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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)

Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.

WC: 5.1k

Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)

A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!

“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.

Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”

“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.

Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”

“Dad, I-”

“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life.

You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match.

As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?

“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”

Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”

Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.

“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears.

You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”

Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat.

Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”

“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”

“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head.

“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”

You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.

Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed.

The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.

Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses.

You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department. you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!

The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!

So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body.

His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head.

“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson.

You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second.

They did this on purpose.

Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”

You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body.

“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.

“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”

“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.” Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm.

The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him.

A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you.

“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest.

“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks.

You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”

“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh.

The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes.

“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.

You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.

Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”

“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog.

“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”

“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”

Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”

You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”

Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.

Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”

The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”

“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.

“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style.

You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name.

He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.

“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.

You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.

“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball.

It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.

“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”

“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen. He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.

“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.” He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.

“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.” You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”

You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”

He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.” You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.” Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.

The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.”

He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”

Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”

Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.

The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.

The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.

You timed it perfectly.

The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.” Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.

The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.

He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.

A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.

“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.

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tmp-jatp · 3 years

Text

Guys I just wrote my first fic.

I mean, I’ve written fics before, but never finished them. But I was struck by inspiration and I’ve been trying harder to write while the muse is there because you never know when she’ll leave and not come back. I’m so excited to share this with you.

You can read it on AO3 here (2479 words btw) or read it below. I’d love it if you checked it out :)

It was safe to say that Luke’s mind was near constantly full to the brim with music. As a songwriter, it was one of his favorite parts of himself. He had notebooks galore, all chock-full of half-written verses and melodies he hummed once in the shower and chord progressions he’d heard in a dream.

Usually, once he freed them from his mind via his pen, they were gone, saved in ink on the page. He would come back to them, to draw inspiration, to weave pieces together, to fashion them into full-fledged songs eventually.

There was always the one song that stuck around, though. It would never leave him, no matter how hard he tried.

He would hear pieces bouncing around between his ears. Sometimes it was a drum beat. Sometimes he heard snippets of words. Sometimes it was two voices, his and another always unrecognizable one, blending more beautifully than he would’ve thought possible as their two sounds danced together.

The Song had always been there, since before Luke could remember. At first there wasn’t much, just three notes that repeated over and over. One day, five more came to accompany them. As he had grown older, he’d learned what The Song meant.

Luke’s parents loved to sing their Song to one another, or they would sing it by themselves when they were alone to feel the other’s presence with them. It was a beautiful sound, and Luke loved hearing it. He asked his mom to sing their Song to him each night before bed for far more years than he would ever admit to Alex, Reggie, or Bobby.

When Luke tried to sing his parents’ Song, either by himself or with them, he’d found he never could. Even though he’d heard it a million times, his mind couldn’t recreate any part of it.

Luke would get frustrated and pout, but his mom would kneel down and smile at him.

“That’s because it isn’t your Song,” she’d told him. “Your father and I get to share this with each other and with other people, and it’s something that’s just ours. You have your own Song, and it’s just yours. One day you’ll find the person you get to share it with.”

Luke knew from middle school that he wanted to be a musician. He’d always been crafting songs, even while his own Song taunted him in its incompleteness.

When he’d gotten his first guitar for Christmas in seventh grade, another gift had come with it: more of The Song. He didn’t know which gift he valued more.

Luke learned how to play chords and arpeggios. He learned techniques while his hands learned the dexterity they needed. He developed muscle memory and honed an ability for transcribing music from his ears to his fingers.

The more he learned, the more his mind seemed to go wild with ideas at possibilities for songs. He started collecting notebooks. He always had one near or on his person with a pen also within reach. They filled haphazardly at the whims of Luke’s imagination.

Luke would play his ideas on his guitar and let them drift through his bedroom. They’d grow on their own and become more. It never felt like Luke was writing them, they just came to him.

His parents called it a gift.

When he wasn’t playing his songs, Luke was playing his Song. It burned into his mind. When he didn’t know where to go next with a piece, his fingers would always bring him back home.

The four boys started a band together. They met in Bobby’s garage and played their hearts out. Luke collected stray ideas all together to form and fill in coherent songs that they would play.

They sounded good.

The boys all knew about each other’s Songs by then. Reggie’s had a country twang to it that drove Luke crazy. He liked to play his Song’s chord progressions on his bass, but he was learning the banjo too to help him fill out the sound in his head. Alex was always humming his between reps and during set up and tear down, lost in his own world. It was soft and sweet, like a lullaby. When he got anxious, he would tap out rhythms and vocalize melodies to help calm himself down. Bobby’s Song was energetic and exciting, a sharp contrast to his shy self. He liked to play it on his electric before practices started and would always be finishing up just as the boys came into the garage, so they never heard much more than that which would seep out into the backyard.

None of them ever tried to replicate each other’s Songs. Songs were personal, they were intimate. Anyway, it wasn’t like they could recreate them, even if they tried.

Luke tried one night to transpose his Song to paper, but it never worked. His pen would hover above the sheet but never write anything at all. He tried to get something, anything, even just a word down, but it wouldn’t come out, determined to stay only inside his head. That was what Songs did.

They named their band Sunset Curve and started playing gigs. Other people liked their music, too.

Bobby became less shy when he was on stage, drawing energy from his Song to create a confidence that he would wear. Alex let out his anxiety on the drumset in a different way than how his Song would relieve his anxiety but which ended up helping just the same. Reggie wrote more country music in his free time. Sunset Curve never played it.

Luke grew older. His voice deepened and matured. One afternoon in the middle of practice, he stopped playing. The other three petered out once they noticed.

“Luke?” Alex asked from behind the set. “You okay?”

There was a voice singing his Song now. His voice was singing his Song.

“Yeah,” Luke smiled and assured. He didn’t explain what happened.

But after practice, he was humming again, a tune which complimented what they’d heard him play before. Reggie, Bobby, and Alex shared a grin while Luke wasn’t looking.

All four of them were in the music program at their high school. There were a lot of talented students in their class.

In junior year, there were a bunch of new freshmen who came up into the class. They showed a lot of promise. Sunset Curve became friends with a group of four of the freshmen. Their groups meshed well as eight, but they also all found a complement within themselves. Alex and Carrie liked to dance together. Reggie and Flynn explored new music genres and played pranks on the other six. Bobby and Nick became study partners. And Luke? Luke had Julie.

She was...well, she was Julie. She wasn’t afraid to be herself and wore it proudly, with her butterfly hair clips and dozen friendship bracelets and doodled shoes.

Reggie suggested that their group of eight should have a name. Flynn was unamused by Bobby’s suggestion of “Octuple Trouble”.

Luke wondered what the four freshmen’s Songs sounded like. He never asked. Songs were intimate, and lots of people were shy about other people hearing them. Songs revealed the deepest parts of your soul.

Luke knew that his soul was pure music and music alone.

Besides his parents and his brothers, no one ever heard Luke’s Song. No one else needed to hear his Song. It was his.

Julie, Carrie, and Flynn showed the boys how to make friendship bracelets. They explained how you made them for each other and then tied it on each other’s wrists so they would never come off as long as the friendship would last. Luke thought he would be embarrassed by wearing friendship bracelets and how it would clash with his style of jean chains and cutoff tees and metal rings, but somehow he wasn’t. They all eight hung out at Carrie’s house and tied bracelets for hours that night, with Star Wars playing in the background on the TV at Reggie and Nick’s requests. By the time they were finished, beads were in mis-matched piles on the ottomans and slivers of tape and string sprinkled the floor. It was one of the best nights of their lives.

Luke wore his bracelets proudly. They were dorky, but they were so them and Luke loved them. He had a purple and blue knotted pattern from Julie, and an orange and green one with beads that read B-I-C-E-P-S---M-C-G-E-E from Flynn.

Carrie made Alex something pink that Luke never saw closely. They’d spent the whole evening with her teaching him some fancy pattern of knots that would make a picture, so theirs matched one another’s.

Luke didn’t see what Bobby, Nick, or Reggie had made or for whom. He’d been too focused on his bracelet for Julie. He tried to channel all of his love for the friendship he’d found with her and with all eight of them into the strings, but his fingers that normally were so dextrous and able on the guitar couldn’t hold the strands with the right tension and it ended up a mess.

She loved it and wore it anyway.

Luke eventually had one bracelet from each person in Octuple Trouble and had given one to each person in turn.

Luke’s Song still plagued his mind day-in and day-out. Every day it felt it was more complete. He heard it all the way through now, but even still it wasn’t complete. There was always his guitar playing, but there was another instrument dueting his. Luke knew what the instrument was in his heart but he couldn’t name it when he tried. It was just...there. A sound that he knew better than any other but it was also different than anything he’d ever heard before. He heard his voice singing all the words, and he heard another voice, too, but it belonged to nobody. The other voice was the biggest mystery to him. It made him feel like he was home but like he didn’t know where home was.

A few months into junior year, Julie changed. She became more reserved and stopped playing in music class. Luke knew why. He didn’t know how he could help, though. He tried to just be there, and to make sure she knew he always would be.

Sunset Curve was gaining a reputation and playing more and more gigs.

Carrie started her own group, Dirty Candi. At some point she cut off all of her bracelets. Alex still went to all of their performances to support her.

Julie and Flynn stayed closer than ever before, but the rest of them...drifted.

A part of Luke fractured alongside their group. He was pretty sure a part of each of the rest of them did, too.

Senior year started and the eight of them felt practically like strangers once more. They were still all in music class, but it was different. It had been different for a long time. Nick and Bobby didn’t study together anymore. Alex and Carrie still hung out, but Reggie and Flynn hadn’t pranked anyone since November. Luke missed Julie.

Alex came to practice late one afternoon in September with wonder in his eyes and voice about a skateboarder he’d met.

“Well, he sort of ran into me...literally, and we both fell down. And I scraped up my hands pretty bad on the concrete trying to catch myself-” Alex showed them the bandaged heels of his palms “- and it stung, like, really bad. You know how I have that nervous habit where I hum my Song when I’m anxious? Yeah, okay, so I started to do that while he apologized and grabbed band-aids out of his pocket - I don’t know why he had band-aids, Reggie, probably because he gets scrapes pretty often too. But so I was humming my Song, and he started humming it too.”

Luke wondered what it felt like to hear your other half complete you.

A year after Julie changed back in junior year, she changed again. She came back. She played in class again and Luke was once again in awe of the power packed into this sophomore. He’d forgotten just how amazing she was. He didn’t know what had triggered this return, but he didn’t care. She was back.

Three weeks later, Luke was looking for Mrs. Harrison. He needed her to sign some form for him for his guidance counselor, something about graduation requirements. Luke hadn’t been paying attention.

He had his hand on the handle to the music room and was about to twist it open before he heard a sound from inside.

Three notes, repeated. Five notes. The whole sequence repeated once more.

Any thoughts of forms fell from his mind. Luke opened the door with a fervor he’d never experienced before. He rushed into the room but only made it two steps in before his shoes squeaked to a halt on the wooden floor.

