going to let tumblr dot com put me off of a particular show/book/etc. itself, but it has definitely made me think less of certain types of fans who are in a fandom.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)

The...period drama fandom? More widely, the history fandom. They both create some of the most beautiful edits celebrating history and I love it.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

From Avatar: The Last Airbender — It’s gotta be Prince Zuko

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you merely dislike. Characters that you absolutely loathe with the fire of ten thousand suns are exempt, as there is no point in giving yourself an aneurysm over a character that you hate.)

From Harry Potter — I think Ginny is a Mary Sue but I loved when she stood up for herself in Half-Blood Prince when Ron was trying to slut-shame her.

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

From Parks and Recreation — Leslie Knope. Unending positive affirmations, thoughtfulness, and support!

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

I don’t really have a main fandom but I haven’t mentioned Free! yet so let’s go with it for this one.

1. Less Nitori because I can’t stand him.

2. More female characters! I get half the appeal is the boys, but I’d love to see a girls swim team in some capacity.

3. More Haru and his family dynamics! Doesn’t have to be a ton, but I want to know what his relationship with his parents like, especially as an adult.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

Salt and the Sea - The Lumineers. “From the destruction, out of the flame. You need a villain, give me a name.” Such an Odesta song. (Finnick x Annie from the Hunger Games)

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

For The Mandalorian — A historical AU set in early 1900s New York City where Mando’s just some government agent sent to “report” on slum conditions to satisfy some housing law. He goes meaning to write up a generic report but then finds the orphaned Baby Yoda abandoned in one of the tenements. Shocked by the conditions of the slums, Mando goes from being an apathetic, middling-level bureaucrat to being an anonymous investigative journalist reporting on the corruption in the government that allows for the city’s most vulnerable citizens to live in squalor, leading the government on a search to find who within their ranks is exposing them.

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

Sherlock, because it just took so long for the third series to come out. I had moved on to other fandoms by the time it did. Still have fond memories of when I was active in it, though.

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

From Lord of the Rings — Aragorn and Legolas. This is played up a lot more in the films but I love it.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

For Lord of the Rings — Boromir definitely taught Faramir swordplay when they were little kids since their father didn’t want to.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

From Hanyou no Yashahime — Rin made the first move. Sesshomaru would be way too clueless to even know how to go about it.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

From Pirates of the Caribbean — James Norrington: Commodore in the Royal Navy during the 18th century, must I explain any further? Cool, calm, and collected on the job while looking v good while he does it but a nervous wreck in front of the woman he fancies. Tell me that’s not straight out of Austen.

From Star Wars (OT) — Luke Skywalker: An unapologetically good person in a crapsack world, doing his best to bring light into the world. A classic hero archetype who grows out of his naïveté to become a cunning—but still benevolent—Jedi.

From Prince of Tennis — Yukimura Seiichi: His duality is *chef’s kiss*. Super scary and in charge on the court, gentle sweet boy who loves art and culture off the court. He struggled for so long but was able to overcome it all through his hard work and willpower.

Bonus favorite, because I couldn’t resist...

From Band of Brothers — Doc Roe: He’s doing the MOST for his guys but he really just needs a hug. Plus he’s got the accent.

V - Which character do you relate to most?

From Little Women — Jo March, especially as portrayed by Saoirse Ronan in the 2019 adaptation. Writer, holds grudges, opinionated, stubborn, eschewed “girliness” in her youth but is more open to it and romanticism as an adult.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

I’ve gotten to the point where even the hint of a love triangle tests my patience.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

It’s about the yearning: Longing Look

Also will definitely always ship the Brooding Boy and the Gentle Girl

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

Anything in the MCU or general superhero content.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go! (Prompts optional but encouraged.)

I love fandom so much. I’m sort of facetious about being obsessed with people who aren’t real on my other social media accounts, but in all seriousness, being able to escape the real world to get excited over characters and relationships that face their own struggles, triumphs, and emotions is such a gift. So often they speak so powerfully on the human experience—How can you read, or watch, any of Tolkien’s work and not be moved by what he has to say about humanity and the power of good? Even if the stories are fictional, the messages they impart about life aren’t, which is what I love so much about them.

#itsacanofpeachessir #ask

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allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

Text

More Than Friends–Dylan O’Brien

Requested by AnsleyRose

"Oh!" Tyler yelled, making us all jump. I looked over and laughed when I saw he was already wasted. "I almost forgot. Before he left, Dylan gave me his present for you."

My heart sank when he reminded me that my best friend wasn't even at my birthday party. When Dylan called to tell me he was stuck in Virginia filming American Assassin and couldn't get away, I tried to act like it didn't bother me, but it did.

I cleared my throat as I took the present out of Tyler's hand and slowly opened it. I sucked in a breath when I tossed the wrapping paper aside to see a blue velvet box. I hesitated before slowly opening it. When I did, my heart jumped into my throat.

"Oh my gosh," I said under my breath, my eyes watering.

"What is it?" Holland asked eagerly.

"It's a locket," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"A locket?" Shelley asked softly.

"I can't believe. . . We saw this at a table at the farmer's market three months ago. When I saw it I. . . I told him that my grandmother used to have one just like it until it was stolen. I can't believe he went back and bought it."

"Wow," Tyler Hoechlin said under his breath.

"That's crazy," Dylan Spraberry said as he chuckled.

"Not that crazy," Posey scoffed. Everyone looked at him with wide eyes.

"What do you mean?" I stuttered, looking around at everyone's nervous faces.

"Come on," Tyler P. laughed. "Does it really surprise you that he did something so extreme? For you?"

"I don't. . ." I stuttered.

"I mean, we all know that he's been in lo. . ."

Before he could finish his sentence, Hoechlin elbowed him hard in his side. "What?" Posey said through his teeth. His eyes widened when he saw the way everyone was looking at him. He slowly looked at me, his eyes just getting bigger. "Oh shit."

"Wait, Dylan's. . ." I stuttered, not able to finish my thought.

"No," Hoechlin jumped in. "He's drunk. You know what Posey's like when he gets drunk. He says things without thinking."

"Things that are usually true," I said under my breath. I looked down at the locket, my eyes filling with tears. "Dylan loves me?" I said too soft for anyone else to hear.

"Hey, Y/N?" I looked up to see Holland watching me closely. "Random question for you," she said, clearing her throat, "do you have feelings for Dylan?"

That question bounced around my brain as I thought about mine and Dylan's relationship.

Dylan and I have always been close. We've been best friends since before he was famous. When he moved to LA, I came with him. I went to hair school while Dylan started filming Teen Wolf. In season 2, he got me a job doing the hair and make up for the entire cast.

Ever since I moved to LA, things have changed. Over the seasons, I've noticed Dylan doesn't go out on the weekends as much. Instead, he stays at home with me. We order a pizza and stay up late watching whatever show we were binging on Netflix.

I asked him why he wasn't going out with the Teen Wolf cast or Maze Runner boys and he laughed.

"I love the guys," he laughed after the tenth time of him spending a weekend with me and not the guys. "But they can be a group of assholes. And sometimes I just want a lazy Saturday night with my best friend."

The night he said that I started to really think about our relationship since I moved to LA with him. We were living together, we spent any free time we had together, and we were closer than before.

"Yes," I finally said. "I think I am."

* * * * *

I sat on my bed, nervously bouncing my leg as I looked down at my phone. I wasn't entirely sure what I was waiting for, but I waited. I sighed when I noticed my hands starting to shake. I tossed my phone onto my bed and stood up, starting to nervously pace across my room. I jumped when my phone started ringing. I hesitated before answering it.

"Hey," I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I was.

"Hey, you. How was your birthday? Sorry I couldn't call you yesterday on your actual birthday. We went and filmed one of the scenes in the cabin and we didn't have any service. I would've called you. I swear."

"I trust you," I laughed. I cleared my throat as I reached up and started to fiddle with the locket he gave me.

"Did Tyler give you my present?" He asked. Before I could give him an answer he started rambling. "Maybe I should've given the present to someone who wasn't guilty of always getting drunk at every party. Like Holland. She would've been the better choice. Shit, I should've given it to her."

"Dylan," I cut him off. "Don't worry. Even in his drunken state, Tyler remembered to give me your present."

"Good," he said, letting out a sigh of relief and a soft laugh.

"Dyl," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat as tears formed.

"Y/N? Are you okay? I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought. . ."

"No," I said quickly with a small giggle. "I love it! I mean. . . I can't believe you went back and bought this for me. Dylan, I can't believe you would do something like this for me."

"Really?" He asked, sounding a little weird. "Well," he cleared his throat, "of course I would do something like this for you, Y/N. You're. . . You're my best friend."

"I know," I stuttered. "It's just. . . No one has ever done something like this for me."

"Well," Dylan said, clearing his throat again. "You deserve it."

Silence fell between the two of us, a newfound awkward tension now part of our relationship. And I hated it.

"I gotta go," Dylan said, his voice soft. "We're filming another scene and I have to get down to the costume trailer and. . . I'll call you later."

"Dylan, wait."

My heart dropped into my stomach when he hung up. I slowly pulled my phone away from my ear, tears streaming down my cheeks. I sat on the end of my bed, a sob getting stuck in my throat.

The next few days were hell. Dylan didn't call me like usual. He wouldn't even text me back. Something was going on but I had no idea what it was. There was this tension between the two of us and I didn't know how to get rid of it.

I reorganized the makeup counter for the fifth time today. I didn't acknowledge it when the trailer door opened.

"You okay?"

I looked up at the mirror to see Holland standing in the doorway. I sighed as I turned around and leaned against the counter.

"This whole "Dylan and I not talking" thing is killing me," I said, my voice breaking. She sighed as she walked into the trailer and closed the door.

"This is just temporary," she said gently. "You guys will get passed it once he is no longer all the way in Virginia."

"I don't think the distance is what's going on with us," I sighed as I leaned back against the counter. "We've been apart before. It's just this time. . ."

"Honey," she sighed. "What if there isn't anything going on with you two? I mean, all of this started to happen after Tyler let it slip how Dylan feels about you. And when you realized that you might. . ."

"I do have feelings for Dylan," I cut her off. Her eyes widened when my words hit her.

"Really?" She said excitedly.

"We've been friends since we were kids. He's always been there for me, willing to rush to my side whenever I needed him. Why did it take me so long to realize that every time he stayed up late talking to me, every time he ditched the guys to be with me, every time he sat and held me after a breakup, meant so much more?"

Holland laughed as she wrapped her arms around me. "Y/N, sometimes people don't realize these things."

I broke the hug and immediately wrapped my arms around myself. "What if. . . What if something happens and I lose him?"

"You're not going to lose him, Y/N," she sighed. Just then there was a knock at the trailer door. We turned around to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

"Dylan's back."

