#like i take hours pondering a reply to a random stranger on the internet who says 'lol' on my post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

high fidelity — kuroo tetsurou

3.9k words | genre: fluff | warning/s: terrible writers block writing, ooc kuroo cause i suck | pairing: kuroo x gn!reader

↪︎ in which being the only two employees at a small record store meant that you and kuroo worked together almost every day. and not a single day has passed that you didn’t find your coworker absolutely insufferable. you think he’s annoying, and he thinks you’re cute. in reality, kuroo just sucks at flirting.

a/n: is the plot a bit of a mess? lowkey yeah, but ykw that’s okay cause i needed something stupid to write. this was also a bit self-indulgent cause homegirl just got employed at a record store (yay)

fucking tired—is what you would tell kuroo in the means of his grand intervention to mess with his favorite coworker of all time. granted, you were his only coworker in the infamously meager record store down some random alleyway in downtown tokyo.

those six words were how you would describe how you felt at that very moment. busy with doing what you were employed on doing rather than sitting around and snacking on some trail mix. one would assume that working at a rather small establishment meant little to no work, especially in hours where it was slow with no customers roaming up and down the aisles, but god were you wrong. you were the only one on the shift actually busting your ass off on the floor and at the register while all kuroo does is change the music playing on the store’s overhead speakers and hangs out.

sure, he does do his fair share of work here and there. occasionally he would even take over most of the manual labor of carrying all the new shipments of heavy vinyl records for the sake of courtesy, but at the end of the day, it was always you who would have to restock the displays every time.

so much for being a gentleman.

your feet hurt, your legs ached, your arms were sore. you were just glad that kuroo finally decided to get his ass up and actually walk around for once. he probably wasn’t planning on doing any work, simply just meandering through the aisles of vinyl just to see what to buy next with his 20% off employee discount. you honestly couldn’t care less. what you did care about was that the stool behind the cash register (aka the only place to sit inside the entire building) was finally free.

you settled yourself behind the counter, a sigh escaping your lips as your chin rested atop the palm of your hand.

you finally had a chance to rest. yet despite taking this rare opportunity, you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit bored now that the store was practically deserted. then again, what did you expect from working at a small business? not to mention, it’s the twenty-first century and all forms of media was digitized and easily accessible by a single internet search. there were, however, a few old souls out there, still in love with the idea of having a physical copy of their favorite artist’s work.

you were easily one of those people.

there was something so endearing listening to strangers talk about their love for music—it’s why you started working here at TRAX in the first place as a sorry excuse to surround yourself with the physical embodiments of the best invention mankind has ever made. hell, you still had the old walkman that your father gave to you. it was from the 90s with its gray plastic chipping at the corners and scratched-off lettering. you even had his old cassette tapes always in your bag whenever you go out.

regardless, the quietness of the store wasn’t at all bad at times. if anything, you were fortunate that kuroo wasn’t annoying the shit out of you like he normally does—poking at your cheeks and teasing you to no end. in fact, it was a nice break from the overstimulation of the occasional busy hours that come out of the blue. from old men mansplaining how record players work to annoying middle schoolers trying to blast their terrible soundcloud songs on the store’s bluetooth speakers. perhaps the slow hours were a godsend.

it was absolute hell trying to chase those annoying thirteen-year-olds out of the store with the help of kuroo. causing a ruckus or not, the situation was a bit funny at the end. it was one of those rare moments you and kuroo shared a genuine laugh together.

a sigh escapes your lips then as you take out your walkman, plugging in the old headphones that came with it. the black, plastic ones with thin muffs whose wires tangle no matter how much you try not to. you place them over your ears.

today’s mood was classic 80s rock, something along the lines of queen, guns n’ roses, and journey beating into your ears as you let your eyelids rest for a few seconds.

however, your means to relax was immediately shut down when a hand snatches your headphones off of your ears.

“ouch,” you groan as the plastic of the headset scratched at your temple. you look over your shoulder at your coworker with confusion plastered all over your face. “what was that for?”

kuroo blinks with a sly smile on his face, “those things still exist?”

you flick him a look, “what do you want?”

“you don’t get paid to sleep on the job, you know.” kuroo gives you a pointed look as he hands you back your headphones.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. the audacity. “i get paid by the hour and the store is literally empty right now,” you defend as you click your walkman on pause, “besides, aren’t you the one slacking all the time?”

“only when the boss isn’t around,” he hums.

“the boss is never around,” you huff.

“speaking of an empty store,” kuroo starts once again, watching you wrap the thin headphone wires around the body of your walkman. “d’you got any spare change?”

your eyes peer at him slightly, “what for?”

“to get a drink from the vending machines down the street, obviously.” replied kuroo.

yet another sigh left your lips, licking at its dryness as you reached into your pocket to reveal a few fifty-yen coins. it wasn’t much, but it wasn’t like anything from the vending machines in the city was that expensive. just anything to get him off your back again for peace of mind. “get me a one too while you’re at it,” you mutter, tossing the coins into his palm.

“why don’t you just come with me?” he asks, curious.

you shake your head, “i can’t leave the store unattended.”

kuroo clicks his tongue, feigning himself from rolling his eyes and just tugging you along with him. “come on, it’s not like there are any customers.” he gestures onto the barren floor as if its emptiness wasn’t already obvious enough.

“do i have to?” you groan. you just got comfortable and you weren’t exactly in the mood to walk all the way down the street either.

“yes,” he said sternly, hoping that it was enough to sway you, but surprise surprise! it didn’t. his unsuccessful (and oddly pitiful) attempt at convincing you to come with him caused the corners of kuroo’s lips to dip into a slight pout.

no matter how annoying your coworker was, thinking he wasn’t at all cute or the least bit attractive was a lie. when you look at kuroo, you’re not entirely sure what it was about him that made your heart skip a few beats despite your brain thinking the opposite. was it his sleek obsidian hair that was always styled perfectly? perhaps it was his eyes that were so pretty that if you looked at him for longer than a few seconds, you would be entranced? or maybe it was his witty charm that despite being annoying, you still found his presence nice to be around?

whatever it was, you hated to think there was even the slightest possibility that you liked kuroo more than you would like to admit. and the worst part of it all? perhaps you did like him more than a friend.

and that was the biggest problem.

how annoying, you think.

“pretty please,” he begged, his warm hands suddenly finding yours in the midst of your internalized dilemma and pulling you out of your thoughts.

the action catches you off guard as you snatch your hands back from his abrupt contact. eyes wide and heart beating heavy, you gulped when you noticed how close he was to you then. the action of you pulling away from him only brought kuroo closer like some odd twist in fate.

your thoughts pondered a bit as you looked up at him, still patiently waiting for an answer as he gives you a comforting smile. perhaps kuroo stepped a bit out of line this time, and there’s no doubt he feels a bit bad about it. he was about to pull away and apologize but after your thoughts spiraled for a few seconds you gave in with a nod.

“fine,” you say, lifting yourself off the stool as kuroo steps away from you with a grin. you follow him around the counter, taking your walkman with you as you pass it.

you just hoped no one came by while you two were out. the last thing you wanted to do was get fired all because your annoyingly handsome coworker wanted to get a mid-afternoon beverage.

your shoes muffled gently against the store’s floor—tap, tap, tapping in some form of patterned unison as you and kuroo left the building.

the backroads of downtown were quiet. considerably so compared to the main streets as there was nothing but tweeting birds, whistling cicadas, and an occasional bicycler whizzing by. it was such a nice day, perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to go out after all.

there was something incredibly calming about afternoon strolls down the street, feeling the rays of sunlight beaming down on your face as you further melted into an earth-smearing mood while you unpaused your walkman.

your headphones laid around your neck with the volume set on max this time just so kuroo could listen in. the corner of his lip quirked up a bit as you did so. it was like a nod of approval within a minuscule gesture. then again, you and kuroo always had a similar taste in music—messy and all over the place, but the classics are where you and he truly had the most in common.

the walk there was short and quiet. usually kuroo doesn’t mind being the one to strike up a conversation, but right now, it was as if he was trying to savor something at the moment that you couldn’t really pinpoint.

upon arriving at the rows of vending machines, kuroo slips in a few coins before pressing one of the buttons. he opted for a calpico, watching the can fall from behind the glass before bending down to pick it up. kuroo doesn’t even give you a look before he puts in the rest of your change, let alone ask what you wanted. the boy presses on the button right below a matcha drink—the exact one you were planning on getting.

he bends down when the drink dispenses and hands it to you on beat with the music emitting from your headphones.

“thank you,” you say, a bit dumbfounded as you opened up the can.

the slight confusion was evident on your face as kuroo couldn’t help but find your curiosity absolutely adorable. “i always see you with that drink whenever you come in for work,” he explains, chuckling as he takes a sip from his own. “assumed you liked it a lot.”

you couldn’t help but blush at his words, feeling your heartstrings suddenly tug at the thought that he knows you enough, let alone care to even remember such a minor detail. letting out a shaky breath that you hoped was drowned out by the music, you lamely attempted to hide the crimson red hues on your cheeks as you take a drink.

“i’m surprised you’d even remember something so insignificant about me,” you mutter as you two walk back to the store, yet this time your pace slowed along with his.

it seemed as if you weren’t the only one wanting to spend a little more time like this.

“i mean, it’s you.” kuroo replied, fingers nervously fiddling. “you are my favorite coworker after all.”

which wasn’t at all a lie. it was true. you were his favorite, but it was nothing more than a panicked and questionable explanation in the means of nonchalance. he couldn’t exactly expose himself out of the blue ever since you two talked about what you looked for in a partner. he recalled your words of wanting to find someone who cares about you and can remember every detail about you regardless of what it was. and much of his dismay of explaining his type to be the exact same of your own traits and characteristics, his sorry excuse of casually flirting completely flew over your head.

and if he’s coming to think of it now, all of kuroo’s sorry excuses of flirting probably went over your head. he mentally faced palmed himself. god, you probably thought he was the most irritating guy on the planet.

yet to his rapidly beating heart, you laughed, practically beaming at him. kuroo swears you could literally send him into cardiac arrest. “i’m your only coworker, idiot.” you tease before taking another sip.

he grins.

“gives me an even better reason to care then,” he hums, pulling the door to the store open just to be met with a thunderous shout.

you two were met with the owner of TRAX record store aka your boss. the short, pudgy old man with a receding hairline and a scowl on his face stood by the counter, arms crossed over each other like a disappointed parent.

“where have you two been?” he grunts, his familiar adenoidal and croaky voice ripping through your eardrums as you hurried to pause your walkman. “leaving the store unattended just to get drinks? you two are lucky i got here when i did because a customer just came by!”

your lips purse together nervously as the grip around your can tightened. kuroo notices your unease, giving you an apologetic look. he turns to face igarashi, your boss, “sorry sir, that’s my bad. i was the one who convinced (y/n) to come with me even after they said no.”