Luke locked eyes with Julie. She sat behind the piano, in a black dress he’d never seen before.

The paper in his hand fluttered to the floor. Wordlessly, Luke crossed the room and picked up Mrs. Harrison’s acoustic guitar. He slipped the strap over his neck and faltered. What if he was wrong?

He took a deep breath and pushed his doubts down.

Luke turned around and saw Julie, who was watching him with a concerned curiosity.

No turning back. No regrets.

Luke’s hands started playing the first song he’d ever played. The song he’d played a billion times. It was etched into his dreams and it framed his every thought. Luke played his Song.

Julie’s eyes widened in recognition and her jaw dropped open.

Luke started singing and that seemed to spring Julie out of her stupor. Her fingers started moving across the keys in chords that accompanied his plucking.

She picked up the verse where he left off and Luke was hearing The Song for the first time. The other instrument that melded with his was the piano underneath Julie’s fingers. The other voice was hers.

Luke could see it in her eyes. She felt it, too.

Home.

It was exhilarating.

They filled the music room with their Song - no longer his, it was theirs - but the entire world was just them two. Nothing else existed but their music together.

Luke walked around the side of the piano while he played so he could be closer to Julie. He saw his god-awful friendship bracelet on her wrist while she played and smiled at the part of her that he carried on his, too.

That wasn’t the only part of her he’d been carrying, he realized.

Their Song.

Wow.

The two of them drew to a close, out of breath with amazement.

We create

A perfect harmony

They locked eyes. They were home.

@pink-flame @thedeathdeelers surprise you’re on my taglist

#i wrote a thing #i'm really proud of this one #soulmate au #it's fluffy #yay #juke #jatp fic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fluff #mine #my writing #octuple trouble

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perpetualoverthinker · 4 years

Text

New In Town (JJ x Reader)

(not my gif!)

Summary: It’s junior year on the Outer Banks and a new face shows up in town, catching the attention of a particular blunt rolling surfer...

Warnings: underage drinking, swearing, weed

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Sooo I’m not really sure what this is...I just had a really strong urge to write something and so I just wrote whatever came to mind (aka Outer Banks because that’s all I can think about rn lol). Most of this first part is exposition (I’m sorry!!) but hopefully things will spice up in the next chapter, even though I plan on making this a slow burn. Also, I’m not sure how often I’ll update this story, but for now I plan on continuing to write it! This is my first time writing fanfic, so please go easy on me lol. I love getting feedback on the things I write, so don’t hesitate to leave some (or write anything you’d like to see in following chapters)!

When your dad told you he was uprooting the whole family away from the city and down to the Outer Banks, you felt your heart drop. The thought of leaving New York, the only home you had ever known, and moving down south filled you with dread. How were you supposed to adjust? You wouldn’t see your friends, you would be leaving the high school you knew so well, and you didn’t even like the beach that much. You had nothing to look forward to in North Carolina.

Your dad had told you and your sisters that it would be a fresh start. He said that he had some friends down there and that this was your chance to begin anew. After your mom had died, your father had felt there were too many memories in New York. Too many fresh wounds. You felt differently, of course, and fought him on it. Sometimes it felt like you were winning the argument and other times it felt like you had no chance. Ultimately, you lost.

The summer before junior year was coming to an end as the car pulled up into your new driveway. The house was fancy and absurdly big for your four-person family. It perfectly blended in with the large, luxurious houses scattered throughout the neighborhood. You laughed at the gaudiness of it all. You quickly jumped out of the car and waited with your sisters as the moving truck slowly parked along the curb.

“Girls, help me with the boxes while I unlock the door, will you?” your dad shouted as he headed for the front door.

You made your way to the truck and started heaving boxes towards the house, your sisters trailing behind you, lugging whatever they could. You made sure you picked up the boxes labeled “y/n’s room” first. All you wanted was to escape to your room and wallow. As you were about to step inside the house, you noticed a girl about your age running up your driveway. Dressed in a floral summer dress, long blonde hair flowing behind her, she shouted, “Hey!” You watched her wearily as you dropped the boxes at your feet.

“You’re the new neighbors, right?”

“We indeed are!” your dad exclaimed as he came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m Sarah,” she said as she extended her hand out to your dad, “I live just around here and thought I should introduce myself.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” He shook her hand, smiling. “We’re the y/l/ns. This is Nicky and Jo.” he said while gesturing to the two little girls (who were already getting bored of the conversation) sitting cross-legged on the ground, picking at the grass. “And this is y/n.” He shook your shoulders gently as you smiled awkwardly at the pretty girl.

“So, do you go to Kildare High School?”

“Ah, no. I go to the private school around here. But I have some friends who go to the public school.”

“Maybe you could introduce them to y/n!” You wished your father would stop talking sometimes. “Well, I should start hauling those boxes in. y/n, just bring up your boxes when you’re done.” He kissed you on the side of the head, waved at Sarah, and walked back inside, Nicky and Jo scampering behind him.

“I should probably head back,” Sarah pointed her thumb back and started to walk away but stopped midway. “Hey, um, I don’t know what you’re doing later tonight, but my friends are having an end-of-summer party down at the boneyard if you want to come?”

“Boneyard?”

“Oh, it’s just a beach. You’re welcome to come, though. Get to know some people on the island. It’s around 10.”

“Sure, I guess. I’ll see you then…”

“Great! I’ll meet you back here!” At that, she turned around and walked back down the driveway.

• • •

Soon enough, 10 o’clock came around and you were standing outside your front door. You weren’t sure what you were doing. The girl seemed nice enough, but how badly did you really want to make friends on an island you wished you weren’t on?

“Hey! You ready to go?” Once again, Sarah came jogging up your driveway and held up a six-pack of beer.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

As you strolled along the road headed towards the beach, you admired the environment surrounding you. Being in the city your whole life, you weren’t used to seeing mass amounts of trees or hearing crickets chirp through the night. The steady hum of the night seemed to ease some of your tension. You took a moment to close your eyes and take it in while you walked. The girl beside you glanced over at you and smiled.

“I think that’s the most I’ve seen you relax. Earlier today, it looked like you couldn’t wait to run away from me,” she chuckled.

“Sorry about that. Let’s just say moving wasn’t my idea.”

“So why did you move?”

You felt your throat go a little dry. “Um, my mom passed away about eight months ago.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“So my dad thought it would be a good idea to move here and get a new start. Me on the other hand, I thought we should’ve just stayed in New York.”

“Well, you’ve already made your first friend.” She smiled at you and kept holding your hand as you stumbled down to the beach.

Right away, you noticed an unusual split between partygoers. Scattered on one side of the beach stood people dressed in pastel polos, khaki shorts, boat shoes and designer bathing suits. On the other side, people were dressed in less expensive and more casual clothes.

A group of kids surrounding a beer keg looked over towards you and Sarah and started waving at the girl next to you. Sarah tugged you along towards the group. Letting go of your hand, she went to hug each kid. You suddenly felt out of place with the absence of your new friend’s hand.

Within the little huddle stood three boys and a girl. Sarah had gone up and kissed the brunette boy wearing a bandana around his neck and a button up shirt (in which the buttons seemed highly unnecessary, for he nearly had all of them unbuttoned). Stood beside him was a darker skinned boy wearing a snapback. He had his arms around the two other members of the group while he laughed along to whatever Sarah was saying at the moment. The girl had dark curly hair and friendship bracelets lined both of her wrists while the last boy was blonde and wore a cutoff shirt. He held a blunt in one hand and a beer in the other. You couldn’t help but notice that they were all obscenely attractive.

Where the fuck am I?

“Alright, alright, everyone. We have a newbie here! She’s my new neighbor.” Sarah announced as she gestured towards you. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

“Well hello there…” the blonde boy said while he sauntered over to you. You could tell he was trying to flirt, and your cheeks went red.

“JJ cool it. Don’t freak her out.” The other girl came up to you and grinned. “Don’t mind the horndog over here. I’m Kiara, but you can call me Kie.” You shook her hand. “And that’s John B. and Pope.” She pointed at each boy respectively. “And now you know who this idiot is.” She playfully shoved the blonde’s arm.

“I’m y/n.”

“Beer?” John B. asked, holding up a red solo cup. You nodded and moved closer to the group. “So y/n, where you from?”

“New York.”

“So a city girl, huh?” JJ laughed and raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, not much of a beach person I guess.”

“Not a beach person and she moves to the Outer Banks. I think you’ve chosen the wrong place to live.” Pope laughed as he downed the rest of his beer.

“What’s with the preppy kids separated from everyone else?” you ask, looking back towards the polo clad group. All of them except Sarah scoff at the mention of them. “What?” You looked at Sarah, confused.

“Listen, here on the island there are the kooks,” John B. paused to point over at the group, “and the pogues.” He made a circling gesture towards his friends.

“The kooks are rich entitled assholes who live on Figure Eight and pogues are the low-lives who live on the Cut. It’s war, my friend.” JJ stated while he glared at the kooks.

You tried stifling your laughter at the absurdness of it all after seeing the serious faces which had fallen upon the group. Your attempt to hold it in was feeble. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” you burst out.

“Thank you! Finally someone who agrees with me!” Sarah beamed.

“It’s not stupid! They really fucking suck!” JJ exclaimed.

“Well don’t you think it’s at least a little stupid? I mean come on. Only people in movies or celebrities have rivalries.”

“You’ll change your mind once you speak to one of them…” You only shook your head and chuckled to yourself. That is, until you noticed a few of the kooks heading over towards the keg.

“Jesus, here we fucking go.” JJ complained as he stepped in front of you. “What do you want Rafe?”

The tall blonde boy approaching smirked. “I heard I got a new neighbor,” he said while eying you up and down. All you could do was make a face. “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t making the same mistake my sister made, hanging out with you losers.”

“And why does who I decide to hang out with concern you?” you asked as you sidestepped out of JJ’s protective stance.

“Woah, fiery. I like that…” he chuckled. You noticed JJ’s body tense when Rafe took a step towards you. You rolled your eyes and stepped back to avoid him getting any closer.

“Listen, not gonna happen bud.” You turned around and started walking to the keg, hoping to just end the unwanted interaction there.

“Whatever, your loss!” he called out. “Hope you enjoy whoring yourself out to these dirty pogues.” You stopped dead in your tracks, whipping yourself around. Before you could let out a response, JJ charged Rafe and punched him square in the jaw. In one swift moment, Rafe’s goonies and the pogues behind you rushed towards the two squabbling boys. Rafe threw some punches and busted JJ’s eyebrow, but JJ soon had Rafe beneath him and was throwing punch after punch. You could see blood dripping down the kook’s face, splattering after each blow. Beside you, Kie and Sarah were yelling at the boys to stop. John B. and Pope both rushed to wrangle JJ off of Rafe as the kooks attempted to drag him out from under.

“You’re fucking dead, pogue!” Rafe pointed at JJ as he retreated with his friends.