We followed him out of the trailer but the second I saw Dylan, my heart dropped. He was standing there, introducing a beautiful woman to the cast. I ignored the looks from Tyler and Holland as I turned on my heel and walked quickly back to the makeup trailer.

* * * * *

All day I waited in the makeup trailer for Dylan to come see me but he never did. The longer I waited, the more my heart sank into my stomach.

I looked down and started fiddling with the locket. I sucked in a breath when I just now noticed that the locket opens. I quickly took it off and opened it. When I saw the picture inside the locket, a sob got stuck in my throat.

"Let me guess, you didn't know it opened."

I turned around to see Dylan standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He looked down at the locket in my hand before looking back up at me. Another sob got stuck in my throat as I ran over to him, instantly jumping into his arms. He laughed as he caught me, wrapping his arms around me.

The picture in the locket was the picture our parents took the very first day we met. I was riding my bike when I fell. Dylan's parents unpacked their truck while he played with a basketball. When he saw me fall, he ran across the street and helped me up. He made sure I was okay and hugged me while I cried.

My parents rushed to me and his parents ran across the street. As he calmed me down, our parents talked. My mom invited them over for dinner and before dessert, Dylan and I took that picture.

"That's my favorite picture we've ever taken," he whispered, his arms still wrapped around me. "Whenever I'm away and I start to miss you, I find this picture and it always makes me smile."

I pulled out of the hug, tears still slowly streaming down my cheeks. Before I could think it through, I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. I quickly pulled away from him before he could start to kiss me back.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered, slowly letting go of his face. "I shouldn't have. . . I was just. . . Tyler told me. . . Well, he thinks. . . At least everyone else thinks. . . I have terrible timing. You are dating a new girl and I just. . ."

Dylan cut me off by pulling me into his chest and pressing his lips to mine. I moaned into the kiss as I started moving my lips in sync with his.

When we finally broke the kiss, both of us were out of breath. He leaned back, a smile on his face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I said with a small chuckle. His smile widened as he pulled me into him and pressed his lips back to mine.

"Wait," I said, breaking the kiss. "I thought you were with that woman I saw you with earlier. . ."

Dylan laughed as he shook his head. "That woman is Shiva. She plays Annika. She's visiting her boyfriend who's filming a few stages over."

"Oh," I said, my cheeks burning. I looked down at our feet, trying to hide my blush.

"Were you jealous?" He teased as he used his finger to make me look up at him.

"Maybe," I said under my breath.

He smirked as he slowly leaned towards me, his lips hovering next to mine and his breath hitting my face.

"Good."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien fanfic #friends

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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hello hello its been a few days but i, the dream nonsie, am back! (also my name actually means "dream" irl 👀) personally, i think a silveny flavored popsicle would be cinnamon-y as u said, but also... sparkly? in a way? not- not like actual glitter, thats disgusting, but.. when u eat it it just *feels* magical. not sure if im making sense lol ^^ aww, glad my crazy dream made you happy! :D ask word limit is getting close so imma continue in another ask if thats okay with you! <3 1/?

hello!! welcome back--i gotta admit I was not expecting this, but it's so nice of you and I really appreciate it <33. I hope you don't mind me compiling this all into one post, that way it's just a little more organized. you're entirely welcome to send as many asks as you want, so don't worry about continuing in others! I don't mind at all!

1. oo that's a really cool name meaning!! I always think it's interesting to hear what other people's name mean, or they meanings they've chosen to associate with them (as some have more that one). Quil doesn't really have a meaning, so I love hearing others'!! The only thing I miss about my dead name is the meaning, tbh, because it was pretty !!

also, I can totally imagine the cinnamon/sparkly popsicle. when you say that I immediately think of sparkling water for some reason, like it's not a taste it's a feeling. you put it in your mouth and it's an experience. you're wild dream was probably the highlight of my day!! something about it just stood out and I kept coming back to think about it. long silveny popsicles can do that to you, i guess

2. oopsie! my bad! when someone says writing I usually just default to the wings au, because that's the writing most people know me for. but!! i'm glad you like all the analyses I've done! I don't think they'll be stopping anytime soon--it's like everytime I answer an ask I get two more, which means there will be a steady stream of them for the forseable future. I really enjoy doing them, so I love hearing that people enjoy reading them! they're mostly just me rambling until I find a pattern or connection to latch onto, and then I build from there. and depending on the ask I might grab a book from my shelf to reference something if needed

also: thank you! The wings au is a pretty big project I've wanted to take on for a while, so it's absolutely thrilling to see people interact with it and talk about it--even if they haven't read it. There's absolutely no pressure on you to read it, just so you know! Honestly sometimes baffles me that I've gotten fanart and so many asks and comments on it, enough so that people who haven't read it still know what it is. like?? my wings au?? silly little idea I had all because of one stray thought one day?

as for writing it while taking college classes: yes! that's what I've been doing! I think i've had a combined total of like three weeks of break since January (i don't get summer), but aside from that i've had four or five classes while writing the au. Actually was taking an A&P class (which are notoriously difficult, even more so on summer schedule) this summer while working on it, which was wild. But a lot of the excited comments and theories and general interaction helped motivate me to keep going.

3. it's not dissapointing at all! I don't expect for anyone to read it, it's not something you have to do in order to interact with me and the stuff on my blog. it's just something I happen to be doing so if you like it you're welcome to engage with it! I actually don't read fanfic very often either, which may be surprising as I write it. Occasionally I binge a bunch of fics in a certain ship when I'm in the mood, but that's only once every few months. Ships just don't hold huge appeal for me, so I don't find a lot of fic that interests me. Also wow! mine was one of the first you've heard of?? that's a huge accomplishment to me, thank you! Where did you hear about it? I honestly don't know where people find my au, so I'm curious.

speaking of reading fanfic, Nattie's (theunmappedstar) fic is one of the few I've read! I haven't talked to them in a while, but they're very accomplished and it's an honor to be considered alongside them in terms of writing!

as for committing to mine, feel free to take your time! no rush! it's always going to be there! although I will say it does just keep getting longer, so be prepared for that. I update every two weeks on sunday, so you've got time. if you do read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. truly, comments and just hearing what people think are the best motivation. it also enriches the story! I never know what's going to stick out to people or what they'll remember, so hearing from people gives me ideas for scenes in the future! I have a general idea of where this au is heading, but a lot of the details have been impacted by theories and comments. You absolutely don't have to though, just if you'd like I'd love to hear

4. thank you so much <33. I'd love to get back more into traditional art, as i've been focusing on digital recently. I just love how watercolors look! I actually have a few art requests from an embarrasingly long time ago (April) that I'd like to do in a traditional style. I also just haven't posted as much art recently, so I'd love to get back into that. Coloring and lighting were mostly me just winging it, trying to imagine a few colors that would look nice next to each other and then just going for it. Also, i cant even count how many times I would accidentally switch up the light source in in the middle of a piece. I actually took an art class a few semesters ago, so I have leftover supplies from that I could use for some keeper pieces! I've had a few ideas, so hopefully your encouragement can help me get back into that <33

the writer and artist thing: thank you!! both writing and art are interests of mine, so it's so cool to get recognized for both!! I remember when I started posting art I was doing it as a "I'll do this for now until I get to the writing" thing and then i accidentally became fairly well-known as an fanartist and i was just there like wait a minute this wasn't supposed to happen. But I love it!! I love doing fanart and I'd love to do more. But I also love writing! i have some ideas for aus and other one shots I'd like to do when the wings au is done, not that I'm trying to hurry that along. I thoroughly enjoy working on the wings au, and i'm not in any rush to get through it.

and don't worry, you have nothing to apologize for!! i'm glad you feel comfortable talking to me! You don't need to be concise or anything, you're welcome to take up as much space and use as many words as you'd like. I think it'd be a little hypocritical if i didn't believe that, considering how long my responses to the asks i get are (partially why they sometimes take a bit to answer). it was very much so a fun read!! I really appreciate you and wasn't even sure how to respond to everything in a way that conveyed that. I absolutely blown away by how genuine and sweet you are

i really loved this ask, and I've reread it several times because it's just so kind. thank you so much <33

#it's currently afternoon so I will try to have a good day!#I hope you have one too!#I've got some homework and a class in a few hours #but aside from that I'll kinda just chill #I know it's monday but we can try to have a good one!#I'm probably repeating myself but I don't know what else to say #i'm speechless /pos #quil's queries #long post #dream nonsie #nonsie love

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starglossie · 3 years

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bokuto/ushijima - g - 4.7k - it’s the simple things

Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

can be read here on ao3 and below under the cut

Bokuto likes to consider himself a simple fellow. This isn’t meant to be taken in a bad way either. Simplicity is not bad. What he takes it as, of course, is that it doesn’t take much for him to determine what he enjoys and what he can really do without.

For example, he loves volleyball. That is his blood and sweat and tears. It’s his first inhale when he wakes up and his last exhale before he sleeps. He loves Yakiniku. Beef is quite literally the best.

He loves words but spelling them is another matter. Well, he doesn’t dislike spelling. He thinks it’s rather fun to figure out what letters go where. To double check with someone—usually Akaashi because Akaashi was so brilliant that Bokuto was happy he could always turn to his best friend with questions and receive the answers he was looking for—about whether or not receive was spelled r-e-c-i-e-v-e or r-e-c-e-i-v-e.

He doesn’t get taxes. Though he figures that’s not something people usually get, they just do. He’d rather not do them, if he had it his way. Then again, being a good citizen also has its perks. Like no jail time.

And he doesn’t think he’d do too well in jail. Well, maybe at first.

To circle to the point of this! Because there’s a point. Do not think there was nothing to gain from this ramble. No, no. You see, when it comes to relationships—do not question the connection between taxes and meat and volleyball and relationships, because it’s there even if one cannot see it because Bokuto knows it’s there—Bokuto is pretty simple.

Again, simple isn’t meant to be a bad thing.

Simple in the way that Bokuto likes people for who they are and whatever it is they wish to be. Simple in the way that Bokuto doesn’t quite get romance, he can figure it out along the way as he normally does, but he knows when he wants someone. When he wants something. And whenever he’s wanted something, he’s always gone for it. Again, simple. If he wants it, why stop himself from having it? If he wanted someone, why stop himself from having them?

Of course, when things get complicated. He understands that. He realizes just because he wants something badly enough doesn’t mean it’ll always find a spot nestled in-between the love-lines of his palms. Doesn’t mean they’ll create a nest and nestle themselves within his ribcage, right by his heart, the birdhome for their fluttering rings to take rest.

But really, when things are simple. It doesn’t take much for Bokuto to find a reason to pursue someone.

It’s the warm up before their big game against the Adlers.

