#sorry i’m just on my third drink of the day because it’s vacation week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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a kiss from the moon | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you're also Park Jimin's best friend since preschool. Shit.

warnings: language; alcohol consumption; pining; JK gets distracted by (your) tits during his quest, typical; non-idol!BTS - purple-haired!Jungkook x sleepy af, noona!reader, ft Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung radiating big soulmate energy; childhood friends-to-lovers

yes, it's JK from the 'Butter' beach photos

“I love you!”

You lifted your head out of the mountain of pillows, groggy and hazy, squinting at the moonlight filtering through the floating curtains. The night breeze was warm, drifting in softly with the low hum of cicadas. But what was that other sound? That other sound was familiar, wasn’t it?

You heard your name being shouted, followed by, “Wake up!”

You made a face and stumbled out of the bed, sticking your head out of your bedroom window, your own hair flying back and smacking you in the face.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?!”

“Get down here!”

You put on your best disgruntled expression and peered down at the form on your front lawn, shoving your own hair aside.

“What are you going on about?” you muttered, seeing Jeon Jungkook looking up at you, puffing his cheeks, long wet purple hair fading to gray because of the chlorine from swimming all night at that party Park Jimin had invited you to earlier today, to which you had responded, no thanks, I’m going to sleep all day, I worked three double shifts in a row and I have zero desire to be flung into your family’s swimming pool at this time, but I will acknowledge that your offer is very generous, and then promptly passing out for a good – you glanced at your phone with the pink bunny case Jungkook had given you two summers ago – ten hours and it was still not enough for you to comprehend why your best friend’s best friend was standing on your front lawn yelling at your parents’ house that you were watching for a month while they were in Italy getting drunk on far too expensive wine and eating cheese they probably couldn’t pronounce.

Jungkook was shirtless, clad only in orange swim shorts and sandals like a fucking hooligan. He was clutching a plastic red Solo cup and he threw it at the house, yelling your name again.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t litter, you idiot!” you bellowed back, throwing yourself away from the windowsill and crawling on the floor to your bedroom door like the evolution of mankind, making it from all fours to two legs by the time you got to the stairs – good thing too, you might have broken your neck if you were still disoriented – and you dragged yourself downstairs, yanking your white slip dress straight. Not your choice of pajamas. Your mom’s, who told you to be more ladylike, whatever the fuck that meant, and who also informed you in the same breath that it was your only choice of pajamas since they donated all your clothes from high school.

Awesome.

You go to university and your parents yeet all evidence that they had a child and go vacationing.

Good for them.

You wrenched your front door open and shoved your feet into your dad’s giant brown sandals and clapped your way over to the pink-faced, mildly drunk, shirtless man in swimming trunks on your front lawn.

“It’s two in the morning. Why are you standing here drunk and professing your love like some kind of deranged Romeo?” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Why aren’t you at Jimin’s?” You spied the red Solo cup and picked it up, whipping your head back to Jeon Jungkook.

He was staring at you with his mouth open.

Charming.

He didn’t say anything for a good ten seconds.

“Alright, fine, let me call my loser of a best friend and tell him to pick up his loser of a best friend, so I can go back to sleep,” you muttered, about to turn around.

Jungkook seemed to sputter back to life. “Wait, um, noona–”

“He speaks! He’s not dead.”

“A… Ah… Um…”

You squinted at him and reached up to knock the side of his head. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

Jungkook blurted out, “I love you.”

His breath smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Yeah, I got that. You also said that when I got you through your Chemistry and World History exams. Both times. You also say that to like, what, six of your guy friends? Don’t get me started on the amount of times you’ve said it and thrown up in my lap right after. Don’t do that this time,” you added sternly, prodding at his chest. “I’ve got one set of pajamas because my mom forgets that human beings change clothes, so throw up on the grass.”

“Uh… that’s pajamas…?”

“Lady pajamas,” you grumbled sarcastically, lifting the lid and chucking the crumpled Solo cup into your parents’ trash can. “Since I’m not lady enough apparently according to my mom, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure giant band t-shirts are completely unisex but, whatever, it’s just a dress, not a big deal.”

“Um.”

You looked at Jungkook, who looked back at you, who put your hands up and gestured him to say something, who in response rose his hands and flapped them in confusion, giving you absolutely zero helpful communication. The movement reminded you he had gotten his right arm and hand tattooed in the last couple years, the black ink standing out against tan skin. You hadn’t seen him too many times during your university years, too busy completing research papers and staying late nights in laboratories, only to now end up working on hospital software and sitting on your ass all day. Life, eh? These past three days were spent on working through bugs for the next software update and you had maybe lost all social skills as you attempted to unravel lines of code that you stared at for forty-eight out of the past seventy-two hours.

Fun!

“Do you need a cookie? A shower? The Bible?” you offered, waving your hands. “Maybe tell me why you’re here, yes?”

He was staring and you realized you were slightly bent over in your gesture, your breasts firmly pressed into the cups of the slip dress. You straightened and Jungkook’s wide dark brown eyes went back to your face.

“I… I didn’t realize you had come back, noona.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told Jimin last week. He said he was hanging out with you and Taehyung. I figured he’d just tell you guys then.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, gray-purple hair flying about. He pointed to the left, where Jimin’s house was several blocks over. “He only mentioned it just now, when he was throwing up in the bathroom from doing eight shots in a row because Taehyungie dared him.”

“…. Maybe he needs the Bible…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then the realization hit you.

“Did you walk here from Jimin’s and straight up abandon the party?”

Jungkook tilted his head and thought about it. “Yeah.”

You looked around to find the camera and see if you were being pranked, but there was no camera because this life wasn’t purely for entertainment, right? Nah, this wasn’t The Matrix.

Mhm.

“Hah, well, what’s wrong? Are you upset I didn’t go to the party or something? I had three double-shifts this week, I wasn’t going to be any fun passed out before actually drinking–”

“Yoongi-hyung was passed out before drinking.”

“In some ways, I swear that guy and I are the same person,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really banked on Jimin not being an airhead, but once again he is, so maybe I should reconsider him as my best friend…”

“Noona, I…”

You looked up from your mental consideration of Park Jimin’s pros and cons, the first pro being he punched that ex of yours that cheated on you with some Tinder hookup and that was already enough to stop contemplating, so you blinked at Jungkook curiously, looking into wide brown eyes, long strands of ash-purple floating around his handsome face from the night breeze, brushing against his parted lips, highlighting the mole underneath them, placed perfectly in the center like a kiss from the moon itself.

“Can I take a shower and sleep it off here?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, sure. You can borrow my dad’s clothes. You should call Jimin though. You don’t want him to panic that he lost you.”

“Y… Yeah, okay…”

Jeon Jungkook really thought he could say it this time.

Collected all his courage and ran, ran as fast as he could, couldn’t believe Jimin had neglected to say she was coming home over the summer for more than a day, days without her reminding Jungkook that he was a coward for not saying it when he could have, having lost his most important person in the world because he was too afraid of telling Park Jimin that he was in love with his best friend.

He remembered that smile wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, sitting on Jimin’s bedroom floor, crushing all of them at UNO and cackling as Jimin blew up for ending up in last place for the third time in a row, yelling that the game was rigged, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her tonight.

And he didn’t.

He remembered her saying to Taehyung that she just wasn’t into girly things. They were having this argument over pizza and Taehyung was waving his around saying she should at least try a dress on every once in a while, never know, might actually like it, and her rolling her eyes as she shot back that she didn’t have to do anything just because it was stereotypical for her gender. Taehyung told her to stop using big words and waved his hands, accidentally flinging his pizza slice into her lap, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her after we clean up.

And he didn’t.

He remembered seeing her prepare to leave for university once again, holding a small package from the internet and handing it to her, a small but practical belated birthday gift, both of them surprised when she opened it, not the matte black phone case he had ordered, but somehow mixed up with a pink bunny phone case that had no business being owned by someone who didn’t like girly things.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order this–”

And she laughed, shaking her head. “That’s okay, I gotta go, thanks anyway, Jungkook!”

The years went by and every year Jungkook told himself, this is the one, and every year he just couldn’t say it.

He thought he could say it now, drunk and furious at Jimin for not preparing him for this moment, but on his way here Jungkook figured that perhaps this was preferred, that maybe it was better that he couldn’t sit around nervously overthinking what to say.

But, of course, the problem was…

He had already said it in a platonic way.

Shit.

He really fucked himself throughout the years.

Jungkook sighed, now wearing borrowed clothes, holding the note of her handwriting as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

I washed your shorts and they’re hang-drying now. You can sleep in the guest room. I left a glass of water and some hangover meds. If you need anything, I’ll be asleep but you can attempt to wake the dead if you want.

He walked down the hall, towel around his shoulders. Her bedroom door was open. He stood outside the entrance, sighing, seeing her sleeping form and her bedside table, her phone sitting on the charger.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized that pink bunny phone case.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Probably at her parents’ place, confessing his love,” Kim Taehyung snickered, picking up the beer bottles left behind next to the pool.

“Hah, of course he would leave without cleaning up,” Park Jimin grumbled, pushing the recycling bin along as Taehyung tossed each bottle inside.

“You think he’s gonna tell her?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Jimin muttered, shoving used napkins into the bag hanging off the side of the recycling bin that he was going to toss into the trash later. “I had to find out from you. I think he’s hopeless. Why does he like her anyway? She’s fun to be around, yeah, she’s good at school, yeah, knows a lot of random facts, yeah, if you get into philosophy with her like Namjoon-hyung does, you begin to question humanity and reality, yeah, but other than that…”

“You hitting on your best friend, dude?”

“I mean, she’s kinda hot, she wouldn’t say no to me.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jimin smacked him in the ass with the recycling bin.

“Anyway, he’s probably just standing in her bedroom creepily watching her sleeping.”

Jungkook stared down at her sleeping form.

He looked up, looking out the window into the late, late night. He was tired, and yet he couldn’t sleep, too busy wondering.

I don’t deserve her if I’m not brave enough to say it.

“Jungkook?”

You squinted at the large form in your bedroom.

“Why are you just staring moodily out the window?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack…”

“Noona, do you know what the worst feeling in the world is?” he asked softly, still looking out into the warm night.

You grunted and scrunched up your face. “Stepping on a Lego?”

You heard Jungkook laugh and you smiled a little despite your groggy state, hearing a little bit of his old self, the younger Jungkook hanging out with you, Jimin, and, later, Taehyung, the four of you getting up to no good. Somehow, in the past few years, he had gotten quieter and quieter, at least around you, but then again you only came home to visit for a day or two before going back to university.

“Have you ever been in love, noona?”

“Yeah, with the red bean popsicles they used to sell at the ice cream trucks, but then they stopped, those assholes, I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life,” you grumbled, remembering the day where the ice cream man told you they were sold out and your young teenage heart shattering.

“I love you, you know.”

Was this a fever dream? Why did he keep repeating himself? You looked over to his back, still looking outside onto the street, the street where you all used to run and laugh every summer, pretending you were surviving in the wild and not in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, sitting around sipping lemonade and complaining about the heat even though you all could have gone inside, lighting sparklers at night and seeing whose would last the longest even though such a thing was only based on chance anyway.

“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he added quietly.

“The worst thing I’ve ever heard was accidentally hearing Jimin jacking off. Twice.”

Jungkook finally turned around, giving you a disgusted look. “What?”

You placed a hand on your face and sighed heavily, trying not to remember. “For some reason he thinks the bathroom isn’t echoey or something, like, at least do it in the shower, so the water masks the sound…” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, I would much rather hear you say you have love for me than listening to Jimin getting off.”

“I don’t have love for you.”

You raised your hand from your face and shifted your gaze to him, half-smile lingering on your lips from remembering Jimin’s carelessness. You made eye contact the second the words left his mouth, those brown eyes shrouded in shadows, but still so clear, a little helpless, a little sad.

“I’m in love with you,” Jungkook whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

A soft breeze swept through the window, lifting the purple-gray strands from Jungkook’s face, revealing his lost, desolate expression.

The cicadas hummed.

A car alarm honked loudly, screeching through the night.

Both you and Jungkook jerked to face the window. You bolted out of bed and you both threw your hands onto the edge of the window, yanking it shut, wincing at the loud noise.

“Ah, jeez… what the hell…?” you groaned, slumping to the ground.

“What’s with people…?” Jungkook muttered, falling to the floor beside you, yanking the towel off his shoulders.

“Fuck, I pressed the wrong button!”

“Taehyung, what the hell, turn it off!”

“I was just trying to put the tangerines your parents gave me in my car!”

“I don’t care what you were doing, turn it off!”

“Anyway, sorry, you were saying something important and you got interrupted by some dumbass,” you sighed, nudging Jungkook with your shoulder.

“Uh… well, that was it…”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “What, that you’re in love with me?”

“Y… Yeah?”

You blinked some more.

“Not the, want to go to the arcade and see who can get the highest score in PAC-MAN or go watch shitty action movies and rate the unrealistic plot lines or dare each other to eat whatever expired delicacy is in Taehyung’s fridge, kind of love?”

Jungkook made a repulsed face. “I regret eating that tofu. Don’t think I can ever look at uncooked tofu without gagging a little now…”

You leaned over and caught his eye.

“Do you mean the… want to date and get married and make babies, kind of love?”

His lips parted and the moonlight lit the small mole placed perfectly underneath his lower lip.

A delicate kiss from the moon itself.

Then you realized he was staring at your tits.

You yanked the neckline up a little and Jungkook started, looking back up at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you in a dress, sorry, I’m being really rude–”

“It assures me that you’re at least interested in the making babies part,” you chuckled.

His ears turned red and he reached up to cover them, trying not to look down. “S… Sorry…”

“So…?”

He chewed on his lip, messing with his earrings with his fingertips. “Um… yeah, that kind of love. The latter kind.”

You lowered your hand. “You’re not messing with me, right? I swear, if this is one of Taehyung’s elaborate ideas to mess with me, I’m going to ki–”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, purple hair flying about. “I’m not joking around. I wanted to tell you for a long, long time, but…” His eyes darted about, panicking a little, before looking back to you helplessly. “You’re Jimin’s best friend, besides Taehyung, and what if… what if you thought I was gross or something and then I don’t think I could hang out with you guys anymore, but then you went to that prestigious university far away and I thought, I’m so stupid, I should have said something, anything, but every time I could even think about it, I didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed right…”

He let out a big sigh and tapped his head against the windowsill, closing his eyes.

“Also, I said it before and threw up in your lap right after, so that kinda fucked me up.”

“Can’t say I was really feeling the romance, yeah.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d date you though. For real.”

Jungkook removed his hands and blinked at you. “What?”

You chuckled. “Why are you acting so surprised? I’m not going to date Jimin, blergh, I’ve known that guy since I was in preschool. I’m not dating Taehyung, I��m pretty sure he’s on a different brainwave than other human beings.”

You smiled at him and turned around to pick up your phone, holding it up.

“I don’t like girly things or cute things very much, but I kept your gift because it was from you and, funnily enough, I think it made me realize that I was rejecting femininity because society puts such a negative connotation on things young women like and because my friends growing up were primarily male, thus I wanted to seem cool or relatable so I rejected stereotypically feminine concepts…”

“… What?”

Now it was a confused what.

“Uh, never mind,” you laughed awkwardly, putting your phone back on your nightstand. “Anyway, Jungkook, you made me realize things about myself, and I love being around you, but I thought a handsome guy like you would want to date a pretty girl, and I’m not really that.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in the world. No one could ever be prettier than you.”

You felt your neck heat. “Yo, don’t inflate my ego when it’s not the truth,” you chuckled sheepishly, waving a hand. “You’ve been drinking anyway. Alcohol makes everyone prettier.”

“It’s the truth.”

Was he drunk or were you drunk? Why was Jeon Jungkook getting closer?

“Would you really date me?”

You stared into those chocolate eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I would.”

And you leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened, staring at you and you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, inhaling his scent, memories of hot summers and mirthful laughter filling your head, standing beside Jungkook and kicking Jimin and Taehyung’s ass at table tennis even though Jungkook was doing most of the work, finishing a movie together after Jimin and Taehyung had passed out on the couch on top of each other and talking excitedly about it until you both fall asleep, getting lamb skewers after Jimin and Taehyung went off to eat ramen in a huff, unable to agree on the same meal as a foursome, but it was fine, no, better than fine, perfect even.

Because you were with Jungkook.

You broke the kiss and opened your eyes, smiling at him.

He blinked slowly, looking down at you.

“Noona…”

His hand raised, fingers spreading out longingly. You quickly reached up and pushed it back down.

“Jungkook, I swear, I do want to touch you in a less than holy way, but maybe not when you’re wearing my dad’s clothes, including his underwear, because that’s really fucking weird.”