Looking over at JJ, one wouldn’t have thought he had just gotten into a fight. Sure, scrapes littered his face and you could see purple starting to blossom along his cheek and eye but plastered on his face was a shit eating grin. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

“Because I won,” he smirked and winked at you. You shook your head, laughing nervously.

Turning to Sarah, you said, “Listen, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“What? But you just got here!” she pouted, running up to you and grabbing your hands.

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to. There was beer, banter, a fight. I’m already partied out.” You chuckle, more to yourself than to Sarah.

“Alright, fine. You want me to walk you home?”

“I can do it.” You and Sarah turned to look at JJ as he raised his hand slightly. “I’ve got to clean up anyways,” he said, gesturing to his face.

“Ok, sure.” You looked at him, once again blushing, as he moved towards you.

The walk home was mostly silent, with the exception of you giving directions every so often. JJ had rolled another blunt and the two of you were passing it between each other, huffing out smoke as you walked. You weren’t sure why he had volunteered to walk you home. Maybe he felt bad for you, you thought. Or maybe he just wanted to get in your pants. The thought made your cheeks flush. All you knew was that the silence was eating away at you.

“Hey, thanks for tonight,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

“For what?”

“Defending me, walking me home…”

“Oh, no problem.” You saw him blush a little. “Rafe’s an asshole. He had it coming.”

“You probably didn’t need to punch him,” you said as you glanced at his scraped-up face.

“What’s the fun in that?” The smirk from before reappeared.

“You find getting punched in the face fun?” you asked incredulously.

“Nah…I find the punching fun.” He took a drag of the blunt and passed it to you. As the two of you were approaching your house, you found yourself wishing you hadn’t walked so fast.

You slowed down at the end of the driveway and turned to JJ. “Well, this is me…” JJ stopped and stared at the house before him, letting out a low whistle. “What?”

“When Sarah said you were her neighbor, I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were rich rich.” You scoffed at the remark, rolling your eyes.

“I swear to god, if you call me a kook, I’ll kick your ass,” you said in a serious tone, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that a threat?” He bit his lip and cocked his eyebrow.

“Maybe…” you said slyly as you walked up towards your front door, JJ still following. Slipping your key into the lock and opening the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you around pogue.” Then you shut the door.

“Jesus…” JJ mumbled under his breath, turning the other way and laughing to himself.

Leaning against the door, you smiled ear to ear. Maybe you did have something to look forward to on this island…

CH 2

#outer banks netflix #obx netflix #outer banks imagine #jj x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx fanfiction

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 5 The Bite

SUMMARY: Jay has a big, bad secret...

****************

Jay panted and gasped in pain as boiling sweat dripped and dropped down his burning flesh. Low hanging tree branches smacked him in the face and arms, not really painful, but irritating nonetheless. He wanted to scream as he almost tripped up for the sixth time. Jay hadn't wanted to come on this stupid trip. He didn't see what they could gain from it. A few days ago, the headmaster told everyone in their geography class that they were taking a camping trip.

It was a trip to the Forest of Blackthorn, to study the construction of a new theme park and how it may affect the wildlife.

The park was located somewhere up in the mountains, near a place called Jamakai Village. The village rested near the cliffs that lead to a small beach and the ocean. The ginger-haired teen had all but begged on his knees for Headmaster Wu to let him stay, but the old man refused. Kai had also tried to get out of the trip, but Jay didn't care about him. There was always something about the brunette that made Jay uneasy. He couldn't tell whether it was the lingering smell of death hanging onto his and Lloyd's newest roommate, or the fact he seemed to hate Jay and Lloyd.

But Jay honestly didn't care.

As long as Kai didn't bother him, Jay would keep out of his way as best he could. It was like a silent agreement between the pair. Jay suddenly cried out a more intense wave of pain hit him and he slumped against the trunk of a large oak tree in unbelievable agony. He felt pain in his chest, he felt pain in his arms and he felt pain in his mind. Jay wanted to stop everything he was doing and try and treat the pain, but he knew it would only make things worse if he tried.

The road ahead was a tough one and right now he wasn't sure if he was willing to walk it, let alone whether he was able.

He was so very tired. Tired both because of the pain and tired of having to deal with the pain, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. With every second, the shining white light of the full moon rose higher and higher into the starry night sky. His breathing became more labored and he gritted his teeth as he felt his nails grew and sharpened against his will. Jay gritted his teeth, hoping that he could stick it out just a little longer and get to safety.

Even though the amusement park was located a few miles away from his current location, he could still hear the faint, almost whisper-like voices in the distance.

He couldn't risk their safety, or his own. All of a sudden, he gasped as he felt a strange freezing shiver ripple throughout his whole body. Before he realized what was happening, he felt his body start to change as his cells rearranged themselves. It was over in a matter of seconds, and when he regained his senses he noticed instead of the breaths from a human, they were heavy, canine pants. All of Jay's senses were dialed to eleven as he sniffed the air.

The air was cold and the only light were the stars, moon, and an approaching flashlight.

The teen's stomach growled in hunger and his nose picked up the scent of blood. Small, fresh, human blood...

****************

The forest rain fell in the drenching sheets, hammering the corrugated roof of the clinic building. Rolling down the metal gutters, splashing on the ground in the torrent. Amelia Winchester sighed and stared out of the window. From the clinic, she could hardly see the beach or the ocean below, cloaked in a low fog. This isn't what she expected to see when she came to Jamakai Village to spend two months as a visiting physician for the small settlement.

Amelia Carter had expected fresh air and relaxation after two grueling years of residency in emergency medicine in Chicago.

She had been in Ninjago now for three weeks and it had rained every day. Everything else was fine. She liked the isolation of Jamakai Village and the friendliness of its people. Ninjago had one of the twenty best medical systems in the world. Even in this remote village the clinic was well maintained, amply supplied. Her paramedic, a Hispanic man named Youssef Toledano, was very intelligent and well-trained. Across the examining room, Youssef cocked his head.

"Listen." He said.

"Believe me, I hear it," Amelia said.

"No, listen." He told her again and then she caught it. Another sound blended into the rain; a deeper rumble, but built and emerged until it was clear. It was the rhythmic thumping of a helicopter. She thought they couldn't be flying in weather like this. But the sound built steadily and then the helicopter burst low through the treeline and roared overhead, circled, and then came back. She saw the helicopter swing back over the water near fishing boats and back towards the beach.

It was looking for a place to land.

It was a big-bellied Sikorsky with a blue stripe on the side with the words 'T.S.G Construction'. That was the name of the construction company building a new resort somewhere up near the nearby mountains. The resort was said to be spectacular and very complicated. Many of the local people were employed in the construction, which had been going on for more than two years. Amelia could imagine it. One of those huge resorts with swimming pools and tennis courts, where guests could play and drink their sorrows away without having any contact with the real world.

Amelia wondered what was so urgent in those mountains that a helicopter would fly in this weather.

Through the windshield, she saw the pilot exhale in relief as the helicopter settled onto the wet sand on the beach. Uniformed men jumped out and flung open the big side door. She heard frantic shouts in Spanish and Youssef nudged her. They were calling for a doctor. Two crewmen carried a limp body towards her while another man barked orders at them. The man had a yellow sticker, and dark brown hair appeared around the edge of his ragged baseball cap.

"Is there a doctor here?!" He called out and she ran up. The rain fell in heavy drops, pounding her head and shoulders, soaking her in seconds.

"I'm a doctor." She said and the man frowned at her. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top. She had a stethoscope over her shoulder, already slightly rusted from the salt air.

"Noble Oliver; we've got a very sick man here doctor."

"Then you better take him to the hospital in Ninjago City." She said, a little confused. Ninjago City was roughly twenty minutes away by air, so why hadn't they gone there instead of this remote village?

"We would but we can't get over the mountains in this weather, you have to treat him here." He ordered and Amelia had no choice but to trot alongside the injured man as they carried him into the clinic. He was a kid, no older than eighteen. Lifting away the blood-soaked shirt, she saw the big slashing rip along his shoulder and another on his leg.

"What happened to him?"

"A construction accident! He fell and one of the backhauls ran over him." Noble shouted, panic clear in his voice. The kid was pale, shivering, and unconscious. Youssef stood by the bright green door of the clinic, waving his arm. The men brought the body through and set it on the table in the center of the room. Youssef started an intravenous line and Amelia swung the light over the kid and bent to examine the wounds. Immediately she could see they did not look good, and the kid would almost certainly die.

A big tearing laceration ran from his shoulder down to his torso, and at the edge of the wound the flesh was shredded and the shoulder was dislocated, pale bones exposed.

A second slash cut through the heavy muscles of the thigh, deep enough to reveal a pulse of the femoral artery below. Her first impression was that this leg had been ripped open.

"Tell me again about this injury." She told the leader.

"I didn't see it! They said it was just a construction accident!" Noble replied.

"It almost looks like he was mauled by a large animal!" Amelia exclaimed, probing the wound. Like most emergency room physicians, she could remember in detail a patient she had seen even years before. She had only seen two maulings. One was a two-year-old child who had been attacked by a Rottweiler dog, the other was a drunken circus attendant who had had an encounter with a tiger and both injuries were similar. There was a characteristic look of an animal attack.

"Mauled?! No, no, no, it was a backhaul, believe me!" Noble cried, licking his lips as he spoke. He was edgy, acting as if he had done something wrong, and Amelia wondered why. If they were using inexperienced workmen on a resort construction they must have accidents all the time.

"Do you want the lavage?" Youssef asked and she nodded as she bent lower, probing the wound with her fingertips. If an earthmover had rolled over him then dirt would have been forced deep into the wound. There wasn't any dirt, just a slippery, slimy foam, and the wound had a strange odor. A kind of rotten stench. A smell of death and decay. She had never smelled anything like it before.

"How long ago did you say this happened?"

"An hour." He said and again she noticed how tense Noble was. He was one of those eager nervous types. They didn't look like a construction foreman, more like an executive. He was obviously out of his depth. Amelia turned back to the injuries and somehow she didn't think she was seeing a mechanical trauma. It just didn't look right with no soil contamination on the would site and no crushing injury component. Mechanical trauma of any sort always had some component of crushing, but there was none.

Instead, the man's skin was shredded, ripped across the shoulder, and again across the thigh.

It really did look like a mauling, but on the other hand, most of the body was unmarked, which was unusual for an animal attack. She looked again at the head, the arms, the hands, and she felt a chill when she looked at the kid's hands. There were short slashing cuts on both palms and bruises on the wrists and forearms. She had worked in Chicago long enough to know what that meant.

"Alright, wait outside." She said, but Noble didn't like that.

"Why?"

"Do you want me to help him or not?!" She snapped and pushed Noble and his men out the door and closed it in his face. She didn't know what was going on but she didn't like it. Upon seeing this, Youssef hesitated.

"Should I continue to wash?"