Bokuto’s been looking forward to this game all month because it’s basically one giant reunion! He gets to play with his prodigy, Shouyou. And he gets to show off his wicked spikes set from TsumTsum. And he gets to witness Omi-kun’s nasty southpaw spin.

Not only that but the Adlers have Kageyama and Hoshiumi and Ushiwaka! It’s a whole party as far as Bokuto’s concerned.

“AH YEAH!” Bokuto feels the beautiful sing of his spike ring across the volleyball court. The ball connects with a thunder clap on the other side. His arm feels good. That swing had the right power. And that set? “TsumTsum!” Bokuto flashes Atsumu with two, big thumbs up. “That was an amazing set! You gotta do that like, every time today okay?”

“Hey, you’ll like whatever set I give ya!” Atsumu’s grinning, though. Which means Bokuto delivered exactly how he was supposed to for Atsumu’s standards, and then some.

“Bokuto-san, that was soooo good!” Hinata shouts from behind. He’s stretching with Kiyoomi, who’s currently in the longest split Bokuto’s ever seen.

“Thank you, Shou! I’m gonna do that all game, so watch out!”

“Big talk,” Kiyoomi responds as he extends his body all the way to his right foot to stretch. God he’s so bendy. Like a bendy straw. Bokuto wonders if he had any bones or if he was just jelly and muscle and bendy stuff. “Our bet’s still on, Bokuto-san.”

“Hell yeah. I didn’t forget at all. I want beef! Lots of beef, Omi-kun!”

“You haven’t won yet.”

“I mean, for when I do.”

“Oi, enough chit chat.” Atsumu takes up another ball which means another set was coming. “We’re not done warming up.”

“Right right!” Bokuto gets ready for the set. He’s ready for it when a giant thunk resounds throughout the court.

Everyone’s heads turn just in time to catch no one other than Ushijima Wakatoshi receive a volleyball straight to the head. It was the most beautiful thing Bokuto’s ever been able to witness in his twenty-three years of life. Ushijima didn’t even stutter. He barely quivered. He took the ball to the head with so much grace and power.

Bokuto clutched his chest. Felt a horribly loud, wonderful ache. The way his blood would pump and his heartbeat would pulse whenever he was about to serve. Or whenever he got close enough to a dog to pet.

It was an enjoyment. It was a like.

“That was so hot…” Bokuto murmurs as he watches the Adlers coach rush over to check on Ushijima who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be okay…

Bokuto grins. Then turns his attention back to Atsumu who’s doubled over with laughter and tears in his eyes. It takes about three minutes for him to calm down but when he does, they don’t miss a beat with their sets and spikes.

The synergy of setter and spiker carries them through the game, and it’s enough to give them the win once it’s all said and done.

“You lost the bet,” Kiyoomi says in the locker room after their coach finished congratulating them on a game well played.

Bokuto wipes his face off with his towel, “Mmm. Yeah, I did.” It’s not a bad outcome. All he has to do is ask the mascot to borrow his Jackal suit for a video. And… find a bikini big enough to fit over the suit. But that’s not really important right now. Gold eyes flicker up to meet Kiyoomi, eager and full of wonder. Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow and Bokuto asks, “You know Ushiwaka, right?”

“... I do.” Kiyoomi folds his arms. “Why?”

“Is he single?” Bokuto blurts out.

There’s silence for a few minutes and then all Bokuto hears is Atsumu howling, “Holy fucking shit, what?”

Ushijima Wakatoshi is incredibly single.

This puts Bokuto in a stellar good mood as he makes a beeline for the Adlers locker room.

He gets a few hellos, a couple of questioning looks as he all but storms through. But that’s fine! Because he’s on a mission. A not so secret mission because now half his team knows that he’s interested in Ushiwaka and wants to take him out.

“Because he took a volleyball straight to the head?” Atsumu was on the floor, near death, from laughing so hard his spleen nearly exploded.

“No no that was really cool,” Hinata said on the bench, fists clenched in solidarity for his mentor. “I for sure thought he was gonna die!”

“He brings a new definition to the word hard headed…” Kiyoomi said though Bokuto couldn’t tell if it was said in a derogatory way or in a awe-wow-that’s-so-cool kinda way. So he decided it was both.

His teammates cheered him on to propose, well no. Proposition? Hm, no. Not the right word either. He was going to propel himself (yeah, that felt right) into the Adlers locker room and into Ushijima’s face and ask a very simple question.

“Ushiwaka!” Bokuto hollers as he finds the man in question step from around the corner. Fresh out the shower with his hair dripping wet and a towel hanging low on his hips.

Ushijima locks eyes with Bokuto and wow, he really was handsome up close. There’s even a red spot from when the volleyball had hit him on the head! Still there! God, that was so cool…

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Ushijima replies. And wow, he even made Bokuto’s name sound important and serious.

Bokuto shivers and takes a step forward. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

Kageyama, who was sitting on the bench at the end, spits out his sports drink.

Hoshiumi shoots up like a rocket, “No way! No waaaaaaaaay!”

Ushijima blinks, “Out where?”

“On a date, of course.” Bokuto’s never been shy. He’s never been fearful. Not really. There was nothing wrong with putting yourself out there. The worst thing Ushijima can say is no. Before, when he was younger, Bokuto would be utterly devastated from the rejection. Now though, if Ushijima were to say no he’d take it in stride and at least try for a friendship, if anything.

What he doesn’t expect, though it’s not a bad thing, is Ushijima’s second blink followed by, “Why?”

Bokuto shrugs, “I liked seeing you take that volleyball to the face. That was really cool and kinda hot. So I figured I’d ask ya out on a date! Cause I received a ball with my chest before and I know how that feels!”

Ushijima nods as if that makes sense (it does, because Bokuto knows Ushijima gets what he meant by that. The power and hunger to keep the ball in play no matter what had to be done to do so). He doesn’t say anything after that and for a minute Bokuto wonders if the rejection is coming now. But then Ushijima sticks out his hand in front of Bokuto and goes:

“Alright.”

And Bokuto gets utter chills as he grabs his hands and shakes it for all its worth.

“It’s a date! I’ll text ya the details—wait, I need your phone number. Then I’ll text you the details.”

“I have to tell Sachiro about this…” Hoshiumi makes a beeline for his phone.

Kageyama has some gatorade on the side of his mouth as he says, “Is… is nearly getting a concussion attractive?”

Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Kageyama.

Thanks to Akaashi, Bokuto’s dressed decently for his date.

“No, those colors don’t match.”

“But this is my favorite shirt and pants!”

“Okay but they can be worn separately, not together. Wear that green shirt. The one you bought for Konoha’s party.”

“Oh yeah! The green shirt! That one with these black pants?”

“That works.”

“Kaashi you’re the best!”

So now, he’s standing at the planned meeting spot for Ushijima to arrive. He’s about fifteen minutes early but that’s okay because then he got the joy of seeing Ushijima from the crowd, spotting him, and getting to wave him over and everything. Bokuto hums to himself as he waits. Excitement barely being able to describe the giddiness through his system. It’s equal parts nerves but not bad nerves. And equal parts serotonin from the spontaneity of it all.

After they exchanged numbers two weeks ago they texted everyday. Ushijima is a really good texter! Bokuto likes how thoughtful Ushijima is with responses. Bokuto knows he has a lot to say and he can take over a conversation pretty easily, sometimes without even realizing it. But Ushijima doesn’t make him feel bad for taking up space. For talking and talking, even when a million things hit his brain at once. Ushijima notices all the million of things and responds to them in earnest.

It’s nice. It’s a warm feeling. A fuzzy sun in the solar plexus of Bokuto’s chest that stretches out it’s lazy sun rays all across Bokuto’s body.

When he spots Ushijima in the crowd, he doesn’t hold back his yell.

“USHIWAKA! HERE!”

Ushijima looks left and right before his gaze lands on Bokuto and Bokuto feels a zap.

The crowd looks as Ushijima strides over to him. Not wearing a cap or anything. A few people notice him and ask him to take a picture or try to say hi. He stops. Freezes. Makes eye contact with Bokuto and Bokuto makes a move.

“Hey everyone! Yes, it’s Ushijima but it’s also me, Bokuto! We’re about to hang out and we have lunch reservations. Can we quickly take pictures and maybe another time we can chat and talk?” He smiles, the one smile Akaashi said could charm a mass murderer to put down their weapon. Which was kind of a cool superpower now that Bokuto thought about it but he would rather take a mass murderer out with his fists than his smile…

That appeases the crowd. They take a few pictures. Sign a kid’s volleyball (which Ushijima was happy to do, Bokuto peeps from the side as Ushijima goes “You like volleyball?” and the kid responds, “Yeah! Watching you made me love it!” and it’s the tiniest smile Bokuto’s seen but gosh the warmth it creates in his chest. Atsumu would say he’s ‘down bad’ and perhaps he is! But it’s not so bad to be so… down? He’ll work that out later) and then, after both of them got lost on the way to their destination, finally reached their destination.

“So this cafe is cool cause it’s run by one of my buddies I met once when I was on a run.” Bokuto explains ripping apart his chopsticks so he can dig into his bowl of ramen. “Right ok so I was running and I was super hungry because I forgot to eat before my run and this guy goes ‘Oh you’re hungry? You like ramen?’ And I said ‘Literally ramen is one of my fifty favorite bowls of things to eat that comes in a bowl’ and he goes ‘Well you’re in for a good bowl then’ and bam,” Bokuto takes a long slurp of thick, soaked noodles. They’re just as warm and delicious and soothing as they were the first time he tried this place’s ramen, “I’m here like almost once a week now.”

Ushijima takes his chopsticks apart slowly. He is much more, hm, not delicate? More… controlled? Yeah! Controlled! With his movements. While Bokuto is all in, engines raring, full steam ahead with devouring, Ushijima takes his time. He savors his noodles. And Bokuto leans forward, eyes wide, blinking owlishly as he waits for his reaction.

Ushijima swallows his noodles and stares back at Bokuto for several seconds.

“Is it good?” Bokuto asks because he hates silences.

Ushijima nods, “It’s good.”

Bokuto fist pumps the air, “Yes! Ah, I’m so glad you like it! Cause if you didn’t, I’d be sad.”

“Why would you be sad?”

“Cause, ya know,” he takes another round of noodles and slurps it for good measure. “When you’re showing the person you like something you like, you want them to like it too. Or you hope that they like it. So they can experience the same joy you feel about that thing. And then it’s kinda like we’re connected now. Like this noodle connects us,” Bokuto holds up a lone noodle in between his chopsticks and then slooooooooops it into his mouth.

Ushijima looks like he’s taking apart all of Bokuto’s words. Carefully considering their meaning, their methods, and their madness. Finally, he goes. “You like me.”

It’s not a question.

Bokuto grins, “I do!”

“We’ve barely spoken.”