Jungkook looked down at the brown t-shirt and beige shorts. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“You know, come to think of it, I feel like Taehyung has slowly stolen Jimin from me over the years, so maybe this was fated…” you mumbled, remembering at the moments you had shared with Jungkook were because your other two friends had abandoned you.

“I feel you, sometimes I feel like a third wheel…”

“I’m so sleepy.”

“I’ll tuck you in first, but I’m going to get us some water so we don’t die tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, Jimin, bring another pillow please.”

“Hah, fine, but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow…”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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guardianofrivendell · 3 years

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Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot.

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago. You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead.

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted. And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee.

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit.

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life. James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself.

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you.

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.”

You booped his nose and got to work.

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door.

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe.

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door.

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch.

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that.

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open.

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual.

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand.

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off. You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.”

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you.

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place…

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered.

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again.

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said.

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again.

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled.

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm.

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night.

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself. You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought.

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right? With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee.

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend. You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed.

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli.

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien.

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie.

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond. “What?” “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought. Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered. “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís.

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments.

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches.

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.” You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway.

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house.

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior.

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“If you want?” Fíli asked you.

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile.

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you.

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere. For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet.

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first. Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, …

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head.

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information.

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too. How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams?

Of course! That was it…! You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming. But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were.

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan.

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream.

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes.

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap.

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention.

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest. You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat.

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter.

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them.

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs.

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach.

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively.

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across.

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again. You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James.

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark.

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly.

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them.

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown.

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place.

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you. “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in.

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.”

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it. Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know! And of course let me know what you thought of this story :)

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @artsywaterlily @entishramblings @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

#fili x reader #kili x reader #fili and kili #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #hobbit character in modern world #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #fili #kili #durin princes

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quokkacore · 3 years

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday.

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00.

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak.

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid.

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me.

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range.

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life.

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly.

[7:57 AM]

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took.

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School.

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.”

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation.

A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.”

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement.

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.”

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon.

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking.

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored.

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him.

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front.

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since.

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her.

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today.

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark, Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken.

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.”

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club.

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you.

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice.

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?”

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled.

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately.

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?”

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?”

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’.

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch.

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy.

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time.

Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord.

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends.

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?"

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!”

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months.

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung.

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung.

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history.

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since.

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything.

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration.

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to.

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel.

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face.

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also.

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college.

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing.

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!”

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss.

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either.

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only.

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters.

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked.

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—”

The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit.

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here."

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things.

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious.

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things.

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed.

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?”

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!”

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.”

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?”

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.”

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out.

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry."

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me."

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change."

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult. You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?"

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year."

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal."

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist.

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether.

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly.

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

“Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.”

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them.

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was.

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before.

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him.

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered.

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came.

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground.

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!”

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths.

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault.

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station.

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could.

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up.

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

#kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct x reader #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct au #jeno au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #my writing

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princessphilly · 3 years

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Tag list: @ohpuckyeah @joelsfarabee @besthockeyfics @dreamer1430 @defiant-mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @tangercrosbyschultzfan25887 @shelbsatans

CW: soft smut, mentions of miscarriage, fucked up doctors.

This is definitely it. Sid and Nina’s story is over but you will see them in the other fics of this universe, including a huge part of Plain Jane

Nina stared at the boxes. It was time to pack but at the same time, she couldn’t do it.

They were so excited. A baby so early in their marriage had seemed scary but Sid and Nina were ready. They had picked out colors, a room for a nursery, and had begun to discreetly pick up supplies.

It was nineteen weeks; still early but they were getting ready to announce. Then there was the blood in the toilet three days ago when Nina woke up and went to the bathroom. And now, their first, a girl, was gone.

The doctor was sympathetic, and said it happens a lot. Most pregnancies never make it to birth, she said. But it hurt that their girl was now an angel. Nina sniffled as she packed the pack-and-play back into the box.

“Hey, why are you doing that? You’re supposed to rest!”

Nina looked up, tears in her eyes. Sidney rushed to her, lowering himself to the floor. Gathering his wife in his arms, he soothed, “Pretty girl, we’ll have more.”

“But-but-“

Nina’s tears turned into sobs as she relaxed in her husband’s arms. Her momma had a history of miscarriages: what if that meant that there would never be a child?

As if he could read her mind, Sidney replied, “it doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what.”

Nina was sleeping, finally getting some rest. Matthew was napping on Sidney’s chest, his little boy still red but much calmer.

It hadn’t been an easy birth for Nina. This was their third pregnancy but first child to make it past the 2nd trimester. And Matthew decided to come out three weeks early, November 26 instead of his due date of December 17.

The door opened and Matthew stirred a bit before settling back down. Sidney looked around: his mother was curled into a chair, reading a book while Tracy was scrolling her phone on the couch. The proud grandfathers had gone out to get lunch for everyone.

Walking in, the doctor said, “The nurse said Nina is healing nicely but we will have to do some stitches. Your son is a big boy.”

Sidney gave him a tentative grin. Matthew was 9lbs, 4 oz and 22 inches long. He was on the bigger side. The doctor continued, “When I stitch her, I can give her a husband stitch, if you like.”

“What is that,” Sidney asked, wrinkling his nose.

Trina interjected, “Don’t you dare, Sidney.”

In a soothing voice, the doctor said, “it’s an extra stitch to make your wife as tight as she was before she gave birth.” He winked at Sidney.

Sidney looked at his mother before responding, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Nina managed to say, opening her eyes. “I heard about that stitch and I will sue if you do that to me.”

“You heard her.”

Sidney gave the doctor a hard look as he shrugged, preparing to give Nina only the necessary stitches. Passing his boy to his mother, Sidney said, “I’d like a different doctor.”

“What, I’ve been-”

Sidney took out his phone, ready to start making some calls. The doctor left, grumbling under his throat. Nina gave Sidney a grateful smile before dozing off again.

One of the hardest things for Sidney was the fact that it was best for his boy not to grow up in Canada. As a proud Canadian, that rankled him. He wanted Matt to be more Canadian than American. But when a video of 2 year old Matt skating and hitting a puck dead center into the net made major news, Sidney knew he had no choice. He wanted Matt to have more of a childhood than him, to not feel like he had to be the next one.

So, his family spent most of the year in Pittsburgh and summers in Cole Harbour or on different vacations. Sidney knew that his son was still “famous” but Matt was still treated as a kid. With Nina’s extended family, there wasn’t any preferential treatment. His kids were the same as their cousins in Nina’s family, giving his children normalcy Sidney never had as a child.

Sidney raked a hand through his silver hair. As much as he wanted Matt to go his own way, it still freaked him out that his son chose to be a *goalie* out of all positions. He winced as he heard a shot hit the post. Then Matt made a glove save and Sid clapped.

“That’s not the talent I expected but he’s already showing signs of being a better goalie than center, Sid.”

Sidney turned to his longtime mentor and now close friend, Mario. Shrugging, he replied, “I just want him to be happy. He’s happy, I’m happy.”

Sidney smirked. “Plus, Chloe is going to be the best woman’s hockey player ever. She’s 8 and she’s already playing with 10 to 12 year old girls.”

“True,” Mario conceded. “You’ve transitioned from pro to hockey dad.”

“Eh, can’t forget Aja and Morgan. I’m a hockey, figure skating, soccer, and dance dad. Not bad for a fifty year old washed up player.”

“Who’s washed up?”

Sidney grinned as his wife bumped him with her hip. His baby girl was holding Nina’s hand, her hair pulled up into a dancer’s bun. Chloe was right behind her, still clad in her hockey gear, Aja trailing behind with a book in her hands.

“I am,” Sidney drawled.

Chloe piped up, “No you’re not, Daddy! You’re still the best hockey player ever!”

“Yup,” Morgan added while Aja nodded, absorbed in her book.

“No, you’ll be the best hockey player ever, Chlo’,” Aja stated, closing her book. “Daddy will be the best men’s hockey player.”

As Aja firmly nodded, Sidney and Mario laughed.

Nina let out a breath. It was crazy how just one touch from Sidney made her hot, even seventeen years later. His lips were trailing down her neck, one hand cupping her breasts. “Can you be quiet for me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina breathed out. Sidney’s other hand was exploring her folds. She was getting wet but menopause was finally calling so Nina knew they would need some help. Leaning away from Sidney, she pulled out the lube from the drawer.

“Thanks, pretty girl, but I’m more interested in burying my face in your pussy,” Sidney laughed.

Nina replied softly, “No problem. You know my mom just came back from her cruise so the girls will go find her first this morning.”

“Even better. Spread your legs for me, pretty girl. You know what daddy wants.”

Nina let out a giggle that quickly turned into a muffled moan as she felt Sidney’s tongue gently lick through her pussy, his nose nudging her clit the way she liked it. He ate her slowly, bringing Nina close to the edge but never letting her go. Then Sidney stopped, kissing his way up Nina’s body before kissing her, letting Nina taste herself.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Nina urged, “Please, Sidney,” managing to keep her voice at a whisper. Before he could answer, they heard some girlish giggles and they both paused.

“I locked the door last night,” Sidney whispered into Nina’s ear. Nina giggled then moaned as she felt Sidney’s fingers spread the cool lube over her pussy. Then he entered her, nice and slow.

“Love you, pretty girl,” Sidney whispered as Nina arched against him. She was clenching around his cock; he wanted to go slow and savor it this morning but Nina had different ideas.

Nina whispered, “Love you, too,” her fingernails digging into his back. Then she squeaked as Sidney withdrew, turning her onto her hands and knees.

“Momma, you promised to make breakfast today.”

Nina straggled into the kitchen, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. “Morg, it’s 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday, it’s still morning.”

Chloe piped up, “You’re usually up before us everyday, Momma.”

Nina shared a look with Sidney who squelched a laugh. He had planned to just go one round with his wife but it turned into three to start off the day right.

Sighing, Nina grabbed bowls to prepare waffles. Morgan added, “Mimi made waffle batter already, Momma.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Nina sincerely stated.

Tracey shrugged. “I figured I’d give you a break since I’ve been gone. You know I love my grand girls.”

Matthew yawned as he walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up all over his head. “Hi,” he sleepily said before going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade.

“It’s too early for energy drinks, Matt,” Sidney chided.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Matthew was about three weeks from turning twelve and the whole teenage era was coming fast. Now, he was sleeping in and staying up late. Nina sighed, it was too early for one of her babies to grow up.

“I would have woken up earlier but these girls had to jump on my bed at 7am, Dad,” Matthew complained. “They said your door was locked. Why do they always have to bother me?”

“Because we love you, Matty,” Aja said with a mischievous smile. “And some girl sent you messages while you were asleep.”

Matthew glared at his little sister. “Girls are ugly. Especially girls like you.”

Sid and Nina shared a look. Sid just had “the talk” with Matthew and they were both happy he still saw girls as ugly, at least for now. Tracey said, “Oh baby, that’s no way to talk to your little sister.”

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” Matthew said, giving his grandmother a kiss. “Momma, can we have blueberry waffles today?”

“Plain waffles,” Nina said firmly. “You can add blueberries, strawberries, or peaches as a fruit topping.”

“No chocolate chips?”

Chloe and Morgan gave their mother their biggest puppy-dog eyes. Nina shook her head. They then give Sidney the same look, saying together, “Daddy, can we have chocolate chips with our waffles?”

Sidney laughed as he picked up two of his girls. “You two already know the answer to that!”

Chloe pouted as Morgan laughed at the silly faces Sidney was making. Sidney added, “It’s Saturday so you know today is ice cream day after dinner. Did anyone feed Maddie?”

Nina giggled as she turned on the grill. At the mention of her name, Maddie, their dog, ran into the kitchen. Pharaoh, their cat, followed Maddie in, stretching before walking around her legs. As her family noisily talked, Nina sighed in happiness. She loved her family, life was perfect.

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Doll Me Up (P.4)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,965 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony’s office was expansive, but you were in such a small space of it.

You had just gotten back from your honeymoon and he stopped by the office to grab some paperwork and you had trailed along behind him. As soon as he had closed the door to his office, he had grabbed your hand, forcing it to his crotch. One thing led to another and you found yourself tucked underneath his desk, your mouth wrapped around his balls as he stroked himself, his head thrown back against his chair.

“Just like that,” Tony panted. “Keep flicking your tongue like that, princess.”

There was a sharp knock at the door and the two of you froze. His door opened and your eyes widened at the prospect of being caught in this position. Tony was chill as a cucumber though, both his hands coming up on his desk immediately.

“Rhodey,” Tony said sounding surprised to see him and for good reason. You had only stopped in, not announcing you were going to be here. You breathed evenly through your nose but the feeling of it made his cock twitch, it brushing your face. He shifted at the even slight contact, hopefully unnoticed.

“Huh, you are here,” Rhodey said from over by the door. “Maria said she saw you come in. Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

“Just got back. Landed the helicopter outside actually.”

“Where’s Y/N?”

You were not moving, waiting for Rhodey to leave. Tony’s balls were still settled in your mouth as you sat suspended in the lewd act.

“Uh, went to get something to drink I think. She should be back. Just… stopped in to grab some stuff.”

There was a small pause, and you could only imagine the awkwardness exchanged in their looks.

“You alright?” Rhodey asked uncertainly.

“Perfect. Why?”

Another pause.

“No reason...” Rhodey said trailing off. “Well, you should finish your vacation. You work too much. Gotta make sure that you’re doting on the missus too.”

“Is the single man trying to give me relationship advice about my marriage?” Tony could not help but to quip.

Rhodey laughed and said, “Jackass. I’ll see you next week. Stay out of the office until then after this, you hear me? You’ll thank me for forcing that and so will Y/N.”

“Loud and clear.”

When the door closed, you sucked hard. Tony grunted in response and then a strangled laugh left his throat.

“Good girl. You’re so well trained,” he praised, guiding his dick to your eager mouth.

<><><>

You sat in the back of the car with Tony, your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring out the window. You were not even trying to hide the tears trailing down your cheeks, thinking of how hurt Liam was in and the aftermath of it. Tony had been angry with you before, Cassandra’s party for one example. And you had both been inebriated which only exacerbated the situation. But him sober though and angry? This was a new experience. You felt a twinge of fear of if he had gotten it out of his system or if he had something else planned. He threatened punishment though, hadn’t he?

He was silent the whole way home, but you could feel the fury. He would not even look at you, sitting as far away as possible.

When Happy pulled into the garage and parked the car, Tony was out of the car quickly. You gathered up your bags before getting out of the car. Tony was striding ahead of you down the garage, not waiting for you.

You caught Happy’s eyes and huffed when he tried to take the bags from you. “I can do it myself, thanks.”

Happy’s hands fell back down to his sides and he looked miffed, but you ignored it, beginning to follow Tony. He stormed inside and was making a beeline for your bedroom. You were already tensing, thinking of the spanking you were going to get. You followed him all the same into the master bedroom and went into your closet to put your bags down.

When you turned back around, you found him looming in the doorway.

He let out a humorless laugh, breaking the silence the two of you had been suspended in. You bit at your cheeks, waiting for him to explode because you had seen him like this before; that manic type laughter.

Tony threw out his arms, “I just don’t get it, baby! I mean, are you really that fucking stupid? You thought taking a plane to another state – let alone city – wasn’t going to piss me off to high heaven? And you hole up in some hotel with some guy like some skank—”

“I didn’t have sex with him!” you interrupted him, offended.

He looked furious at your interjection. “Don’t interrupt me!” He took steps towards you, hands on his hips. “Why the fuck did he answer your phone?”

“I was in the bath! I was telling him to hang up!”

“Didn’t hear that. Odd.”

“Yeah, because it would sound really suspicious if you could. Like I had something to hide!” you said defensively. “He’s stupid but he’s harmless. He didn’t know it was going to piss you off so much.”

“Sure, nothing to hide. I mean you even said you loved him in front of me.”

“I say that to all my friends. It didn’t mean—"

“And then I tell you to come home,” Tony interrupted you now, his voice rising, and you felt it about to boil over. “And what do you do? You can’t even follow that direction even though everything is perfectly laid out for you. Perfectly! Every little fucking step of the way! All you had to do was listen. But no! You have to go and make it difficult for no. good. goddamn. reason!”

He bellowed the last, slamming his hand down on one of your dressers, making you flinch back. He was burning holes into you with how intensely he was staring at you and you folded, your eyes downcast, heat coming to your cheeks. You did not like it when he yelled, especially when it was directed at you. You were truly regretting stoking his anger this much.

“Tell me why, Y/N!” Tony continued shouting. “Tell me why you have to push my fucking buttons! Why can’t you just be good?”