"Yes." She nodded as she reached for a little camera. She took several snapshots of the injury with the flash on for a better view; they really did look like bites. Then the kid suddenly groaned and she put her camera aside and bent towards him. His lips moved and his tongue thick.

"...lycan." He barely whispered and at that word Youssef froze and stepped back in horror.

"What does that mean?" Amelia asked as Youssef shook his head.

"I do not know doctor."

"Then please continue to wash him."

"No doctor! Bad smell!" He cried as he wrinkled his nose and crossed himself. Amelia looked again at the slippery foam streaked across the wound and she touched it, rubbing it between her fingers. It seemed almost like saliva.

"...Lycan." The injured boy whispered again."

"It bit him!" Youssef said in a tone of horror.

"What bit him?"

"Lycan!"

"What-What's a'Lycan'?"

"It means wolf!" He exclaimed and Amelia frowned. Wolves had been extinct in these woods for well over two hundred years, but that didn't stop the local villagers from scaring their children away from the dark and dangerous forest by telling them scary stories about how a pack of monstrous wolves would swallow them whole and no one would ever find them. Amelia had heard these stories herself, in person, and she almost laughed when she even saw some adults terrified of this myth.

Many conservationists search these woods regularly to keep count of all its wildlife to make sure they weren't endangered and none of them have ever reported a wolf in this area.

So the idea that a wolf had caused these injuries was very unlikely. It could have been a bear, or a large badger or fox, but they were usually located miles from where the resort was being constructed. Youssef was backing away, murmuring and crossing himself.

"That's not a normal smell! It is the Lycan!" He all but screamed. Amelia was getting annoyed by this and was about to order him back to work when the injured youth opened his eyes and sat up straight at the table. Youssef shrieked in terror. The injured boy moaned and twisted his head, looking left and right with wide staring eyes. All of a sudden he explosively vomited blood be he immediately fell into convulsions. Amelia grabbed for him but shuddered off the table and onto the concrete floor where he vomited again.

There was blood everywhere and at that moment Noble opened the door.

"What the hell is happening?!" He shouted and when he saw the blood he turned away, his hand to his mouth. Amelia was grabbing for a stick put in the boy's clenched jaws but even as she did she knew it was hopeless and with one final jerk he relaxed and lay still. She went to perform mouth to mouth but Youssef grabbed her on the shoulder fiercely, pulling her back.

"NO!" He screamed. "The Lycan will cross over!"

"Youssef, for God sake-"

"NO! YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THESE THINGS DOCTER!" He roared again, staring her in the eyes. Amelia looked at the body on the ground and realized that it didn't matter anymore. There was no possibility of resuscitating him. Yousseff called for the men, who came back into the room and took the body away. Noble appeared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sure you did all you could." He muttered quietly. Amelia watched as the men took the body away, back to the helicopter, and it lifted back into the sky. The sound of the helicopter was drowned out by the thunderous sound of the rainstorm and Amelia was certain she could hear the faintest squeak of a bat.

"It is better this way," Youssef told her but Amelia said nothing. She was too busy thinking about the boy's hands. They had been covered with cuts and bruises in the characteristic pattern of defense wounds. She was quite sure that he had not died in a construction accident. He had been attacked and he had held his hands up against his attacker.

"Where is this resort again?"

"In the mountains, perhaps a hundred and twenty miles from here."

"Pretty far for a resort." She said and Youssef watched the helicopter.

"I hope they never come back." He said and Amelia hummed in agreement. She was a little disappointed that she couldn't examine the body or the slime and learn what those wounds came from, but at least she had pictures. When she turned back to the table, however, she that the camera was gone. She searched and searched but she couldn't find the camera. Amelia had sneaking suspicion that one of the men from the helicopter had snatched it on their way out, but she had no proof.

Youssef was grateful it was all over, but Amelia was dissatisfied with the outcome.

After they had cleaned up the blood and equipment, Youssef called it a night and Amelia had started typing out her report on her laptop. As she finished typing the report and emailing it to her superior, she couldn't help but think about what the boy had said. With no other option, she turned to the internet for answers. She entered the word, Lycan, into the search bar and was surprised when she saw the results. This didn't make any sense to the doctor.

The word Lycan was derived from the word lycanthrope, meaning someone who suffered from lycanthropy; the professed ability or power of a human being to transform into a wolf, or to gain wolf-like characteristics.

In more simple words; a werewolf...

****************

Kai frowned behind his sunglasses as he looked through all the pictures Amelia Carter had taken of the construction worker's injuries. All of the students were gathering their luggage and preparing to leave soon, so Kai had plenty of time and privacy to think about the situation. It had been almost laughable how easy it was for the vampire to not only follow the helicopter and steal the camera while the medics were distracted. As he flicked through the pictures, Kai couldn't help but grimace at the sight of the injuries Jay had inflicted on the poor human.

He had always known Jay was odd and had a weird smell, but even the brunette hadn't expected this.

He glanced over to Jay and watched as the ginger-haired teen listened to Lloyd talking about something Kai couldn't care about. Jay looked a little green and he had heavy bags under his eyes, showing Kai that he hadn't slept at all last night. This new information was very interesting to the brunette. Kai liked his fangs in anticipation as his mind thought up ways to use this against Jay. He wasn't going to hurt Jay or put him in danger, but Kai could stop himself from messing with the freckled teen for a little while.

He might tell Jay he knows his secret, or he might wait until Jay told him himself.

Kai glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Once he was certain they weren't, Kai removed the camera's film and used his powers to set the black roll on fire. That destroyed all the photographic evidence of Jay's attack. Kai waited until he was sure the film roll was destroyed beyond repair, he dropped it into the stream, watching it washed away. The teacher suddenly called Kai to get on the bus with the others and Kai silently complied.

He couldn't help but smile slightly as he stared at the back of Jay's head as the bus began its long drive back to the city.

This will be so much fun...

**************** Requested by: jamiehernandez8888 on Fanfiction.Net

#Life of a High School Vampire #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #vampire #ocs

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tellyouwhatilike · 4 years

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WILDFLOWER PART 1 - CALUM HOOD

So this is what I’ve been working on! I’m finishing part 2 as I post this. I really hope y’all like this, it’s been super fun to write and I haven’t posted any new writing in a loooooooong time- so please let me know what you think! <3

Part one does not contain any smut, part 2 will 100% be smut lol.

WARNING: This contains mature language and subject matters, 18+ please!!

__________________________________________

PART ONE

“Cal!” An excited voice called from across the large patio.

Calum’s head whipped around while his eyes searched the scantily-clad crowd at one of this month’s industry networking events the label requested he attend. He had to admit, this was one of the more amusing ones, a themed pool party with a barbeque style spread. With that signature phony, ostentatious LA touch to it, of course. This is the kind of thing Calum typically steered clear of in the past; less so since officially uprooting his life to Los Angeles and being conditioned by his band’s record label to make appearances at gatherings like this on a regular basis. His eyes finally landed on his target and his lips curled up instantly—the melodic voice that had called out his name over the masses of valleyspeak blending together in the background, and subsequently, the only true reason he’d agreed to represent the band tonight at this function.

“My, my, my; look what we have here” he said with cheeky implication as he took a moment to slowly look her up and down with a shit-eating grin spread across his face, leaving his eyes squinted and cheeks rounded. She looked even better than he remembered, her long tousled hair neatly spilling over her shoulder just how he’d always liked it. It had been months since he’d seen her in the flesh and the sight of her was enough to make him feel giddy to his core.

“I’m so glad you could make it” she replied with a breathy laugh, cheeks slightly flushed as her arms wrapped around his neck for a quick squeeze ‘hello.’ In that moment, she was very pleased with her decision to wear her sleek black one-piece suit under her cutoff shorts with a red lip—a combination that always delivered. His palm lingered across the span of her waist around her back, squeezing gently, letting it run down to her hip before letting go. When they parted from their embrace and their eyes met, Calum’s cheeky confidence quickly turned shy and boyish, as it typically does.

“Yeah, me too. This is—this is quite the soiree.” He motioned to the mingling bodies around them. “Um, so how have you been, how was Morocco?” He looked down awkwardly at his shoes for a brief moment, cursing himself and nature for not being smoother. Trying not to come off too eager although he’d been thinking about this interaction daily for nearly a year now, whether they had been speaking or not.

They had been engaging in a modest flirtation for months and months now, they had tried going on a handful of dates right around the time the band came back to LA from touring to focus on writing the following album, ‘Calm.’ The term ‘dates,’ however, should be used loosely; Calum’s record label doesn’t approve of the guys getting snapped by paps casually dating around. Rules have certainly been broken in the past— but he figured, since they’d only just met, it wasn’t worth the headaches that these things cause on the harsh world that is the internet. People always talk and it tends to confuse the masses. So, they opted for more intimate yet appropriate venues for their rendezvous like dinner at Calum’s outdoor living space, tight knit shin-digs at his bandmate Michael’s house, or lengthy facetime calls from their respective home couches.

Calum was absolutely smitten- a feeling so new to him, he couldn’t even remember if he’d ever felt it with anyone else before. He was also terrified things would fall apart just like they always had in the past, she ran free and untamed, never staying in one place long enough to make lasting connections, making Calum wary of her potentially leaving and breaking his heart. He could always see it in her face, there was a wild side to her that she couldn’t explain. Things quickly began to prove too consuming for him as he tried to juggle really getting to know her, despite his reservations, and focusing on pouring his heart into the upcoming record. He’s the type to completely immerse himself in whatever it is that’s important to him, so he felt it wasn’t fair to them or his art if they continued building on the relationship. The pair chalked it up to poor timing and decided to give each other space while he worked with his band tirelessly on their music for a number of months. Forever the wandering bohemian, she jetted off to spend some time living with friends in Amsterdam and then frolicking about in Morocco for the summer.

Once the record was released, promotion was finished and the tour was completed; he and his band mates arrived back to LA for some much-needed R & R before eventually returning to the writing process to start it all over again. She returned back to her home base, for the time being, sun-kissed and thrilled to be back in the states for one major reason. Calum had spent nearly the whole first month home catching up on sleep, ordering sushi on grubhub and lounging around in boxers doing next to nothing; standard procedure. But now he was fully rested, extremely rejuvenated, and he was eager to get up to no good.

“I’ve been good, yeah, Morocco was gorgeous and…mind-altering…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought while taking in his face, she shook her head slightly. “Wow, it is so nice to see you again.” She reveled, her green eyes catching light of the twinkling strings adorning the canopy above where they stood. “It’s been a while, huh?” Her cheeks swelled up as she flashed him a smile and attempted to calculate quite how long it had been in her head, remembering some of the last times they hung out vividly. Thoughts shifting to his scent, how he looked different but it was somehow even better than before, the way he had to look down to meet her gaze, the hand he had pressed against her waist when he greeted her earlier, how she felt at ease and wired at the same time to be in his presence.