“Yeah that’s what Omi-kun said too when I asked if you were single.” He catches the way Ushijima’s eyes rise slightly at that. And he keeps going because Bokuto Koutarou has never had anything to lose before, and he certainly wouldn’t have it today. “But I mean, like I said. You received that ball with your forehead Ushiwaka.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know!” Bokuto laughs and he says, “Wait. Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows grow this adorable wrinkle between them. “You didn’t have to clarify.”

“I know but like, I also just wanted to let you know my laugh isn’t making fun of you because I feel like giving the situation, it may come off that way! So I wanted to make sure you knew. Because I would like that.” Now he’s rambling, and he knows that. But he hopes Ushijima understands what he’s trying to say. It’s such a small thing, but Bokuto’s known the cruelty of seemingly innocent gestures that were more devilish than angelic.

After a while, Ushijima’s crinkle goes away. He nods, slowly, and he says. “I appreciate the consideration.”

Bokuto’s lips pull into a smile, bright and a little crooked.

“So yes, I like you.” Bokuto continues. “Even though we’ve barely spoken. And even though it all came from me seeing you receive that ball to your head. But I also decided we should go on a date, cause I’m interested in you. And I wanna get to know ya more.”

“I’m not interesting.”

“That’s not true!” Bokuto leans forward. “You were the number one ace in Miyagi Prefecture and ranked among the country's top three aces! That’s so epic!” Bokuto leans forward, folding his arms across his chest. “I used to be up there too with ya’ll but I was really inconsistent so I couldn’t stay there permanently.”

Ushijima nods, “I remember watching a few of your games. Your emotions get the better of you.”

“That they did! Or well, they still do.” Ushijima’s bluntness does not add salt to wounds. Rather, it’s refreshing. Bokuto enjoys the bluntness. Because it’s not wrong. Bokuto’s emotions had gotten the better of him when he was younger. He was better at managing them now. At learning how to let himself feel but not get overwhelmed. What was the word for it… coping! “But not so much anymore. Cause I realized I’m just an ace, ya know?”

“Just an ace,” Ushijima repeats. Bokuto waits to see if he’ll get that too. If he’ll understand what Bokuto means because not many people can understand it. “You’ll deliver no matter what.” It's a sweet sigh of relief, the feeling of a cold shower after a hot day, and Bokuto nods vigorously.

“Yeah! Yeah! Exactly!”

They eat some more and Bokuto asks about California a bit more. Ushijima mentions how California was surprising. He ran into Iwaizumi Hajime and he got to meet with his father. How California was a weird place, but not in a bad way.

“Did you get to play volleyball a lot?”

“Yes.”

“That’s awesome. I’ve always wanted to go to the states. Would you go back?”

“I would.”

“Oh, maybe we could go together! Ah, wait.” Bokuto raises a hand. “That’s forward. I’m sorry. This is literally just our first date.”

“We can go.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops, “What? Really? Wait,” Bokuto feels like he needs to connect some dots. “Ushiwaka, can I ask a question?”

Ushijima frowns, “You never stopped to ask a question before. Why ask now?”

“Cause I just wanna clarify! You know, when I say I like ya—it’s cause I wanna like, date ya. Or see if you’d be down for dating. Or like, you know. Potentially being boyfriends?”

“I see.”

“Oh thank God. Wait, you see what?”

“I was under the impression you wanted to hang out.”

“I mean, yes! But also, not just hang out. Like, we would be hanging out but maybe sometimes hold hands?”

“How are you sure that after this you would want to hang out with me more? Or at all. I’m not…” Ushijima pauses, as if to consider what to say next, “like you.”

“Duh,” Bokuto says. “I don’t want you to be. The dates are so we can get to know each other. Cause we don’t. And that’s why I ask ya a bunch of questions! Cause I’m interested in ya. I can also be more blunt if you’d like.”

“Blunt would be good.”

“Okay well I think you’re incredibly handsome. Like, when I saw you today my heart raced cause you looked really good. The red varsity jacket over the green v-neck?” Bokuto nods towards Ushijima’s outfit and grins, “it’s a really good look. You’re really cute.”

Bokuto waits for Ushijima’s reaction. To see if he’s said too much or just enough. He watches as Ushijima’s cheeks color red and his ears catch on fire. He coughs, and covers his mouth with his hand. Eyes darting to the side, before coming back to meet Bokuto. He coughs again. He lowers his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m not sure how else to respond.” Another moment, “You’re bluntness is. Yes.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto feels incredibly pleased with himself. He happily finishes his bowl of ramen and then asks for the drink menu so they can figure out what they'd want. “Do you drink?” He asks as the waiter comes by with their menus.

“Occasionally.”

“Awesome. Show me what you like to drink! We can order that.”

“I’m not really particular.”

“That’s okay. You can choose whichever one speaks to you. I’ll enjoy anything you get us.”

Ushijima fixes Bokuto with a look, “Bokuto Koutarou.”

“That’s me.”

“You’re very strange.”

Bokuto’s smile ticks at the ends, “So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry. That’s. Not in a bad way. In a good way. Like your bluntness.”

“Thank you,” and the solar flare in his chest grows a little warmer as the waiter comes back and they put in their drink orders.

It’s a good night after that.

“You really went on a date with him?”

Bokuto finishes his last rep with an exhale. Sweat’s on his brow as he stares at Kiyoomi in front of him. They’re at the gym on their day off. Conditioning and working out so they could be ready for practice tomorrow.

Bokuto gets up so Kiyoomi can take his spot and says, “Yup. I know you’re dying to hear the details.”

“I’d rather be dead than hear the details.”

“Oh Omi-kun! That was a good way with my words!” Bokuto claps and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes so far back into his skull Bokuto’s afraid they’ll get stuck there. “I mean, I don’t have to share if you don’t wanna hear but…” Bokuto sighs, pretending to be forlorn. Looking off towards the distance as if he’s waiting for his lover to come back home. “I haven’t gotten the chance to tell Kaashi about it cause he’s been busy with work and I really would like to talk about it…”

Kiyoomi looks like he’d rather eat a rotten onigiri ball than hear about Bokuto’s love life but then, because underneath all his grouch Kiyoomi’s a really nice dude (or well, maybe nice is too strong a word… let’s say he’s capable of human decency on a good day) Kiyoomi goes, “You have until I finish my reps to talk about it.”

Bokuto takes the bone like a dog, “Okay so the date was great!” He starts and then he goes on about how Ushijima is really cool and thoughtful and their conversation was never boring or had an awkward tilt and that he feels like they had a really good first date.

“Do you wanna know if we kissed?” Bokuto waggles his eyebrow.

Kiyoomi grunts as he goes through a rep, “No.”

“Well that’s good ‘cause we didn’t! But,” Bokuto looks at the palm of his right hand as if it’s a rare jewel. “We did hold hands. I’m a shy guy you know, Omi-kun. I can’t just kiss on the first date… and I don’t think Ushiwaka woulda been comfy with that either!”

Kiyoomi grunts again, “Such a gentleman you are.”

Bokuto chuckles, “I know. I’m great. Anyways!” He knows he’s got only about less than a minute to finish his story before Kiyoomi tunes him out. “We’re going on a second date next week. The Adlers have a few away games and that’s gonna make him busy but we’re gonna text and call and stuff while he’s away! And then do a virtual movie night which is fun cause we both have the same taste in movies!”

“What a surprise.”

“I know! That’s what I said!”

Kiyoomi finishes his set and that signals Bokuto about his time running out. Which was fine and good because he said all he wanted to say. Kiyoomi pants, catching his breath and running a hand through his hair. He fixes Bokuto with a look that Bokuto assumes is to figure out whether or not he’ll say something grouchy or something moderately decent.

“You know. I didn’t think you two would get on so well. I’m glad it seems to be working better than anticipated.”

“... Omi-kun,” Bokuto sniffles, feeling tears in his eyes. Kiyoomi twists his face up in disgust and bolts upright from the machine.

“No. No tears.” He starts power walking through the gym and Bokuto is right on his heels with happy tears down his face and his arms out wide.

“Omi-kun, you’re the best!! Omi-kun!”

“GO AWAY BOKUTO-SAN!”

“... And then I told Kaashi he should ask out Osamu because I’ve seen Osamu checking out Kaashi when he thinks it’s not noticeable but jokes on him, I totally see it.”

“You have a good eye.”

“I do! And then Kaashi was like super worried. And when he worries he likes to overthink the craziest scenarios like: ‘What if I ask out Miya-san and a meteorite falls onto the shop’?”

“I don’t think meteorites eat rice balls.”

Bokuto throws his head back with laughter, rolling onto his back on the bed with his phone held high above so he could see Ushijima. He laughs so hard he’s sure his neighbors can hear. But he doesn’t care. Because Ushijima was so fucking funny.

He wipes the tears from his eyes, staring at Ushijima’s confused look at the screen. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at ya. I was laughing because you’re right, meteorites wouldn’t like rice balls a bit I think.”

“So he has nothing to worry about,” is Ushijima’s sound conclusion.

“Exactly! I’ll let Kaashi know you think so too and tell him to go for it.” Bokuto turns onto his side, so he can hold the phone a little closer. So he can feel like he’s tucked into bed with Ushijima by his side. “Hey, Ushiwaka,” he says with a yawn.

“Are you getting tired?” Ushijima asks, concern laced at the ends of his words. “It’s late. We can call again tomorrow.”

“Nuh uh. Not yet,” Bokuto shakes his head. “Just wanted to say it’s nice talking to you and stuff… getting to know ya… and stuff. Are you also enjoying this? What we’re doing?”

“Does it look like I’m not?” Ushijima’s brows wrinkle in the way Bokuto was learning meant Ushijima was worried something he said or did had come across negatively. He’s quick to reassure, because he gets that fear. He understands that worry. And he hates having to deal with it himself. He’d never want anyone else to have to feel that way because of him, especially Ushijima.

“No no, not at all. I just wanted to know how you were feeling as all! And I wanna hear if you’re liking this too.” For purely selfish reasons. Because while Bokuto is a simple creature, he also craves the satisfaction of reciprocation. Of knowing this is worth it, and that he is not alone in this feeling of a crater being scraped in his heart that’s shaped like Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Ushijima’s crinkle disappears. There’s some shuffling and Bokuto smiles as he sees Ushijima is also laying on his side, facing Bokuto. It feels like they’re both in the same bed, facing one another. So close their knees touch. So close their breaths could intermingle. Close enough to feel right.

“Yes,” comes Ushijima’s quiet confessions. “I’m enjoying this as well. Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for answering, Ushiwaka,” and the solar flare grows. It’s such a simple answer. It’s such a simple response. But Bokuto’s a simple man. Pleased by the simplicity of Ushijima’s earnestness and the sincerity of his words. He yawns again, “Alright. I think with that, I can sleep soundly tonight! We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes,” Ushijima says, and then he goes, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Bokuto’s near tears, “Yes! Same! Same!” He squeezes his phone so tight it might burst. If his heart doesn’t do so first. “Okay. Okay that was so cute. You are so cute. Good night, Ushiwaka! Talk to you tomorrow!”