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely, tears stinging your eyes.

Tony inhaled deeply, exhaling shakily. He turned on his heel suddenly, leaving you alone in the closet. You heard him slam the bedroom door closed as he left.

You stood in silence, not knowing what to do. After a few minutes, you timidly walked out of the closet, finding the bedroom empty. You shuffled to the bed, sitting down tensely, waiting worriedly.

He returned to the bedroom, the buttons undone on his shirt along his chest and at his wrists. You knew it was because he was getting ready to put effort into making sure you learned your lesson and he would need all the range of motion he could get.

“Go,” he ordered you.

You followed his direction without a moment’s hesitation, knowing he wanted you in the room behind his study where all your toys were. The door in the bookcase was already open and you scurried inside, him on your heels.

His next demand came the moment you crossed the threshold, “Strip.”

You did as he asked hearing him close the door behind him. Quickly, you were standing naked before him. He was barely sparing you a glance, not taking the time to acknowledge you and that cut deep.

“The bench,” he ordered tautly.

Dragging your feet only a little at his icy demeanor, your body shook in anticipation. You climbed up onto the restraint bench, feeling the air move beside you as he came to stand by you. You chewed on your bottom lip, your head hanging, staying still as he tightened the restraints around your wrists and then moved down to your calves.

He was still not speaking to you past the curt commands, and you heard him walk off. You did not dare try to lift your head to follow him, keeping yourself curled in as much as you could. You thought worriedly of what whip or paddle he was going to choose to dole out your punishment. You prayed it was not the ball chain because that one would hurt. He had only used that one to stimulate you, but you only thought now of how much that impact would hurt if he used his full strength.

His footfalls met your ears and you twitched, trying to will yourself to not tense up because that was going to make it worse.

The sound cracked through the room and you gasped, your toes curling. There was no massage or build up to get you warmed up this time. He was using the leather slapper, the triple impact increasing the hit. One you knew all too well, whether it be for pleasure or to teach you a lesson. He was able to be close with it too, increasing his precision.

Tony had not asked you to count, so you did not before the second blow hit. You hissed when the third hit and tears stung when the fourth landed directly dead center across your ass. He was leaving small breaks in between but not too long. The next hit lower near your thighs and you choked out a whimper; he had done that on purpose, he knew it hurt. The next was higher and you could hear him breathing heavier. He was putting his back into the hits.

The tenth fell finally and you almost breathed in relief when you heard him walk away from you. Your ass was stinging, and you thought miserably of the bruises that were to show up.

He only gave you a moment’s reprieve. Tony’s hands were at your calves, undoing the restraints and he did the same for your wrists. Changing positions was bittersweet; your muscles stretched but the pain on your backside caused you to wince. Your legs shook as he helped you to your feet and he pulled you along to beside the bed. You thought for a moment he was going to let you lay down and relief began to flood through you, foolishly thinking that it had not been so bad after all. But you saw the pillows on the ground beside the bed and the toy mounted on the ground.

“On your knees,” he said letting go of your arm.

You painfully lowered to the ground, resting your knees on the pillows – something he had thankfully considered, you fleetingly thought.

Reflexively, you began to lower to rest your head on your elbows to release some pressure from your legs and he snapped his fingers at you, “No. Up.”

You did your best to bite back a complaint, sighing pathetically instead. You kept your eyes downcast still, not sending him a challenge with meeting his eyes.

The toy slid in slowly and your fingers flexed on the floor as you adjusted to it. Tony was controlling it, the speed, the depth. It was shallow at first, working you up. He was pacing and you could feel his stare as he watched the silicone go in and out. He had ultimate control of how hard you were going to get impaled and a first row seat to watch. You did your best to stay in the same position that he wanted, trying to be good. This was without restraints, he wanted you to do it on your own, and you wanted him to forgive you.

Tony turned on the vibrator setting suddenly, and you keened at the sensation. It dragged across your clit, sending reverberations through you as the toy continued thrusting in and out. You were growing slick, relaxing into the movement the deeper it plunged. The dull ache was being overpowered by the tightening in your core with every brush against your g-spot. It was getting harder now to not push back into the toy for more stimulation to release and come.

Fidgeting, your breath was becoming short as you felt yourself spiraling towards release.

Tony turned the toy off.

You blinked, feeling sorrow at the quickly dissipating high you had almost reached the apex of.

His breath was hot on your ear, “If you come on this toy, I’ll put you right back up on the bench. You got me?” You nodded and he demanded, “Answer me!”

“Yes, daddy,” you choked out pathetically. “I understand.”

“You better,” he warned, straightening back up. “You’re not coming until it’s on my dick and until you’ve proved you deserve it and earned my forgiveness, you’re not getting me.”

He only gave you a few more moments reprieve before the toy turned back on. You bit at your bottom lip, trying to ignore the sensation in the toy’s movements now that you knew what the stakes were. He was pacing again and you could imagine his glossed over eyes as he watched the toy sliding in past your folds, taking in the redness on your ass that he had put there. Your chest was rising and falling as you moved to try to keep your thoughts anywhere but here.

Tony pushed you right to the edge and when it was getting hard to ignore it, he turned it off again to your immense relief. Your breaths were coming short and heavy, your arms beginning to shake. You just wanted to lay down.

He started it up again and you let out a small cry. Everything was going to be so sore.

The sound of him walking away while the toy was still thrusting, at a slower pace thankfully, drew your attention and you almost turned your head to follow him. You managed to catch yourself at the last second, swallowing sharply and forcing yourself to look back down at the ground. The pressure was building quicker this time with how worked up you already were, and you hoped he was not gone for long. You did not want to come undone and disappoint him. And you sure as hell did not want to be back on the bench.

It felt like forever but logically it had to have been a handful of minutes. The toy was still thrusting steadily, working you gradually towards an orgasm rather than rushing. You could handle this. You could do this. It was going okay.

Until it was not. The dildo increased in speed and you sighed, closing your eyes tight. You heard a creak and you hoped it was him returning.

Another change, it moved deeper. And the vibration.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered, unable to help yourself.

You knew he could hear you if he was still able to control the toy from where he was. He had not completely abandoned you. Broken, soft cries left your lips as your fingers dug into the floor, willing yourself to try to keep yourself from tumbling.

A gasp of relief exploded from you when the toy turned off. You heard the door open fully again and you sniffled, visibly shaking on your arms now as the toy retracted.

Tony’s shoes appeared in your line of sight and he swooped down, helping you stand. You were weak in the knees, letting him guide you. You mournfully watched the bed disappear from view as he moved you along towards the door back to his study. Where was he taking you now?

Hope blossomed at the sight of the light on in the bathroom down the hall. And your wishes were answered: he had drawn up a warm bath and you almost cried.

“There’s Epsom salt in there,” he told you stiffly.

“Thank you,” you said immediately.

He did not respond and instead put his hand in the water, testing the temperature. “It should be fine now.”

Lowering into the tub, you hissed half in pleasure feeling the warmth and half because of how sore your ass was, touching the bottom of the tub. Slowly, you relaxed, relishing in the tension release that was provided by the salts. Your eyes followed Tony freely now as he walked out of the bathroom.

When he returned, he had a pair of pajamas that he placed on the counter, before shooting you a look.

“Don’t stay in too long. It’s almost 2 in the morning. You need to sleep,” he said sternly. You nodded feebly and his eyes swept over you once before he turned on his heel and left the bathroom again.

<><><>

You woke up with your head buried in your pillow, your arms tucked safely underneath it. You had opted to sleep on your stomach, relieving the ache in your ass. You spotted that Tony’s side of the bed was still empty, which meant he had not come to bed. The bed felt cold without him, even though you were snuggled far underneath the blankets. Maybe he had slept in another room or on the couch. The thought of that only made you feel guilty.

You got out of bed, wincing at having to sit up to stand. Your leg caught as you moved, and you took a moment to stretch as much as you could. You pushed the button next to the window, opening the heavy curtains, letting the sun come in. Squinting against the light, you stared out over the ocean.

A couple of minutes of fresh air might do you some good, you thought sleepily.

Your hand fell onto the balcony door, the handle reading your fingerprint to unlock.

F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed over the speaker, “You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #dark marvel fic #dark marvel #my shit

148 notes · View notes

fictionalabyss · 3 years

Text

Mated : Forgotten.

Pairings : Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader (onesided), Alpha!Sam x Omega!Jessica Moore, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader.

Word count : 6,071

Written for : @spnabobingo

Square : College Au

Warning : Angst ahead! a/b/o dynamics, one sided attraction, best friends to strangers, hurt, depression, feelings of abandonment/being forgotten, mating, struggling with school, canon death, reunion, more people getting hurt emotionally, Sam isn't handling things well.

Prompt that inspired this fic : “When I told you your shirt was inside out I didn’t expect you to take it off right in front of me” - Sent by @sorenmarie87

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

Part 1 of Mated.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

You were sitting on Sam’s bed flipping through one of his philosophy books as you waited for him to be ready to go. Since his class ran later than yours, it left you waiting on him while he headed off to the showers. When he finally returned, you glanced up from the book and chuckled, eyes going back down to barely look at the words on the page before you flipped to the next one.

“What?”

“Your shirt’s inside out.” you smiled to yourself. You glance up to see him roll his eyes at you before he reaches down and pulls his shirt up and over his head. The smile on your lips fades. Sam is built. You’ve always known he was built to some degree, the muscles in his arms under a t-shirt were no secret. He was an Alpha, he was strong, and god damn, he was built. His stomach flat and hard, muscles showing definition that had you swallowing. Sam was.. You let out a shaky breath before tearing your eyes away. “I uh. I forgot I had to do something.” You scrambled up from his bed, tossing his book aside.

“What? What do you mean-”

“I’ll be like 10 minutes, max, okay. I’ll meet you there.”

“Y/N?” he called after you.

“I’ll meet you there!” You hurried from his room, praying he hadn’t smelt it, that you got out of there quick enough. You needed to get away from him, needed to calm down. You’ve known Sam since you started at Stanford. Your room was just down the hall from his. You partied together, you hung out together. Sometimes he helped you study. But in all that time, you’d never had this reaction to him before. Then again, you’d never seen him take off his shirt before.

You hurried into your room, slamming the door behind you just as someone scented the air and turned towards you. Leaning on the door, you closed your eyes and took deep calming breaths. You couldn’t let him smell you like this. You couldn’t let him know just how he affected you. He was your best friend, nothing more. You weren’t even attracted to him in that way.

Were you?

It took some time to calm yourself down, then you had to hit a shower to scrub at your skin in a desperate attempt to get rid of the ‘horny Omega’ smell that you felt like you couldn’t shake. Then it was get dressed and rush out to meet Sam. You were a little later than you’d said, but you knew Sam wouldn’t mind too much.

You rushed to the restaurant near campus that you two often frequented together. As you approached, you looked through the window, smiling at first, as Sam was sitting at your favorite table, but he wasn’t alone. Your smile fell fast as you watched the blonde smile at him as they spoke. She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down as Sam smiled back at her, and you swallowed down pain.

Why did it hurt to see him like this? He was your best friend, you wanted him happy, hell, you’d been his wingman a time or two while drinking, but right here, right now.. It hurt.

Tearing your eyes away, you turned your back to the restaurant. You didn’t know what to do. Did you go in there and interrupt whatever discussion they were having? If you did, would you suddenly become a third wheel? It looked like they were having a good time, maybe he’d invite her to eat with the two of you. Or did you leave, walk away, let him have his moment and pretend you either were never there, or that you are happy for him?

Why did this have to hit now? Why the sudden shift?

Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you tried to picture Sam as he’d been just a few hours ago. Your dorky bff who liked to tease you like you were his little sister. The guy you’d annoy to no end just because you could, because it was fun, because you knew that somewhere he had an older brother and admit it or not, Sam missed him.

But you couldn’t. Picturing him brought back the image of him pulling off his shirt as if it was nothing, because it should have been nothing. Hell, it probably still was to him.

You turned, looking back over your shoulder at the window once more. She was talking to him, and he was looking around outside. He glanced over his shoulder and you whipped around, back to him once again, half hoping he wouldn’t spot you. Praying he hadn’t. You steeled your nerves, glanced back and you knew, he had. He was looking right at you with a confused look on his face.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and headed inside.

“Sorry I’m late.” you mumbled as you got to the table, not making a move to sit anywhere.

“You okay?” He looked worried.

“Fine.” you gave him a forced smile. He didn’t look like he was buying it.

“I’ll leave you two to your dinner.” The blonde gave you a small smile as she got up from her seat. Sam’s eyes went from you, to her, and he looked like he was about to stop her, and that only hurt you more. If he did, you’d excuse yourself and head back to the dorms. “Looks like you two could use some privacy. It was nice meeting you, Sam.”

“Yeah.. you too..” he watched her leave and go to another table, then he was looking at you again, waiting for you to sit, to say something, but you seemed to just stand there awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He motioned to the seat across from him that she just vacated and you sat awkwardly, hands in your lap like you were going to bolt at any moment. “Nothing’s wrong, Sam.” you lied.

He studied you for a moment. “Then why’d you bolt?”

“Told you, I forgot to do something. I’m sorry I’m late, okay, it took longer than expected.”

“You forgot to shower?” Your eyes shot up to meet his with mild fear in them. How’d he know that's what you did? Did he smell just how turned on you’d been before you ran out? “I can smell it. You used so much body wash, too much.” he scrunched up his nose as if it offended him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” you reiterated, trying to sound annoyed at his prying. You grabbed a menu as if you didn’t already know the damn thing by heart and pretended to look it over, using it as a barrier between the two of you.

“Why were you just standing outside? Why didn’t you come in?”

“Because you looked like you were having a nice time with blondie, so I considered just going back to the dorms. Are we ordering? Or would you rather I leave so you can get back to that? I don’t mind getting food to go.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ll go.” you stood, ready to leave, but Sam grabbed your wrist to stop you. “What?” you snapped. “And don’t ask me what’s wrong again, I’m fine, so just drop it.”

“Sit.” When you didn’t move, Sam sighed. “Please sit. Come on, it’s our night. I wouldn’t bail on our night for anything. You’re my best friend.” Sam gave you a half smile and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” you muttered, dropping back into your seat and Sam smiled. Sam Winchester and his smile were going to be the death of you.

A week later you’re practically skipping up the hall to Sam’s room. Figuring he’s showering, as usual, you barely knock before entering. You freeze, however, when you see a familiar blonde sitting on Sam’s bed. “Oh, uh, sorry, I wasn’t aware someone was in here.”

“It’s fine.” she smiled, waving it off. “Sam went to shower, he should be back any minute.”

“Yeah..” you nod, but stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. It doesn’t take long though, for Sam to walk in. He’s wearing jeans and a button down shirt that he’s still buttoning up, and that makes a smile cross your lips as you cock an eyebrow. “Little over dressed there, Sam.” you tease, and he looks up, freezing in his task. You see something you wish you hadn’t seen. Confusion and then guilt. He forgot.

“Uh-” he looks from you, to the girl on his bed, then back at you.

“Let me guess, you’re bailing.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.” you can hear her apologetic voice behind you. “I didn’t know you guys had plans.. Sam must have forgotten..”

“Yeah, it’s easy to forget something that happens on the same day every single week for two years.” You gave Sam a tight smile. You weren’t going to hide the hurt this time. “But it’s fine. It’s not like you had any way to let me know at any point today, right?” With that, you started for the door.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promised.

“Yeah, I know.” you glanced back at him. “You kids go have fun.” You gave them a smile before headed out and hurrying to your room. Once the door shut behind you, you felt the sting of tears. So much for not bailing on your night for anything.

“Are you mad at me?” Sam stood in your room a few days later while you worked at your desk, your back to him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” you answered, without looking back at him.

“You won’t even look at me.”

“I’m studying.”

Sam sighed, licking his lips before going to sit on your bed. “And usually you let me help you.”

“Usually you let me know if plans change.” you counter, still not looking back at him.

“So you are mad.”

“Not mad, no. Hurt.” this time you do turn. “You said you wouldn’t bail on me for anything, and literally the next week, you bail on me without a word like I don’t mean shit, Sam.”

“I just forgot-”

“Forgot that we had plans? Or forgot to tell me? Because I call bullshit on both.” Sam opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “Here’s the thing, Sam. Either you asked her, knowing you had plans, or she asked you and you said yes knowing you had plans.” Sam sighed, looking down at the floor. “As for forgetting to tell me, I’m three doors down. You know my schedule, you could have knocked any time. You have my cell number, you could have called or text me.”