“oh really?” your boss tested. his hand came up to his chin to scratch the few strands of beard hair he even had. he scoffs, “of course it is.”

your neck swivels up towards kuroo as guilt melted into your bloodstream. knowing igarashi, he wasn’t the type to lay easy on simple mistakes. it was the only reason why you were glad he wasn’t here often in the first place knowing that he was like a ruthless hawk with eyes that followed you everywhere.

“it’s not entirely his fault, sir. i knew better but i still decided to go.” you muttered, refusing to look kuroo in the eye as he looks at you surprised.

igarashi lets out a huff as his eyes closed for a few seconds, “my therapist told me to take deep breaths whenever i feel as if i am about to lash out,” he explains before pulling himself together. he opens his eyes, tone much calmer now but the words were still like venom. “since you two were at least truthful about it, i will let it go this time, but know it won’t be the next time around. alright?”

you and kuroo nod, “yessir.”

“good. now, i want this place spotless by the time i come back.” with that your boss disappears into the back where he would be for the rest of the night–not helping at all. he stays in the backroom just to nap and to get away from his own unhappy marriage. you just hoped he stayed there until the end of your shift.

with your pulse calming, you took a sip of your matcha drink out of comfort, finishing all of its contents before throwing it into the trash bin. kuroo does the same thing, this time out of the fear of getting in trouble again as for the first time in a long time, you hear him ask you, “should we get to work then?”

you almost wanted to laugh. you were oddly giddy about working alongside him rather than vexed, nodding in response. both of you grab one of the grates of newly shipped records from behind the counter, ready to be put on display as you and kuroo worked down the same aisle.

with your walkman still on hand and your headphones wrapped around your head, you decided to play the cassette tape again just to ease the underlying awkwardness that was still in the air.

when you paused your walkman earlier, it stopped near the beginning of good old fashioned lover boy by queen. and the moment freddie mercury starts vocalizing, you could practically feel the ice around the two of you melt, heads bobbing to the beat as you two worked your way down the jazz aisle.

it went like this for the next hour. songs ranging from artist to artist, humming lightly to the beat of every drum. usually, kuroo wouldn’t last two minutes without complaining about doing work, but for once he didn’t mind knowing that you’re right next to him, mumbling the lyrics together in incoherent unison. if he knew working with you was going to be like this, he wouldn’t have been such a slacker after all. you could honestly say the same thing.

the cassette tape pulls to a stop, reaching the end of its duration as you and kuroo reach the bottom of the crate of vinyl records. as you reach inside to take out the last few albums, a gasp escapes you as your eyes fall onto one of the records. it was one that you have been dying to get for years now.

you put your walkman and headphone set down, grabbing the album.

“no way,” you grinned, capturing kuroo’s attention as he looks over at you curiously. “look, look!”

“tears for fears?” he says as a small switch flickers in his brain. “isn’t that your favorite 80s album?”

you nod, happy to think he even remembered that about you as you rush over to the cash register. you buy the album without a moment of hesitation, already freeing it from its plastic wrap as you reach kuroo again. you open the cover, beaming at its beautiful design. you couldn’t wait until you got home to listen to it.

at the end of every other row, there was a record player display that customers were able to use. taking out the delicate vinyl, you carefully placed it on the player’s mat with delicate fingers. you pick up the needle, hovering it over the edge of the record before placing it down gently.

on either side of the record player, there were hooks to hold headphones. each of which was connected to the machine as you quickly pull kuroo over. taking the headsets from the hooks, you put one of the pairs on before placing the other over kuroo’s ears, tiptoeing just to reach his height. almost immediately one of the most iconic songs of the decade stream into his ears. it was everybody wants to rule the world—one of your favorite songs.

you two stood there in silence, listening to the song’s nostalgic beats as your bodies faced each other. while you were looking over at the spinning black vinyl, kuroo eyes fell on you.

there was absolutely nothing in his wake to be able to take his admiration away as this, this beaming expression on your face had something special about it. it was as if his entire world was right in front of him, just an arms reach away.

his heart couldn’t slow for a minute as he could practically hear it over the music playing in his headphones. his breath gave way then, at the moment you turned to look back up at him with glowing eyes as if you struck gold. you consider yourself lucky being able to get your hands on such a rare vinyl, but kuroo considered himself the winner as he had you.

“do you like this song?” you asked him curiously, ignoring the way your heart started beating rapidly from the way he was looking at you with such care and admiration.

you were so close, you were literally right there. all of kuroo’s emotions that battered onto him like a cumbersome downpour can be relieved if he were to just say the words. a simple phrase, three short words, and a heavy heart beat. ready to leave his tongue and all would be done.

come on, just say it!

“I like you,” he says out of the blue, but his voice was a bit muffled due to the headphones.

your eyebrows furrow slightly, mouth suddenly running dry as your eyes widen.

did he just say what you think he just said?

you are not entirely sure what he said considering his words were partially drowned out by the music. you wanted to think that he did say the words of the impossible, but you couldn’t be so sure of yourself.

“sorry, what did you say?”

kuroo’s hands wrap around your headset, pulling them off of your ears and placing them around your neck. “i said i like you and i wanted to know if you wanted to go out sometime!” he says ratherly loudly. his headphones were still on him blasting tears for fears.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the back of your hand coming up to cover your reddening cheeks. warmth surrounded your heart, like a hug that squeezed at your chest in the most comforting way possible. you raise your hands up, cupping around the shell of his headphones as you pull them off of kuroo.

“you’re so loud,” you mutter.

as if fate decided to push you into the unknown with a strange burst of confidence within you, you got up on your tiptoes and leaned it. pressing your lips against his, soft and light, your skin ignited ablaze.

in a mere moment of serendipity just to test out the waters, you were pulled in deeper, mind blurring in satisfaction. yet it was nothing more than temporary as the sound of infamous footsteps gradually got louder and louder. panicked, you pull away quickly just seconds before igarashi emerges from the aisles, staring bullet holes into you and kuroo.

“i suppose you two are working?”

you nod, pulling your wrists out of kuroo’s grasp.

kuroo quickly answers, “we are, don’t worry.”

your boss lets out a suspicious hum as he gives you two one last look. he turns back around again, disappearing into the back.

a sigh of relief leaves you as you turn back towards the boy in front of you. he still waited for an answer, almost desperate to know as his eyes searched for an answer.

grinning, you pause the record player and kuroo watches it spin to a slow stop. “you’re an idiot,” you say with a laugh.

kuroo doesn’t seem to care at that moment, if anything he was just glad there were no one else was around. his hands wrap around yours again, “well, is that a yes or a no?”

“so that kiss wasn’t obvious enough for you?”

liking someone you found annoying was impossible, but liking your annoying coworker? now, that was a different story.

general taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @milktyama @anejuuuuoy

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagines #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #hq kuroo

139 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

You’re in the middle of getting ready, a brush in hand when you freeze. Your ears burn with embarrassment and disbelief- you really had talked to some random stranger on the internet and offered your number to them! And if that wasn’t the worst part, you don’t even know what they looked like, or even know their name! And you told them your name! And even gave them your phone number! You bury your face in your hands and let out a pitiful groan. God, you were always so open and vulnerable when you were half-asleep but this just takes the cake.

“I did want more friends,” you muttered to yourself. “Plus he doesn’t seem too creepy. Maybe he’s just insecure or something with his appearance. Maybe it’s a quirk thing.” You try to reason to yourself, your words not holding much conviction and a swarm of butterflies beginning to form in your stomach, swirling and making you nauseous with anxiety.

You glance at your phone and check your messages. You had received no new messages and the part of you that craved acceptance was disappointed, your ego hurt and the sick feeling of shame taking over.

“Maybe this is for the best, I don’t even know his name,” your voice was quiet and unsure. You tried to convince yourself, the butterflies that began to flutter last night were now a rampaging swarm that made you feel like they would burst out at any second and all your anxieties and fears would consume and feast on your broken body.

Your eyes grew wide and you covered your head. Broken gasps left you, everything too hot all of a sudden, the clothes on you were no longer fresh and left you feeling like an imposter wearing your skin, that the minute you would walk out of the comfort of your own home, you would be mocked and laughed at. You were finding it harder to breathe and you clawing at your chest through your clothes, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. As your vision began to blur, your chest heaving and heart pumping that you felt it would burst out, you phone vibrated against the counter, a loud, invading buzz making you flinch. Rising on shaky legs, you picked up your phone and wiped a clammy hand down the side of your jeans, the scratchy feeling bringing you back to reality. You forced yourself to look at the screen, desperate for any kind of distraction, for the heaviness in your chest to lighten.

Your vision blurred and tears made their way down your face. With the back of your hand, you wiped them away, sniffling and shook your free hand. You focused on where a notification had appeared on the lock screen, an unregistered number popping up with a simple message of ‘hello’. And with a sense of focus, everything felt a bit more breathable. You cleared your throat, forced back the lump in your throat and opened the new message.

It took you a moment to register who it was. You could only guess that it was him, you really couldn’t remember giving your number out to other strangers. You snorted and shook your head. Fingers danced over the screen, typing out your reply, a shaky smile already forming on your lips.

You:

{Look at you messaging me first. Never thought I’d see the day:’)}

You waited with bated breath, going through other options of how you could have replied him before shaking your head- that was probably one of the better ways to respond to him- he was sarcastic, you could be playful and tease him and the former would just throw an insult your way or deflect the question. With breaths finally returning to normal, took a deep breath and went to prepare yourself a sandwich before you ventured off.

You returned to a silent phone, the message marked with “Read” and you cleared your throat. You saved his number under his nickname.

You tried to relax yourself, that while he had a very strong idea of who you were and that it wouldn’t be all that difficult to find who you are, there was no real danger to who you were talking to. The bread underneath your fingertips was indented. You’d be fine in the end. You were just overreacting. In the middle of a bite, your phone buzzed, the message icon displaying across the upper screen.

Toma:

[I already regret this]

You quickly typed out a message, not wanting to lose this playful banter. At least it was playful to you. He was already hard to read when you’d hear his voice, but now that it through pure text, you had no idea what his tone was, what he really could be thinking and what he actually wanted to say before being deleted and retyped.

You:

{And yet you still reply:P}

You thought it was best to skip over the pleasantries, figuring out that he probably didn’t want to talk about how he slept or hearing of the weird dreams that you had that night. No, he seemed more like the type to get to the point, to just say what he’s thinking and act impulsively, not thinking about the repercussions or perhaps not even caring about them if there were any.

Toma:

[Getting your number was a mistake]

You let out a laugh. The feeling In your stomach had already been muted by your lunch, but now it seemed to rise up, wanting to remind you that your anxieties still had you on a tight leash, one that choked you and beg for air.

You:

{So how come you messaged me first??}

{I don’t mind it!! I had a fun time last night:) But I didn’t think you did, which is fine but you could’ve not messaged me}

{Sooo,,, I don’t know where I’m going with this://}

Shigaraki stared at the screen, his upper lip curled into a sneer and red eyes in narrowed slits. If he were to be honest, he had only messaged you because he was bored. It had been a particularly slow day at the League, plans having been changed to another day, meetings having already been done earlier and it was a rare for them to get a day where they had it to themselves- where they didn’t need to plan or worry about if this would be their last day on this miserable planet.