“Goodnight, Bokuto Koutarou.”

The call ends and Bokuto’s in darkness. He brings his phone to his lips and he feels the heat on his cheeks. The rush under his skin.

He’s a simple man. But that’s not such a bad thing—not at all.

#my fics #haikyuu fic #bokuto/ushijima #bokuto koutarou #ushijima wakatoshi #hq fic #hq fanfic

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starlightbuck · 4 years

Note

It took me far too long to decide, wow but I shall request #23 please!

23. Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book.

you gotta read between the lines || read on AO3

“Here, take this.”

Eddie looks down at the book that May has thrust into his hands. The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin - he’s never heard of it. “What-”

“I overheard you telling Bobby that you want to read more so I figured I’d let you borrow one of my favorites.”

Eddie’s confusion gives way to understanding and is followed shortly thereafter by a burst of affection that he’s sure May would much rather he not put on display while surrounded by their family. And that’s what this, the 118, has become for him - a family.

It’s something his parents swore up and down he’d never have after he told them about his decision to leave Texas. He might find better job opportunities, but he’d never find anything better than the family he was leaving behind.

How wrong they were.

“Thanks, May. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

It’s a statement he means wholeheartedly. After a few months, Eddie has finally found a way to balance his work and home life, but he’s still lacking in any hobbies that he can call his own. Maybe that’s what reading can become for him - a moment of peace in his otherwise hectic day-to-day schedule.

May tilts her head to the side and stares at him for a moment before holding her hand out to him. “Give me your phone.”

He does as he’s told without asking, even if he doesn’t know what she’s planning to do.

Her fingers move across his screen with a speed that Eddie finds a little intimidating. In no time at all, she hands him back his phone. “I put my number in so you can text me your thoughts on the book.”

Eddie shouldn’t make a big deal out of this exchange, but there’s a small part of him that wants to. He’s an adult, May’s a teenager, and she just willingly gave him her phone number. And told him to text her. Does this make him cool now?

He’ll consult Hen later to find out.

“I can do that.”

Eddie starts the book while at work and regrets that decision immediately.

The first interruption comes from Bobby.

“Put that book down, Eddie. You’re helping me cook lunch.”

The next one is from Chim.

“Hey, Eight-Pack! Help me clean the truck!”

And then Hen.

“Eddie, please come and explain to Chim why I’m the superior video gamer.”

Then the alarm goes off and Eddie leaves the book behind in his locker. It remains untouched for the rest of his shift.

Eddie (9:42pm): i’m not sure who i’d want to be paired up with if i was in this game

May (10:01pm): you JUST got to that part??

May (10:02pm): i’m disappointed

Eddie (10:07pm): i’ll try to read faster

May (10:15pm): good

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

“Reading a book.”

Chris takes a seat beside his dad on the sofa and leans heavily against Eddie’s arm. “I’m bored. Can we do something?”

“I thought you were having fun drawing,” Eddie answers, eyes still skimming the words on the page in front of him. He’s managed to make some leeway with the book and now that he’s gotten into it, it’s been harder for him to put it down.

“I was but now I’m not. Please can we do something?”

“Chris.”

“I said please.”

Chris peers up at his dad from under golden eyelashes with a pout firmly in place. He’s only doing it to sway Eddie’s decision and not because he’s genuinely upset but that doesn’t stop the sight from tugging uncomfortably at Eddie’s chest. If there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to hurt Eddie, it’s his son’s unhappiness. The reaction can easily be traced back to not being around when Chris was growing up.

That guilt that will haunt him forever.

It’s what pushes him to mark the page he’s on before closing the book. “What do you think about having a movie night?”

Chris’s eyes light up at the suggestion. It’s the best thing Eddie’s seen all day.

“Really?”

“Of course. How about you pick out a couple of movies and I’ll order us some pizza?”

Chris nods enthusiastically and is about to get up from the sofa when he stops. Eddie is going to ask what’s wrong, but the words get lodged in his throat when his son crawls into Eddie’s lap. He wraps his arms around his dad’s neck and plants a loud kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, daddy.”

The show of affection is almost second nature for Chris, but Eddie knows a time will come when that stops being the case. It’s as depressing a thought as it is unavoidable. Chris will get older and doing things like cuddling with Eddie and randomly saying ‘I love you’ will become nothing more than a rare occurrence.

Until then, he plans to cherish every single one of these moments and then lock them away for safekeeping.

Eddie wraps his arms around Chris, holding him as close as he can and kisses his son’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Eddie (5:45pm): ANOTHER bomb? How many are there?

May (8:32pm): keep reading and you’ll find out

With Christopher at Abuela’s and no shifts scheduled for the day, Eddie decides to take advantage of the cool Sunday weather and go to the park to get some reading done. By the time he gets there, the park is bustling with energy from children and adults alike. It takes Eddie almost ten minutes to find an empty bench but it’s worth it when he settles into his spot. It’s far enough away from the playground that the sound of yelling is nothing but background noise and close enough to a tree that protects him from the sun in case it decides to peek out from behind the clouds.

He leans back in the seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. Then he takes the book out of the bag he brought it in, always cautious of how he carries it since it’s a loaner, and dives in.

Eddie’s eyes follow the words with anticipation, drinking in every sentence as he reads them, not wanting to miss a single detail. He’s nearing the end and is desperate to see how the author is planning to wrap everything up. He has a couple of guesses, but the only way to determine if they’re correct is to finish the book.

“Excuse me?”

Eddie flips to the next page.

A throat clears and then, “uhm, hello?”

Eddie barely refrains from growling at the intrusion. The point of coming to the park to read was being able to do so without any interruptions.

He is nothing if not polite though, a trait that he attributes to his abuela. His parents might’ve taught him how to behave himself, but it was Abuela who taught him how to go out into the world and greet people with a smile.

“Yes?” Eddie says, grin locking in place when he looks up and finds a man with bright blue eyes staring back at him with a hopeful smile of his own. The sun is only just making a home for itself in the sky and the glow from its rays reflects off of the man’s hair and gives him an angelic glow. It’s almost too much for Eddie to handle.

Almost.

“I was just wondering if I could sit with you?” He gestures to the small part of the bench that’s empty. It’s possible that Eddie spread his things out when he first sat down so that no one would be tempted to join him. “I’ve done two laps around the park, but there are no other open seats.”

Eddie might’ve preemptively tried to keep strangers from intruding in his space, but he figures he can make an exception for this guy. That decision has nothing to do with how attractive he finds him and everything to do with the manners he picked up from Abuela. It’s what she would do as well, he’s sure.

“Yeah, of course.”

He grabs his jacket and backpack and slides over to the left end of the bench instead of staying in the middle. The man sits on the opposite end.

“I really appreciate this, thanks.”

The words have the potential to sound insincere or sarcastic, but coming from this man’s lips, they’re anything but.

“You’re welcome.”

Eddie wants to say more, find a way to continue a conversation with this beautiful stranger, but he doesn’t know how. He’s very out of practice when it comes to conversing with anyone outside of his family. It’s not something that he thinks about until it inconveniences him, and this is definitely one of those times. It also acts as a reminder that he should try his hand at putting himself out there again. It might be scary, but he owes himself that much.

Next time.

Next time he’ll be ready to actually engage in a conversation with someone who piques his interest.

Until then, he’ll cut his losses for today and jump back into his book. Maybe if he finds the courage to do so, Eddie can sneak a couple of sideways glances at the guy. That’s not creepy, right?

“Are you reading The Westing Game?”

The question catches Eddie off guard as he fumbles to hold up the book. “Yeah, I am.”

“Me too,” the blond says as he turns towards Eddie and pulls out a worn copy of the book out of his back pocket.

Eddie’s eyes are temporarily drawn to a red bookmark sticking out at the end of the book, before settling on the cover itself. The cover is different from his, but the title is the same.

Eddie has no clue what the odds are of this happening, but he’s more thankful than ever to May. Not only has the book been the perfect option for him to turn to occupy his free time, it’s also acting as a way for him to continue talking to this guy.

“How do you feel about it so far?”

It’s the perfect conversation starter and Eddie latches onto it right away.

“I’m really enjoying it,” he begins before diving into a more in-depth explanation of his thoughts.

He talks about everything from the characters to the storylines that took him by surprise to the theories he has for how the book will end. It all comes rushing out of him in a way that words usually don’t and he’s proud of himself up until the guy sitting across from him laughs.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, using his free hand to cover a smile. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

Seeing as though there’s no one else around, it really feels like Eddie is being laughed at. It picks and prods at a deep-seated sense of inadequacy that he’d really rather not be experiencing on his day off.

“Was I rambling?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just, I never said how far into the book I was.”

Mortification seeps into Eddie’s veins in an instant, coursing through his body and making him warm all over. “I saw your bookmark placement and assumed...”

“I just put it in a random spot of the book so I wouldn’t forget it.”

“Oh.”

This is what Eddie gets for assuming, isn’t it? How does that saying go again? When you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you and me?

It’s safe to say that he has definitely made an ass out of himself.

“So, I just spoiled the entire book for you?” The guy doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. The answer is written all over his face. “Shit, I am so sorry. You came here to enjoy your book and instead you got stuck next to an idiot who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“Hey, no it’s okay. Really. I liked hearing what your thoughts on the book are. Gives me a better idea of what I have in store for me when I start reading it myself.”

The smile on the blond’s face makes it seem as though he’s not annoyed but Eddie’s not convinced. Had someone done the same thing to him, he would be less than impressed. It’s why he starts packing up his things to go, making sure to put his book away first. The guy has reserved the right to enjoy some quiet time without Eddie there to disturb him anymore.

“I still can’t believe I did that.” Eddie stands up, slings his backpack over his shoulder and twists the fabric of his jacket in his hands. He’ll finish his book at home. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He gives an awkward wave and sets off in the direction of the car, all the while internally chastising himself for the foolish mistake.

“Wait!”

Eddie is tempted to ignore the command, but his still deeply ingrained army training makes it hard to do so. He stops walking and the guy is there, standing in front of him, only seconds later. He’s holding his book in his hands and Eddie tries not to cringe.

“You don’t have to leave.” Eddie is about to argue otherwise when the stranger adds, “I know you feel bad about the book. But what if you make it up to me another way instead?”

“And how would I do that?”

“You can take me out for coffee.”

Eddie can’t keep his jaw from falling open. Out of everything he was expecting the guy to say, this was the last thing he had in mind. “Huh?”

“Take me out for coffee,” he repeats, scratching the back of his neck. “Only if you want to.”