“I just forgot, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” you turned back to your books. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him to fuck off just so he realizes just how bad he hurt you, but another part of you, a part of you that realized just how much Sam Winchester means to you, wants him to come over, hug you and tell you that no one else matters to him as much as you do. “You sorry for not talking to me for three days on top of that?” you ask casually. “Must have been a hell of a date to forget that everyone else exists.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for that too.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching you work. “Are we still on for this week?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On if you have plans.” you look over your shoulder at him. “Because apparently my standing appointment is subject to changes without prior notice.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all fine print on me.”

“Then don’t add fine print. If we have plans, and they change, have the balls to tell me.”

“I will. I promise. And I’m sorry.”

“Mhm.” you turn back to your books. “Blondie sticking around?”

“Jess.” he answers and you can hear the smile. “Her name is Jess, and maybe. I mean, it went good.”

“If blondie hurts you, I’ll kill her.” It’s the best friend thing to say, right? But it’s also the truth. The idea of her being around makes your chest ache. But if she hurt him, if she hurt the single most important person in your life, you’d kill her.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, yeah. And I’ll kill any guy who hurts you.”

“Guess I won’t need to be saving up any money for bail. There is no one.” No one but you, you idiot, and you already hurt me, you think to yourself.

“There will be.” Sam smiles behind you. “You’re a catch. Only an idiot wouldn’t see it and jump at the opportunity.” You scoff at that. “What? It’s true! You’re smart, and beautiful. You care about other people, you’re loyal-”

“To a fault.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Tell that to my constantly breaking heart.” you mutter.

His smile is gone. “Either someone hurt you, or you are mad.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss a book back at him that he easily catches. “Either help me study or get out.”

That week had been just you and Sam and you were thankful. There was no mention of blondie, just dinner, drinks and a movie, like old times. Smiling and laughing with your best friend. You wondered if maybe it had been a one time deal. As much as you wanted him to be happy no matter what, he was your best friend after all, a part of you was happy at the idea of her being out of the picture again. Now that you knew how you felt about Sam, you could gauge if he felt the same.

So that was your plan for this week. Figure out if Sam could feel the same.

You were smiling as you headed to your usual restaurant, but you were confused to not see Sam at your usual table at the window. The only time he sat somewhere else was if it was occupied, but it sat empty. Maybe you were early.

Opening the door, you smiled at the waitress before scanning the room. The smile fell fast when you spotted him. He wasn’t sitting at the usual table because he was in a booth along the wall and across from him, blondie.

Slowly, you made your way over. “What’s going on? Did you forget me again?”

Sam smiles up at you and chuckles. “No. I thought maybe we could all hang out this week. You and Jess could get to know each other.” You glanced over at her across from him, and she smiled. “Is that okay?”

“A heads up would have been nice.” you answered. Where were you even supposed to sit, next to her? Hell no. And sitting next to Sam while he’d be looking at her like that felt just as weird.

“Come, sit.” Sam scooted over in the bench, giving you room. With a sigh, you sat. “Jess is in the nursing program.” Sam praised, smiling over at her.

“How lovely.” you answered, grabbing for a menu as Sam continued to talk her up. He was telling you everything about her, her shy smile on him as she chimed in a few times to add or correct something. But he just kept smiling at her, talking about her..

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit here.

Getting up, you headed for the counter. Stopping the waitress there to give her your order and tell her it was to go. A moment later, Sam came over. “What’s going on?”

“Being the third wheel is not on my list of things to do today, Sam. Why am I even here?”

“You’re not the third wheel. You guys are getting to know each other-”

“I’ve been here for ten minutes, and you haven’t said a single thing about me.” you looked over at him, and you knew he could see the pain he caused you again. “It’s all about blondie.”

“Jess.” he corrected.

You roll your eyes and turn back to the counter. “Next time you want to have a date on friend night, just fucking tell me.”

“That’s not what I want-”

“It’s what it feels like. It feels like I’m nothing more than an afterthought. You said you’d kill anyone who hurt me, right?” you look at him again. “You’re hurting me, Sam. You want to date blondie, date her. But don’t turn our time into date time. It’s bullshit, it’s unfair and you know it. I had a shit week, okay? A long shitty week, and all I wanted was to relax with my best friend. Instead, I get to unknowingly sit in on date night.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t think it through..”

“No, you didn’t. You should have at least told me.”

“Come back. Please? We’ll go for drinks after, and-”

Your order was placed on the counter and you smiled at the waitress as you handed over a few bills. “No, I think I’m just going to head back to the dorms.” you picked up your order and turned to him, a glance going over to Jess as she watched you and Sam. “Enjoy your date, Sam. Call me whenever you’re free to hang out again.” and with that, you left.

Once outside, you turned back and looked into the restaurant windows. You could see him crossing the restaurant, his eyes on you and a look on his face that furrowed his brows and turned down his lips. But then his attention was off of you as he disappeared out of sight and towards the table she was waiting in.

Your relationship with Sam from then on, was strained. Bullshit conversation starters were sent via text, or online messaging. A ‘hey, how are you doing’ but not much beyond that.

It hurt.

You barely saw him. More often than not, when you did, it was in passing. Walking past him in the hall, or out on campus. A lot of the time he was with her, or on his way out, likely going to see her. You were barely even an afterthought these days.

Your mood only plummeted further as the weeks turned to months.

Then one day, coming back from class, you get to the top of the stairs for your floor and you see him, box in hand, and you freeze. “You’re moving.”

That’s when he seems to notice you’re there, his eyes coming up to meet yours and he smiles sheepishly. “Hey! Yeah. Uh- me and jess.. We got a place off campus.”

“Moving a little fast there, don’t you think, Sam.” you try to keep it light and teasing, try to hide some of the pain. But then you notice something. He’s different, his scent, it’s off. Your brow furrows as you lean in and scent at him. “It’s changed..”

“Yeah, about that..” He shifts the weight of the box. “We mated.”

You feel your heart shattering all over again. He mated her? She’s only been around a few months and he mated her?

“The new place, it’s not that far, so we can still hang-”

“We don’t hang out as it is, Sam, so I doubt it.” you shrug and start away.

“Y/N?”

“Have a nice life, Sam.” you hurry into your room and slam the door just as the tears start to fall. You’re sitting on your bed, head in your hands when the door bursts open and Sam’s storming in. “Get out.”

Ignoring you, he drops his box on your desk. “What the hell is wrong?”

“Get out.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” you sigh, still not looking up. You can’t, you can’t look at him.

“Either you hate me, or you hate her, and you don’t even know her, you refused to get to know her. I thought we were friends!”

“Best friends.” you snap. “At least I thought we were.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve been there for you, I’ve always been there for you.” You laugh at that, giving your head a shake. “What do you mean, no? Up until you started hating me for being happy-”

“I don’t hate you, you fucking idiot. I love you!” you snapped, glaring at him.

“What?”

“I love you. How could you not see it? I’m not mad because you found your mate, Sam. I don’t hate her for being with you. I’m hurt. I’m hurt because while you found your whole world, I lost mine to her.” Sam just started at you. “I stopped being a part of your world and that hurt more than anything. I don’t hear from you, Sam. I get a half hearted text once in a while, and that’s it. You were my person, you were the person I talked to every single day, and suddenly I don’t have that. Every time I accept it, you pop up, and you give me false hope just to vanish again. Three fucking doors down, and not once did you stop by.”

Sam looks down, looks ashamed. Like he’s finally realizing just how long it’s been since he’s seen you face to face, spoken directly to you.

“All I wanted was some of your time. It didn’t have to be every single week, Sam. I just wanted my best friend and I lost him. You have no idea what that’s done to me.”

Hearing you sniffle, Sam looks up, watches the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.” you wipe at your cheeks and turn away from him, ending this conversation, ending this whole encounter. You want him to hold you, to tell you everything will be okay again, but you don't expect him to. You aren’t that close anymore and haven’t been for a while now. So you hope he’ll leave.

You hear him move to the desk, hear his box shift across the papers there, but he doesn’t leave, not right away. “You’re failing..” Turning, you see him looking at one of your last tests, his eyes scanning the page and then looking up at you with a confused look. “How are you failing?”

You shrug. “Don’t exactly have my study buddy anymore, do I?”

“You could have called, I-”

“I did.” you give him a sad, heartbroken smile. “I did call, a week before I had to take that. You were busy. You said you’d call back and you didn’t.”

“Shit.. I must have forgot..”

“Yeah.” You stand there watching him, he's looking at all the other papers on your desk. Papers and tests all graded and showing the steady decline in your work. “You should go, Sam. Blondie’s probably waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to upset your mate.”

“She’d understand if I’m a little late, she-”

“My heat’s due.” his eyes shoot up to meet yours. “Please leave before you make it worse. It’s been bad enough as it is the last few months.”

Sam’s eyes slide over you before he nods, putting down the papers and picking up his box. He quietly stands there for a minute, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, trying to find some way to make it right. But there isn’t. With a pain filled sigh, Sam slowly makes his way out of the room.

Tears stream down your face as you hurry to close the door behind him. Your body shaking with sobs as you lean against the door and cry out your heartache for what feels like the millionth time.

It’s been a month since he moved in with Jess, a month since he’s seen you. You blocked him online, you didn’t answer his texts when he tried to reach out. It made him realize how you felt all those months.

After the encounter, he’d been upset. He told Jess a quick version, leaving out a few details, basically just told her how he’d forgotten to maintain the relationship he’d had with you in his excitement of meeting her, and it left you feeling alone and depressed. Jess told him to make it right, make it up to you, but he couldn’t, could he. Not really, you loved him, and he was in love with someone else.

But then he remembered what you’d said. You just wanted his time, just wanted to be in his life.

“Jess?” he called out, before getting up and going to find her in the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if every other Saturday I spent with Y/N? Just me and her?” Jess turned and looked at him. “You guys were right, I neglected her and I need to make it up to her. I hate that she’s not talking to me. It hurts, and I know it’s not even close to how bad I hurt her.”

Jess smiled at him. “No, I don’t mind at all. You should go tell her.”

“I will.” Sam smiled before leaning in to kiss her. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” she smiled back. As Sam was leaving, she called out “Let her know she can come over any time, and there’s an open diner invitation. I’d really like to properly meet her one day.”

“Will do.” Sam called back before the apartment door closed behind him.

It didn’t take too long for Sam to be hurrying up the stairs in his old dorm building. A smile spread over his face, excited to see you. He’d missed you and he couldn’t wait to surprise you. He hoped that the gesture would be enough to start bridging the gap he’d put between you. He didn’t expect for things to be like they had been, he wasn’t sure it could ever be that again, but he hoped that he could have you back in his life.

He barely knocked on the door before opening it, but once inside, his smile fell. It was empty. The bed stripped bare, the desk empty. No more belongings, no more decorations, it was like no one had ever moved in. It was the right room, he knew it was. He moved around the room, looking for some hint, some clue, but other than a layer of dust, nothing.

“Oh, Hey, Sam.”

Sam turned and found John, the RA. “Where is she?”

John shrugged. “Went home, I think. Said she needed a break from school. She was really struggling.”

“When?”

“About three weeks ago?”

Three weeks? You’ve been gone for three weeks and he hadn’t noticed? Sam dropped onto the bed as his mind raced. You left without a word. But then again, he’d done the same thing, right? Moving out of his dorm without ever once mentioning it to you. It was chance that you’d come up the stairs just as he was about to go down them. It was chance that you’d found out. If you hadn’t would he have ever even mentioned it? Or would he forget that like he’d forgotten everything else.

“I really fucked up.” he muttered to himself. “Hey, John? She leave an address or number or anything?”

John shook his head. “Nope. Just let me know she was going. Figured you knew, being her best friend and all.”

“No.. No, I didn't. We haven’t talked much lately..” Sam mumbled. “Thanks, John.” Sam stood, and started out of the room.

“Take it easy, Sam.” John clapped him on the back as he headed past.

“Yeah.. you too..”

There was an ache in chest as he slowly made his way back home. An ache he knew Jess saw as soon as he was in the door. “Sam?”

“She’s gone.. She left, she went back home.. I can’t fix it, Jess. I lost my best friend for good.”

Sam dropped into one of the kitchen chairs as Jess came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her head leaning on the back of his. He pulled out his phone and tried one last time. One last time to reach you and then he’d leave you alone.

<< I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you so bad you had to leave. Please, just let me know you’re okay.

Heading back home to the midwest had been the best thing you could have done for yourself. You blocked Sam on everything, ignored texts and calls. After about three weeks they stopped and you were finally able to heal, finally able to forget all the pain Sam put you through.

You had contact with a few people you’d known in a few classes. Thankfully none of them mentioned Sam to you.

Not until they told you about the fire. About Jess.

You found yourself back in Palo Alto, dressed in black and standing with people you barely knew for a girl you never bothered to get to know. She might have been nothing to you, but she’d been everything to Sam. Your heart broke for him. Losing a mate was the hardest thing anyone could go through.

Glancing around, you were surprised he wasn’t there. You expected him to be here, to be with her family as they grieved the loss of their daughter, but he was nowhere to be seen. You looked forward again, watching as people took roses and gently placed them on her coffin. You decided to do the same.

Taking one in your hand, you slowly made your way closer, stepping up just as the person before you stepped away. “I’m sorry.” you whispered quietly. “You didn’t deserve this. I’m sorry, Jess.” Placing the rose with the others, you quietly walked away.

You were sitting in the bar you had frequented in your time at college. Lifting a drink to your lips, you paused about half way before you set it down and pulled out your phone. Licking your lips, you opened a text chain you had long ago ignored. You hoped he hadn’t changed numbers.

<< I’m sorry for your loss, Sam.

Closing your phone, you put it down and picked up your drink again, downing the last of it before motioning for the bartender to bring you another.

It was about twenty minutes later when you heard a surprised voice behind you. “Y/N?” You turned, and there he was, in a dark suit all funeral ready, and so much pain etched into his face. If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought he’d actually gone to the funeral. Maybe he said his goodbyes alone after everyone else left. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard about the fire. I might not have been friends with her, Sam, but she was everything to you. I came to pay my respects to your mate.”

Sam gave you a half smile at that. “You really would have liked her if you’d have given her a chance. I had hoped you two would be friends too.. Eventually.”

“Maybe we would have. But I was too hurt to try.”

“I know.. I know, I’m sorry. I tried to make things right, I showed up at your dorm but.. You were already gone. I think that’s when I fully realized just how bad I ruined our friendship.” he gave you a sad smile. “Jess had wanted you to come over for dinner.”

“I really am sorry, Sam.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” The look he gave you, you knew he needed a hug. You turned in your seat and opened your arms for him. Sam happily moved in for the hug, holding you tight against him as if he was afraid you’d leave again. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“You needed me. How could I stay away.”

When you both pulled away, you cupped his cheek for a moment, and he smiled sadly at you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Hey, Sammy!”

You turned to the newcomer who stepped up to you and Sam. Sam glanced back at him, and opened his mouth to say something when you spoke first. “Hey, Dean.” That stunned Sam.

“Hey, princess. What are you doing out here?”

“How do you know my brother?” Sam asked, a confused look on his face as he looked from Dean to you.

“That’s your brother?” Sam nodded, and you glanced to Dean, who smirked with a wink. “I didn’t know he was your brother.. Uh- Couple weeks after I left school, Dean was in town. Helped me through a bad heat.” you shrugged. “We talk, I hear from him every few days at least. Meet up when he’s close by. I didn’t know you were coming here.”

“Been here since the fire. I’m the one who pulled Sammy out of the house.”

You looked to Sam. “You were inside.. You saw-” You swallowed at the look on Sam’s face. “Uh- drinks on me tonight.” you turned to the bartender as he handed you your drink. “Make it three.”

“So.” Dean sat in the stool next to you. “The guy you mentioned who loved someone else-”

“Your brother.” You gave Dean a sad smile with a nod. “Yeah.”

Dean turned and looked at his brother. “Is it bad that I’m glad he did?” he teased with a smile. “I got to enjoy the sweet little Omega he let slip away.” Dean licked his lips with a smirk.

“Fuck you, Dean.” Sam snapped, taking up the seat on your other side with a scowl.

As the bartender put the drinks in front of you, you sighed. “Keep ‘em coming.”

“Will do.” he nodded and wandered off.

“So, princess. How long are you in town for?” Dean lifted his drink to his lips.

“Not sure yet, why?”

“Ruts due next week. Was thinking of heading your way for it anyways.” he smiled. Sam growled next to you. “She ain’t yours, Sammy.”

“She ain’t fucking yours, either.” Sam growled before downing his entire glass. “Why her, Dean? Of all the fucking people you’ve fucked, why her?”