But that rare moment of peace never extended to him. Shigaraki always had to plan. He had to be one step ahead of everyone- he can’t risk a day, an hour, a minute- he had to go over everything until he was sure there were no faults in his plans. Yet, on this day, his head was foggy, muddled with insecurities he wouldn’t dare speak out, and starting to hurt with a combination from lack of sleep and staring at the same plans that constantly shifted, always finding a flaw.

His hands were clasped in front of him, fingers massaging into his skin. His eyes slowly closed and he released a long exhale. His skin itched and burned and his patience was already wearing thin. Red eyes leer at the phone that sits on his desk, screen black and silent.

The phone was almost always silent, only used for a few messages that were sent to him by members of the League or notifications of mobile games. However, his phone now buzzes with your messages, with mundane conversations as if you were talking to an old friend. You talk to him as if he were an ordinary person who had a family and didn’t risk his life by his mere existence.

Yet, that wasn’t who he was. He was a killer, one of Japan’s most wanted, someone who could and would kill you with just a touch of his hand. As far as you were concerned, he wasn’t any of that. He doesn’t know what compels him to message you, he knows he doesn’t want a slice of normalcy, he has a dream and the will to do it and you were just going to be a distraction, a small weight tying him down. He shakes his head and types a message to you, the words disappearing and reappearing as he figures out what to say, and a small part of him, one that he will deny even in death, wants you to reply back to him, wants to have a small distraction for a second even if it’s from someone that doesn’t know who he truly is.

Toma:

[I was bored]

He doesn’t have to wait long for your reply, you come eager and begging for his attention, trying to hold on it.

You:

{Yeah, that’s valid}

{What are you up to?}

He wonders if you really are interested in what he’s doing or it it’s courtesy that you’ve extended to him. He bites down on his lip, gnawing on it until it stings as he reads your words. He reasons to himself that there really is no harm in talking to you- this friendship that you’ve made up in your mind won’t go on longer for a month, it’ll stay purely through messaging until one of you grows bored and then you would both part ways- you would go on to live an ordinary life and he would change the world or die trying. But death was never going to be an option for him- he’d bare his teeth and bite until blood was flowing before he would die.

He was aware that he when he messaged, he wasn’t the most expressive person, his replies often one-worded and blunt and even though you messaged him with what he felt was full enthusiasm and adding emoticons, he was going to stick to his messaging style.

Shigaraki let out another sigh. He just wanted to take a break from his notes, for just a second. But he couldn’t shake off your question. Why had he messaged you? Was it simply to feel a bit of normalcy? Last night, you were the one to give him your number, he hadn’t exchanged his so he could have easily not have messaged you. But he was bored and exhausted from finding a flaw in every plan, angry dark marks etched on the paper, balls of crumbled up paper littering the floor, and broken pencils. He clears his throat. He just wanted a second of mindless distraction.

He ponders if he should actually tell you what he really is doing, he wonders if you’d take him seriously or if you’d think he was joking and play along. But he can’t risk it. Not unless he could dispose of you right away. The chair creaks as he leans back on it, staring at your message, he makes something up- a simple mundane task that everyone does.

Toma:

[Grocery shopping]

On the other side of the screen, you perked up. Messaging wasn’t always your strongest suit, you had enough trouble reading people’s intentions and tone when you were face to face to face with them. But to add a screen in between the parties with no tone control, just words that could have been spoken in a number of ways, it made you nervous. You were always left wondering if the other people on the side of screen had wanted to stop the conversation, if your sarcasm was reached over with the help of an emoticon or if the messaged had made you seem like stuck-up.

Messaging with the stranger that you had met online certainly didn’t help ease your worries. He was always harsh when you two would play. There was always a hint of annoyance, a backhanded compliment tossed at you every now and then, a snide remark when someone would mess up. It was easy to say that he wasn’t the nicest and yet, you still offered to message him, to talk to him more and reach out a hand towards him. And he took your hand. You didn’t want this acquaintanceship to die of so quickly, you didn’t want to read every word he sent you through scrutinizing eyes, you just wanted to talk to him for a bit.

“Just don’t overthink it. Don’t be so weird about it,” you told yourself, letting out a breath.

You:

Oh, that’s neat! What are you getting?

I need to go shopping soon. My snack stash is running low:(((

The sandwich at the table looked unappetizing. You were so awful at making conversation it was almost funny. Almost.

The phone buzzed against the table; the loud, shrill noise making you cringe and gulp down the last bits of your drink.

Toma

[Snack stash?]

He was dodging the question. The innate want of wanting to pry bubbled up but you were aware that it was an odd thing to ask why a person wanted to avoid such a simple question so you buried the feeling down. There was no point in making a mountain out a mole hill.

You:

{Yeah, a stash with all my favorite snacks}

{I don’t like going out too often so I always make sure that I have plenty of snacks to last me a while}

{Plus it’s good practice for self-control lmao}

His replies stopped shortly after that. Your fingers nervously tapped on the counter as you waited, perking up when your phone buzzed but deflating when it was another notification. You shook your head. You didn’t want to be so caught up on messaging one person. You shouldn’t get your feelings hurt over something so trivial. You wanted to believe those words but it was hard to. You didn’t know why he had such an effect on you; it wasn’t like you’ve seen his face or had an actual conversation with him. But the thought of the potential friendship was nice.

A low groan was held in the back of your throat. Your hands raided the pantry, pulling out bags of chips that contained crumbs, crackers, a box with one packet of fruit gummies. Your shoulders drooped and you glanced at your phone once more. You glanced out the window and clicked your tongue.

It wasn’t too late. There was still a bit of daylight out, the streetlights illuminating the streets with a soft orange glow. “I need more snacks,” you whispered to yourself, your hand touching your stomach and clenching the fabric of your shirt.

Leaves crunched under your foot, weeds in between cracks flattening and blowing with what little breeze was out. The sun was setting casting the city is a deep orange and pink glow. It wasn’t a long walk from where you lived to the nearest convenience store, your bag bounced against your hip as you walked, your phone placed inside to keep from falling out of your back pocket. The wind rustled your hair, a fresh breeze that cooled you down from the humidity in the air.

You had your head in the clouds, making a mental check list on the things you needed. You clicked your tongue, pulling a sour face and regretting that you didn’t properly check your cabinets before you left. However, when you were at your apartment, you were busy thinking about other things- or rather someone else. You started thinking about your new online friend for what must’ve been an unhealthy amount of times in the time that you’ve known him. You wanted to know more about him but you knew that if you pushed he would’ve retreated. You had a forlorn look on your face as you thought about what you could do to improve the friendship between the both of you but you felt sick about forcing him into a friendship that he didn’t want.

A bell interrupted your thoughts as you entered the store. The cold air from the air conditioner provided you relief from the outside. The cashier welcomed you, meeting your eyes for a brief second before they continued their transaction with an already existing customer. There was a current pop song playing low in the speakers, the lyrics filling your mind and pushing out any other thoughts. You smiled back at them, waving your hand before grabbing a plastic basket and walking in between the aisles, your hands picking things up and dropping them in the basket.

You made your way to the back of the store, the chill air coming from the freezers making the hair on your arms stand on their ends. Your eyes analyzed the doors, looking for any other treats you’d might like, frost creeping from edges of the door to the center. Plastic snowflakes and little stickers of soda bottles and tubs of ice cream with smiling faces decorated the frosty doors.

You licked your lips and looked down at your full basket. You shook your head and decided to get the frozen treats, opting to walk quickly back home so the treats wouldn’t freeze. The condensation expels from the door, your eyes narrowing as it stings you.

There’s movement in the corner of your eyes and you see a figure standing a door away from you. Their back was hunched and a hand was placed on their chin, eyes scanning the chilled food that laid inside. His eyes made eye contact and you smiled nervously, quickly returning your gaze and grabbing the ice pops inside. You scurried off to the register, hand clutching the handle of the bag tight.

The cashier made small talk with you, commenting about the day and scanning the items and placing them in a plastic bag. You heard steps approach behind you and handed the cashier the money, telling them thank you and to have a good day.

Dark clouds covered the sky, a chill wind has replaced the humidity, and you begin your trek back home. You smile at passing people, the bags heavy in your hands there’s a fear that they’ll rip from the handles before you reach your place. Cars drive past you, yellow and white lights illuminating you for a second and casting shadows that stretch across the concrete.

A large shadow appears behind you, overtaking your own shadow and it stills when you pause in your steps. You straighten your back and turn around, eyes widening for a split second before you smile at the man behind you.

He’s lanky and tall, limbs look a bit too long and he has short cropped hair. He smiles back at you and it sends a chill down your spine. He’s the same guy from the freezer aisle. You notice there’s less people around, the cars passing by in fewer numbers and you speed our pace. Thunder cracks overhead and the smell of rain fills the air. The steps behind you quicken. Your jaw tightens and you try to force yourself to relax. The odds of being interrupted in your commute are low. It’s about to rain so maybe they’re just running for cover.

“Hi!” His voice is cheery and eyes are wide. “Listen, I saw you in the store.” His hands are moving as he talks and he matches your pace. He either fails to notice the look of discomfort on your face or he simply doesn’t care. You glance around trying to find someone who could help you but the streets are empty, wind rustles and picks up fallen leaves making them dance in the wind. He babbles on, pausing when you do and he shoves his hands in his pocket but his arms are still moving.

“I-uh, listen,” you try to interject but he continues to talk, his voice speaking over yours and it makes you bite the inside of your cheeks. “Listen, I have to go home.” You say firmly, and turn away from the man. You walk away, your feet hurting from the hard stomps on the concrete.

His voice begins to call out to you, and he tells you to wait up but you continue your walk not wanting to look back and it begins to mist. You feel your skin begin to crawl. He stills calls behind you, and you bags in our hand begin to grow heavier. There’s a passing thought that your ice pops might melt. You feel as if you’ve been walking forever, your legs growing tired and chest lacking air, your body heats up and the sound of the thunder covers the man’s voice.

There’s a sharp tug on your elbow, the plastic bags bounce around and hit your thigh. You rip your arm free and the man’s face grows twisted and eyes darken to an amber hue. “Listen, I just wanted to ask for your number,” his tone is annoyed and eyes roll, “but now that you’re acting—”

“Okay! Bye!” You shout, and tug your arm free. You walk away from him quick, the bags slap against you and you just want to head home already.

You walk into your apartment, kicking your shoes off and dropping the bags on the floor in the kitchen. You quickly shove the ice pops into the freezer, opting to check their condition later.

Your elbow burns at where you were touched. You gingerly touch the crease of your elbow, fingertips feeling as if they’re touching something that doesn’t belong. You shake your head. You grab a paper towel and wipe your face; the mist from the rain has left your feeling icky and uncomfortable wet.

You grab a pack of sweets from the bag, choosing to put everything away later. Your bag is tossed onto the coffee table falling with a dull thud. You flop onto the couch, the sweets tasting sour on your tongue. It slides down heavy in your throat and you toss the bag on the coffee table.