“I do,” Eddie answers, perhaps a little too quickly. “I’m Eddie by the way.”

“Buck.” It’s an odd name, but it’s something Eddie intends to comment on. “Now c’mon, that bench is big enough for the both of us and I know you’re dying to finish your book.”

Eddie (3:42pm): met a cute guy at the park and accidentally spoiled the book for him

Eddie (3:43pm): and then he asked me out for coffee

Eddie (3:43pm): also, i finished the book

May (5:02pm): we’re going out for lunch this weekend and you’re telling me everything (your thoughts about the book and this cute guy)

Eddie (6:00pm): you got it

Eddie is half-asleep on the sofa when the front door opens. He shifts at the sound, body too heavy to move into a sitting position.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

Feet move carefully across the hardwood floor and then there’s a body sliding into the space right in front of Eddie’s. It’s a tight squeeze, but Eddie wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Buck murmurs, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and kissing his forehead.

Eddie melts into his boyfriend’s arms the way that he always does. Even after two years together, the novelty of being held by Buck has yet to wear off.

“I wanted to.”

Eddie nuzzles against Buck’s neck, drawing a small laugh out of the younger man.

“Someone’s extra cuddly today.”

There was a time when a comment like that would’ve been enough to shame Eddie into pulling away and apologizing. This, being open with how much he craves affection, is something he’s worked hard towards since him and Buck officially became a couple though. Now that he’s allowed himself to have it, there’s no way he’s ever turning back. “I missed you.”

Another laugh. “I was only gone for a few hours.”

“A few hours too long.”

Buck starts running his hand up and down the length of Eddie’s back and that plus the silence around them lulls Eddie right back onto the verge of sleep.

“I have a confession to make.”

“Mhm?”

“I lied to you.”

The words are like a bucket of cold water, effectively waking Eddie up. He presses his back against the couch, earning himself an inch or two of space away from Buck. He tilts his head up, sees the guilt in Buck’s eyes, and feels his breath hitch.

“About what?” Eddie asks, hating how his voice cracks.

He trusts Buck implicitly and knows he’d never do anything to hurt Eddie, but that can’t stop fear from making a home in his heart.

Buck has to be able to feel how tense Eddie is but he stills his hand, keeping it pressed against Eddie’s back. It’s the anchor that grounds him, the only thing keeping him from running away from whatever it is Buck has to say like Eddie so desperately wants to.

“Remember that first day we met?”

Of course Eddie does. How can he forget the day that changed the course of his life forevermore? “Yes.”

“And how you thought you spoiled The Westing Game for me?”

“Yes.”

Years later, Eddie can still remember how mortified he was on that day when he realized what he had done. They’ve told the story many times whenever people ask them how they first met, and the story usually ends with a lot of laughter and Eddie hiding his face in his hands.

“It’s maybe possible that I withheld the truth just a little that day.”

“Withheld it how?”

Buck’s hand curls into a fist at Eddie’s back, a surefire sign that he’s nervous.

“You didn’t actually spoil it for me.”

Eddie must still be a little sleepy, that’s why Buck’s words don’t make sense. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t my first time reading The Westing Game.”

The admission takes a minute to register but, once it does, Eddie is left reeling. “Do you-does that-you mean I didn’t spoil it for you?”

“Technically no.”

“Technically?”

“That was my first time reading it in a couple of years, so I had forgotten a lot of the details you mentioned, but I did remember the way it ended.”

Eddie blames the late hour for his lack of filter and for saying what he does next.

“I want a divorce.”

Buck reels back like he’s been slapped and maybe, in a way, he has been. There’s hurt written in the lines of his face, but also understanding. It’s almost as if he was expecting this reaction. He opens his mouth to respond, to say what, Eddie isn’t sure. Because realization dawns on Buck and he says, “we’re not married.”

“Yeah I know.”

Buck uses the arm that is still slung over Eddie’s waist to do away with the small space between them and tuck Eddie against his chest. “You scared me for a second there.”

“You scared me too.”

“I’m sorry I lied.”

Eddie rests his hand right over Buck’s heart, feeling his accelerated heartbeat thrumming under his fingers. He closes his eyes again and lets it lull him back to sleep. “It’s fine. You can be the one to tell our family that you were so desperate to date me that you lied so you could ask me out.”

“I hate you.”

Eddie tilts his head up just enough to kiss Buck’s neck. “Love you too.”

Eddie (1:02am): buck’s been lying to me this whole time

May (10:02am): did he finally tell you about the westing game?

Eddie (10:55am): you knew??

May (11:02am): yeah he told me a year and a half ago

May (11:03am): i think it makes your meet cute even cuter

Eddie (12:02pm): i cannot believe this. deceived by my boyfriend and my pseudo-niece on the same day.

May (12:15pm): don’t be so dramatic

May (12:19pm): you, me, chris and maddie still going ring shopping this weekend?

May (12:20pm): i better not have interrogated your boyfriend about his taste in jewelry for nothing

Eddie (2:03pm): yeah, we’re still on for this weekend. I’ll see you then.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #prompt fill #my writing #benjisvictor

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k347 · 3 years

Text

Evanstan ficlet

Prompt – "Your wish is my command"

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan

Word Count : 2.5 k

Warning: None. Maybe a bit of fluff

Summary: He was excited for the date. Very much so. But unexpected arrival of a girl at Chris' house changed their plans a little bit.

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With his shoes shining extra bright, having fixed his tie & handkerchief in the coat pocket for probably the hundredth time, Sebastian comes out of the black Audi he parked in the corner spot. It's far enough from the mahogany door for hiding, but also close enough so that he can keep an eye on the place. There's still no movement though, so maybe he is still getting ready.

It’s his third date with Chris and Seb is bubbling with excitement and nerves. Yes, the previous two have gone great and he loved walking through the parks and exploring bookstores with the guy. But it still felt like two friends hanging out together rather than two potential boyfriends. So seb decided to take matters in his own hand and give tonight a more romantic cut. This is probably the first actual, proper ‘date’ they are going to have. They'll talk about each other all night and flirt from across the table, have eachother's complete an undivided attention. Reservation made at one of the finest and fanciest hotels in the city, where he plans to wine and dine Chris Evans and charm the fuck out of him.

He really needs tonight to go just right. Exactly the way it is planned. Wants to make a good impression. Not that Chris doesn’t know him already. But Sebastian wants to come off as the good Boyfriend material instead of being the shy kid in a grown man's body who is still secretive and giggly around his crushes like he's some teenager. He was stuck in the friendzone spot for so long, it's sometimes still hard to believe he has escaped it. They have been working at the same firm for years now. But it was just last week when Seb gathered the courage to ask out the man of his dreams on a date. But more important (and still very shocking) is the fact that Chris indulged him and reciprocated the feelings instead of laughing them off. They’ve decided to take it slow and just see where it goes at the moment. ( Sebastian might have already dreamed of their wedding, pets and future babies though. He has been doing that for a couple of years. Not in a creepy way. He is just the hopeless romantic, thinks of himself as a rom-com lead sort of a person) But tonight he plans to be the best of the best. Create a whole James Bond vibe and make all that extra effort it takes to win over someone as special as Chris. He is dressed in his finest Italian suit and had his hair quaffed perfectly, wearing the best cologne and is present on the doorstep at sharp seven thirty, like he said he would be. Punctual. A good start to being a good date. He rings the doorbell and pulls out his most charming smile, for Chris. Only when the door opens, instead of the familiar handsome bearded face and stormy blue eyes, the visual of an empty drawing room greets him. He turns his head to both sides. Nope. No one. What kind of sorcery is this? Who opened the door, if he can’t see any human in front of him right now?

"Psst. Tsk tsk. Here."

A small, sweet voice reaches his ears. He looks down and finds the source behind that. It’s a little girl. Probably 4 or 5 years old. She has blonde hair and chubby cheeks, barely reaching up to his waist even though she is standing on a platform higher above him. Has a curious look on her face and is analyzing him from head to toe. He instantly smiles after looking at her. Tiny angel dressed in a onesie that has cartoons scribbled all over it. Two seconds in and she is already melting his heart. Damn you baby fever.

“And who might you be?”,He asks leaning down to reach closer to her height.

“I am Stella. Don't tell me who you are. I already know. You're the date guy. Where are your flowers?”, the little lady asks him, tone too judgemental for a five-year-old but adorable nonetheless.

“My flowers?”, He is a bit confused right now.

“Yeah. Flowers. When you go on a date, you are supposed to bring them”, she tells him impatiently and gives a disapproving look, like she’s the adult and he is the kid in this scenario.

“Yeah, Sebastian. Don’t you know simple date manners? Where are your flowers?”, Seb finally hears the voice his ears had been craving for. Chris just came to the door too. Wearing a crisp white button up and dress pants. Tie undone and hair a little messed up, indicating he had been running his hands through them frequently. The kind of thing people do when they are nervous. Chris doesn't show any other signs of distress though, has a playful tone and glint in his eyes, clearly stating that he’ going along with the joke and self imposing in the ongoing conversation.

“Sorry. The vendor was a mean guy. Didn’t give me any. And how many dates have you been on to know all this stuff?”, Seb asks the girl after shooting Chris a full smile.

“Five”, Stella replies promptly.

“Five? Wow, sounds serious. Who’s the lucky guy?”, Sebastian can’t help but talk more to the little munchkin. She sems fearless and very confident. Unafraid of talking to strangers and making conversations, a quality Seb wishes he had in himself.

“His name is Ethan and he’s boy. Not a guy. But he does remember to bring me flowers every time”, She tells him with her chin held high.

“Well, maybe we can have a double date next time”, he replies while giggling at the cuteness and she just shrugs like ‘it’s no big deal’.

“Stel, why don’t you go inside and keep and eye on dodger while I talk to Mr. Stan over here”, Chris pats her shoulders and Stella just nods and runs off back in the house.

“Mr. Stan? Really? I love it when you are formal Evans, but I’d prefer to be called Sebastian for the rest of the night. We are not in the office now, remember?”, he asks sheepishly.

“You gotta teach the kids good manners, right? Can’t have them all turning up as uncultured swans like you”, Chris was always that guy in the room who makes sweet jokes and tries to put every one a ease. Another reason why Sebastian loved the guy. Handsome, kind, compassionate, and witty. He truly is the whole package.

“Between the two of us right now, who is dressed more properly and has his tie done in a Windsor knot?Stop making excuses. She clearly has more sass than both of us combined. So if I were you, I’d stop worrying about teaching little grandma manners and start thinking about the wrinkles on that shirt”, Sebastian was never the one to shy away from fun banter either.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. That’s all you wanna say though? No further questions?”

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you forgot to tell me something but you clearly don’t let your guests speak without badgering them about having manners”.