You answered before Dean could. “Because I deserve a bit of happiness too, Sam.” The anger he’d been showing melting away to guilt. “I’m sorry it’s your brother, but I have fun when I’m with him. There’s no bullshit, no heartache. I know where I stand.” Sam licked his lips before looking down into his empty glass, and that’s when you turned to Dean. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to if you’re sticking around. If not, we can meet up in the usual place. Just let me know.”

Dean leaned in and kissed your cheek. Sam stood and stormed his way outside, Dean watching him go. “He’s not taking this well.”

“But now he knows what it feels like.” you muttered, lifting your glass. “Feeling like you’ve been replaced and forgotten. Did you meet her?”

“Once.” Dean answered. “She was nice enough.”

“Was he happy?”

“Yeah, he was happy. Was about to interview for the law school.” you glanced over to Dean. “He didn’t go. He’s taking the fire bad, this.. you and me? Just making things harder for him.”

“If he wants to be in my life, he’s going to have to get used to the idea that you’re a part of it now.” you gave Dean a soft smile. “Just like I had to accept that she became his.”

“Where are you staying tonight?”

You chuckled at that, ducking your head down a touch. “I don’t think tonight is such a good idea, Dean.” you looked up again, but glanced to the door Sam had stormed out of. “But I’ll be there for your rut if you want.”

“Oh, I want.” Dean grinned, but then sighed. “I guess I better go after him, huh.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll call you later.” this time when Dean leaned in, his lips brushed against yours. “See you around, princess. And don’t worry about him. He’ll come around eventually.”

“Yeah.. I hope so.”

Dean downed the rest of his drink before heading out after his brother. You watched him go and sighed softly to yourself. A part of you felt bad. You never expected to get over Sam using his own brother. But at the same time, Dean was so different from Sam. He’d been exactly what you needed. In fact, despite everything today had thrown at you, you found yourself smiling as you looked forward to helping Dean through a rut.

“Can’t seem to shake the Winchesters..”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : Sam - @evyiione

Dean - @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural @deandreamernp

SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted @kazkingdom @babypink224221 @emoryhemsworth @ilovefanfic86 @pie-with-hunters @anaelsbrunette @lazinessisalliknow @feelmyroarrrr @letsdisneythings @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose @xostephanie @ilovedeanspie @defenderrosetyler @amandamdiehl

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

Text

Making memories - a Chenford fanfic

For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook

Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.

*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.

Main prompt: Road Trip

Other prompts:

July 11th-

"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?"

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

Fight

"You're comfier than a pillow."

July 12th-

With Child(ren)- theirs or not

"I fucked up."

"Where have you been?"

July 13th-

"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me."

"Stay here."

"What do you want?"

July 14th-

"I'm calling the police." "We are the police."

"Don't move."

"That a new dress?"

Sweet tooth

July 15th-

Locked out (Car/house/station)

"Stop hogging all the blankets."

"Why are you bleeding?"

"Make me."

July 16th-

Shopping together or for the other

Getting lost

"Is that my shirt?"

Under the stars

July 17th-

Competition

Tears

"Why are you so late?"

When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.

By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio.

“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice.

“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.

“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.

“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.

As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe.

“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.

She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.

“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.

Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.

---

By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.

“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.

“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”

“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.

“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.

“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”

“Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”

“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.

“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’

“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.

“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.”

Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing.

“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.

“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.

“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.

“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.

“So, ah, what do you want?”

Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.

He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.

Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.

“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.

Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.”

Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags.

“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.

“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.”

“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up.

“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store.

“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.”

He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.

“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.

“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat.

“I would have done that.”

“It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.

Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.

“Ready to go,” Tim asks.

Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.

---

By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it’s the truth.

A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register.

“Put the candy back Chen.”

“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.

Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.

“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”

“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”

“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.”

She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.”

“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.”

“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy.

They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face.

She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.

“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.

“Not on purpose,” she giggles.

“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.

Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.

“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.

Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit.

As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth.

“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.

When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.

“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy.

She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face.

“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.

He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.

---

By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.

“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.

“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.”

“I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.”

“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags.

“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”

“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”

“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”

“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.”

“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”

“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.

“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.

Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”

“We were on 5.”

“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”

Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead.

“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.

“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”

“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”

Tim sighs.

“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.

Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.

“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.

“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.

“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.

Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”

“The bumpers are for kids.”

On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.

“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.

“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.

They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw.

By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times.

3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious.

“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.

“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.

He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.

“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.

She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.

With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.

“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.

Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.

---

By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.

They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys.

“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.

“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.”

They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked.

“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.”

Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky.

“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.”

Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back.

“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed.

“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast.

Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso.

"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses.

He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says.

She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.

“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.

”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding.

Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app.

“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.

“You have to use your imagination.”

“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.”

He shrugs. “Go for it.”

She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”

He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.

He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.

“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”

“I’m not as creative as you.”

“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”

She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.

“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.

“Now you share my pain.”

Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.

She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories.

Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."

“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself.

When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel.

He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure.

She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head: “You can do anything you put your mind too,” “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program. How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.

As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation.

Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Tim advises.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars.

Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.

She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her.

“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“

“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.”

“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.

Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.

“Where have you been,” Tim asks.

“Driving.”

“I mean, what took you so long?”

“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.”

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”

As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.

Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.

“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.

“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”

“You pumped while driving?”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last.

Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.

By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.

By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV.

“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.

“Long story.”

“Is that Tim’s shirt?”

“Longer story.”

“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.

She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.

#chenfordficweek2021 #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #the rookie

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mister-supernova · 3 years

Text

Missed Connection

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

It’s almost been a month since your encounter with the stranger you believed to be from your dreams. Without any luck of seeing her again, you were beginning to think that maybe that’s all she was; just some mere figment of your imagination that you so desperately wanted to have all the answers you needed.

As insufferably difficult this summer was for you, you still managed to get through it. You thought it was because school wasn’t in session and that you’d be back in your element in no time once classes begin again.

That was what you had hoped for anyways, but alas even when the halls were filled with your peers and your routine was back in place, nothing seemed to change. The mysterious void in your chest didn’t ease like you wished it would.

You couldn’t help but wonder if your friends had been feeling the same way, too. Surely there’s no chance that you could be alone in this situation, right?

“You can’t tell me that things haven’t felt a little weird since Landon destroyed Malivore. He doesn’t even know how it happened, Lizzie.”

The blonde Saltzman nearly whips you in the face with her hair as she abruptly turns to face you in the crowded hallway. “Y/n, we live in a world where witches, werewolves, and vampires exist. Everything in our lives is bound to have a tiny amount of weirdness.”

She made a good point and you knew that, but you also knew that this feeling was different. It had to be.

Lizzie frowns at the disappointed look on your face and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Look, the most important thing is that Malivore is gone. No more bizarre monsters coming to kill us every week. Now try to stop overthinking things and let’s get through this school year in peace.”

Before you knew it, your conversation ended just as quickly as it started and Lizzie was on her way back to class. You hang your head with a defeated sigh, desperately searching the hallway for someone who may be just as lost as you were. Instead, you see everyone going about their first day back like normal.

Students who were away with their families are now smiling brightly as they reunite with friends. Other groups of friends laugh at a joke another says as they pass you by and you wonder if there was someone you should be doing that with.

The clarity that you sought out today only made you more confused than ever. At this point you wished that it was still summer vacation because seeing your classmates having a great first day back had you thinking that you really were alone with your feelings.

Maybe you just needed a day to hang out with your friends after class today. They may not share your thoughts on how odd things have felt recently, but being around them definitely helps clear your head.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. You know Landon and I would be down to watch a movie or something, but we’re going on our official first date today.” Josie tells you, disheartened.

After the multitude of movie dates the two of them shared throughout the summer, you’re surprised that none of those had been labeled as dates, but you weren’t going to tell her that outloud. The two of them seem to be really happy to be spending so much time together and you weren’t going to get in the middle and be the third wheel no one wants, especially on a first date.

“No worries, Jo. I’ll ask Lizzie and MG if they’re free.” She gives you a gentle squeeze on your arm with a sympathetic smile before you go off to find her sister.

Things didn’t seem to be going to plan here either.

“If I hadn’t already agreed to this stupid- I mean,” she grits her teeth with a forced smile, “very cool study date with MG I’d totally hang out with you. God knows I’d rather do anything else.” You knew you weren’t supposed to hear that last part, but Lizzie was always awful at lowering her voice.

If you weren’t already feeling distraught, this definitely was the cherry on top of your depressing cake of sadness.

Instead of showing Lizzie that, you plastered the fakest smile you could and responded with, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… hang out downtown and get myself a milkshake at the Grill or something.”

Plan “get your friends to distract you from the abrasive thoughts penetrating your brain” had failed, but you weren’t going to let it stop you from at least getting out of the school for a couple of hours. With everyone so busy while classes are back in session, it made you wonder what in the world you did after school before this year.

As much as you tried hyping up how fun it was going to be hanging out downtown by yourself, it only made you feel even more bummed out. Like everything else you’ve been doing since the night Malivore was destroyed, something felt off and nothing seemed to be your remedy.

Minutes turned to hours and you ended up drinking four full glasses of cookies and cream milkshakes at the Grill, literally falling into a sugar coma at your table outside. The sun was barely setting when you got here, but then it was fully dark out when you were woken up from your sugar rush nap.

“Jesus, Y/n. I thought you were dead or something.” You lean your head upwards to see that it was Landon who woke you from your slumber.

“One could not be so lucky, phoenix boy.” You groggily respond, stretching out your muscles and wiping any drool from your cheeks.

Looking at your surroundings, you notice that Josie isn’t around.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

There’s a pained look on Landon’s face at your question, “Yeah, about that… she, uh, she said she wasn’t feeling too good and decided to go back to the school.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “What, did you take her to eat sushi or something?”

That was meant to be a joke, but the look of realization on the curly-haired boy’s face told you all you needed to know.

“You went to a sushi place.”

Landon quickly slides into the seat across from yours, “It’s what I suggested. W-Was I not supposed to?”

“Jo can’t digest any sort of raw food without wanting to convulse. I learned that the hard way when I first started going to the Salvatore school,” you shiver at the memory, “Never again.”

The phoenix begins falling into a full state of panic, “Oh my God. I didn’t know that! Wh-What am I supposed to do? What if I completely ruined everything? What if she never wants to go on another date with me again? What if-”

Your patience was thinning very quickly, “Landon, just relax. Take a breather for a second,” you inhale, watching him do the same, and breathe out at the same time, “Go back to the school, check up on her, have a convo about getting some better communication skills and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Landon nods, “Okay, okay yeah. That’s good. I’ll, uh, I’ll do that,” he continues to sit across from you until you look at him expectantly, “Do I do that now?”

“For your sake, Josie’s, and especially mine, yes. Now would be great, buddy.”

“Right, okay. Thanks, Y/n!” He scrambles out of his seat and begins to shuffle away from the Grill.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You shout with as much enthusiasm you could muster before slumping back into your chair.

Still dazed from the sugar rush nap and exhausted from that conversation, you lean forward with your elbows on the table and begin wiping the sleep from your eyes using the palms of your hands.

“This is gonna be one hell of a year.”

“Long day, huh?” You recognize that it’s a girl’s voice you’re hearing, but not one that was familiar to you.

Moving your hands away from blocking your view, you look up to see the person you convinced yourself was just a figment of your imagination. The long auburn colored hair, fair-skinned, blue eyed girl from your dreams was standing right before you. For a moment, you thought that maybe you really had lost it.

“Sorry. I just, I saw you sitting here earlier and thought you might want company.”

You’re almost positive that you were staring at her with your mouth hanging open like an absolute idiot. Just say something, dumbass!

“Mind if I join you?” She asks, gesturing towards the now empty chair that Landon left behind.

“Yes!”

Idiot!

“I mean no! No, I uh, I don’t mind.” You chuckle nervously, adjusting yourself in every way possible to hide the fact that you were internally freaking out.

The girl gives you a patient smile before taking the seat in front of you, “So, party of one tonight, huh? I mean, I saw you finish talking to someone right now, but it didn’t seem you two were here together.”

“Yeah, no. Not together at all or with anyone really,” for some reason you had to make this very clear to her, “That was just a friend of mine who’s having some lady troubles, so I decided to be a good samaritan and give him some positive advice.”

“How chivalrous of you.” Right away you could tell that she was teasing and the nerves you had seconds ago simply began to vanish.

“Why thank you,” you smile, feeling a wave of warmth when she returns one back, “But yeah, it’s just been me, myself, and I for the night… and day… and probably for the rest of the school year if I’m honest.”

Her smile fades and she tilts her head inquisitively, “What makes you say that?”

Oh, where to begin.

“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now actually. Everything should feel perfect given the fact that I have these amazing friends, I go to this incredible school, I’m 100% healthy and not dying of anything that I know of,” you shrug at yourself, “I should be happy with that, but I’m not. It feels so selfish of me to say and I wish I could fix it, but I can’t. How can everything be so close to perfect, but yet there’s still something wrong?”

The girl stares at you with such empathy and sadness in her eyes that you could swear she was holding something back.

You continue, “Things also haven’t felt normal lately. My definition of normal anyways. For some reason everything has felt completely off, like I’m missing something. You know when you forget that there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be? Like an event and you don’t realize you’ve forgotten about it until the day of and you say to yourself, ‘oh shit, I can’t believe I forgot about this really important thing’. That’s how I’ve felt ever since summer started,” you notice her tense up slightly, but you continue, “but I can’t remember what I’m forgetting.”

At this point, you were surprised this girl didn’t think you were crazy and start running for the hills. If this were any normal stranger, you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to overshare the thoughts you’ve been keeping secret from your close friends. For some reason, she made you feel the complete opposite. Strangely enough--given the world you live in--you felt safe with her.

“Everyone at school is making me feel like I’m the only person who feels this way. Everyone else can go back to normal. Everyone else can move on and go on dates and study dates and hang out with their friends and go to class without feeling lost and overall just be… normal.” You finally let go of the breath you had been holding in for what feels like months.

Then you start to laugh at the ridiculousness that just spewed out of your mouth, “Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry. You probably thought you were going to have an innocent ‘nice weather we’re having’ type of conversation, but instead you got a stranger dumping their whole life crisis onto you.”

“You really don’t have to apologize. Trust me, I understand how insanely messed up life can get and how relieving it is to just vent it all out,” she gives you a reassuring nod with a genuine look of understanding that you’ve been wanting to see for months, “Even if it’s to someone who can potentially be a serial killer.”

The both of you burst out into a fit of laughs and you swear that you’ve never felt so connected to a person you just met. It was as if your souls had met in another life and were catching up for the first time in a while. Neither of you had a name to place with your faces, but that didn’t seem matter because you already felt like you’ve known this girl for years.

“I’ve had quite a rough couple of months myself. Not sure if I’d binge drink four cookies and cream milkshakes to numb the pain though.”

You shrug, “Well, it’s better than the latter option that I can’t even legally purchase because I’m underage. Plus, it helps that these are the best milkshakes in town--even if they are 4 dollars a glass.”

Now you’re hoping that your old co-worker can cover your bill since you only brought ten dollars with you tonight. Before you could reach for your wallet just to be sure, another thought crossed your mind.

“Wait. How did you know they were cookies and cream? I know it’s a lot of milk to force inside by body, but I normally leave no trace of evidence behind. Are you a witch or something?” That last part was obviously a joke otherwise she’d be at your school by now.

The girl opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a moment to come up with an explanation, “It was my best friend’s favorite. Yeah, we used to go out for milkshakes all the time and I guess something about you reminds me of them.”

You smile, flattered, “Well, might I say, your best friend has amazing taste,” she purses her lips into a tightened smile and lowers her gaze, almost as is the memories of this said ‘best friend’ pained her to think about, “I’m assuming things aren’t so great with them right now?”

She sighs at the thought, “We were close for a long time. I’m actually surprised that they stayed as long as they did. I probably gave them a million reasons to bail, but they were annoyingly persistent,” she chuckles, “I’ll admit, it took me a while to settle into our friendship, but the moment I did was something I would never regret. From that point on the only thing that could separate us was death.”

Judging by her heavy use of past tense words, you could only think the worst happened, “Did they, you know, um…?” You didn’t want to ask the full question seeing that she was clearly still hurt by the absence of this person.

She shakes her head, “No. No, it turned out death wasn’t the only factor that was able to keep us apart. We meant a lot to each other and later realized that there was more to us than just friendship. Eventually, things started becoming serious but me being the person I am, I pushed them away and left.”

“Have you tried reaching out to them again?” You thought that there was no way two people who felt those intense feelings could completely forget about each other.

“Once, but things changed. They took one look at me and acted as if I never existed.” Maybe it was the empath in you, but it broke your heart seeing a small pool of tears building up in her eyes. You wished that you could say something to make her feel better and tell her that everything will be okay, but how could you when you don’t know her?