“Way too long” He said through a toothy smile, already having to remind himself of how they vowed to take things slowly over the text messages leading up to tonight, and simultaneously imagining leaving cherry red marks down the length of her neck. He couldn’t stop sneaking glimpses of her exposed skin and imagining her dark hair splayed across his crisp white sheets or holding her tightly while she wore one of his old t shirts, he desperately hoped that’s where this night was headed. His tongue slipped out and ran its way over his bottom lip when the thin black strap of her bathing suit slipped down her shoulder, his hand moving before the rational side of his brain had any time to talk him out of it. He gently brushed her hair back to expose her bare shoulder and slid the strap back up into place for her, their eyes meeting as his hand lingered there for a moment too long. His jaw tensed as he pulled his hand away, looking down briefly, she swallowed and made herself busy with her champagne flute. He swore he could feel little tiny electric sparks flying each time his skin met hers. “Sorry” He muttered, ever apologetic.

“Don’t be” She said softly and gave him ‘the eyes,’ the eyes that Calum still thought about before he fell asleep some nights. A face that looked like it came straight out of his dreams, innocent yet sinister all rolled into one, making him shiver. A face he couldn’t help but imagine staring up at him while she takes him into her mouth slowly, then all at once. Quite a regular fantasy he’d been having these days, this face felt like she was giving an open invitation to daydream of her. They’d been calling or texting almost daily for around two weeks since she arrived back home, anticipation rising with each passing day.

“So,” He cleared his throat some, “What are you doing after this?” He asked, meaning for it to come off more charming than it did. “I mean, would you want to go hang out somewhere… else? Or something.” He suddenly regretted going in for the kill so soon, he couldn’t read her expression, though he thought if he stared at her pouty pink lips and long dark lashes for long enough, he might. She smirked to herself and let out a chuckle, using her index finger to poke him in the chest. He, rather dramatically, twisted his face up and rubbed the spot vigorously with his palm.

“Owww!” He whined, wide eyed and feigning disdain. “What did you do that for?” He carried on while she rolled her eyes playfully. Tired of the party’s cold chickpea ‘cheeseburger’ sliders and shallow conversation, she decided to speed this process along. She was no fool, they’d both been waiting for this very moment as an excuse to hang out alone again.

“Let’s get out of here.” She leaned in to put her lips up close to his ear, brushing her palm up against his bicep lightly. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile taking over her plush lips his eyes kept finding their way back to. “I wanna come to your house” She stated, stepping forward slightly to close the space between them, her scent creeping up into his nasal passages and making his mouth go dry imagining how sweet she’d taste.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, his eyes widening. “Sure… I mean, yeah, sounds good. I’ll grab the car.” He said, trying (and failing) to sound as cool as possible, turning abruptly and b-lining for the gate, lightning suddenly coursing through his veins at the thought of what was to come. Once to the car, he used the mirror to check his hair as he pulled around to the front drive of the house, moving it around and smoothing it down, not making much of a difference with his recently-buzzed ‘do. Now, he knew exactly where the night was going.

(To be continued...)

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idumpyourgrass · 4 years

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Always Waiting- Chapter Sixteen

Always Waiting- Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Always Waiting Masterlist

Summary: Dustin, Robin, and Erica babysit drugged Y/n and Steve. Y/n and Steve share their feelings, The party reunites

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

A/n: Hey guys I’m back! I’m so sad this is almost done, only a couple more chapters! I’m planning on getting my summary out for my new writing in a couple days so I can start a taglist! I think I will cutoff the taglist here since there’s really only one more chapter then the epilogue!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of getting beaten up? Cheesy fluff, typos ofc

Word Count: 2k

You, Steve, and Erica get thrown around in the back of the car while Robin and Dustin sit up front.

“Jesus, slow down.” Steve mumbles.

“Yeah what is this? The Indy 500?” You ask.

“It’s the Indy 300,” Steve argues.

“No, idiot, it’s the Indy 500.”

“It’s 300!”

“Let’s say…a million!” You and Steve erupt into laughter.

“Can you both just shut up!” Erica scolds you both.

Robin looks back at you while her and Dustin try to figure out what is wrong with you.

“Robin watch out!” Dustin yells.

“Shit!” She whips around, breaking the car before running into a barrel. You fall on top of Steve, groaning.

“Are you three alright back there?” Dustin asks. Steve groans in response.

“We gotta go.” Robin and Dustin rush to the back opening the door. Erica hops out trying to drag you out with her.

“Come on! Get out!”

Robin helps Erica pull you out. Dustin rushes to the elevator. He holds a keycard up to the scanner and the doors open.

Steve runs and stands up on a cart, pretending like he’s surfing. You lay on the ground giggling. Dustin makes his way over to you, placing a hand on your forehead.

“You’re burning up.” You start squirming around, hitting Dustin’s hand off your forehead.

“Quit it!” Dustin scolds as he takes a look at your eyes, “Her eyes are super dilated.” You bop his nose with your finger.

“I love you Dusty!”

“Maybe she’s drugged?” Robin suggests.

“Robin you are my bestest friend in the whole wide world!”

Dustin holds onto your hands, trying to keep you from moving around, “Hey, Y/n, are you drugged?”

“I don’t do drugs, Dusty.”

You look up at Steve and smile, “Harrington when this is over, you owe me a kiss.”

Steve jumps off the cart, stumbling a little bit, “We could kiss right now!” You erupt into laughter. Dustin’s jaw drops to the floor, “No! I don’t care how drugged you are, you are not kissing!” Dustin pushes Steve away from you.

The elevator stops and Dustin pushes you out, “come on, let’s go!”

The air outside tasted amazing when it hit your tongue. You hold your mouth open and take in all the air you can.

“Oh shit,” Robin says. A Russian guard comes running towards you all. Dustin pushes you back through the door.

“Where are we going?” Steve asks.

“Weeeeee!” You put your arms in the air.

You all run through the back halls of the mall, you and Steve lollygagging in the back.

“Where are we going?” Erica asks.

“Just trust me.” Dustin opens a door and you all walk into the movie theatre. Steve sees some popcorn in a trashcan and grabs in.

The dimly lit movie theatre is filled with people. Dustin pushes you into a seat next to Steve, “You two, stay here, and keep your hands to yourself.”

You stick your tongue out at him, giggling. You look up at the screen, “What’s going on?” You whisper to Steve, sticking your hand into the popcorn bag.

“I have no idea.”

You become so enhanced by the movie, though you had no clue what was going on.

“This is amazing,” you say.

“I’m bored,” Steve complains, he gets out of his seat and runs out the door, you laugh and follow him out. He heads towards the drinking fountain. You lean against the wall.

“So, like, I wasn’t totally focused in there, but I’m pretty sure that mom was trying to fuck her son.”

Steve stops drinking for a second, “Wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom?” He goes back to drinking the water.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure.” You nod.

“How is that even possible?”

“Because he went back in time.” You answer all his questions.

“Then why is it called back to the future?”

“Because he has to go back to the future because he’s in the past,” Steve looks up at you with a confused face, you continue, “so the future is really the present, which is his time.” You look at Steve.

“Wh-what?”

You push him out of the way of the drinking fountain, “You’ve had enough.”

The water tastes like heaven. You take huge gulps.

“Hey, Y/n, come look at this.” Steve is looking up at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face. You make your way over to him and follow his gaze, looking up. The ceiling looked like it was spinning. You were seeing all different kinds of colors and shapes.

“Woah,” it looked so cool. The more you looked, the dizzier you got, but you couldn’t look away. You felt a familiar feeling in your stomach. You clamped a hand over your mouth as you felt yourself starting to gag. You ran towards the bathroom, Steve right behind you. You fly into a stall and kneel in front of the toilet.

You are sure you’ve thrown up everything in your stomach. You flush the toilet and lean against the wall of the stall, closing your eyes.

“Think we threw it all up?” Steve asks from the next stall.

“Well, guess there’s only one way to find out,” you sit up, “interrogate me,” you smile.

Steve chuckles, “okay, interrogate you, sure,” there’s a pause, “when was the last time you…peed your pants?”

“Seriously Harrington? That’s what you came up with?” You take a second to think, “the last time I peed my pants was today,” you laugh.

“What?” Steve laughs too, “when?”

“When the doctor took out that bone saw, I thought we were goners.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely still in your system. Ok your turn.”

“Ok, um, have you ever,” you hesitate to finish the sentence, pretty sure you already knew the answer, “been in love?”

Steve, however, doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Yep, Nancy, first semester, senior year,” he makes an explosion sound.

You didn’t want to know the answer to the next question, but you being you, you ask it anyways, “are you still in love with Nancy?” You ask quietly

“No.” Steve is quick to answer. A wave of relief rushes over you.

“Why not?”

“I think it’s because I found someone better for me,” You couldn’t tell if you had to throw up again or if it was just the butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s crazy, I mean I’ve known this girl my whole life. She’s incredible. First of all she’s hilarious, I am always laughing when I’m around her, and her smile, god, she has this amazing smile, and she just lights up a room when she walks in,” you felt the smile on your face grow wider and wider, “and she’s always there for me, even when I was such an asshole, she was always there. She is just an amazing person and you know, I might even be in love with her, I think I have always been in love with her, I’ve just been so blind sighted by everything but I’m not blind slighted anymore.”

You sat there, smiling, taking everything in.

“Y/n?” Steve knocks on the wall separating you two, “You OD over there?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, “No, I am still alive.”

Steve slides under the stall door.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“So what do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl.”

“Well, she sounds awesome, I would love to meet her.” You smile up at Steve.

“Something tells me you two would get along great,” Steve jokes, “And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s on drugs and a part of me thinks it’s the drugs talking but another part of me really wants to believe him because this girl is…” you take a breath, “is in love with him too.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief, his cheeks glowing a rosy color, “Well Henderson, I can guarantee you it is not the drugs.”

Steve stands up and holds his hands out for you, “C’mon, let’s take care of that pretty face.”

You had almost forgotten you got the shit kicked out of you by Russians. You hop up on the counter and Steve wets down some paper towels. He wipes off the dried up blood on your chin, you studying his face carefully. He then tried to clean up your busted lip.

“Ow!” You wince.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Steve reaches down with his other hand and grabs your own.

“Will you say it one more time?” You beg him.

“Say what?” He asks.

You smile as wide as you can with your bust lip and bat your eyelashes at him. He smiles once he catches on.

“I am in love with you Y/n Henderson.”

“I am in love with you Steve Harrington.”

You don’t even notice how close you two have gotten. Steve glances down at your lips then looks back at you. You feeling your breath hitch, oh god it’s actually going to happen. You part your lips, leaning in closer. You close your eyes preparing for the moment.

The door of the bathroom flies open. You open your eyes and glance over to the door seeing Dustin. You look at Steve and you two start laughing.

“Ok, what the hell?” Dustin looks between you and Steve, realizing what you two were about to do, “Seriously?”

Robin peeks her head in the bathroom, a smile growing on her lips, “Alright Y/n!”

“Did you two finally kiss?” Erica asks, walking into the bathroom.