Chris gives him an apologetic sort of smile and says, “I am so sorry Seb, I did try to call you but when you didn’t pick up I figured you were probably driving and on your way here anyway, so...”

“A good answer, but not one for the question I was gonna ask”

“Oh, you mean you were gonna ask me about our daughter?’, Sebastian gives him a dry chuckle. “See that’s funny because you and I never slept together”, Chris explains further, thinking he’s being hilarious right now and Seb has to prick that bubble.

“I don’t find it funny by the least, Chris. And by ‘it’, I mean the fact that we never slept together. Also please tell me you know that even if we did, it is biologically impossible for us to have a kid together”, Seb gives him an incredulous look and that makes Chris laugh out louder than before.

“Oh, pardon me. I am an investment banker, life sciences were never really my strongest subjects”, he apologizes, with a hand on his heart.

“It’s actually more of a common sense thing and honestly you are right now making me reconsider the decision of asking you out for this date.”

“That’s probably a good thing, because we are gonna have to reschedule the date anyway. Stella is my niece, Seb. My sister just dropped her off, couldn’t find a baby sitter at the last moment. So here I am. Stuck in between being the best brother and the most favored uncle at the moment. Ditching a hot guy and a fancy date to take care of a sassy 5 year old. Good Times”, Chris lets out a self depreciating laugh, still looks really apologetic and genuinely sorry which makes Seb’s heart sink even deeper than it already has after hearing the date he was so excited about is getting a rain check. He musters up a smile though.

“It is okay, Chris. Really. I understand”, he tries very hard to sound normal and not let any disappointment he is feeling pour into his voice.

“It’s not though. We decided this together and now I am just bailing on you at the last moment. Cancelling plans on such a short notice. Even though I know how much you planned for tonight and the reservation will probably get wasted. I’ll pay for it if yo-“,Chris starts with another round of apologies and Sebastian already knows the guy wouldn’t stop rambling unless he’s cut off.

“Chris. Chris, stop. It’s no big deal. The Plaza is way too overrated anyway. I guess we can have more fun by ordering a pizza and watching care-bears while waiting for it”, Sebastian suggests. Still a little hopeful that he’ll get to spend the evening with Chris anyway. Doesn’t matter if it’s at a fancy hotel or on a couch at his home. All he wants is to be close to this man.

“You..you wanna come in and spend time with us?”, Chris’ eyes are wide with surprise. He was clearly not expecting the situation to take this turn. Sebastian instantly feels like an asshole for trying to decide everything on his own.

“I didn’t mean to sound so presumptious, but yeah...I’d like to do that. If you’ll have me?”, he asks for permissson and is half expecting for the door to slam in his face.

“Of course we’ll have you, Seb. It’s always pleasure. Come on in”, Chris moves back, inviting him inside the beautiful place and Sebastian happily accpets the offer.

“Good for you. Because if you had just refused, I was totally planning on setting a camp right in front of your door step to make you feel horribly guilty”, he says while taking off the coat and hanging it up on the rack. He is delighted to hear the sound of Chris’s laugh at his recycled, not-so-funny jab. The date might not have gone where he wanted it to, but it’s definitely going somewhere. And for now, that's good enough.

“Oh and Seb, Care bears is so 1985. Kids these days don’t really watch that y’know?”

“Well I thought CNBC and the stock market channels would be a bit much for her”

“Don’t worry. She knows exactly what she wants. A Disney fan.”

“So I see, she takes after her uncle. Please tell me it’s not Frozen though."

“No, tonight's reserved for Tangled.”

"Hmmm. A bit better. I can deal with that. She has a good choice."

“Takes after her uncle in that regard as well”, Chris winks at him before turning to go into the kitchen and Sebastian’s heart is doing backflips at that simple action.

***

They spend the rest of their night watching and singing along with the animated characters. Building pillow forts, telling Dodger to fetch the colourful balls and mimicking sesame street voices. It’s the best date Sebastian has ever had, even if it was hijacked by a kindergartener and a furball. At the dinner table, Stella tells Chris she wants to sit next to ‘Bastian’ and asks him to cut her pizza into little bites for her. Seb tries so hard to hide the tears that well up in his eyes, though he is sure, Chris caught a glimpse of them. Because right after feeling too emotional, he had gotten a squeeze at his thigh and Chris interwined their fingers together, skin warm and cheeks flushed red. This looks and feels so much like the future Sebastian had been planning for them. He can’t tell if he manifested that by imagining it hard enough or is fate just being extra nice and kind to him since last week. Either way, he hopes this doesn’t change.

***

Finally it’s after 10:30 and Chris reminds Stella it’s way past her bedtime, she shouldn't take advantage of him just because he caves in everytime she pouts. He takes her to the upstairs bedroom while Sebastian stays in the kitchen to do the dishes, no matter how much Chris asks him not to do that.

“Please don’t. You’ll only make me feel like a shitty host”

“Please let me, if I don’t, I’ll be the one feeling like a shitty guest”.

Just when he’s done drying off the last plate, Seb hears footsteps coming down from the stairs. He walks out of the kitchen and stands at the very end of it, waiting for Chris to come down.

“She asleep yet?”, he asks when they’re just two steps away from each other.

“Actually no. Said she wants you to go up there and kiss her goodnight too”, Chris laughs but answers with a certain seriousness that tells Seb this is not entirely a joke. Stella actually did ask for him. That realisation warms his heart even more.

“Alright, I can do that”, he starts climbing up the stairs and crosses Chris. Is stopped by a large hand softly reaching out to hold onto his elbow. ‘”You know, you don’t have to, right? She’ll go to sleep on her own in a few minutes anyway. Don’t spoil her too much”, Chris wants to make sure Seb isn’t feeling obligated to do any of this just because of him.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to though. And cuties like you Evans people deserve a little more spoiling every now and then. Let me take care of that”, he smiles and frees his arm from Chris’s grasp. Walks a few stairs further but is stopped in his track again. This time, by Chris’ deep husky voice.

“Hey, Seb?”

“Yeah?”

“After you are done with putting the little madam to sleep, I want you to come downstairs and kiss me good night too. I’ll be waiting in my own room”, Chris is flustered, pale skin turned the loveliest shade of pink at the make but his voice still holds a demanding and authorative tone that manages to make Sebastian weak in the knees.

“Sure”, he says with his own voice trembling and can’t begin to believe his lucky stars.

'Whatever you say. Your wish is my command, Christopher', Sebastian thinks.

Actually, he might’ve just said it out loud judging by the way Chris snorts then blushes a shade darker and smiles some more standing on the other end of that staircase.

***

#evanstan #rpf #prompts #based on an episode in one of my favourite shows #💙

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idumpyourgrass · 4 years

Text

Always Waiting- Chapter 5

Always Waiting- Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Always Waiting Masterlist

Summary: Y/n goes to dinner at the Hollands residence and decides to step out of her comfort zone and goes to Tina’s Halloween bash. She meets the “new keg king” and is saved by her knight in shining armor

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

A/N: Ahhhhh this chapter!!! Sorry it’s out later than I expected, I had a busy week! I hope you enjoy this chapter! It’s definitely one of my favorite’s so far. As always lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

Warning: Language, underage drinking, mentions of vomit, asshole Billy, typos I’m sure

Word Count: 3.1k

A lot has happened since that Christmas eve day. You auditioned for the spring musical, Les Miserable. On opening night, Nancy and Steve came to see you, as well as your mom, Dustin, the rest of the party and Jonathan, it was an awkward encounter. Nancy and Steve brought you flowers. You got a lot closer with Robin Buckley, having sleepovers almost every weekend. It was nice to have a girl friend who wasn’t dating your ex best friend who you were totally falling for. You would avoid Steve as much as you could in the hallways, trying as hard as you could to get those feelings to go away. He would always call out your name in the hallways and try to talk to you, but you would just walk away and pretend like you didn’t hear him. You, Nancy, and Jonathan would hang out some of the time. It had almost been a year since the whole Will disappearing thing.

~October 29th, 1984~

You and your mom sit on the couch with Mews watching TV while Dustin runs through the house.

“Shit, shit, shit” Dustin mumbles, throwing couch cushions all over.

“Dusty, watch out! You almost hit Mews!” You mom scolds.

“Can I please look under your cushions,” Dustin asks. You glare at him not wanting to get up. He raises his eyebrows at you. You sigh and stand up, your mom following. Dustin reaches into the couch cushions and pulls out a couple quarters.

“Y/n, will you pretty, pretty please give me a ride to the arcade?”

You let out a deep sigh and grab your car keys.

~October 30th, 1984~

Dustin sits in your car rambling about how someone named madmax took over all his high scores on the games.

“Madmax? Who’s Madmax?” You ask.

“I don’t know! Keith said the only way he would tell us is if I could get him a date with you.”

“I hope you declined.”

“I didn’t want to, but mike told me I was prostituting you, so I said no.” This earned him a smack on the head.

You pull into the school’s parking lot. You look over at the car you parked next to which was a huge mistake. In the car is Nancy and Steve, looking over some papers. Before they can look up you dart away.

“Have a good day Dusty!” You shout as you run off, leaving Dustin with a confused look on his face.

* * *

You and Robin walk behind Nancy and Jonathan as you leave English class, talking amongst yourselves. Tina hands you and Robin flyers for her party. Nancy turns around and looks at you and Robin.

“You guys are going to this right?” She asks.

“Yes!”

“No way,” You and Robin answer at the same time.

“What do you mean no?!” Robin asks you.

“My mom and I are watching scary movies” You say making up some excuse. The real reason was because you knew Steve would be there and you didn’t want to have any awkward drunk interactions with him, so you thought it best to stay away from him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Robin says. You stop and think for a minute, weighing your options.

“I’ll only go if Jonathan goes.” Jonathan looks at you like your crazy then looks over to Nancy who raises her eyebrows, “Fine, I’ll go.”

Oh great, the only reason you said that was because you figured Jonathan would never want to go to a party. You should’ve known he would have said yes, especially to Nancy. Robin says goodbye and departs from the group.

You follow Nancy and Jonathan to Nancy’s locker. Once you get there, Nancy turns to you.

“Are you coming to the dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Holland tonight?” Mr. and Mrs. Holland had invited you and Nancy over for dinner tonight, you had almost forgotten.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You respond.

“I think Steve is going to come too.”

“Oh.” You say. As if on cue, Steve comes racing up to Nancy, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I’ve missed you!” He says. This then leads to a deep make out session. You and Jonathan decide it’s best to leave. You don’t think Jonathan knows about your feelings for Steve, but then again, Jonathan probably thinks you don’t know about his feelings for Nancy.

* * *

You were not looking forward to this dinner anymore. Sure, you were looking forward to seeing Barb’s parents as you haven’t seen them since, since the “accident,” but you haven’t been in the same room as Steve since Christmas Eve, and you haven’t even exchanged so much as 2 words to each other.