She quickly wipes the tears before they could fall and takes in a deep breath that you instinctively mirrored to compose yourselves.

“I guess it’s my turn to say sorry, huh? I feel like my baggage was a little heavier than yours there,” she sniffs, huffing out a light chuckle.

“Well, if we’re giving out medals here, you’ve got the gold. That’s for sure,” you grin, hoping to lighten up the mood.

Her laugh--that you could tell was genuine--gave you the assurance you needed.

“I feel like I should give you a hug. I mean, if you’re cool with that,” you suggest, ready to push yourself out of your seat, “Because I could kind of use one and I’m just assuming--”

“That would be great, yeah,” the girl nods with a relieved smile.

“Alright, great.”

The two of you stand, moving around the table to meet each other in the middle. Her head seemed to fit perfectly against your chest as her arms pressed behind your back. All of the weight that had been piling up on your shoulders began to fall at your feet and the tension from stress that built up inside your chest began fading away. How this could happen from an interaction with a complete stranger, you had absolutely no idea.

“Is it weird if I say this doesn’t feel weird?” You ask with the side of your head leaned against hers.

“Well, I think things are only weird when someone makes it weird.”

You pause for a moment, “Do you think this feels weird?”

She laughs and you know for a fact that she could hear your heart skip a beat, “No. I don’t.”

You fight the goofy grin from appearing on your face, but fail miserably, “Okay, good.”

Part of you was afraid of what’ll happen the moment you separate. You had no idea when would be the next time you see this girl or if there was going to be a next time. This was the first day in a while when you didn’t feel lost, instead you felt that this was exactly where you needed to be. You felt normal.

Before you could actually start making things weird, you begin to pull away from her embrace, “Well, tonight I learned that I can click with a stranger within a span of ten minutes give or take, so thank you for that.”

She smiles, “Thank you, too.”

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re at the point of learning each other’s names now.”

“Yes, because why start with those when we could just tell our whole life stories and share an intimate hug first?”

“Exactly! Actually, you know what? I think we should get married in Vegas really quick and we’ll just figure out our names during the vows section of the wedding ceremony. Whatever we come up with in the moment will just be how we refer to each other for the rest of our lives,” you joke.

“You’re absolutely right.” Wow, a girl who can keep up with your sarcasm without thinking you’re a complete--huge emphasis on complete--idiot? She is the girl of your dreams--literally and metaphorically.

You stared down at her in wonder, hoping to God that you’re not dreaming and that this interaction has been real, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/n by the way. My name. Y/n L/n.”

“Hope. Hope Marshall,” she reveals and a victorious smile appears on your lips when you finally have a name to match a face.

Your smile quickly drops when the clock tower starts going off and you realize that it’s nearly midnight, “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you tonight, Hope. I'm sorry to cut the rest of the evening short, but my school just got a new headmaster and unfortunately he’s a lot more strict on our curfew than our previous one. Don’t want to turn into a pumpkin, you know?”

She chuckles, “No worries at all. It was nice meeting you, too, Y/n,” Hope smiles and you can tell that she didn’t want to leave. If you were being honest, you really didn’t want to either.

Neither of you could find the energy to be the first person to walk away. To do that would be like trying to separate two annoyingly strong and stubborn magnets apart.

As much as you wanted to spend the whole night learning more about each other, you also didn’t want to be put in detention on the first day back at school.

Unwillingly, you take the first step backwards without wanting to fully turn away from your newfound acquaintance, “Thanks again for the chat. I hope to see you again very soon, Marshall.”

Hope rolls her eyes, but can’t contain a smile, “Only if you’re lucky.”

“I think I like my chances,” you wink playfully before turning your heel to make your way back to the school feeling the most energized you’ve felt in a long time.

apologies for the later update than usual with this series and I apologize in advance if it takes a while for part 6 to be posted. I’m in a bit of a writing funk right now and my mind is currently locked onto the Wilds soooo there may or may not be imagines for that fandom coming from me soon. anyways, happy late 2021 and here’s to hoping this year isn’t complete shit! much love y’all

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson x reader #legacies #legacies cw #legacies imagine #legacies x reader

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txemrn · 3 years

Note

In your hc, did Brynn have any strong cravings or aversions during her pregnancy from the mother's day fic?? How did Sam handle that??? I hope he wasn't a dickhead like with the other pregnancy when he cheated and gave her an STD. 😒

I was just thinking 👉👈🥺😇 that might be a cute little story. 😉

Btw I really enjoy reading about them!!! I'd L💗VE more. HINT proposal??? WEDDING?????

Hey, there! *big ol' hugs* thank you so much for the ask and the "hints". 🤣😂🤣 I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your suggestion! And yes, there is more to come from Sam and Brynn. Enjoy! 🍨🍓🍨

Warning: NSFW 🍋 (tiny little squirts; don't get too excited); language; angst; pregnancy-related stuff

***

The sparkle of fresh winter snow gathers along the window sill. A hint of gingerbread and fresh spruce waltz in the air. Melting with the smokey notes of kindled embers, the fireplace crackles in the darkened master suite--the only lively room left in the penthouse for the evening.

It had been an exhausting Friday. With Christmas and Brynn’s birthday next week, the Dalton family spent their day tirelessly getting things prepared before a very special winter vacation. Brynn attended Mickey and Mason’s holiday party at school, bringing her famous cupcakes and oven-baked Chex Mix, not to mention presents for all the teachers and faculty.

Because of the school’s early release, Brynn and the boys met Sam for lunch, where they served the entire company a catered, bountiful holiday meal, complete with generous congratulatory swag for another successful third year.

Sam spent the afternoon on phone conferences, which gave him time to pack up to work remotely from home; he wouldn’t be returning until the 28th. By the late afternoon, they had completed the grocery shopping, tidied up their home, fixed and ate dinner.

But for Sam and Brynn, the jam-packed day was far from over. There was still one more very important task to complete: sex. And lots of it.

Seductive whispers, tender giggles and lustful moans penetrate the quiet suite. Their exposed bodies hungrily intertwine together as their movements are kept rhythmically in time with the subtle creaking of the bed.

Sam grips tightly to his wife’s supple breast, brushing his thumbs over her erect pink nipples. With her left hand, Brynn sinks her nails onto the top of his hand, squeezing together with him; her other hand holds tightly to the headboard, straddling her thighs on top of her husband’s hips.

“Oh, God! Sam!” she exhales with each thrust onto his swelling, hardened girth, her voice becoming louder, more raspy. “Almost--! Almost--!”

“Brynn--! I--!” With one final buck of his hips, Sam spills over into euphoria. His fingers quickly drop to her voluptuous assets. He clenches savagely to her curves, pushing her drenched, tightening center to his hilt. Sweat drips off his brow as indistinguishable groans wail from his throat.

Watching her husband come undone teases Brynn’s own release. Tossing her almond locks over her bare shoulders, she is taken captive by the sensations tickling her voracious desires. She rocks her hips against Sam’s buried length, stroking her throbbing clit through her incessant waves of reckless ecstasy. Thunderous moans of pleasure escape her mouth as she gasps for a drink of air.

Almost too terrified to disturb the perfect moment, the couple savors the quietness of them simply being together, their hearts beating in-time, connecting as one.

“I love you, baby,” Sam whispers, breaking the silence as he gently massages Brynn’s thighs. His hands intimately roam, carefully finding their way to stroke her fully-blossomed pregnant belly.

A bright smile effortlessly spreads across her face. “I love you, too, baby.” Her delicate fingers meet his. She lifts his hand to her lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses.

“Hopefully,” he chuckles, “that’ll do the trick.”

She cradles her abdomen. “I can only hope so,” she titters, her fingers caressing her abdomen as she talks to their unborn child. “That was another eviction notice, precious one--”

Brynn and Sam had a preterm labor scare at 33 weeks, which landed Brynn in the hospital for a week being pumped with various medications to stop her contractions. She was discharged home, with the instructions to “take it easy.” Though it isn’t ideal to have a baby this early, her team of doctors agreed they weren’t going to do anything to stop her labor if it were to happen again.

Tomorrow, Brynn will be 41 weeks. For the past two weeks, she has been trying every trick in the book to go into labor. Her lab technician Meaghan swore by spicy food; that only gave Brynn ungodly heartburn. Lydia, the Dalton’s downstairs neighbor, gifted Brynn a bottle of castor oil; she spent a solid two days with uncontrollable diarrhea and belly aches. Carter’s wife gave Brynn a special tea blend; she would contract, but nothing painful; she actually fell asleep because of the delicious steep.

Then, there was her mother's advice:

“You’ve gotta have sex, Brynny--”

“Mom--!”

“--and I’m not talking about the mediocre, ‘are you done yet?’ , making-your-shopping-list-in-your-head kind. You need to orgasm--”

“Jesus Christ, Mom--!”

“You need his semen--”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now--”

“And fondle your breasts. Better yet, let him do it! Now you might leak a little, so if you have him suckle--”

*click*

“Brynny? Brynny?”

“I, for one, am not minding this eviction process--”

“Samuel!” she playfully slaps against Sam’s broad chest. Blocking her hits and laughing, Sam finally grabs Brynn, pulling her body down next to his. He wraps his arms around her, brushing his lips against her temple. He rests his large hands on her gravid belly, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Mhmm--” Brynn snuggles into Sam’s embrace, closing her eyes. “Just perfect, babe. G’night.”

“Night, baby.”

The delightful pops of the fireplace lulls Sam to sleep; Brynn, however, started having trouble. She turned to her right side, but soon flipped to her left side. When that didn’t get her comfortable, she sat up on the side of the bed, massaging her back and her abdomen.

“Brynn baby,” yawns Sam, “you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe.”

“It’s-k.” Sam fluffs his pillow under his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Contractions?” he slurs.

“Braxton Hicks. I’ll be fine. You go back to--”

Sam lets out a satisfied snore before Brynn can finish her sentence. Tickled, she tucks her husband into bed before she slips on a silk robe. Pulling out her exercise ball from the closet, she sits on top of it in hopes that rocking her hips will bring her some comfort.

She suddenly stops, clutching her chest. An all-too-familiar jolt of burning shoots through her belly leaving an unbearable sour sensation clawing at the back of her throat. Carefully balancing herself to a stand, she retreats to the bathroom for medicine. And to vomit.

“Brynn? Brynn?”

“I’m in here,” her pitiful voice echoes through the bathroom.

Sam slips on a pair of sweats, hurrying to her side in the water closet. Seeing his wife crumpled over the toilet, he drops to her side, pushing her hair behind her ears before rubbing her back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers gravelly.

“No, you’re not,” he tenderly touches her clammy cheek. “What do you need, babe?”

Brynn leans back, sitting her rear on the cold tile. Embracing her body as another contraction subsides, she quietly states, “I need ice cream.”

Sam’s eyes widen with surprise at the request. “You want… ice cream?”

“Mhmm,” she nods. “That would feel so good against my throat.”

“Okay, baby,” he chuckles, brushing his thumb across swollen lips. “Is there a certain flavor--?”

“Strawberry,” she barks, “it needs to be strawberry.”

Sam kisses her forehead, and jogs to the kitchen in search of his wife’s favorite ice cream. Scooping up three massive balls into a bowl, he returns to the bathroom with two spoons.

“Strawberry ice cream, m’lady!” He sits on the floor with her, presenting the cold dessert like a trophy.

Brynn observes the creamy pink heap. She slowly takes the spoon, poking at the frozen treat. She watches her husband take a bite of it first before she reluctantly tries it.

“No,” she spits out her small bite, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Perplexed, Sam spoons another bite for himself. “Is there something wrong with it? Is it freezer burned or--?”

“No, no,” Brynn’s eyes begin to well with tears. “It’s just not strawberry enough,” she sniffles.

“Okay, babe, there’s no crying in ice cream,” he chuckles, wiping at her eyes.

“I think it’s because I want strawberry ice cream.”

“Honey, this is strawberry ice cream.”

“This is strawberries and cream.” She uses her spoon as a pointer, “See how there’s vanilla and strawberry with pieces of strawberry? I just," she sighs, "I need strawberry ice cream.”

Staring at the wall, Sam pretends to understand his wife’s request. “Of course, baby. I’ll go get, um--” he clears his throat to keep from laughing, “the strawberry ice cream.”

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you, baby.” She offers a toothy smile.

He chuckles. “Love you, too,” he shakes his head with a coy smile.

Sam returns with another heaping mound of strawberry ice cream. “Alright, baby, just what you asked for: strawberry ice cream.”

“Sam,” irritation saturates Brynn’s voice as it begins to tremble. “This has strawberry pieces in it.”

“It’s because it’s strawberry ice cream,” Sam bites his tongue, watching his words carefully as he gnashes his teeth. “It’s exactly what you asked for, sweetheart.”

Brynn hangs her head in her hands as she sobs. “I wanted strawberry ice cream, not strawberry with strawberries ice cream!”

“Babe, are you fucking kidding me right--?”

“Don’t yell at me!” Brynn begins to sob harder.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam sputters. He runs his hands down his face, letting out a sigh. He sits down next to his wife, taking her in his arms. “How can we fix this? Can you maybe eat around the strawberries?”

“It just,” her breath hangs tight in her throat as she tries to control her tears, “it doesn’t taste the same.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” he mutters under his breath. He sighs heavily again. “What can I do, Brynn? Tell me what to do.”

“I just want strawberry ice cream--”

“No. What. Do. You. Want?” He grabs his cell phone. “Show me.”

She does a quick google search, pulling up a plain pink custard with strawberry flavoring--no pieces. “This. I need this. Please.”

“Brynn, we don’t have this here.”

“There’s a 7-11 two blocks away--”

“It’s eighteen degrees outside.” Sam shakes his head, as he walks back to bed. “No, this is getting fucking ridiculous.”

Brynn glares at the spot where her husband once stood, her eyebrows furrowing; warm streams of tears downpour on her cheeks. Red patches of skin grow across her neck and face as her breathing labors.

“Samuel!” When he doesn’t answer, she carefully balances herself from the ground and waddles into their room. “Samuel!”

“What?” his muffled words slur as he buries his head into a pillow. “I just need a little sleep.”

“Oh, you need a little sleep? You?” Brynn rips the duvet off of Sam, her small body shaking in anger. “I have given up my body for ten fucking months to grow a baby, an actual human being that will more than likely rip me to pieces just to,” she chuckles sarcastically, “look like you!”

“Brynn, I--”

“I’m not fucking done!” She breathes through another contraction, stepping closer to her terrified husband. “I have not complained once, and yet I have given up every ounce of my dignity. I can’t control my farts. I can't control my pee. I’m growing rolls and stretch marks in places that I never even knew a person could grow them!” She steps even closer, her eyes darkening. “I fuck you multiple times weekly--sometimes daily--where I hide the embarrassment that my hot, chiseled husband is staring at either my double chin or my fat, stretch-marked ass--”

“Baby, I don’t--”

Brynn holds up a finger. “I reverse cowgirl you until my legs cramp because you like it. I suck your dick off because you like it--”

“I thought that--”

“I just want some strawberry ice cream, Sam!” she sobs, “And then maybe you can get some sleep!” Brynn cradles her abdomen as another wave of discomfort grips around her belly.

Sam sits on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine”

“And I need to come with you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam sarcastically scoffs. He slinks on a long-sleeve shirt before grabbing his coat. He turns back to his wife who is grabbing her coat. “Um, no,” he chuckles. “I need you stay here and just relax--”

“No, we’re going together.”

Frustrated with the conversation, Sam darts his eyes around the room, trying not to yell. “Why, Brynn?”

“Because--”

“‘Because’ why, Brynn?”

“Because my water just broke.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @pixie88 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @secretaryunpaid @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #m!sam dalton #m!sam x mc #pregnancy #choices stories you play #choices tna

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ravenadottir · 3 years

Text

Hear me out: headcannons about Bobby growing old with mc🥺 (I needed some fluff T-T)

no no no no no, you can’t just come in here and do this to me!! that’s so wholesome! i think i’m gonna have to divide this in decade marks, and maybe stop at the 30 year mark? i can do a part II later. 🤔

‘10 year mark’

the ‘mckenzie’ brand has expanded to restaurants, bars and bakeries all over the uk

the bars are considered a hot spots in the big cities. pictures of young ‘paisley cuddle’ are scattered on the walls, along with the pics from the villa’s parties, to set the theme

the restaurants have bobby and his experiences with famous chefs, like jake ‘sweetcheeks’ wilson, mary berry, gordon ramsey, wolfgang puck.

the bakeries however have the pictures from the time bobby went on the bake off show and won.

there’s small town models of the bakeries/restaurants that are seen as ‘family diners’

you and bobby already have two kids, 4 years apart from each other. in my head bobby is the type to have them earlier so they can live their best life together, have fun in the kitchen or in the backyard playing ball.

he loves throwing birthday parties every year, and of course, baking the cake. to which year is a different theme. “babe, you take care of the decorations and the details i’m definitely gonna forget, and me?” he puffs his chest holding a whisk. “i’m the cake guy.”

bobby is the reason why the kids love the parties so much. he’s the type of parent that goes on the slider with the kids, jumps with them in the bounce house, starts the water balloon wars…

the parents are so thankful for him since he’s pretty much the one who keeps an eye on them at all times.

usually, he’s waking up early every day because it became a habit since his hospital times. he never really shook that habit. so he prepared breakfast, takes the dog out, while you wake the kids up to eat and rush them to school

the dad that takes two different cameras and a phone to film and take pictures during his kids’ public presentations, games, recitals and science fairs “dad, one phone is enough” “yeah, but your dad needs backup! i’m from the 90′s darling. i can’t be any different” he says, shrugging with a grin.

you guys have a small house on the outskirts of glasgow or london, depending on who won the bet you had when you got married.

you’re pregnant again. entirely unplanned and now bobby can’t stop crying,. he always wanted three kids.