You think back to what the man had said. He grabs your arm and chases you down from the convenience store because he wanted your number. Bile rises in the back of your throat and you grip your shirt into clumps. You can still feel the clamminess of his hand on your elbow. You swipe it away with a rough drag of your hand.

“I basically did the same thing with Toma,” you whisper to yourself. “Granted it wasn’t as rough but you still bothered him enough.” Your face shines a bright red that burns your face.

You sigh and close your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows together and opening them up when your phone buzzes in your bag. You turn to face it and with lazy movements, you pull it out and glance at the notification. Tomaraki’s name pops up. A smile forms on your face before you smother it down feeling guilty. You click on his notification and his messages fill the screen.

Toma:

[Just do whatever you want]

[Its snacks who gives a fuck]

You:

{Yeah, you’re right}

{Hey, I’m feeling kind of shitty, message me later if ya want}

You don’t have the energy or clear mind to continue a conversation with him and you didn’t want to waste his time if he was busy or something. You laid back on the couch, placing the phone on your chest and you thought that maybe if you fell asleep, you’d wake up feeling better.

“Nothing bad happened to you, just a comment that sounded bad,” you thought to yourself, hands clenching your shirt above your stomach. Your eyes grew heavy and you could feel yourself slipping into a nap when the phone buzzes on your chest. You groan and check the phone, squinting your eyes at the light.

Toma:

[Fine]

You frown and feel worse- the sinking feeling in your stomach grows heavier. What if he thought that you were mad at him because he replied late? What if he thought that you didn’t want to talk to him anymore? Oh god. You really hated overthinking. Your covers your eyes with the balls of your hands, colors pop behind your closed eyelids.

You:

{I just had a shitty encounter is all, I’ll feel better after I nap}

{Message me in like an hour if you want:P}

Shigaraki stares at his phone annoyance. He hadn’t asked for an explanation but he did feel a bit more at ease. From the few conversations that you have had with him, you had always seemed rather chipper, like an excitable pup, albeit a bit awkward but you never really seemed to be in a bad mood. A part of him wanted to know what happened and he knew that if he asked, you would tell him.

Toma:

[What happened?]

Your eyes furrowed at the message. You wanted to tell him but it’s not like it was a big deal, it was just uncomfortable and the aftereffects are what made you more upset than anything else.

You:

[I’ll tell you if you call me lmao]

You groaned immediately after sending that message. However, you reasoned to yourself that he wouldn’t call you- he barely wanted to have a video chat with you.

In the make-shift living room, where Shigaraki sat with the other members, he stared at his phone glancing around at everyone and humming when they were engrossed in their activities. Dabi Mr. Compress, Twice and Spinner were playing a game of cards, a stench of smoke filling the air, while Toga was painting her nails, blowing on them gently and snickering when she looks at Dabi’s cards, a harsh shush and sparks flying from his mouth.

Looking back down at his phone, Shigaraki stood up and made his way towards his living room, waving his hand when Toga yelled goodnight. He locks the door behind him and sat on the chair in his bedroom. He stares at your message, unblinking and deciding “screw it”, as he pushes the call button. The call rang for a moment too long and for a second he thought it was going to go to voicemail. And then he heard your voice.

“Hello?” You sound puzzled.

“What happened?” He decides to get to the point.

“Oh!” You could feel embarrassment flood your face. You laugh nervously and it cuts off too soon. “It isn’t- It’s not anything big. It-it’s dumb. It’s not like anything happened, it’s just me being stupid like always, ha,” you giggled nervously, your voice trailing off towards the end. “It really isn’t anything big. It was just a weird thing.” He can hear your nervousness through the phone, you sound out of breath and he hears fabric rustling in the background.

“Tell me.” He’s losing his patience. Why bother to tease him something and then not even commit to telling him?

You sighed into the phone, and you rationalized to yourself that he wouldn’t care. That maybe afterwards you two could talk about something else and that you’d forget the whole thing that wasn’t really a thing. But even that thought weighs you down.

You let out a shaky breath; your voice is low and hesitant. “So, I was running low on snacks, right? And I went to the closest convenience store which is like fifteen minutes by foot. And like, I buy my things and like when I’m walking home a guy keeps trying to talk to me and I’m just uncomfortable and I walk away and then he grabs my elbow and he like basically wanted my number and—” a lump grows in your throat— “Why do you keep talking to me? You don’t have to. I don’t want it to be like I’m forcing you to talk to me. I’m sure you’re busy with other things and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me.” You bite down on your lip, gnawing on it till you feel the raw flesh sting. “I’m being dumb again.” You bite down on the raw spot on your lip, feeling a faint metallic taste linger on your lips. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

He’s at a loss for words. He’s tongue flicks out and licks his chapped lips. He’s silent for a while, eyes darting around the room hoping to find an answer hidden in there. “That’s dumb.” His reply is harsh.

“What part?” You whisper, tracing the edge of the phone with your finger.

“I’m still talking to you, aren’t I? If I didn’t want to talk to you I wouldn’t have fucking called or even messaged you,” he snaps. He grits his teeth and a free hand scratches his neck, dull red lines appearing and growing brighter until it stings. “It’s fucking dumb of you to ask.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and the sick feeling in your stomach has begun to lessen. “I just didn’t want it to be like I was twisting your arm is all,” you chuckle dryly.

“Well you’re not,” he huffed.

“Thanks. For like the confirmation,” you speak softly, curling in on yourself on the torture. “It uh, it means a lot.”

He scoffs into the receiver. The hands on his neck have stopped scratching; his fingertips rub at the sore spots. His chest tightens and he tells you to shut up.

“No, no. I mean it. I know it’s dumb but it just- I appreciate knowing that you aren’t like being forced to talk to me. I know I probably came off too strong and maybe you felt like you had to say yes so I like knowing that you aren’t forced to talk to me,” you ramble, ears tinged red.

His hands twitch and nails scratch at the wounds. He hisses in pain and teeth grit, his opens into a palm and he applies pressure to his neck.

“Are you okay?” You voice is frantic and you rise from your position. “Toma, you good?”

He hesitates for a second. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His eyes scan the room. “I hit my knee on my desk.”

“Ouch. I have this coffee table that I keep bumping into so it has a bunch of dents and chipped off paint but it really ties in the room together so the pain is worth it.” The lump in your throat has disappeared and you reach over to grab the bag of sweets, popping one in your mouth as you speak. “I think I might get those like baby proof things.” You crinkle the bag in your hand and take a deep breath. “Can you tell me about your day?” Your voice is soft and he can hear plastic in the background.

“Why?”

“I told you about my day,” you shrug. “Plus, I just want to hear your voice for a little while.” You snuggled deeper into the couch, curling in on yourself, and lay the phone on the couch. “Indulge me. I told you about my day, you tell me yours.”

He wanted to tell you to fuck off, that the only reason he got curious about your day was because you had been cryptic with yours. He bit at his bottom lip, his eyes casted to the right for a right a brief second. He’s quiet for a long time- he can hear you shift around on the other side of the phone and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“It wasn’t anything special.” He starts off slow, choosing his words correctly. “Woke up. Did stuff. And now I’m talking to you.”

You roll your eyes. “Vague as usual.” You click your tongue. “You didn’t play the game today?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.” He’s honest with you for once.

You let out a sharp laugh, stretching in the couch before turning over on your stomach, resting your chin on your hands and your phone now moved in front of you, leaning against the armrest. “Yeah? I’m surprised. With a level and stats as high as yours, I pegged you as the type to play that game every chance you had.” You twirl your finger on the air, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I had other things to do.” He says- his tone a tad defensive.

“Oh?” Your voice rises in pitch. “Oh, right, right. You did “stuff” today. How could I ever forget your descriptive storytelling. Silly me.” Your voice has a kittenish quality. “So, despite having to do- what I’m sure is gruesome stuff- how has your day been so far?”

He doesn’t secretly dream of having a normal life- a life where he isn’t a villain, where his quirk isn’t something that can cause mass destruction- he doesn’t want any of that. He has a goal that he needs to reach. He has his life set out in front of him. But talking to you, as much as he hates it, doesn’t fill with him with dread or anxiety. It isn’t an overbearing weight that it once was, it feels lighter. He doesn’t want to know about your personal life, he doesn’t want to hear to hear you laugh. He doesn’t want to hear you say that you want hear his voice.

“Toma? You there?” You whisper, your voice gentle.

“I’m here,” he rasps out. He doesn’t want to be here.

“Wanna hear what I’m planning to do tomorrow?” You ask timidly.

You don’t wait for a reply. Instead, you start to talk about your plans for tomorrow. You talk about how you’ll try to wake up early, maybe do some yoga if it’s early enough. Or how you’ll make a simple breakfast; how you’ve been dying to try to make fluffy pancakes but you never have the motivation to actually make breakfast so you usually eat some fruit or pastry that you have lying around. You mention how you’ll call your other friends and ask to hang out or maybe just have a group call and talk about nothing and everything all at once. You laugh a bit when you talk about your friends. You mention how the call usually lasts for hours- the most being six- and how you’re always tired the next day, how you have a headache that’s caused by lack of sleep but you never regret the calls. You giggle at the end of that tangent and mention that it’s a dumb inside joke where you’ll start to complain four hours in that you’re tired but the call will keep going and towards the end of the call you’ll start getting sarcastic when they mention that they’re tired. You try to stifle your giggles and change topics to move on to what you might eat tonight- that you aren’t in the mood for anything too heavy, but you don’t want any fast food. You ask for his opinion on what he should eat and he mentions ordering ramen. You nod and tell him that’s a good idea. You talk about everything to him; you’re so open with this stranger that you don’t even know the name of. And he tells you this. There’s no bite to his voice, no insult ready to strike at you; just an observation.

You hesitate to answer. You tap on your phone, the screen lighting up. You’ve been on the call for a little over an hour and half. The corner of your mouth twitches.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. “I think… I think I was just really lonely that night.” The words are heavy on your tongue. “I mean, we had talked beforehand. When we did missions and stuff. We did team ups often enough and I guess I grew to like being around you. Or, er, talking to you.” You rub your lip between your teeth. “I mean, I’m okay not knowing your name. It isn’t like I’ve told you much about myself. You only know my first name and face but you don’t know where I live or my full name so,” you trail off, unsure how to end. “You aren’t really a stranger. I may not know your actual name but I’m gonna take a guess and say that the name you gave me has to be similar to your actual name.” You aren’t exactly wrong. “And I don’t know. Some people are,” you try to choose your next words carefully, “insecure of how they look. So I don’t really hold it against you if you don’t want me to see your actual face, ya know? Or even if it’s a privacy thing. I get it.” There’s silence on his end. “Did that make sense?”

He mumbles his agreement. Not all of it made for sound logic but it was logical to you, you gave your reasons and while they weren’t exactly the strongest, you stuck by them. He bends his head down and he clicks his tongue.