You are running late to the Holland’s. When you arrive you see Steve’s car is already there. You get up to the front door, take a big breath, and ring and doorbell. You debated just turning around and going home, and saying you weren’t feeling well. You have been dreading this dinner, at first because you didn’t think you could even look at Hollands without saying anything about Barb and the upside down, even though it was part of your “contract” you had to sign, and now Steve was going to be here.

The door opens and you are greeted by Mrs. Holland, who quickly pulls you into a hug. She walks you into the dining room where Nancy, Steve and Mr. Holland are sitting.

“Sorry I’m late,” You say taking the seat next to Nancy. You don’t bother to look at Steve, but you can feel his eyes staring at you. You send Nancy a small smile. You look down at the spread of food on the table, there is chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans from Kentucky Fried Chicken.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have any time to cook anything tonight! I wanted to make the casserole you all like so much, but I just completely ran out of time.” Mrs. Holland says.

“I love KFC.” Steve says, shoving some chicken in his mouth. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

You all start munching on the food, sitting in an awkward silence.

“I noticed a for sale sign in your yard, is that the neighbors?” You ask, breaking the silence.

Mr. and Mrs. Holland exchange glances. “We hired Murray Bauman, have you heard of him?” Mrs. Holland asks, handing you a card with his information on it. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows, you pass the card over to Nancy and Steve.

“No, no I don’t think so.” You say.

“He’s agreed to take the case,” Mrs. Holland says, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“What does that mean exactly?” Nancy pipes up.

“It means, we’re going to get our Barb back.” You look over to Nancy and Steve. Nancy’s eyes fill with tears and she quickly rushes to the bathroom. For the first time that night, you lock eyes with Steve. You quickly turn your gaze away. You bite your bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, That, t-that’s great!” Steve says, stuttering. Then the silence creeps back into the room. Steve speaks up again.

“It’s finger lookin good.” He says gnawing on a chicken wing. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. He looks up at you sending a smile your way.

* * *

After the dinner, you, Nancy, and Steve walk out together. You give a hug to Nancy and say a quick goodbye to Steve and head to your car. As soon as your butt hits the car seat and the door shuts, the waterworks start. Seeing Mr. and Mrs. Holland have so much hope about finding Barb while you sat there knowing she was dead was just terrible.

You rest your head against the steering wheel as you let the tears fall from your eyes onto your lap. The sound of a light knocking at your window causes you to jump. You look up and see Steve. You quickly wipe off your tears as best as you can and roll down your window.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hello.” You reply.

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok,”

“I’m fine, goodnight.” You say, starting to roll up the window.

“Woah, woah, woah.” He says, you stop rolling up the window.

“What, Steve?” You ask, unenthusiastically.

“I just, are you sure you’re ok?” He asks again.

“Yes, now goodbye.” You roll up the window and wait for Steve to walk back to his car before you leave.

* * *

“Robin, what the hell am I supposed to do? I think I’m over him and then he sends me a smile, or even just a quick glance and I’m sucked back in again!” You ask Robin, over the phone.

“Just- just don’t think about it!” Robin replies.

“Wow, just don’t think about it? Why didn’t I think of that!” You say sarcastically.

“Ha, ha. Ok I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Maybe Robin was right, just don’t think about him. I mean how hard could that be?

~October 31st, 1984~

The day of the party has arrived. You, Robin, and Jonathan decided to all ride together. Robin comes over to your house after school and you both start getting ready for the party. You and Robin decided to dress up as the Pink Ladies from Grease. You wore black tank tops, black leggings, and the iconic pink ladies’ jackets. You decided to wear black high heels while Robin opted for black flats. Your mom insisted on getting pictures of you, Robin, and Dustin all wearing your costumes. By the time the photoshoot was done, Jonathan was pulling up to the driveway.

* * *

When you guys arrive at the party, before you even get out of the car, you can hear Motley Crue playing loudly.

“I’m excited!” Robin says, while getting out of the car.

“That makes one of us.” You respond.

As soon as you enter the house, you lose Robin in the sea of people. You look around and see Steve and Nancy dancing in the center of the dance floor.

“I’m going to go get a drink, want anything?” You turn to ask Jonathan, only to notice he’s talking to a girl. You sigh and start pushing your way through the crowd. By the time you get to the punch bowl, Nancy and Steve are there as well.

“Excuse me,” You say pushing past Steve.. “What’s in this?” You ask Nancy. Before she gets a chance to answer you, some guy next to you turns towards you.

“Pure fuel! want to try some pretty lady?” He says stumbles towards you with his cup extended, this caused Steve to put his arm out in front of the boy to stop him.

“No, she doesn’t, buddy.” Steve says pushing him away. You give him a small smile as if to say thank you. Nancy pours some punch into her cup then starts to chug it.

“Woah take it easy Nance,” you say. She grabs your hand, “Y/n come dance with us!” She says.

“Oh, no I’m ok, you go have fun.” She lets go of her hand and makes her way back into the crowd. Steve gives you a smile and makes his way to Nancy but is stopped by Tommy and a boy you’ve never seen before.

“Looks like we got ourselves a new keg king Harrington,” Tommy says. Tommy looks over to you.

“Well, well, well, Henderson. Never thought I’d see you at a party.” You scoff at him and look towards the boy you’ve never seen before, your eyes lock. He flashes a smile at you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Billy Hargrove.” He says, extended his hand.

“Y/n Henderson.” You respond, shaking his hand.

“How about I get you a drink?” He asks.

“Thank you, but I already have a drink.” You say raising up your cup.

“Well how about I get you a new one.” He says.

“I’m good, thank you though.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him towards the drinks. You’ve completely forgotten Steve was still standing there until he grips onto Billy’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t want a drink, Hargrove,” Steve says. Billy just shoves Steve’s hand off his shoulder and keeps pulling you to the drinks. You look back at Steve and mouth “I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t look convinced. He eventually goes back to the dance floor to find Nancy.

Billy takes your cup from your hand and throws it in the trash. He finds two shot glasses and places them down, pouring fireball into them.

“Alright come on princess, just do one shot for me.” Billy says. You weren’t one to do shots, but you figured why the hell not. You did one shot. Billy filled the shot glass right back up once you were done, almost challenging you to do another one. Once he fills up yours, he grabs his and tosses it back. You take another one, and then another, and then another. You were about to do another one but were interrupted but a commotion in the kitchen. Steve and Nancy are playing tug of war with a plastic cup.

“Nancy you’ve had enough.” Steve says.

“No, Steve.” Nancy argues back.

“Nance, seriously.” Steve says. The drink spills out of the cup and onto Nancy’s shirt. Your vision starts to get fuzzy, but you can see Nancy go to the bathroom and Steve running after her.

Your head starts spinning as you can feel the alcohol getting into your system. “I-I-I need to go find Robin.” You say to no one in particular as you make your way to the living room. You take a couple of steps only to realize how drunk you actually are and stumble into the wall.

“Robinnnn! Robin!” You sing out. You take another couple steps before your legs give out on you. You start to fall but someone wraps their arms around your waist and catches you.

“Woah, woah, woah, Henderson. How much have you had to drink?” Your vision is too blurry, and you can’t make out the face. Whoever it is stands you up straight and lets go of your waist. You start to sway, you feel the hands wrap around your waist again

“Jesus Christ, I’m taking you home.”

“Jonathan?” You ask.

“No, it’s Steve.” Steve? Oh no. Why does he always have to be such a knight in shining fucking armor?

He grabs your arm and puts it around your shoulder and puts his arm around your waist. Once you make it outside, Steve sets you down on the porch swing.

“Y/n, hey y/n, can you look at me for a second?”

“I can’t keep my head up,” You say, giggling, while you try to keep your head from bobbling all over. Steve sighs and tells you he’s going to go talk to Jonathan. You try to lay down on the porch swing but end up just rolling off, landing on the ground with a thud. You start giggling.

“Henderson, are you kidding me?” Steve returns.

“I just rolled off, I’m sorry.” You say in between giggles. Steve helps you up and you guys make your way to his car. Steve helps you get into the car, reaching over to get you buckled up.

“Uh oh, Stevie, I can’t go home drunk,” You say.

“I know that, I’m taking you to my house.” He says. This makes your heart pound. You looked over at him, even though you were incredibly drunk, you could see sadness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong Stevie?” You ask.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He says.

* * *

Once you get to his house he helps you upstairs. He grabs some sweatpants and a t-shirt from his closet. You start to get undressed.

“Woah!” Steve says quickly turning around. “I’m going to go get some makeup wipes from my parent’s bathroom. I’ll be back.” He says, closing the door behind him. You get your clothes off and put on the ones Steve gave you. They smell just like him, giving you major butterflies. No wait not butterflies. The alcohol was coming back up. You quickly rushed to Steve’s bathroom and started throwing up. While your head was in the toilet bowl, you felt a presence behind you, rubbing your back. You threw up for what felt like ages but was probably only about 10 minutes. You groaned.

“Never let me do shots again.” You say to Steve, sobering up. Steve chuckled, handing you the cup of water.

“I’m not letting you go to sleep until you drink at least two cups of water.” He says sternly. You put the cup down and reach your hands up to him. He grabs them and helps you up. He hands you a makeup wipe. You take it and sloppily rub it over your face, still not being sober enough to fully know what you’re doing.

“Do you want some help?” Steve asks.

“Yes please,” you say, passing him the wipe. He gently rubs the wipe over your face, while holding your chin with his other hand. You can tell your cheeks are bright red.

“There you go,” He says. You smile at him and run towards his bed, getting under the covers. Drunk you will definitely get yelled at by sober you for getting in Steve Harrington’s bed of all things.

“Woah woah woah, we had a deal! No bed until you drink two cups of water.” He says.

“I thought you would have forgotten about that…” You say. He hands you the cup of water. You chug it, then hand it back to him.

“Ok goodnight!” You say, pulling the covers up over your face.

“I believe that was only one glass.” Steve says, while making his way to the bathroom to fill up the cup with more water. He hands the cup to you and starts pulling blankets out from his closet.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Making my bed.” He responds.

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor, there’s plenty of room in your bed for the both of us,” What the hell were you saying? There must still be a lot of alcohol in your system,

“You’re drunk Henderson, sober y/n would not like waking up in bed with me,” Steve says. You silently agree and get back under the covers. Steve walks over to the light switch.

“Night Henderson.”

“Night Stevie.”

* * *

You wake up with a pounding headache. You groan and open your eyes. You look around, alarmed that you weren’t at your own house. Where the fuck am I? You look down at the ground to see Steve sleeping there.

What the fuck were you doing at Steve Harrington’s house?!

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#mike wheeler #billy hargrove #will byers #lucas sinclair #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joyce byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #jim hopper

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