‘15 year mark’

a third child came three years ago, which made you consider a much more peaceful place to buy a house. and a bigger one for that matter.

bigger bakyeard means more people and their kids playing around the lawn, as bobby and gary grill sausages, making stupid jokes about it, and you and the girls have drinks shaking your heads.

you and bobby are gary’s kids’ godparents

ibrahim can’t come, he’s to busy making mad money on brand deals. noah is calming the kids down, by reading something in the living room, while bobby shakes a cocktail for the tired parents.

gary gives you a new couple of puppies, because the dog you had has unfortunately passed away. (sorry!)

your first kid is just turning 13 and being a little pain in the ass. but they like their uncles and aunties so they will actually raise their heads from *inser new device that will replace phones*

you guys travel in your car, to spend a week in cabins, fishing, playing ball, having picnics close to the lake

bobby always throws at least one of the kids in the water, before jumping in and splashing everyone. “bet you can’t do better than that, babe…” he says to you, raising his brows suggestively. “watch me, mckenzie.”

summer time and the lake became a tradition since it was the first place you and him spent a holiday alone

the employees that attend to you in hotels refer to you as “the mckenzie’s”

in the city, you have a trustworthy babysitter that will spend the night so you and bobby can have some time alone

he surprises you with dates and flowers out of nowhere

early nights are made for you and bobby to help the kids with homework

at this point, bobby is invited to be a special guest in cooking/baking competitions in the uk

and to have a “masterclass” of hiw own, where he mostly credits you for the idea of expanding, the execution of the administrative plans and how to actually expand a business. “i only do the cooking. she’s the genius behind the money.” he laughs while crossing his legs during his online course.

‘20 year mark’

kids’ sad times. graduations are happening. the youngest is entering third grade, the other one is in uni, far from home. “did you have to choose something so far from your old man?” “dad… of course! how else would i have a ‘paisley cuddle’ phase?” they respond, laughing. “i should’ve never told you thats story! now you’re having ideas!” “relax dad. everything is gonna be fine!” the middle one is entering high school and their rebellious phase.

bobby follows through with his part of the deal when you got married, by wearing something ridiculous to embarrass your kid at their graduation. “dad, you look like a hawaiian drug dealer.” “ i know,” “oh, so it wasn’t dark when you got dressed? mom!” “what can i say, your dad doesn’t care for blacks and blues.” “yeah, right…”

professionaly, bobby has a renowned signature dish, plenty of new ideas for the future, like school and courses.

the house is the same you bought five years ago, but now, it’s mostly parents getting together for barbecues, cocktails, movies and game nights

the younger children stay in the tv room upstairs

‘25 year mark’

your second child didn’t go to uni, and decided to help out on the family business. they always felt like this was the life for them and couldn’t wait to finish school to start.

bobby wanted them to go to school to learn everything they could “but dad, you didn’t, and you know so much.” “oof, they got you there, babe.”

you have a second wedding ceremony and a second honeymoon

bobby has a few grey hairs popping through his dreads

he’s still wearing colorful shirts and girls on social media call him ‘daddy’

he’s been invited to cook for the queen (yes, she’s still alive)

you see your friends a few times more a year now.

your third child is going to uni, to follow a career path you never imagined they would, but you’re proud of them

you decided to sell the house, that’s so big now, and find a smaller one that still has an extra bedroom for when your oldest comes to stay with their partner

bobby cracks dad jokes now, and according to gary, he picked them up from him “sure, gary, ‘cause you’re the only man on the planet who tells dad jokes” “stop bickering! you’re like an old married couple.” you say, slapping their arms playfully

‘30 year mark’

your first child just had their first child

“you’re a grandpa, bobs!” gary slaps him on the back, picking up a box of cigars that they will share with noah and ibrahim.

“can’t believe i’m this old.” “if you’re old, what am i?” you ask him, folding your arms on your chest. “beautiful?” he responds with a clear guilty expression.

‘things that would happen at all times during this entire journey’

bobby would sing to the kids every night

you would read them bedtime stories, taking turns to do the voices

it’s a tradition to cook together on special occasions, no matter what happens. the three kids, you and bobby would always spend the day listening to music, talking about life, slicing, sauteeing, mixing, measuring. it’s a tradition that will never die

when your grandkids come around, they will be the the ones resposible for measuring

drawings that your kids do in school akways have extra colors on bobby’s outfits. his name also has more than three colored letters

bobby has taught your kids how to play the guitar

rainy afternoons were known as “dad’s baking afternoons”

you and bobby had a hard time to find a compromise between being friends and parents.

open conversations with your kids, about everything. they knew what to expect in the world.

bobby’s parents would visit, to spend a whole weekend and share stories of his childhood, as yours would too

family vacation always had a ‘car trip and singing along to the radio’ type of tradition as well

your oldest now takes their child for family vacation in the same spot you and bobby used to

twice a year you guys rent a place for the family to have some bonding, even after they get married (or not)

“your dad is the finest pillow fort architect in the uk”

camping in the backyard when you had to cancel a trip

you’re in charge of coaching and playing sports in the back of the house while bobby relaxes under the sunlight “i was never very athletic”. he’s the empire

*these are the ones on the top of my head. i must’ve left dozens behind :/

#litg #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #litg s2 #litg season 2 #fusebox #fusebox games #bobby mckenzie #queue #submission #litg bobby

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Strangers (Part 4)

Summary: Sam has returned into Dean’s life for some reason and the reader is there to try and help Dean through having Sam around again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x patient!reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of surgery/injury

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

____

“Hi,” said Sam, giving you a quick wave. He stared at Dean who was already on his feet. “I need a place to crash for the night. If that’s okay.”

“What happened to the apartment, you were sharing with that girl, Jessica.”

“She died a few years ago,” he said.

“You kill her?” asked Dean. You got up, still holding your box of swiss rolls and Sam frowned. “You’ve been out of touch for three years. It’s not an unreasonable question.”

“I didn’t kill her,” said Sam. “I saw...it was a serial arsonist. I saw who did it and he ran with a bad group. I’ve been in witness-”

“Witness protection? Are you serious? I’m the fucking easter bunny while we’re at it,” said Dean.

“De, I think he’s telling the truth,” you said, nodding towards him. “He’s obviously upset.”

“You’ve been in witness protection? This whole time?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “Things have been happening lately. A lot of things. These guys are no longer a problem so I can come home. Except for the fact I don’t have a home anymore and had to drop out of college.”

“I filed a missing persons report on you.”

“I know.”

“I hung up flyers, search parties, fundraisers.”

“I know.”

“I drove to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night because I thought I got a tip about you.”

“That was me. I had to relocate after that.”

“I looked for you for so long. Even when mom and dad gave up, I didn’t. There was no foul play but the cops told us it was unlikely we’d ever find you. You probably walked out and didn’t want to be found. I was so angry at you. They told us you were dead cause someone hurt you or you walked away. Those are two very different things,” said Dean. You dropped the box on the couch and grabbed his hand, Dean pinching his nose with his other.

“I can leave if you want,” said Sam.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” said Dean. You rubbed his back and he walked over, giving his brother a hug.

“Finally got a girlfriend?” teased Sam as he returned it.

“You two are gonna get along great. You can swap stories,” laughed Dean. “Oh, I need a drink. Also how’d you get in my house?”

“My handler had a key made. They took it from your locker at the hospital,” he said.

“Lovely.”

“I know it sounds…” said Sam as he glanced at you.

“Crazy is kind of our thing,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“You look familiar,” he said.

“My ex boyfriend tried to kill me. With bleach. In my drink.”

“Oh yeah. He was fucking nuts,” said Sam.

“Yup. That’s been our fun for the evening,” you said. “He got out. He’s dead now. It’s fine. Better than fine cause I’m gonna eat a whole box of swiss rolls and not feel bad about that.”

“Yeah, I will get along with you just fine,” said Sam, giving Dean a look. “Not sure about you though. I wanted to-”

“S’okay,” he said. “I’m just...happy you don’t hate me after all.”

“I wanted to call you so many times. It was too dangerous though. I couldn’t put you in that position,” said Sam.

“I’m getting kind of used to that,” said Dean. Sam smiled and you walked over to them both.

“I crashed date night, didn’t I,” he said.

“Just a bit,” said Dean.

“Well I am really happy to meet Dean’s little brother,” you said, giving him a hug. “You don’t mind if Sam hangs out with us, right?”

“No, never. As long as you’re cool with it,” said Dean.

“Of course,” you said.

“I appreciate it but honestly I’m wrecked. I could use with a shower and a bed,” said Sam.

“The guest room is right down the hall,” said Dean, pointing the way. “You hungry?”

“Nah. I’ll keep out of your guys hair,” said Sam. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” said Dean. Sam started to head for the hallway when Dean grabbed his arm. “I’m really happy you’re home, Sammy.”

“Me too.”

He smiled before he left, Dean taking a deep breath as he locked up the front door again.

“So you got a brother,” you said.

“Yeah. I probably should have brought him up at some point,” said Dean. You shrugged and rested your hands on his hips, Dean smiling softly. “I thought he was dead.”

“I’m glad he’s not,” you said. “I’m gonna have to back out on the being roommates thing though.”

“What?” he asked.

“Sam needs it way more than I do. I can stick around my parents until my apartment is ready. Seriously, it’s okay. He’s gonna need a lot of help. Trust me. He’s gonna want you,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My parents aren’t that bad. Someday we can be roommates though?” you said.

“Okay. I’ll take a raincheck for now,” he smiled.

“Tonight’s not so bad,” you said. He nodded and you pulled him close to your body, Dean’s arms wrapping lazily around you. “You doing okay?”

“I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life and the most relieved I’ve ever been in my life tonight. I honestly don’t know where to begin,” said Dean.

“I got a box of chocolate with your name on it that might be a good place to start.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said. “You okay too?”

“My night’s ending on a good note. I’m good Dean. Let’s get back to our date. I was in the middle of cuddling you if I remember.”

One Week Later

“Howdy handsome,” you said, the elevator doors at the hospital opening to Dean standing there in his navy scrubs.

“Gorgeous,” he said, giving you a quick kiss as he stepped on. “You already have your follow up with Mace?”

“Yeah. I am progressing well I guess. We’re switching my immunosuppressant to try something that doesn’t make me as tired and won’t make me as susceptible to illness,” you said.

“That’s good. I know you’re on the strong stuff right now. Mace is pretty good about finding the right med combo by the second or third try,” he said. “Transplant meds are tricky.”

“I’ve learned. How’s your day going?” you asked. “Saving lives?”

“Easy going day. Took out some tonsils on a teenager, did an appendectomy on a toddler, did a bone reset on a kid that broke her leg. Nothing they won’t all recover from 100% percent.”

“That sounds good,” you said. “When do you get off?”

He snickered and you whacked his arm.

“Such a boy,” you said.

“I have one more surgery for the day but I’m heading home after that. Our parents are coming into town. They’ve been in Florida cause their vacation plans got screwed up with the pandemic last year so they rescheduled and of course it’s this week and there’s tropical storms so they can’t get a flight out and they finally are getting home today. It’s been a nightmare. I’m supposed to cook dinner so that’ll go wonderfully.”

“You’re a good cook!” you said as the doors opened and you walked with him down the hall. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. They excited to see Sam?”

“Yeah. They feel bad about...they thought he was dead. Like it hasn’t been long enough to legally declare him that way but they were going to. I’ve always had a somewhat tense relationship with my dad. We fought a lot about Sam after he disappeared.”

“I think no matter what happened before, dinner’s gonna go good for you guys tonight,” you said.

“You’re coming right?” he asked.

“You want me to?”

“Yeah. I...you make me feel...safe,” he said as he stopped walking. You smiled and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You don’t have-”

“I’d love to. I really like Sam and I want to be there for you. I like that I make you feel safe, makes me feel good,” you said. He rubbed the back of his neck but you caught the smile on his face. You gave him another kiss, a whistle coming from further down the hall.

“Get a room, Winchester,” said a guy as he walked by with a laugh.

“Better be a soundproof room,” you said, the guy stopping in his tracks.

“Okay, I approve of this one,” the guy chuckled. Dean rolled his eyes but he was biting down a laugh.

“Y/N, this is RN. Lafetite or Benny as well call him. He’s Donna’s boyfriend,” said Dean.

“Oh yeah, she was great,” you said. “She removed my appendix.”

“That woman knows her way around a blade,” said Benny. “You had the digestive transplant done a while ago, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean making a face beside you.

“Badass,” said Benny. “I worked with Mace some on you.”

“You’re a surgeon too?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m a surgical nurse,” he said.

“They’re pretty important,” said Dean. “The really good ones could perform minor surgeries themselves like Ben. I keep trying to convince Benny here to go to med school and join the rest of us.”

“Oh you know you’d miss me too much, Deano. You me and Novak are the dream team of pediatrics,” he said.

“Sure we are,” said Dean with a laugh. “Y/N and I were having a little get together on Sunday, watch a little football, food. Round up the usual suspects?”

“I can get the crew together. I’ll bring my beer dip and some of those pretzels. Very easy on the digestive system,” said Benny to you.

“That’s considerate,” you said. “It’s okay. I’m alright with most stuff. I just got to watch the grease a bit.”

“These are really not greasy at all. I’ll give you the recipe sometime,” said Benny as his phone went off. “I think we’re late for pre-op.”

“When are we not?” said Dean. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“See you later, Dean.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Dean that night as he rushed in the house. You and Sam were working the kitchen, Dean checking the clock. “They’re gonna be here in five minutes.”

“Go wash up. Sam and I can cook a few pieces of chicken and make mashed potatoes,” you said. You were nearly finished anyways, the chicken baking away in the oven. Dean made a thud down the hall but shouted back that he was fine before you heard the bathroom door shut. “He always been a worrier?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam as he got out the plates. “He seems different. Good different. More easy going.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known from him so I don’t have much to go off of,” you said.

“You might have something to do with it,” he said. He smiled and finished up with setting the table. “You’ve never met our parents Dean said.”

“No. We’ve only been together a few months,” you said.

“This’ll be an interesting evening then,” said Sam as the doorbell rang. He suddenly looked nervous and you rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Trust me.”

“I see why he likes you,” said Sam. “Here goes nothing.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #au #doctor!dean #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

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wandering-child-rp · 3 years

Note

For the mini fic: what about number 7 things you said while driving for E/C 💖💖

“Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to. I could have gotten the bus.” Christine forced a smile onto her nervous face as Erik gripped the steering wheel a little harder. It was painful for him but he didn’t like the idea of Christine alone on public transport late at night.

The lights of the highway would bathe the saloon car into bright light every so often and gave them both some shadows to hide in. Christine put the lead in her stomach down to nerves.

“I don’t mind driving you. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed a favour.”

“Except I don’t have a car and I cannot drive.” Christine laughed, it was a one-sided friendship. It was strange really. He didn’t seem to have many friends and it was always Christine chasing him. Unless it was after a lesson because then Erik always had a fantastic dinner for her, a great bottle of wine and he was good company. There had been a while when Christine had developed a crush on him but it was never reciprocated. She’d given him a thousand opportunities and lingering a little longer than needed at the door waiting for a kiss that never came.

Her hands stretched over her thighs with a huff of air.

“Nervous?” Erik asked but desperately he didn’t want to hear Christine pour out her feelings about her new boyfriend. He hated the constant buzzing of her phone when they sat together or the way she’d smile and laugh at whatever was on that stupid screen.

“Yeah... a little. I wish he could have come back instead of me flying out to him.” Erik’s large hand landed onto Christine’s with a comforting squeeze.