Twice knocks on his door and enters after a second has passed. Shigaraki twists his body and stares as Twice jerks his thumb over his shoulder and says that everyone is itching for something to do and every word after that is inaudible. He’s sitting at an angle, the phone that is pressed up against his ear, is hidden by his hair. You’re back to talking, unaware that Shigaraki has been interrupted, and he’s tuning out every word Twice is saying, only giving him a shake of the hand to indicate that he’ll be there, wherever there is, later. The door slams behind him and you ask what that was. He replies that he dropped something. You nod your head, only to give a verbal acknowledgement when you remember that he can’t see you.

“So, we’ve been talking for a while,” you breathe out. “Do you want to stop? I don’t mind talking to you for longer but I just wanted to make sure you weren’t bored of me yet.” You chuckle at the end, it’s a bit unsure but not totally humorless.

Shigaraki squints his eyes and pulls the phone away from him. Ten minutes until two hours. You two have been talking to close to two hours. Or rather, you talked for two hours while he listened.

“I uh, didn’t mean to talk for so long, heh.” You chuckle again and this time it’s humorless. “Next time you can talk and I’ll just listen.” You take off the speaker and press the phone close to your ear. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head on them.

Two months of group missions. Two weeks of missions done together alone. One late night call. Half a day of messaging. One two hour call.

“Toma, you there?” Your voice is back to being soft again. It reminds him of something he once craved for and thinking about it makes his head hurt. It unsettles him and he can’t think straight.

“Tomura.” His voice is too low. You almost didn’t catch it. You’re surprised you did.

“Tomura?” You question what this means. Is it a code or is it- oh.

You say his name again. Just above a whisper. The name is heavy on your tongue. And then you hear a click and the line is empty. You blink one. Twice. Your eyes are wide like owls and you mouth his name. And then you let out a shaky breath, the corner of your lips twitching upwards before allowing a full grin to take over.

“Tomura.” You click your tongue and rise up from the couch. Your fingers type at the screen and his name stares up at you. “It’s a nice name.”

Tagged:

@noonewouldlisten25

@yul-is-sparkling

@loveableasshole

@rogueofbullshit

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki tomura #bnha #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader #can i ask you something #ciays #6.5k #damn #sorry it took a while #this chapter was a mess and i didnt like it when i first wrote it #so i had to rewrite it #the middle is eh #im proud of the ending tho #see yall next week #sorry if you wanted to be tagged and i mssed you #or if you didnt want to be and i accidently tagged you #my bad

158 notes · View notes

be-dazzled · 5 years

Photo

She’s In Your Court #SIYC Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser FFnet link: click here Tumblr: explore here Genre: Multi-Chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for Sensitive Language

SUMMARY: Gray Fullbuster is a player both in love and in life. He plays Professional Basketball and is being groomed to be in line with Basketball Legends Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant and Stephen Curry.

There’s just one problem, Gray Fullbuster is a play-ah. His life is a giant mess of crazy parties, waking up with random women and waking up in random women’s apartments. Just living the life. The opinion of the public on him is waning. To save the million-dollar endorsements in the verge of disappearing, Gray needs to change his image. Therefore, Gray Fullbuster, Fiore Knight’s Team Captain and Most Valuable Player, will be in the next season of “My Star Can Dance”.

There’s another problem: it seems like his star isn’t that bright since his partner, one of Fiore’s prominent ballerinas, doesn’t know him? His billboard is hanging in front of her dancing school! And it was a good billboard since all he was wearing was his six-pack and an Aztec bandana. How come she didn’t notice?

The days are bright and so are the nights. ‘Cause when I’m with you I'm grinning Once I was screwed now I’m winning No I won't let you go Now you know

– Heart on Fire, Jonathan Clay

Juvia Lockser held herself together until she finally got inside her house. But the moment the door clicked shut behind her, the memory of the kiss sapped all her strength in one go.

The ballerina leaned against the oak door, heart trembling in excitement. She had no idea how late it was but Juvia Lockser was wide awake. Every cell in her body was electrified by the kiss. She lifted her fingers to her own lips. The warmth of Gray’s lips lingered and his taste stayed.

Oh his taste.

Juvia wondered if it was okay to let him kiss her and in such a way on what technically was their first date. (She finally gave up in the middle of it all and finally called it a date.) Juvia wasn’t sure. It has been a while since the last time she went on one.

The following morning, as the memory of last night flashed before her eyes, a wave of shame hit her at full speed. Juvia ought to hit herself with the way she cradled her body against Gray’s; like it was the most normal thing to do. She probably looked too promiscuous. Oh, and how welcoming she was when he slid his tongue in. Juvia slapped her palms against her burning cheeks. She wasn’t her normal self. But it’s 2019. Kids nowadays were a bit straightforward and liberated. A kiss on the first day was normal, right?

“Okay, Juvia. Just act normal.”

The wall clock on her studio read 3:50. Its short hand stroke clockwise. Juvia could almost hear it ticking. Or it could have been her heart beating against her chest. She wasn’t sure anymore.

From: BILLBOARD GUY

BE THERE IN 10.

Juvia prepped herself as she waited. She felt both nervous and excited. It was crazy. Why did she have to feel all conscious when it was her own studio?

There was only one reason: last night she wasn’t able to sleep. Not just because she actually stayed up to google ‘kiss on a first date’ and something along that line. While the results shocked and comforted her, Juvia had one problem: she was going to face Gray in practice today and Juvia Lockser had no idea how to do just about that.

Juvia expelled a long breath.

“Normal.” She finally chanted. Yet, the fast hammering in her chest morphed into butterflies in the stomach.

Was a kiss on a first date appropriate? The internet was divided. For Juvia, however, she wouldn’t normally do it. She’d save a light peck on the lips for when she was finally exclusively dating the guy. But last night’s kiss wasn’t a light peck. Suddenly remembering what transpired the night before, Juvia felt the heat rise up her cheeks.

“Are you alright, Juvia?”

Levy came up behind her and startled the ballerina.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Levy narrowed her brown eyes at the blushing ballerina. Her look was suspicious. Juvia had to admit, she sounded a little defensive there.

“Anyway, what are you doing here, Shrimp?” Juvia quickly changed the subject before Shrimp had the opportunity to interrogate her about turning tomato.

“Well, tallest woman around here…”

Juvia smiled at the jab. Shrimp was learning to fight for herself.

“We’re going to take a clip of you and Gray practicing. It’s for the AVP.”

Juvia looked over her friend’s shoulders. It wasn’t really hard to do so because Juvia was taller than Levy. Behind the writer, the show’s crew was already setting up their expensive film equipment.

“I called and texted to remind you last night, remember?”

Of course, not. That part skipped her mind. With that thing with Gray happening last night, how could she remember anything else?

“Right.” Juvia lied but Levy did not buy into it.

Levy could tell when she was lying or trying to keep something from her. If there was one thing she’d learned within those ten years of friendship it’s that Juvia Lockser was a bad liar. But she had to give it to Juvia, the woman was great at avoiding topics; ignoring the poor “My Star Can Dance” writer included.

Juvia walked back to the reception desk where her young assistant, Mary, busied herself around the computer. The ignored show writer trailed behind her. If Levy wanted to get some information, she would have to work for it.

“So… you went on a date last night, huh?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Juvia knew Shrimp would never back down. The latter was already phishing for answers. Also, didn’t she finally give up and started calling last night a date?

“It’s all over the news you know. Even trending on twitter!” Levy squealed.

The shorter bluenette took one of the seats at the reception desk and planted her elbows on the flat surface. She was going to get to the bottom of things.

“It’s true!” Mary acclaimed, weighing in on the conversation. “It’s trending at Top 2 on twitter. Look, Ms. Juvia.” Mary all but shoved the phone to Juvia’s face who acted as if she didn’t care a whit. Truth of the matter was it got Juvia curious.

“It’s giving us a lot of publicity.”

“That’s good, then.”

Juvia reminded herself to create her own twitter account later. Of course, she’d lurk around that site under an assumed handle name.

“You met the Fiore Knights?” Levy’s brown eyes glistened with excitement. She could only imagine how it would have been to be surrounded by the men from Fiore Knights. Her high school fan-girl heart was leaping.

“Yeah. They were nice.”

It wasn’t the reaction Levy McGarden had in mind. She expected some squealing, high-fiving, excited shrilling: the full fan-girl experience!

“C’mon! Spill the deets, Juv.”

Talking to Juvia Lockser about her date was like talking to a brick wall. The woman wouldn’t budge an inch. Levy could not help but wonder when did her best friend get so secretive?

“We danced and had fun, Levy. That’s all.”

Poor Levy; Juvia wouldn’t give her the real thing. But Juvia wasn’t ready to throw it out to the universe, the real thing. She wasn’t even sure herself what last night meant. They went out, they had fun and they kissed. But that was all there was to it – just fun.

Juvia felt a knot in her stomach. For all she knew, she could just be another name in Gray’s list. That possibility stung a little. Did she want something more from him? Could she expect more from Gray? Juvia had no answer. But if there was something she was quite sure of, she didn’t want to be just some fun night for Gray.

Gray couldn’t sleep; he couldn’t sleep a wink. When he reached his uptown loft last night, he threw himself on the bed; heart leaping in joy. It has been awhile since he went on a date ‘date’ and not just some one-nighter with some stranger.

Gray tossed and turned in his bed and screamed into the pillow. His body simply cannot contain the excitement from tasting Juvia’s kiss.

“Should I text her?”

The man bolted up from his lying position and searched for his phone. Fishing it out from his pocket, Gray started typing something in his mobile. But for some reason, the confident Fiore Knights Captain became so unsure of himself and it made him delete and retype his message over and over again.

Suddenly, it hit him. It has been awhile since he went on an actual date and not just some hook-up with a meal plan. He forgot all about the SOP. Should he text her? Should he call? Should he just leave the woman alone?

It was easier for one-night stands. He just left them ‘thank you’ notes and never saw them again. That was it. He did not like any drama. With Juvia it was different. Gray wanted to see her everyday. He actually looked forward to every meeting and every practice. He missed her the moment they separate. Like how he missed her now.

“No. I should call her.”

Gray scrolled through his contacts and ended at Juvia’s name. Just as he was about to click ‘call’, the current circumstances registered to him. His eyes darted on the desk clock sitting on his nightstand; it read four.

“She’s probably asleep now.”

As much as he wanted to hear her voice again, Gray decided against calling at that ungodly hour. He settled on just staring at the photo of him and Juvia from the party earlier. Natsu sent it to him but not before some friendly teases and violent threats.

Gray remembered the moment immortalized in the paragraph. He had said something funny which earned a laugh from the ballerina. They looked so comfortable and so natural that Natsu called it cozy. Gray was looking at her, at Juvia who had her usually condescending eyes closed. Her nose crinkled too. Then his gaze fell on her lips and Gray remembered their kiss and how she tasted.

Oh, her taste. How much he missed it.

The following morning, Gray still had that foolish smile on his face. He looked for his phone first and pondered over sending Juvia a good morning text. He did, writing a short but sweet message. His heart hammered like crazy as he waited for Juvia’s reply. It almost jumped of his chest when not a minute later he received a reply from the ballerina.