“No.” You respond coldly. Steve helps you off the counter.

* * *

The five of you try to blend in with the crowd leaving the movie theatre, Steve still holding your hand.

“Alright now we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes and home sweet home!” Dustin says.

“Uh, Dustin, we might not want to go home.” You tell him.

“Why not?”

“I may have told them our full names.”

“What? Why?” Dustin whisper yells.

“I was taking a pretty hard beating Dustin.”

“So you resist! You tough it out!”

“Yeah, ok! Sure!” You two start arguing.

“Oh shit, guys!” Robin pulls you two out of your argument. You follow her gaze and see Russians IDing everyone who’s leaving the mall.

“Oh shit.” A Russian spots you among the crowd.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin panics. You all start running against the crowd. You look behind you and see a group of Russian’s chasing you.

“Shit, go, go, go!”

You come to the escalator, you stop and try to think, “Come on!” You urge the group as you hop a rope and slide down the escalator. Once you all make it down you head towards the food court. You all duck down behind the counter of Imperial Panda. You grip onto Steve’s hand as tight as you can. You’re all trying to catch your breath and trying to stay as quiet as you can. You can hear the stomps of the Russian’s getting closer and closer. You close your eyes.

The sound of a car alarm causes you all to jump.

You look over to Dustin, “What the fuck?” You mouth.

You peer over the counter, watching the car fly through the air and hitting all the Russians like bowling pins. Only one thing would be able to do that.

“Eleven!” You let out a sigh of relief as you look up to the second floor of the mall, seeing Eleven, Max, Lucas, Will, Nancy, and Jonathon.

You and Dustin run over to meet them, you give El and Max a big hug.

“Ok, will someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Steve asks.

* * *

“I thought Eleven closed the gate?” Steve asks.

“She did, but the mind flayer didn’t leave.”

“So Billy is experiencing what Will experienced?” You try to make sense of all this.

“Yes, but a lot worse.” Will explains.

The group goes on explaining what is going on. You watch Eleven walk away from the group. She looks around before quickly covering her ears.

“El?” You ask.

The rest of the group now has their attention on Eleven. Her eyes start to flutter close as she starts to sway.

“El!” Mike yells. She starts to fall. You quickly run and catch her before she hits the ground.

“El!”

Taglist:

@loulouloueh @nighttwingg @l0ve-0f-my-life @labrujaprincess @welcomethefears @metuel18 @polynesianmayo @readinthegarden12 @alafolieee @yoheyyosup @loco-latte @daddystevee @hannarudick @gertenbert @70sgubler @used-avocado @ggclarissa @alonewolfsblog @phoebethepheebs @random-thoughts-003 @red-2-0 @m-blasterrr @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @mochminnie @lookalivesunshine-x

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #Billy Hargrove #robin buckley #erica sinclair #Max Mayfield #Lucas Sinclair #eleven #mike wheeler #Nancy Wheeler #jonathan byers #will byers

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tiliamericana · 3 years

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Muay Thai: 1.03

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The florist down the street was a peaceful place, even if walking in the front door was a little like being punched in the nose. They had a scent pump hidden in a hanging pot by the front door—Nairi wasn’t entirely certain why they needed to spray heavy fragrance oils inside a place filled with flowers, but she’d never managed a flower shop herself. Maybe they were trying to hook pedestrians.

The college kid manning the counter waved in recognition, already turning to fetch her order from the shelf. “Back again?” he said cheerfully as she approached, setting her wrapped cuttings on the counter. “I shouldn’t really discourage repeat patronage, but you know these suckers are pretty easy to grow yourself, right?”

Nairi shrugged, handing her card over as he rung up her order. “I’m pretty bad at keeping plants alive.”

He gave her a rueful grin as he handed her the chip reader to finish the transaction. “I get that—I used to kill cactuses before I started working here. The nurseries we order from have some pretty fierce gardeners on staff though, got me sorted very quickly.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded and kept talking despite her disinterest. The Thursday morning flower rush clearly didn’t provide enough opportunities for socialization. “Yeah, they’re all local places who go all in on small seasonal batches and heritage seeds. The bigger commercial suppliers don’t really have the same kind of knowledge base, it’s very cool.”

Nairi gave him a polite smile as she pocketed her card and picked up the greenery. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Have a great day!” he called out as she left through the flowers. She sneezed when she stepped into the fresh air outside and rubbed at her nose. Hopefully orchids would go out of fashion soon; she was rapidly coming to hate the smell.

It was a nice day, and she lingered for a moment before heading back inside the dojo. Sun streamed across the front room and she hesitated before leaving the door unlocked. She was close to her opening time anyway and if someone came in early the bell would ring. She tucked her wallet and keys into the desk drawer with the lock and crossed to the back room, leaving that door open behind her.

The second room had a viewing gallery rather than floor markings, and it was raised off the ground as a little balconette. It ran the length of the back wall with a built-in bench and was accessible by a stained wood step ladder; a very pretty feature, the real estate agent had said. Nairi had set her shrine at the far end of the balcony, on a little nook inset to the wall. It had had dividing shelves installed, probably for bags or shoes, but she’d pulled them out to make room.

She’d cleaned her vase that morning to replace the plants, filling it with clean water before she left. The kid at the florist’s hadn’t really reacted when she’d placed her weekly order for just green plants rather than anything with flowers, but she supposed she didn’t actually know what was considered ‘odd’ to buy from a florist.

Everything else was set up, so she lit the incense and knelt.

A few minutes later the bell rang. Nairi stared at the shrine in front of her for a few moments, then blinked and climbed to her feet. Halfway down the ladder someone called out her name, and her confusion only rose as she stepped onto the mats and crossed back to the front room.

The hooker from the night before, Cherry, was standing in the doorway. She was still half outside, door propped open with her hip, one hand behind her in the sunlight with a lit cigarette smoldering in her fingers. Her other hand was a bit closer to her body, probably to balance the cardboard tray with two coffee cups in it. Her expression brightened when she made eye contact with Nairi, and she smiled. “Oh, there you are! Wasn’t sure I had the right place.”

Nairi stared at her blankly. In the daylight Cherry looked like almost an entirely different person—slinky dress and soft make up gone, traded for faded and worn cutoffs and tank top with half laced docs. Her bare arms had tattoos of fire circling her wrists, tongues of flame licking up to her elbows and her clean face was rounder and freckled.

“Why are you here?” said Nairi blankly, staring at her.

Cherry grinned, juggling the cups between her elbow and shoulder very carefully. “You saved my ass and bought me dinner. I’ve been on dates that aren’t that nice, babe, I wanted to say thanks.”

She dropped the cigarette on the concrete and crushed it under the toe of her boot before stepping inside properly. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind her, and she blinked to adjust to the light inside before taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Nairi.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said, tugging one of the cups out of the tray and offering it to Nairi, “so I just picked the most inoffensive thing I could think of.”

Nairi took the cup after a moment and had a quick sip. Foamy, bitter coffee filled her mouth and she tried not to grimace as she swallowed. “Thanks.”

The corner of Cherry’s mouth twitched. “Not a latte kind of girl?”

Nairi winced. “I don’t drink coffee,” she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, it was really nice of you.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” said Cherry, still smiling at her as she plucked the cup out of Nairi’s hand. “Do you like mochas, or teas or something?”

“Uh, I mean, tea usually, I don’t—caffeine gives me headaches—”

“Do you have some time before you open this place up?” asked Cherry, gesturing around the dojo.

“I guess, yeah, I scheduled for twelve, but no one shows up for—”

“Great!” said Cherry brightly. “C’mon, I don’t know how fancy Starbucks gets, but there’s this little posh place on the corner that looks like they’ll sneer at you for using teabags, lemme get you a pot?”

Nairi glanced at the clock over her door. There were fifteen minutes til she was scheduled to open, but, well, no one had booked or called about the noon session. “Okay,” she said after a moment.

Cherry grinned, raising the second coffee to her lips and sculling it in long gulps as Nairi slipped her shoes on. She dropped the coffee cups in Nairi’s wastepaper basket and reached out, grabbing Nairi by the wrist to tug her onto the street outside. Nairi took a second to lock up with the chain while Cherry tapped a toe impatiently, and when she turned back Cherry was watching her curiously.

“You have a problem with break ins?” she asked as Nairi stepped back next to her.

“No,” said Nairi, glancing at her. “Why do you ask?”

Cherry shrugged, hooking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as they walked. “Heavy duty locks for this part of town, s’all. Though, I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, and then college towns like, totally fuck with your perception of that stuff, so I’m probably not the best judge of what’s like, a ‘good area’ or whatever.”

Nairi hummed noncommittedly, keeping her gaze ahead of her. She could feel Cherry’s eyes on the side of her face and tried not to think too hard about what it was she was seeing.

The café Cherry took her to was on the other end of the street to Nairi’s building, and it was small and picturesque. It had low armchairs and beanbags dotted around the open air front space, and as it transitioned into the café proper the walls were lined with tall shelves sporting thick, coffee-table books and lush, overflowing ferns. Low chatter and the steaming of coffee machines filled the sparsely occupied room.

Cherry went straight for the counter, tugging Nairi along with her. “Hey there!” she said in a friendly tone, flashing a bright smile at the bearded young man behind the counter. “Do you guys have any like, fun teas?”

He nodded, leaning over the counter to point at the chalkboard wall with the marker he’d been turning over in his hands. “Sure do. We’ve got all of these guys, plus, you know, like English Breakfast and stuff. The Sinnamon’s new, and Rose and Shine is very popular with soda and ice as a morning mocktail.”

The other teas on the menu were called things like ‘Rooid Boi’, ‘Lemon Aid’, ‘Raspberry Remnant’, and ‘Tea Thyme’ with the ingredients listed in a nigh incomprehensible chalked cursive. Nairi stared at them blankly.

Cherry squinted at them, mouth open slightly. “….Did you just forget to write the raspberry in on that one?” she asked, pointing at ‘Raspberry Remnant’.

“It used to have raspberry leaves in the blend, but we had some issues. We liked the name, so we kept it,” he said, shrugging.

Nairi ignored the wall and turned to address the guy instead. “Do you have anything with oolong?” she tried.

He nodded, pointing at a couple of the marked teas again. “Yeah, the Roasty Posie is oolong with mixed floral overtones, and Save the Teas uses an oolong base as well. If you’re looking for a gentler caffeine experience, then Rose and Shine uses white tea.” He grinned, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Also, we do a uh, ‘house special’ with the Serenity Chill where we add booster shots of oolong and white tea—we call it ‘Aunt Mableton’s Icicle Situation’ after our manager’s cat.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi after a moment. “I’ll have a pot of Save the Teas, I guess?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning back and pulling the cap off the marker to write it down directly on the polished steel countertop. “Can I grab anything else for you ladies?”

“Can I grab an iced mocha,” said Cherry, turning her head and pointing at the glass case. “And like… one each of the fruit muffins?”

He nodded, adding them down as Nairi tugged out her wallet to pay. Cherry smacked her hand away and handed the guy some cash in exchange for the little table number, giving Nairi a wry grin. She stuffed the change into the tip jar and tugged Nairi over to a tall table by a bookshelf.

“You didn’t have to,” said Nairi as she shifted to take a stool on the far side so that the wall was behind her.

Cherry shrugged, dropping her wallet and phone on the tabletop before sitting across from her, kicking her booted feet back up onto the stool’s brace bar. “It’d be a pretty shitty way to pay you back for dinner, making you put out for brunch as well,” she said, poking her tongue out at Nairi.

Nairi wasn’t sure what to say to that and she fiddled with a loose thread in her cuff for several long moments. Eventually it got too awkward for her to bear, and she shifted. “Makes sense.”

“Aren’t you hot in that?” asked Cherry, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. Weirdly enough the only jewellery she was wearing was a small gold cross on a chain, no rings or bracelets. If Nairi had taken a second to think about how Cherry would dress off the job, this wouldn’t have been it.

She shrugged instead of answering the question.

“No, seriously,” said Cherry, her grin twitching a little at the corners. “I know it’s still a bit windy after midnight, but it’s still July, it’s like a hundred degrees out right now! How are you in long sleeves?”

“I just prefer it,” said Nairi, shrugging again. She felt an itch in the middle of her back, right between her shoulders, the way she did when someone was staring at her. There was only wall there. She resisted the urge to turn around and check anyway. “It’s light, you know, whatever.”

Cherry looked like she was going to push a little harder, but thankfully their food arrived and cut her off. Did it still count as brunch when it was nearly noon already? Either way, Cherry was thoroughly distracted, smiling sunnily at the cheerful girl with dreads and facial piercings who set their order across the table. Nairi had been given two glasses; both thick and squat, one filled with ice in deference to the weather.

Cherry sliced open one of the muffins, blueberry, and picked up the butter dish, waggling her eyebrows at Nairi over the mason jar that contained her iced mocha. “This place is a little… more than I was expecting.”

“It’s very… lush,” said Nairi, flicking her eyes to one side to give a hanging fern a deliberate look.

Cherry stifled an ugly snort, her head ducking as she pushed the muffins towards Nairi. “At least it’s interesting,” she said, hooking a hand around her jar of coffee. “Come on, tell me how the hippie tea is.”

Nairi poured a small cup of it out and took a careful sip, raising an eyebrow. “Organic,” she said. It actually wasn’t bad; a little woody and over steeped, but she was used to that at least.

Cherry took a long sip through her straw, eyebrow arched in return as she looked at Nairi through her eyelashes, then grimaced, leaning back. “Oh, that’s soy milk and straight cacao, I think this might be a vegan place.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi, smiling a little without thinking about it as Cherry picked up her half of the blueberry muffin.

“Are you vegan?” asked Cherry, tearing the muffin into chunks. “Or do you just like veggies for tempura?”

“Just vegetarian,” said Nairi, drinking more tea. “Don’t like meat. Milk and stuff is fine.”

“Don’t like violence against animals but you’re perfectly happy doling out a little of your own in the dark of the night?” teased Cherry, washing down her bites with more mocha.

“I have the black belts, I may as well put them to good use,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug, wishing she could get comfortable.

“’Belts’, huh? You know other stuff, not just Judo?”

Nairi hummed. “Krav Maga and Muay Thai as well. Belts or rankings and colours aren’t universal in different arts, but more people know what they generally mean, so, you know. My Muay school used armbands.”

Cherry nodded, one of her legs kicking the air under her stool. “Yeah? Do you teach those too or just Judo?”

“All three. I only have real students for Judo, though.”

“What makes someone a real student?”

“Showing up?”

Cherry snorted again, her hand flying to her mouth but not quite managing to hide her grin. “You don’t pull your punches anywhere, do you?”

Nairi shrugged again, not really sure how to take that.

Cherry seemed to find it an acceptable response anyway, openly watching Nairi with a fascinated expression. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure,” said Nairi. It wasn’t like she could get more uncomfortable.

“So, like, ‘Nairi’ isn’t a super common name, and you seem proficient and reasonably scary,” said Cherry, peeling the paper away from another muffin as she watched Nairi indirectly. “And like, I keep my ears to the ground you know—or, well, fuck, okay, I occasionally end up in bed or working with people who have, uh, other hobbies cops might be interested in—”

Nairi wasn’t a hundred percent certain where she was going with this, but she tensed regardless, her expression relaxing into cool neutral.

If Cherry noticed, it didn’t stop her. “—Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Nairi who scared off the guys making meth a couple of blocks from here, would you?”

…Well, that wasn’t good, but it was leagues away from the worst thing she could have said. “I think I had a conversation with them,” she said politely, eyes flicking down to watch Cherry’s hands on the tabletop. She took a moment to consider and then added: “Sorry if that’s made one of your… ‘hobbies’ more difficult for you.”

Cherry snorted again and shook her head, looking distinctly unbothered. “Nah, not for me. I have a hard enough time making rent without that shit.”

She was still smiling.

Cherry swallowed her muffin and took a more gratuitous sip of her mocha, shifting how she was leaning on the table and looking up at Nairi properly again. “So you’re like, new in town right? Don’t know a lot of people yet?”

“What gave me away?” said Nairi, blinking at her.

“Just a feeling,” said Cherry, her cheeks dimpling as she polished off her drink. She climbed to her feet, tucking her wallet away, but flipping open her phone. “Do you wanna do this again some time? Like, I mean, tomorrow even if you want. I can come by earlier so we don’t run up against your opening, or we could grab food after you close for the day?”

“I—sure?” said Nairi, her mouth answering for her while she tried to process the abrupt change of gears. “I mean, what?”

“Catching up, getting to know each other, being friendly?” said Cherry brightly, shifting a little closer to Nairi. “You’ve got your dojo to open today and I need to clock some time at my day job, but I’d love to get to know you better, show you round town, introduce to some friends, even?”

Nairi only just managed to swallow the ‘Why?’ that was about to trip off her tongue. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d uh, yeah I’d like that?”

“Great!” said Cherry, holding out her phone with the screen open to a ‘new contact’ entry. “What’s your number?”

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #103 #lgbt fiction

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

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Commission for Confidence, 5

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone! We caught up to what I had written, and I kinda fell into a funk, so I wasn’t writing that much. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, I kinda agonized over it (I even drew out the apartment to try and figure out the logistics). Let me know what you think!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @scatterbrainedgenius, @jordyns-library, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls

Word Count: 2155

Warnings: brief mentions of anxiety and depression, Peter being cute, awkwardness, probably too much detail about apartments, stuff about art, an AI

You chuckled nervously as you looked around the entrance to his apartment. It was a really nice place, especially for New York. It paid to work for Stark Industries, that was for sure. It was relatively open, not quite a studio apartment in its setup but akin to one, and there was a lovely view—via ceiling to floor windows—of the tops of a few buildings and the windows of a few others.

“Karen, lights,” Peter said as he toed off his shoes. The lights came on immediately, giving the apartment a warm and comforting glow.

“Karen?” you asked him, tilting your head in confusion as you began to remove your own shoes and place them by the door.

“Yes?” a feminine voice replied, making you jump in surprise.

“O-oh, hello?” you asked, unsure of what sort of social protocol came with talking to disembodied voices.

“Peter, is this a new friend?” the voice asked.

“Y-yeah,” Peter chuckled, patting you reassuringly on the back. “Karen is this AI that, uh, Tony and I developed. She’s kinda like Siri or Alexa, but better, in my opinion.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. You cleared your throat a bit and said, “Um, Karen? Can I call you Karen?”

“Of course,” Karen replied. “Did you need anything?”

“Um, I’m Y/N,” you told the AI, “and I was wondering… how are you?”

“I’m wonderful, Y/N, thank you for asking,” she said with what seemed to be amusement or affection in her voice, though you weren’t sure. “Are you a new friend of Peter’s? He didn’t tell me he made a new friend.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you smiled at Peter, who blushed slightly. “Karen, what all can you do? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Of course not. I can control all technology in the apartment, surf the web, read the temperature of the apartment and outside, and I’m connected to Peter’s phone and his place at Stark Industries, so he can ask me to do things while he’s out and about. And I can do many other things.”

“You’re so talented!”

“Peter, I like her. She has good taste.”

As heat gathered in your cheeks, Peter said, “She has the best taste. Actually, Y/N is going to be my newest model for some art! She commissioned me and I want to really explore the mediums to best capture her beauty.”

“It’s been awhile since you’ve done something like that, Peter,” Karen said. Peter’s ears turned red and he sheepishly avoided your gaze as he continued farther into his home.

You followed him in while he made a beeline to his kitchen, which was open; once you stepped into the apartment, there were three steps to the side and down to the wall. The kitchen was up the steps, and the counter that went between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment had a few stools placed there, safely away from the steps, to make a little breakfast bar sort of thing. Though at the moment, it looked to be a holding spot for a lot of mail.

“Ned’s out of town for work for a few more days, so his mail has been piling up,” Peter explained as he stuck his head into the fridge. It was almost like he was trying to cool off his cheeks. “I know most of his mail is junk, but it’s so much fun to watch his face when he sees the mail piled up like that, only to discover it’s mostly junk.”

“Hey, we all have our things,” you said with a shrug. You’d walked farther in, noticing that the living and dining rooms sort of blended together. There was a hallway between the kitchen and what you assumed to be Peter’s little art studio (judging by the easels and drying canvases).

“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got, uh, water, milk, orange juice, a beer, I could make coffee or tea, uh… Ned has like two cans of tomato juice, but I don’t know why, that stuff is not that good,” Peter’s voice said from the fridge.

“Um, water is fine. With a little ice, please?”

“No problem.”

You continued to look around, finding the décor to be fittingly Peter. The apartment itself was really nice, but the furniture betrayed that Peter and Ned were in their twenties. It wasn’t matching at all, but it managed to go together in an endearing sort of way. Instead of carpeting in the living room, there were rugs layered almost tastefully, and the cutoff is what separated the dining and living rooms. There was a bookshelf in the back corner of the living room that you itched to go explore, but you didn’t want to be rude (you knew how personal bookshelves could be).

You ventured a bit farther into the apartment, looking at the pictures on the wall. The wall to the left of the window, closer to the bookshelf, had framed photos. There were cute group photos that made you smile. Then, some people that were in the group photos had solo photos, very artfully done (you could tell that Peter had done them).

Your favorite photo was of a woman’s profile (perhaps it was his Aunt May?) as she looked upon a park with trees. You could see the emotions she was feeling in her eyes, and she truly looked to be at ease. And, something else you loved, was that the photo was set up so that it looked like she was looking out of the window at the colorful buildings outside. You could see her freckles, and the small lines around her mouth that showed she spent a lot of her life smiling. That fact, actually, you could tell by the photo itself.