He waited not long to continue the conversation but his typing was interrupted by a call. It was Briar.

“Oh, shhh*!” Gray cursed. He guessed he should save the texting for later.

Gray walked into the gymnasium like some kind of a hero or a punchline of a joke. It depended on how he would take the teasing from his team. But he was such in a good mood he didn’t even give a damn. He used that energy to wipe the floor with his Vice Captain’s face.

“Someone’s all fired up.” Natsu managed to say as he tried to catch his breath. He was the one guarding the Team Captain and was effortlessly side-stepped.

“Try to keep up, Old Fart.” Gray patted his Vice Captain at the back, mocking him with pretentious concern.

“Don’t be too smug.” Natsu yelled after him.

Gray only shrugged at him. Then he pointed at the scoreboard. 15 vs. 5. Team White, headed by Vice Captain Natsu, got some catching up to do.

“A man in love is invincible.” Loke, Fiore Knight’s Resident Playboy, proudly announced.

“Are you on my team or what? Just get to your position.” Natsu hissed.

“Geez. Who hurt you?” Loke thought his Vice Captain needed to get a girlfriend. And fast.

The practice match ended with Gray’s Black Team winning by a landslide. He rushed over to the bleachers and searched for his phone in his duffel. On bat, he opened the message from Juvia.

‘HAVE FUN. CAREFUL.’

The message said. It felt like Gray was back in High School exchanging texts with his first girlfriend. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He bit his towel to refrain from squealing.

‘YOU TOO. WILL BE THERE AFTER A FEW MORE ROUNDS.’

Gray texted back.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Ms. Lockser?”

Gray raised a bow at his nosy teammate.

“What? You went home together after the party, right?” Loke accused.

Gray could see the interest in Loke’s eyes. Knowing the playboy, he was waiting to hear from him since this morning.

“Well, you really want to know?”

The orange head bobbed in anticipation; his eyes sparkled with excitement. Gray’s adventures had always been exciting. Natsu, who stayed behind, just shook his head. He knew where the conversation was going.

“Come closer.” Gray invited, putting his arm around his small forward’s shoulder and pulled him close. He lowered his voice as if telling the man a secret.

“I drove her home.” Gray purposely talked slow, playing on his listener’s anticipation. He paused for reaction when Loke, so invested with the story, impatiently pressed him to continue.

“Then, we went to bed...” Gray hit the playboy at the back of his head. “Separately, you snoop.” He finished and the entire gym erupted in laughter.

“Geez, man. You got me excited for nothing.” Loke complained as he nursed the pain at the back of his head. He didn’t get mad at his Captain’s violence. If Loke had to ask himself, Mr. Playboy deserved it.

Natsu laughed at Loke’s misfortune. Knowing his best friend and Team Captain, he knew Gray would never kiss and tell. Sometimes, he did just to rub such fact in Loke’s face. They have some kind of stupid competition. Boys will be boys. Sometimes, he saved those details to himself. Especially when it came to a woman like Juvia.

The sound of the whistle yanked their heads back to the coach. Coach Macao called the team for another round. Gray asked for an extra minute. He wanted to send Juvia one last text before he finished practice.

‘CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU.’

He just hit send when he felt a sudden contact with a hard object. It bounced off his head.

“Hey!” His anger deflated quickly when he turned around and saw Briar glaring at him. Her hands were on her hips, eyes narrowed at him. Briar did not look happy.

“Get your head out of your pants and focus.”

Gray laughed it off like a bad joke. He knew he was in the wrong so he did not bother to cook up some excuse. Texting during practice was not professional of him.

“Yes, boss!” He gave Briar a salute as he jogged past his manager’s murderous look.

At the other end of the line, a certain blue-head choked on her bottle of water reading the last text Gray sent.

Gray shook his hands and his entire body. The excitement and the familiar feeling were threatening to escape his body. The cool down exercises were not enough.

A sharp breath escaped him. Gray needed to let it out. His heart was beating like crazy.

“C’mon, self. We’ve waited the whole day for this.” He prepped himself before pushing the twin door open.

Juvia’s beauty was magnet. Gray came upon that realization because the moment he entered Juvia’s studio, his eyes wandered over to where the ballerina was. From that moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Gray walked over to the reception desk where two blue-heads and a pink one gathered. He met Juvia’s eyes and he recognized the slight surprise in them. Gray smiled at her, the yearning feeling bringing his feet to where she was. He was glad when she walked around the desk and toward him.

Gray anticipated the friendly greeting, he wasn’t sure how Juvia would approach him. Would she give him a kiss? A hug? Either would not be so bad, Gray thought. They stopped in the middle, a few feet away from each other. Gray leaned in for a kiss but Juvia walked past him after saying, “get changed.”

That was it? No kiss or hug or anything? He was disappointed but the smile would not leave his lips. When he turned around he saw the show’s crew studying them.

“Ah, maybe, she’s shy.” He told himself. He would let it pass for now. They both need to focus.

When he returned after changing into his practice clothes, a few crew members asked for his autograph and took photos. Then the production director briefed Gray and Juvia on the scenes that they needed to film. Whenever he got the chance, Gray would strike up a conversation with Juvia. Every time, however, she found some reason to dodge him.

Gray had enough of it. So, when he pulled the evasive ballerina against him per their dance routine, Hoopster discreetly asked.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” Juvia answered point blank.

“Yes, yes you are.”

When he turned her around to face him, Gray saw Juvia inhale a breath. Her eyes landed on his lips. Then, she shook her head as if trying to shake away some thoughts. Gray was pleased. He knew she liked the kiss and, like him, she wanted more.

The next section of the routine brought Juvia to face the audience with her back leaning against Gray’s chest. Hoopster seized the contact and leaned in to whisper something to Juvia’s ears.

“I’m sure you remembered last night’s–”

What he was about to say next was cut-off by Juvia, placing a finger on his parted lips. She then traced a seductive trail from his lips down his chest before she ended the choreography. Gray was caught off-guard at how she turned the table on him. He froze on the spot; his body went haywire from the simple touch.

“That-that wasn’t in the original choreography.”

Gray announced which drew laughter from their audience.

“That’s going in the final cut.” He heard someone say.

It was little over eight in the evening when the production director called it a day. His crew members gathered all their expensive equipment and bade goodbye to the stars of the day – Juvia and Gray. Levy stayed behind and chatted a little about the live performance. In the next few days, Juvia and Gray would be performing in front of a live studio audience.

Mary was the last one to leave. Juvia felt a knot in her stomach when she realized that she was now all alone with Gray. Breathe in, breathe out, she ordered herself. She was going to face him whether she liked or not.

What was she so afraid of?

If Juvia was being honest, she was afraid that the kiss meant nothing to Gray. To her, there was something. That fear gripped at her heart. To Gray, she knew, she was easily replaceable. When she turned around, ready to face the music, Gray was already standing before her waiting for some sort of explanation.

“So, should we talk about last night?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

It was Juvia’s defense mechanism – managing expectations. In order to protect her feelings and to stop before she began to feel something she shouldn’t, Juvia masked her fear with indifference. She’d pull back before it was too late. Gray was the kind who jumped from one lover to another, Juvia wasn’t.

“Really? So can you please explain to me why you’re acting so distant all of a sudden?”

“What are you talking about? I’m my normal self.” Juvia defended, looking everywhere but at Gray.

She walked past him and pretended to arrange the stack of magazines on the counter. It was, at least, true. She was just back to the serious, no non-sense Juvia that she originally was.

“Then look at me.”

Juvia did as she was told, wanting to prove Gray wrong. The ballerina looked Gray in the eyes for a second but she couldn’t hold his gaze. Her eyes keep drifting away from his eyes and unto his lips. She caught herself drawn into his enticing lips.

Last night’s kiss flooded her memory and it awakened a longing she had been fighting all day. Juvia pulled away before she revealed more of herself. But before she could turn away from him completely, Gray caught her by the waist and ended both their agony.

Gray crashed his lips against hers. Juvia tried to pull back but he slid his hand behind and cupped her head, holding the helpless ballerina to him. She stopped fighting the voice at the back of her mind and surrendered to her feelings. Juvia kissed Gray back with the same fervor. His taste was as sweet and as heady as she remembered. Only this time, Gray wasn’t holding back and neither was she. Juvia softened into him and molded her body to fit his. She instinctively tried to get close to him as much as possible, unable to stand the idea of being apart. So did Gray. He held Juvia against him, afraid to lose her woman.

The kiss was the type she never had before: satisfying and hungry at the same time.

Juvia didn’t hear a knock but as soon as she heard her assistant’s voice, she pushed Gray with all her willpower.

The arrival of the sudden guest stunned the two and the panic of getting caught rotted the couple on the spot. Juvia wished Mary didn’t see anything or she wouldn’t be able to live it down.

“Mary! What brings you in here?” Juvia managed to ask as she tried to hide the red spread over her cheeks.

“I just forgot the papers you told me to study, Ms. Juvia.” Mary answered.

Mary threw the couple a suspicious look but Gray played it cool. While Juvia, Juvia was stuttering like a bad liar. If Mary didn’t know better, she’d think her boss was so eager to get rid of her with the way she was almost shoving the girl out the door.

Maybe, Juvia Lockser was eager to be left alone with Gray Fullbuster.

A sigh of relief escaped her lungs. Juvia’s legs almost gave out. She leaned against the twin doors after shutting them close, her back against the wood. She finally let out the breath she was holding. Next thing she knew Gray was right in front of her, just a breath away. She saw his intent and had only time for an indrawn breath when Gray pressed her against the door, his mouth was on hers. He was ready to pick up where they left off.

Writer’s Corner: Hi guys! I’ve uploaded the latest chapter per @justbeingtruemyself‘s request. Thank you for all your support especially @ship-ambrosia @thewritingstar @juviaesthetic. You guys make me feel special with all your comments. Hope you guys like this new chapter.

To all other Gruvians, let’s keep the fire burning. #GruviaForever

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #she's in your court #siyc #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia au

43 notes · View notes

westallenfun · 6 years

Text

A Twisted Christmas Carol, Chapter 2

Author Notes: For the amazing @backtothestart02 from @jade4813. I hope you don’t think I forgot that I owed you one! Merry Christmas to one of my favorite people in fandom. I hope you like it!

Title: A Twisted Christmas Carol

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: Nora wishes she could change the past. Iris longs to embrace every moment of the present. And Barry wonders about a future that yet may be. The Candlemaker shows them the lives they could have - all they have to do is make a wish. But not all wishes should be granted. Loosely inspired by The Christmas Carol.

Chapters: 2/5

Chapter 2 Nora’s Wish

The egregore smiled as he wrapped himself in the thoughts and memories of the mind in which he inhabited. A child of the future, lost in the past, desperately wanting to change history as yet unwritten. It would almost be too easy to lure her into his trap.

He saw what she wanted – the lives she wished her parents could share. Lives without heroism. Without loss. He could give her this. From the darkness in the back of her mind, he whispered. How easy it would be for him to wrap the threads of fate around his finger and tug gently. Change the past, and it would change the present. With nothing but a simple twist of fate, he could unwrite the future.

He would show Nora the life that could have been – that perhaps would have been, if only…

~~~

Iris groaned Linda came bounding through the door. “Hey!” her friend greeted her brightly. “You’re still in bed?”

Groaning, she threw her pillow over her head, trying to block out the rest of the world. “I was out late,” she muttered into its downy softness. “Awards show.”

“Oh, I know,” Linda replied, sounding entirely too smug. “Maybe I should say everybody knows you were at an awards show last night.”

Frowning into the pillowcase, Iris pondered her friend’s words. Actually, it was less her words and more her tone. She seemed entirely too self-satisfied, like she knew something Iris didn’t. Pushing aside the corner of the pillow, she threw her friend a suspicious glare. “What do you mean, everybody knows? Why did you say it like that?”

Flopping back onto the bed, she answered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she proclaimed. When Iris just continued to stare, she threw a wicked grin in her direction. “Unless you mean your interview. People can’t stop talking about it online.”

She froze, casting her mind back to memories of the night before. As was common with awards shows, Iris had faced a bevy of reporters from the moment she arrived at the venue. It had taken almost an hour just to get past the red carpet, as she was stopped every few seconds by paparazzi asking the same questions, time and time again. “What do you mean, the interview? I didn’t say anything interesting last night, did I?”

Lifting her eyebrows, Linda asked, “Didn’t you? If you say so.” Grabbing her phone, she pulled up a video and tilted the screen for Iris to see.

“Is there any actor you’d like to work with?” a reporter asked after getting Iris’s attention on the red carpet.

She laughed, brushing her hair back off her face. “I’d love to do anything with Barry Allen…Oh, God. You’re recording, aren’t you?”

“They really were recording?” Iris yelped, sitting bolt upright in bed. “The light wasn’t on! I hoped they didn’t catch that!”

Linda laughed. “Oh, they caught it, all right. You’re trending on Twitter this morning. People can’t stop talking about how cute you and Barry would be together.”

“I am? They are? Oh, my god.”

“Anyway, your personal humiliation is fun, but it’s not the only reason I’m here. Come on, sleepyhead. Get up. We have work to do.”

Iris groaned, throwing the pillow back over her face. “No. Never. I’m never getting out of bed. I’m too humiliated. Just let me die here.”

Linda snorted. Unperturbed by her friend’s dramatics, she replied, “All right, then I’ll just talk business with your corpse. I think I know which project you should do next.”

Tossing back her pillow again, Iris accepted that she wouldn’t be allowed to die in peace and sat up once more. “You know, you are my best friend. A little sympathy wouldn’t kill you,” she grumbled.

“I’m sympathetic!” At Iris’s skeptical look, she offered sheepishly, “My laughter is…totally…sympathetic!”

Rolling her eyes, Iris grabbed for the script Linda had placed on the mattress next to her. “Uh huh. So what is this project you think I should do?” Seeing the title, she lifted her eyebrows. “Lin, I thought we said I shouldn’t do any more romcoms for a while. I’m on the verge of being typecast as it is!”

Linda nodded, “I know, but you’re going to want to be in this one. You’ll be playing a woman who asks her friend to pretend to be a date at her ex-boyfriend’s wedding. But your character ends up going with his brother instead. And she doesn’t know it, but he’s had a crush on your character for years.”

Wrinkling her nose with a skeptical grimace, Iris started flipping through the script. “I don’t know, Lin. Doesn’t this just sound like every other romantic comedy? What’s so great about it?”

Linda threw her an innocent smile. “Well, did you happen to catch any late night talk shows after the show?” Rolling her eyes, Iris shook her head. “Then you’re going to want to watch this.”

As Iris stared at her, she pulled up a video on her phone and then turned the screen so that Iris could watch. “They taped last week sometime, but it wasn’t aired until last night.” Barry Allen was talking to a talk show host who was known for his boyish charm and the games he played with his guests.

Iris watched as a clip of the two of them playing a variation of Truth or Dare began to play. Linda had skipped through the first minute or so of the game, so Iris didn’t see how Barry ended up with egg in his hair, his pants drenched with water. But she watched as the final round began to play.

“So, you lost the last round. That means it’s time for a Truth Card,” the host – who wasn’t in any better shape than Barry – prompted. “You’re not nervous, are you?” he asked.

Barry laughed. “A little. I know what kinds of questions you’ve asked before.” But he gamely walked up to a giant board with envelopes pinned to it, chose one at random, and handed it to the host.

The host opened the envelope. “There are three questions on this card, and you have five seconds to answer them. First question: Your celebrity crush?”

“Iris West,” he replied, blushing red.

The host’s next words were drowned out by Iris’s gasp, and Linda paused the video. With a huge grin, she rewound a few seconds and hit play again.

“-stion: Your celebrity crush?”

“Iris West.”

“Aw, look. He’s so adorable. He’s blushing when he says your name and everything! Now do you see why everyone is talking about you guys today?” Iris was still staring at the paused screen, unable to believe it. Barry Allen had a crush on her? The way he’d blushed when he’d admitted it, too! She just wanted to bask in this moment.

But Linda continued, “The fact that your slip and this interview aired on the same night? No wonder the Internet is losing it. And not just them. Apparently, the director of this movie already thought the two of you would be perfect for his picture. Last night just sealed the deal for him; he’s determined to capitalize on all this buzz and cast Iris West and Barry Allen opposite each other in their first romantic movie together.”

“I see,” Iris mused, giving the script a considering look. “Well, if he’s that determined to cast me, I’d hate to let him down.”

With a sly smile, Linda remarked, “You know, I thought you might say that.”

A couple of months later, Iris was trying to project an air of confidence as she walked towards the set. This was it; the first day of filming. It was also the day she was going to meet her costar for the first time. A chemistry test had been scheduled for a few weeks before, but problems on another project forced the director and producers to cancel at the last minute. Known for his preference for ad-libbing and changing things on the fly, the director had then decided that he wanted to capture their first scenes together as strangers, hoping it would add something to the shoot. Iris just hoped she actually would have chemistry with Barry and that it would shine through.

Well, that and she hoped he wasn’t a huge jerk. She’d had a little crush on him, herself, ever since she’d seen him in his breakthrough role as the prince in the modern fairytale Glass Slippers. Though she’d die before she admitted as much to him. Still, in her business, she knew it wasn’t unusual to admire someone from afar, only to find out they were an arrogant narcissist behind the scenes. It would break her heart if she found out Barry Allen was the same.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Barry’s assistant, Gretchen, until she was almost upon her. “Hey,” the other woman greeted her warmly. “Um, I was just looking for you. The director wants to do something different this morning. He wants to start with the ad-lib shoot.”

Though Iris hadn’t worked with the director before, he was known for having a very particular style. He liked to shoot each scene two to three times. The first time, he would always shoot the scene word-for-word according to the script. His actors were not allowed to deviate from the page at all. The second take, he would incorporate his own changes to the script – tweaking lines he didn’t think worked the first time, for example. But he would also always do a third take, in which he asked the actors to ad-lib and have fun with it. To play through the scene as they saw fit. He would then choose the take that he liked best for the final cut.

It was unusual that he would choose to do the ad-lib first, but Iris suspected she understood what was behind it. “I take it we’re not supposed to meet before we start?” He had said he wanted to capture the genuineness of their response to each other.

Gretchen nodded. “You got it,” she said with a small chuckle. “But the thing is, Barry has a thought for something he wants to try for the scene. He wanted me to make sure it would be okay with you first, though.” With a shrug, she explained, “He won’t tell me what it is, but he said it pushes the envelope.”

Surprised and intrigued, she shrugged. “Tell him I said to go for it. I’m curious to know what he has in mind.”

An hour later, Barry sucked in a deep breath as the director called places. It was the scene in which Iris’s character was to show up at her friend’s apartment to pick him up for the wedding only to find that he had left town, claiming an emergency. Upon finding that he’d been asked to join her instead, the two were supposed to argue in the living room until, realizing she had no other choice, Iris’s character begrudgingly agreed to let him join her.

For this take, however, Barry had something else in mind. He’d come up with the idea when he remembered that his character was supposed to be in love with her, though she was oblivious to that fact. He was certainly nervous enough to pull it off. But this being their first meeting in real life, he could only hope that he didn’t completely alienate her.

The director called for action, and he hid behind the corner as he heard Iris enter the set. She called out his character’s brother’s name – Travis. After waiting another second, he strolled nonchalantly around the corner onto the set. Though his smile was a little nervous at first, it became more genuine when he saw her for the first time. It transformed into a wide grin when she turned and saw him for the first time.

Oh my god. Iris turned and caught sight of Barry for the first time, and those three words were the last coherent thought she would have for several seconds. Her higher mental function seemed to abandon her completely as soon as she realized three distinct things: First, he was dressed in nothing but a pair of blue jeans, which hung intriguingly low on his hips. Second, his chest was beaded with droplets of water, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. And third, Barry Allen was even more gorgeous in person than he was on screen.

“Hey, beautiful. Good to see you again,” he greeted her with a sexy grin.

His greeting finally kicked her mind back into gear, reminding her that she was a professional, damn it. “Oh, god!” she blurted, trying and failing to tear her eyes away from his chest (seriously, she was dying to know his workout routine – for as lean as he was, he had amazing abs). “What are you doing shirtless? I mean here?” she babbled, wishing she could get a hold of herself. It was a good thing her character was supposed to be surprised and a little discomfited by him, or this would be downright humiliating.

“Travis is my brother, remember? And this is his place…”

“Yes, of course I know that,” she interrupted him. “But where is he? He’s supposed to be my date to this wedding…?”

He shrugged. “He said he had some sort of emergency. Something to do with work. I was in town visiting anyway, so he asked me to take his place.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I can’t – you can’t be my date. You’re not…you’re not even dressed.”

Barry laughed and looked down, as though realizing his lack of shirt for the first time. “I do have clothes, you know.”

Remembering that their characters were supposed to be at odds at first, she snapped, “Well, then, can you go put them on?” as she turned to walk away. However, she was so rattled that she’d forgotten the placement of furniture on the set and banged against the island separating the living room from the kitchen.

“Why?” he asked, his voice all innocence. “Does this bother you?”

She snorted and kept her face averted to hide her blush as she darted around the island, trying to put some distance between them. “No, of course not,” she lied. “It’s just that this isn’t going to work, you know. Nobody will believe we’re dating. We’ve argued every time we’ve spent more than five minutes together. We don’t even like each other!”

As she’d known he would, Barry followed. She could feel him behind her, and when he stepped close to her, Iris turned and caught her breath. She was captivated by the flecks of gold in his eyes, and she had to clutch the edge of the island behind her to stop herself from reaching out to see if he felt as good as he looked. With that smile that had captured her heart the first time she’d seen it on screen, he leaned down and murmured, “Well, I hate to tell you this, but beautiful, it’s too late. Travis left hours ago. If you’re determined to take a date to this wedding to show up Billy the Weasel, it’s me or nothing.”