“That’s my Aunt May,” Peter said from right behind you, making you physically jump in place. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand while the other clutched your chest as you tried to lasso your bucking heart.

“Sorry,” he grinned at you, offering you a mug that had the Spider-Man logo on it, with ice and water inside. “Sorry about the mug, too,” he chuckled slightly, “the rest of the stuff is dirty, I forgot to actually turn on the dishwasher before I left.”

“Set it up and forgot to press start?” you asked. He nodded. “I do that all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty consistent occurrence with me!” he laughed.

You took the mug with a thank you and shuffled yourself over to the wall to the right of the window to see the stuff there. You went up the three little steps and onto the hardwood floor so you could see the stuff on the walls, but Peter’s “studio” actually began where he’d laid down a large tarp to protect the floors.

You focused on the wall as Peter nervously scampered towards the studio to occupy himself with something as you were engrossed with the artwork on the walls.

The artwork on the walls, framed and not, were absolutely stunning. You’d seen some of the work on his Instagram, but they were even better in person, if that was even possible. There were two or three gorgeous photos of landscapes, but they were surrounded by other pieces of all mediums.

You found your favorite piece from his Instagram on the wall, a watercolor-esque piece that, as you recalled from the Instagram post, was also done with watercolor pencils. It was as if Peter had been sitting on an incredibly tall building, looking out onto the water on a rainy day. It had a lot of grays, but it was still incredibly vibrant. Now that you could see it in person, you saw that there were the softest of purples and reds going into the harbor, and the faintest of yellows and oranges in the gray sky.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Peter asked, surprising you again.

“Hm?” You turned to him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Peter cupped your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. It was then that you realized you had been crying.

Your entire body recoiled from Peter in shock, almost spilling the water from your mug, when you realized that is what he meant, quickly wiping your cheeks. “I am so sorry,” you stammered, shaking your head to revive yourself. “I’m sorry, wow, I didn’t even realize… This painting, it’s just, it was my favorite on your Instagram, and seeing it up close, I can see so much more than I could online. And it just, I guess it just reminds me of my journey through mental illness.”

Peter tilted his head, silently asking you to explain.

“This piece is kinda dreary, you know? I mean, you obviously do because you painted it, but, anyway.” You inhaled and tried to calm yourself. “So, it’s kinda dreary, and demure. Like how my brain has been for most of my life. But there’s still bright pieces, bright colors, coming through the grays. And those brighter colors also blend into the gray. It’s not two different entities, it all comes together to create one gorgeous painting. Like how all parts of my personality come together to make me, vibrant and living even with this pesky depression and anxiety I’ve always had.” You looked at Peter and smiled, noting his eyes widen and brighten. “You’re so talented, Peter.”

His face slowly morphed into a tomato and he kept glancing between the floor and your eyes. “I…” he began before clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled again.

“So,” he cleared his throat again, “do you want to check out the rest of the apartment, or do you want to kinda get to work, or?” He trailed off, looking out the window with furrowed brows. Your hands itched to smooth out the wrinkles, but you stopped yourself, instead thumbing the mug in your hands.

“Let’s get to work, how’s that?” you asked rhetorically. “Uh, how does this work?”

Peter chuckled and gently took your hand to lead you to the little “studio” he had setup. The back wall, which it shared with the hallway, had unfinished works spread across it, both hanging and leaning. You found that to be artistic in and of itself.

There was a big bookcase and several shelves that held supplies, and the back corner had piles of canvases and pieces of paper. One shelf was cramped and overflowing with sketchbooks. There was an easel that could be shifted around, and a stool for Peter to sit on while he worked. It appeared to be a cozy place for Peter to work; even if it was a bit small, it was moldable, easy to transform to Peter’s needs.

“I love this!” you said brightly as you looked around.

“Thanks,” Peter blushed a bit.

“So, how do you want me?” you asked as he deliberated in front of his supplies.

After a few moments of silence, Peter seemed to register what you said. He grabbed something you couldn’t quite see and was fiddling with it as he said, “Could you move the stool to be closer to the window and sit on it, please?”

“Sure,” you replied easily. You placed it around where you thought he wanted it and heaved yourself on, being careful not to overbalance and fall off. You held the mug in both hands, looking down at the slightly bobbing ice.

“Gorgeous,” Peter breathed loud enough for you to hear, and you looked up to see him now watching you, a camera wrapped around his neck. His blush was the most endearing thing you’d ever seen, and he quickly began to fiddle with his camera again.

“Photos first?” you asked, sipping your water to hide the smirk you’d created once you’d seen that adorable blush.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, stepping a bit closer. “I figured, well, if inspiration strikes in the middle of the night, I could always, you know, look at some photos.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me over in the middle of the night?” you asked boldly, raising a brow and trying to stop yourself from visibly freaking out at your actions.

If possible, his face reddened even more, and he nearly tripped over his feet. You chuckled lightly, sipping your water gingerly. Instead of saying anything, you let Peter regain his composure, though what happened next nearly made you spit out your water.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to wake you up and make you get out of my warm bed,” Peter said smoothly, the red slowly fading from his face.

You nearly choked on the water but managed to keep it in your mouth and in the mug, and you certainly didn’t miss Peter’s smirk. This was certainly going to be an interesting art partnership, and hopefully a long-lasting, laughter filled friendship would blossom as well. That was all you would let yourself hope for at that moment.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x insecure!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x plus size reader #reader insert #slow burn fic #please let me know what you think!!!!!!#commission for confidence

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sparklytreenerd-blog · 4 years

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4. Therapeutic TechnologyPatient Lying in Front of a Cat Scan Machine

This is the best and valuable kind of innovation as it helps with improving and broadening human life. Therapeutic innovation is a tremendous field wherein development has assumed a critical job in supporting human wellbeing by aiding in lessening the torment and accelerating the recuperation procedure. Created nations around the world have profited the most with the adaption of this innovation in their social insurance frameworks. Many creating nations additionally have put resources into present day restorative innovation to improve the strength of their populaces.

It includes zones like pharmaceuticals and biotechnology to use the most ideal restorative hardware for looking into, diagnosing and treating ailments and diseases. Significant commitments have just been made and more are in progress to additionally improve the human services. From little developments like lower leg supports and gauzes to trend setting innovations like fake organs and MRI machine – innovation has for sure had a fantastic effect on the field of medication.

5. Design Technology3D Architecture Plan

This sort of innovation is the use of current innovation for planning structures. Design innovation is the segment of building and engineering designing and is regularly alluded to as its sub-class or unmistakable control. New innovations and materials produced new development techniques and configuration challenges all through the structure's advancement, all the more explicitly since the rise of industrialization in the nineteenth century.

Engineering innovation traverses building, building science, and engineering and is rehearsed by building/compositional specialists, basic architects, structural technologists, and modelers, just as others creating idea or plan in buildable reality. It assists with different components of structures, including shrewd windows and lifts.

6. Business TechnologyBusiness Man Using a Tablet

Business innovation is the use of data, designing, information and science for organizations related purposes like accomplishing authoritative and financial objectives. This innovation helps in the best possible and deliberate running of organizations and for improving distinctive business capacities and tasks. This ordinarily incorporates a blend of equipment and programming.

Independent ventures use innovation to set up inventive methods for contending with built up organizations and to produce new leads. Innovation levels home organizations to be seen as a major organization which causes that business to increase an aggressive situation in the market.

What precisely is business innovation? It is a tech which is incorporated into the business activity straightforwardly. For example, a TV in a lounge room isn't a business innovation however a gushing channel created by an organization to appropriate drawing in substance to the group of spectators is certainly business innovation. The contrast between different innovations and business innovation is the business joining; an innovation gadget present in your business and an innovation gadget being effectively engaged with your business are two unique things, the last being a piece of business innovation.

7. Instructive TechnologyClassroom with Computers on Each Desk

Instructive innovation targets improving the presentation of understudies by overseeing and setting up various mechanical assets and procedures in a homeroom or any learning condition. The

mechanically propelled scholastic order plans understudies to accomplish further information and comprehension of subjects. It helps the understudies in learning methods for conceiving answers for issues with the assistance of research, usage of data, assessment, and structure.

Instructive innovation makes a learning domain that guides in improving methods for learning. It helps in propelling understudies and empowering singular learning. It gives simpler access to instructive materials and helps understudies in adapting new dialects and subjects through gamification.

8. Data Technology

This innovation involves a lot of programming and equipment instruments used to process, move and store data. These devices of data innovation give the ideal people exact and refreshed data at the ideal time. Information works in organizations use data innovation to effectively finish various errands, including improving client assistance, moving the correct data that assists with the basic leadership procedure of the association and that's only the tip of the iceberg. This data age has made it fundamental to oversee frameworks of data for guaranteeing effectiveness and exactness.

Data innovation likewise incorporates MIS (Management Information Systems), which designs the utilization, the executives, and improvement of data innovation instruments to help laborers in performing

undertakings related with the executives and preparing. Major money related establishments like banks use data innovation for working their business procedure and to give top notch client assistance.

9. Space TechnologyCockpit Panel of a Spacecraft

This innovation is created by the avionic business or space science to use in space investigation, satellites, and spaceflights. It is utilized to market or investigate space like correspondence satellites and shuttle. Space innovation incorporates space stations, satellites, shuttle, and bolster methodology, hardware, and foundation.

Space is a novel situation because of which working in it requires uncommon strategies and apparatuses. Various every day administrations including satellite TV, GPS frameworks, remote detecting, climate guaging, and other long-separation interchanges depend fundamentally on space foundation.

Different sciences like earth science and cosmology likewise advantage from space innovation. Creative innovations that quicken by or start with space-related exercises and achievements are normally later used by other financial undertakings.

10. Computerized reasoning

Computerized reasoning (AI) is likewise called machine knowledge. It is the knowledge the machines illustrate, differentiating to the normal insight showed by creatures and people. As indicated by software engineering, man-made reasoning exploration is known as savvy specialists study. A gadget seeing its condition and making a move which augments its odds of accomplishing its objectives effectively can be alluded to as man-made reasoning.

A few instances of man-made brainpower include:

Critical thinking

Arranging

Learning

Discourse acknowledgment

The center component of man-made brainpower is information building. Machines can respond and act like people when they have adequate data about the world. Man-made reasoning needs to approach properties, classifications, items, and relations among them for executing information building.

11. Mechanical technology TechnologyRobotic Hand Gripper Machine Being Used in Manufacturing Company

Mechanical technology innovation is a field which is identified with man-made reasoning. It is the use of machines, development, activity, and planning robots for performing errands that were finished by people. It likewise utilizes distinctive PC frameworks for data handling, tangible input and to control. The advances in this field are used to make machines that can duplicate the activities of people and can be utilized as their substitute.

Robots need insight to handle errands like item route and control, just as mapping, movement arranging, and confinement. Robots are generally being utilized in different businesses like vehicle producers for performing redundant and basic errands, too in ventures where work is required in conditions and circumstances that are perilous for people.

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1. Correspondence Technology