Then, reaching out, he gently captured a lock of hair, sliding it between two fingers. “So how about it? Still want a date to this thing? I can pretend to be desperately in love with you if you can.”

Iris’s eyes fell to his lips, and she felt herself lean almost imperceptibly towards him as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Before she could forget herself (and a good fifty pages of script) and give in to temptation, the director yelled cut.

She startled, and Barry jumped away from her, his smile turning sheepish and a little shy. Iris looked to the cameras and crew to find that everyone had stopped what they were doing and were just staring at them. More than one mouth was even agape. “Um…was that okay?” she asked as she straightened, pretending it had all been an act.

The director stared at the two of them, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Are you kidding? Honey, that was magic.”

“Hey,” he greeted her with a warm smile when she joined him at the craft table between takes. “Listen. About this morning. I hope I didn’t go too far?” He had to force himself to tear his gaze away from her face; it was hard to believe that she could be even more beautiful in person than she was on his screen. It was enough to take his breath away. If he wasn’t careful, he was afraid he’d make a fool of himself.

She grinned up at him, seemingly not noticing his response to her. “No, it was great,” she acknowledged. “But just so you know, I’ll be getting you back for that one of these days.” He laughed and pretended to occupy himself with picking out the perfect muffin as he wracked his brain for something to say. He wanted to keep talking to her, to get to know her better, but she made him feel nervous and tongue-tied.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Iris added some cream and sugar to her cup of coffee. To forestall her walking away, he blurted, “So, um…” But no further words came to mind, so his attempt at conversation faded into nothingness.

But when Iris turned to face him, he could see the blush staining her cheeks. “So, listen. You didn’t – uh – you didn’t see my interview, did you?”

He didn’t have to ask which interview, and he’d only watched it a dozen times or so. But he threw her a sheepish grin. “Not if you didn’t see mine.”

Iris laughed; it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “It’s a deal. Anyway, it’s all so silly, when you think about it. Imagine being nervous about…I mean, it was a joke, right? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, right,” he agreed a shade too quickly, unsure if she meant his interview or her own. “Definitely.”

But before their conversation could continue, they were called back to set.

The next morning, when Iris came to set, she found Barry there waiting for her. He was holding two cups of coffee, and he held one out to her. “Five am shoots. Gotta love ‘em, right?” he joked as they headed to their places.

Iris groaned as she took a giant swig of her drink. It would take several more minutes for her brain to wake up enough to realize that he’d made it just the way she liked it.

Handsome, sexy, and conscientious of the people around him? Iris really was in trouble.

“So, you’ve got a thing for my daughter, huh?”

Barry spun around to see Iris’s dad in the doorway of his trailer. They had never officially met, but he’d seen the older man on set several times before. “What?” he breathed.

Joe chuckled. “It’s pretty obvious,” he pointed out. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Well, s-sure,” he stammered. “I mean, we’re acting, right? That’s what we do. We act.”

Throwing him a level look, Iris’s dad pointed out, “Son, nobody is that good of an actor. Not even her.”

“Wait, what? It’s that obvious? I mean, you think I – that she – are you saying she –” Joe just chuckled and shook his head as he walked away.

“All right, places, please! Places!”

Iris and Barry put aside the script pages they had been studying for the next day’s shoot and headed for the set. We’re ad-libbing this one, right?” Barry asked as they fell into step next to each other.

Iris nodded. “Yeah. Actually, I have an idea for what to do this time. You okay with going with me on this one?” It was an early scene in the film. Their characters had just checked in at the bed and breakfast with the rest of the wedding party, and they were awkwardly trying to get used to their pretend relationship. The scene in the script was sweet, a little touching, and a little humorous but Iris felt like there was something missing.

Without a second’s hesitation, Barry nodded. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

They took a moment to establish where they wanted to start the scene, and then they took their places as the cameras began to roll. “All right, so, if we’re going to pretend to be in a relationship, we should get our stories straight. How did we meet?” she asked as they busied themselves by unpacking.

“Why not stick to the truth? I’m your friend’s brother, and we first met a couple years ago when I came into town for a visit. We’ve seen each other a few times since, and recently, we realized there was something more between us.”

She nodded. “I suppose that works. So you asked me out, and –”

He grinned over at her. “Oh, no. You definitely asked me out.”

Pausing in her task, she turned on him with an indignant look. “What? No! Why would I ask you out? If anyone is going to believe we’re together at all, they’ll only believe you asked me out first.” Throwing him a smug smile, she added, “In fact, I made you work for it.”

He snorted, dropping his clothes on the bed and scooting around the side to stand in front of her. “Look at me. You know you can’t get enough of this. You asked me out.”

His grin made it clear he was teasing, but Iris refused to give ground. Smiling up at him sweetly, she shot back, “You asked me out. I finally accepted. Mostly out of pity.”

He laughed and bent down until their faces were only an inch part. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think –”

He was so close; he couldn’t have set up the moment any better if he’d known what she was going to do. “I think we should kiss,” she blurted.

Even though he knew this was all an act – they were filming, after all, Barry still jumped at her suggestion. He took a hasty step backwards, bumping into the bed he’d forgotten was there, and had to recover his balance before he could continue. “Wh-what?” he responded, his shock and confusion genuine. “I mean…now? Here? Now? Why?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she cocked her head to the side and tried not to laugh at his reaction. “Because of what just happened. We’re supposed to be in love, after all. How are we going to pull off the charade when the time comes if you act like the thought of kissing me had never crossed your mind before?”

Oh, it had crossed his mind. Several times. But his character wouldn’t tell her that at this part of the story, and he certainly wasn’t going to admit to it, either. Iris seemed to be enjoying letting her character have the upper hand for the moment, because she stepped close to him and slid her hand down the line of buttons on his shirt. “What’s the matter? You’re not going to chicken out on our agreement, are you?”

Before he could second-guess himself, Barry turned and grabbed her around the waist. Iris had put her purse on a small side table in front of the window, but it fell to the ground when he walked her backwards until she bumped up against its edge. Almost belatedly, he remembered not to block the view of the camera as he lifted her easily and rested her on the table’s edge. However, all thoughts of work fled from his mind when he heard her catch her breath as he stepped between her legs and pulled her in close.

“No,” he growled, giving himself over to the assertiveness in his character that he would never dare risk in real life. “But if this is going to be our first kiss, I want to make it memorable. That way, if you’re ever asked about this moment, you’ll have a story that’s worth telling.”

Perched on the table, she was taller than him, so she rested her hand on the cheek that was away from the camera. Then, tilting her head so her hair would form a curtain to frame the moment, Iris bent and pulled him in for a kiss.

Barry lost himself in the moment and the feel of her lips against his. He was so wrapped up in the taste of her kiss that he almost didn’t hear the director yelling cut. At the sound of his voice, however, Iris broke off the kiss, but she didn’t pull away right away. In fact, they didn’t break apart until the director cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, you guys…we’re done with the scene, you know. You don’t have to keep staring at each other like that.”

Before Barry could step back, Iris grinned at him and whispered, “Got you back.”

“Oh my god. I thought this morning’s shoot would never end. I can’t wait to get back into my own clothes. I just want to go home and crash,” Iris moaned, rubbing her neck with one hand. When she saw Barry’s face fall, she dropped her hand and asked, “What? Did you have something else in mind?”

Running a hand through his hair, he suggested, “I thought we could grab a cup of coffee together. Maybe do some Christmas shopping? I haven’t had a chance to go yet, and I thought maybe we could…”

Her exhaustion melting away, Iris straightened. “You know what? That’s a great idea. Give me ten minutes; let me get changed and we can go.”

When she returned several minutes later, Barry was already there, waiting for her. Smiling, she looped her arm in his and headed to the car. “So, Barry Allen. Where to first?” she asked.

“First we get that cup of coffee. I know just the spot,” he said, pulling into traffic.

But things didn’t go as planned. Everywhere they went, they drew attention to themselves. People whispered when they spotted them together at the coffee house. Others openly gawked when they ducked into a store to do some shopping.

“You know, you would think I’d have gotten used to this by now. Never a private moment, huh?” Barry asked wryly.

“It’s all right,” she mused, linking her fingers in his. “Let them stare. At least we’re together.”

“Hey, you two! Come over here! There’s someone I want you to meet!” Filming had just wrapped through the end of the year, and Iris and Barry were attending a Christmas party at the producer’s house. Forcing smiles, they headed towards where the producer was talking to a beautiful blonde in a red dress.

“Iris, Barry. This is Cheryl. I’ve been telling her about your new project. She’s eager to do a piece on the two of you. I think it’ll make good press. Make sure to carve out a few minutes to give her an interview in the new year, okay?”

From the producer of their film, it wasn’t a request. Barry and Iris dutifully nodded and exchanged greetings as he walked away. Before they could make excuses and escape, however, Cheryl fell into step next to them and asked, “So, everyone’s been saying the two of you have incredible chemistry. Where does that come from, do you think?”

They exchanged a glance, bother blushing as they chuckled nervously. “Oh, you know. We just…I guess it comes from just being really good friends. I feel like I’ve known Iris forever,” he offered.

“So what do you –” Cheryl began, but her question was interrupted by a party guest’s shout.

“Hey, guys! Look! You’re standing under mistletoe!” Iris looked up to find they’d wandered under the mistletoe hung in the doorway.

Giving them both a sly smile, Cheryl pointed out, “You know what that means, don’t you? Come on; it’s tradition.”

“Oh, ah…” Barry stammered. “Th-that’s not…I mean, we don’t have to –”

“Don’t be silly,” Iris murmured, throwing her arms around his neck. “It’s Christmas.” Drawing him toward her, she ignored the cheers of the crowd. In fact, she forgot about everyone around them as she drew him in for a kiss, tilting her head back and leaning into the warmth of his body.

When they finally broke apart, she shivered at the caress of his warm breath against her cheek. “Barry, there’s something I should tell you,” she whispered, pulling him aside. “I –” But standing close to him like this, lost in his green eyes and the warmth of his smile, she lost her nerve. “I just…do you ever…I wish we could have met each other sooner. We could have spent our entire lives together.”

He smiled down at her. “You know, we still can.”

~~~

This could be their lives, the voice in her mind promised as Nora watched her parents fall in love all over again. Like something out of a movie. No fear. No pain. No Flash. All you have to do is make a wish, and this can be theirs.

But Nora remembered her mother’s words in the dream – “I wish we could have met each other sooner. We could have spent our entire lives together.” She thought about how her parents’ faces lit up every time they talked about the lives they’d shared together. As hectic, terrifying, and incredible as their life together could be, Nora knew without a doubt they’d never trade it for anything.

Nora wished they never had to face potentially losing each other, but she couldn’t take away the memories of the life they had built together. With only a tiny stab of regret, she responded to the voice whispering in her mind.

No.

#the flash #westallen secret santa #westallen #barry allen #iris westallen #iris west #jade4813 #fanfiction #the flash fanfiction

19 notes · View notes