“I know. It’s sad your missing the season opener.” In his heart of hearts, he wanted Christine to be sat next to him in the box. He wanted to twist the playbill in his hands over and over trying to pluck up the courage to slide his hand into hers. Exactly like it was now. His hazel eyes went wide and he whipped away the warmth all too suddenly leaving Christine confused again and feeling like an imposition.

It would have been nice to go with Erik. He was a gentleman truly. Yes, he was a little older than her but he was sweet and respectful. Meg kept saying it was just a crush on an older man who had that mysterious thing but Christine wasn’t so sure. She laughed at his clever jokes and dumb ones and could listen for hours to him play or dissect a film scene by scene. He lent her books that he thought she needed to read and empowered her beyond belief. Only when she needed it though did he interfere.

</i>

“Your favourite book is ‘Pride and prejudice? Did Mr Darcy like Elizabeth more because she was outspoken and her own woman?” Christine only nodded. “Then stop pandering to these idiots. Yes, take their direction but not when it cuts you down. If it doesn’t stop I’ll bloody tell them.”

“They’re bossy; not romantic though.” She said trying to lighten the atmosphere and stop feeling like such a silly little girl. Erik only raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue trying to keep his attention solely on the tv in front of them. “No one has ever declared their undying love for me.”

“Maybe if you followed the advice.” </i>

Erik remembered that night. The air hung thick as Christine ran her finger around the rim of her glass and the silence rang. He knew he loved her then. It was sudden and all at once; like drowning. He fought it but couldn’t swim to the surface again. It was fine when it was just lessons and direction but then they met up. She didn’t look at the mask but at Erik’s eye. He held his temper and the time it was ragged, she simply laid her hand on his shoulder and then it took all his power not to declare his feelings. Erik wasn’t stupid; she was young, beautiful and smart. Out of his league. Then, she suddenly had a boyfriend on the scene after a connection with an old friend. It was dreadful to watch them. Erik was waiting at the stage door with flowers but they ended up in the trash can when he realised he’d been beaten to the punch.

The pair came to the airport all too quickly. Christine methodically checked off her list for the hundredth time.

“Passport? Yes. Money? Yes. Ticket? Yes. Phone? Yes. Makeup bag? Yep. So, I’m all set.” Christine looked beautiful in her thick sweater, the mass of curls blow dried out by the hairstylist this morning and her body bouncing nervous energy as she smiled widely at Erik with the harsh light reflecting off his mask. “Vienna, here I come! City of opera dreams and I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Erik knew she wouldn’t come back. She had nothing in Paris anymore and her father was back in Sweden. He knew the allure of a new city and a new start but he’d miss her too much to admit. She was tense and clearly something was distracting her, as always, she just blurted it out after only a stern look from her mentor.

“He’s nice, right? He’s not texted much but now a driver is going to pick me up? That’s okay, isn’t it?” Erik wouldn’t dream of it. He would even let her take public transport alone and insisted she stayed in his guest room when he caved and shared a bottle of wine with her.

“Yes.” He replied monosyllabically before adding some care when he saw Christine's face drop a little. “Let me know when you get to his house at least. Goodbye, angel.”

‘Angel’ Christine melted just like when he’d coined the term back for her. She had not known his name when the first note had come or the loud shout across the stage from a fast-moving figure. Erik had told her to start an octave higher and, it had worked perfectly, she had hit the last note despite not knowing. Jokingly, she’d referred to him since as her ‘Angel of music’. It had become truthful as her broken heart had begun to mend itself.

“I can still call you, can’t I?” Erik noted she was picking at the handle of her bag and delaying for time. Nodding, Erik was about to splurge out everything but as he opened his mouth, some jackass behind him started to honk for the drop off space.

“Of course. Good luck with the audition. I’ll come to see you perform, I’m sure.”

He watched her walk away with the backpack that was his before, handbag and battered suitcase decorated with a floral print. It wasn’t medically possible but he was quite sure he could physically feel his heartbreaking. The tears clouded his vision so Erik gave up trying and pulled in for a drive-through coffee he’d normally baulk at. Red and white lights flashed overhead as planes carrying people off to their dreams, vacations and loved ones. The pain came in another crashing wave as he saw the coffee Christine got flash on the menu board; double-shot caramel latte. How was it possible for a coffee to cause a thousand stabs of ice to a heart. Erik reconciled himself to just wait out the hour and a half to watch her plane take off into the night sky. Then he’d go home and drink his body weight in liquor.

The whole plane groaned as the captain announced the delay. They’d sat on the tarmac for half an hour but it felt so much longer for someone as nervous as she was. Christine swore under her breath as she wrestled the backpack from the compartment. Why wasn’t Erik here? He never had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything.

1 Voice Note from ‘Angel of Music 🎶 (ERIK DESTLER). 20 minutes ago. Christine held the phone to her ear as she jostled her way through disgruntled people and his velvet tones spilled into her ears.

‘So, I’m just at Starbucks and I can’t not say this anymore. I’m so sorry to do this, Christine, and like this. Look, just don’t listen past this but let me do it. We can pretend it never happened. I really want you to be happy and I don’t care if that’s not with me but... fuck... I don’t even know why I’m doing this but... here goes. I love you. A lot. Always have and always will. You can’t blame me because look at you and look at me. I know you won’t feel the same but I care for you so much, Christine. My wretched heart will always belong to you. The one who saw through the bullshit. Don’t think nothing or no one is missing you in Paris because I will be. Don’t dwell on it though. Go be happy... If you want to come home or something goes wrong, I’ll buy your ticket home and be waiting to collect you. Anytime, any day, just call me. You can always call me. No questions asked.’ There was a noise of a steering wheel being slapped and Erik squeezing his nose and clearing his throat before a new note started. ‘Anyway, just call me if you need and, best of luck. I know you’ll be perfect and don’t take any shit from anyone. I’ll get over all of this and I’m sorry. Unless you didn’t listen to that message in which case, erm, send me a postcard kid.’

Christine felt like the world had fallen out from under her and anything she thought was true wasn’t anymore. Throwing her handbag onto the seat, she paced around and listened to the message again. Surely she’d misheard him.

Erik perched himself on the wing of his car. His third cup of coffee in one hand a cigarette in the other as he blew smoke into the sky and watched a plane take off. Her flight was seven minutes late but he saw the green tail knew it was her flight as the flight app hadn’t updated with the last-minute delay.

“Fucking hell, Erik...” he mumbled to himself and threw the butt of the cigarette away after only taking three drags. “Stupid bastard...”

Never before had he felt so deflated but with freedom now. It was out into the world regardless of his regrets or lack of. The words where just like the smoke; impossible to catch or recall in the night sky. It was what it was, Erik thought as he sat back in the driver's seat and drummed the leather wheel defeated. He sat there spinning his phone on his thigh whilst the radio played the weather forecast monotonously. He had muted Christine and unmuted her twice just in case she needed him suddenly yet he hadn’t looked to see if she heard the message before boarding. The timing was meant to be that she’d already have shut off her phone before getting on the plane. It was nearly an hour ago since he’d practically bled the words out of his mouth and tonight, he’d go home and get very drunk before sleeping in tomorrow and he’d remain drunk until the opening night of the opera in four days. Then, he’d force himself back together and to face the world.

“Erik?” That voice. His head whipped around quickly and pulled a muscle. “My- my flight got delayed.”

His face visibly dropped but Christine held up her phone with the screen illuminating the picture of the artwork in Erik’s corridor that she adored. It was a perfect metaphor. Even when it wasn’t about him, Erik was never far from her thoughts.

“I got your message.” The young woman was nervous and simply flying on instinct as the moments turned into seconds and she was closing the gap between them and then her body hit his and their lips met in a breathless kiss full of fire and longing. Christine’s smile was large and her eyes crinkled when Erik looked shocked and confused. Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her waist and one knee shook weakly. She was here, in his arms and smiling at the thought of him. “I wish you’d told me before.”

“I didn’t want to cloud our friendship.”

“Friendship? Erik, it was never just a friendship with us. It doesn’t take me five minutes to unlock my door and say goodbye in the car and I wanted you. I thought you could see that-“

In response, his lips met hers again as one palm cradled her cheek. The mask was unforgiving but Christine knew what was underneath already from coming over early months ago. He’d freaked out and was embarrassed but she handled it without a moment of thought.

“Are you staying?” Erik whispered with a voice dripping with dark honey and his nose rubbed against hers as Christine cuddled him close in the chilly night with her arms around his neck.

Several hours later and Erik was kissing Christine’s nude shoulder as he cuddled behind her still unable to sleep despite their activities. Christine hummed in happily nuzzled softly in a bed that smelt of his cologne. She couldn’t stop thanking delayed flights and voice notes of deep thoughts in cars. She could have missed out on her love so easily but as Erik’s chest pressed against her back in his bed, Christine knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

@sloanedestler

#is 2k a mini fic?#I also drafted a totally #different idea for this which I might post if anyone cares #modern day au erik #Erik x Christine #ask box

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uhhhhyandere · 4 years

Note

If you're still doing requests how about omegaverse with omega Light and alpha m!reader who's a kickboxer. The reader's and Light's families are close and have high expectations of the two eventually marrying in the future, but the reader has no interest in being tied down and focused solely in his training and career. Lately he's noticed that some of his belongings have gone missing, like an old shirt or his boxing gloves, strangely enough the medication to help control his ruts keep (1/2)

running out quick, but writes it off as him being absentminded. One day he's forced to visit Light at his house and catches his scent forcing the reader into a rut, mating with Light all the while unaware they're under surveillance by the task force but Light finds this highly amusing. Now with mating bite and possibly pregnant, Light is tied to the reader no matter what now. (2/2)

we ain't gonna talk about how this has been sitting in my inbox for more than a year and ain't gonna talk about how i’ve almost had it done for more than a year, then forgot until i was digging through my drafts. no comment. i stink. i know, okay?!?!?!?!?!? AAAAHHH but i had fun finishing it so that’s what matters!!

6.6k words m!reader x light :)

warnings: smut! light is a.bottom and that's a hill i’ll die on.

Sweat, blood, and tears. It’s all you’ve ever known, and it’s all you’ve come to love and live for. The adrenaline of the ring, the quick, decisive movements, the thrill of winning, and the lessons learned from losing, it all accelerates your pulse and excites your nerves. Hard work never daunted you. You’ve learned to keep pushing, to run when you can’t walk, to fight when you’re knocked down, and to do whatever it took to come out on top. Your alpha blood craved the victory.

5am runs followed by strength training, then workouts after school was a routine you forced into your system. With your lifestyle, however, there was no other option. Strength. Flexibility. Reflexes. You needed everything to be successful. At the forefront of that “everything,” was commitment. There were things you had to miss because of training: family dinners, parties, club meetings, and more you’ve gotten an earful about for missing, but at least your family understood that boxing was your livelihood, no matter how much they were against it. It wasn’t some hobby you were going to drop when you got older. You wanted to make a career out of it, to be able to fight until you have to retire.

Of course, that was the plan. There were things, expectations, that naturally got in the way. It wasn’t ideal when your only son wanted to be a boxer of all things. How dangerous, risky, a dream you only have as a child. Well, fuck them, you said. Your dream was going to be your reality, and you couldn’t care less who or what stood in the way. Hard work perseveres in the end. You just had to focus. To get distracted by anything was the risk of losing that future.

The Yagami’s were a prime risk of losing that future. Your families were intertwined from before you were even born. Friends through their years of schooling and beyond. They married in the same year, moved into houses on the same block, and, of course, had their oldest child in the same year. It was like clockwork from there on out, a script to be naturally followed through the course of time. It only helped all the better when you were born an alpha and Light an omega.

Light’s and your baby pictures were taken together. Vacations were taken together. Chief Yagami pulled strings at school so you were put into the same class, assigned the same tutor, put in the same prep course, and the same private academy. At that point, you were almost sure your parents wanted to be there when you two undoubtedly mate. Your paths were carved to be identical, linked to the very end, yet so you saw them as so incredibly different.

However, you and Light were fundamentally different people. He was not a friend you chose, but someone who’s just been there. A constant, a tick on the back of your neck that left you with no choice but to live with its existence. You’ve come to accept the reality that he’s going to be there for the near future, the far future if your parents had anything to say about it. They and the Yagami’s had a matching plan, but while they were audibly planning your wedding, you were conniving a scheme of your own.

The Koyanagi Invitational. Held at the beginning of January, this tournament-style invitational welcomes only the best of the best in fighters from all over Japan. The winners almost always see themselves on the international stage. It’s a nationally televised program, and you were only one win away from securing your spot in round one after your championship match for your region coming up soon.

Your time is always dedicated to your passion, but now more than ever. Your trainer, an alum of the invitational himself, has allotted the time you desired to train in the gym at the expense of his other lessons. The trade-off was after your championship, you had to find another place for the time it will take to make up all the canceled lessons with the clients you were replacing for the time being, which shouldn’t be hard to do if—when you win the regional championship. Therefore, your time was acutely cut short for academics, social events, and everything else that was not training, but those were the sacrifices you warned everyone you would be making to come this far and reach even farther. You were not even keeping track of Kira at this point. Even that was on the backburner. What? Were they going to kill you for missing dinner with the Yagami’s for the third time this week?

“Y/N,” your name was called. Through the surging endorphins of your body, you were able to feel good enough to answer the call from your father from the sweat you were yet to shower off. You’d rather reek on the way home rather than use the gym showers. Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you rub the muscle there as you approach the full table. “You were supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago.” You sighed, dropping your hands back to your sides. “Yeah, sorry, dad. Lost track of time. Coach was fixing my style again. Swarmer has always been good for me, I think. Just refining it.” You didn’t miss the shared look between your parents.

“Well, it’s a good thing we scheduled this later because we knew you’d do this,” your mother says, low heat in her voice. “Get cleaned up and be down here in no more than ten minutes.” Biting your tongue, you nodded, making eye contact with Light as you turned to grab your bag and follow her request. “You could at least put jeans on.” You weren’t even down the hallway when your mother spoke again. This time, you were not being civil for the company’s sake and didn’t bother concealing your groan.

“It’s not like we have company over.” The Yagami’s were over for dinner or you were over there at least four times a week. It would be odder to have dinner with just three instead of seven (or five, if you missed due to training or Soichiro because of the Kira case) people around the table. You pulled out the chair they left for you beside Light and lowered yourself into it, immediately taking another drink of water from the gallon water bottle you lugged around. “Or, at least, no one new.”

“Y/N—,”

“No, he’s quite right. There’s no need to dress up for us. We’re practically family already.” Mrs. Yagami, your savior, laughed. “Light just always does,” which is wildly true. Light had a tendency to always look presentable and put-together no matter where the setting was. Late-night study sessions and other in-house cases were the only occasions you would see him clad in anything comfortable. Then, there was you, in your sweats at all times except when you were forced into your uniform at school.

Luckily enough, the comparison game was not thrown between the two of you too often. It wasn’t necessary when your parents were convinced you would mate and live the rest of your lives together. An unspoken truth that simmered in the air whenever you all got together.

“How is your training going anyway, Y/N?” Soichiro was an odd sight at the table anymore. The Kira case was an equivalent time commitment to your championship training, (except he gets paid to almost die. You get into fights willingly) and it was more and more late nights on the investigation team.

Especially now, of all times, with the dead FBI agents from the United States the news mentioned one morning, he was busier than ever.

“Gets harder and harder, Mr. Yagami. Though, I’m keeping up. With the championship on the seventh, I can’t afford not to. The guy’s a monster from what I’ve heard. Tomorrow we’re watching his match from the semi’s.” Your mother cleared her throat.

“Soichiro, sorry. We just prefer not to talk about business at the dinner table. Our son has a tendency to talk about fighting at all hours of the day, so we cherish this time where we don’t have to hear about it.” Ignoring her blatancy, you took another drink.

“Well, I like to hear about it.” It was Light who spoke up. “It’s his passion, with all due respect. Do you not see it when his eyes light up when he describes his feelings or explains his regime? He’s someone with an innate gift he wants to pursue. Not to mention the strength he possesses to live this lifestyle. If anything, you should be proud to hear him talk about it, the time he dedicates. It’s nothing short of awe-striking, what he can do.” Your skin feeling unbearably hot, you blinked a few times and hoped to hide from the admirable line of defense Light brought up for you. Peeking from your pit of embarrassment, you met his eyes, bright and unabashed, and you smiled a silent thank you to him. He, without moving a single facial feature, accepted it.

Instead of seeing the literal meaning of his words, you knew your parents saw the underlying tone of them. Their son being stood up for by Light Yagami. It must mean Light cared for him. Another step towards the future they have been quietly planning, so they smiled, and you wondered if Light saw through it just as easily as you did.

He and you never sat down and had a conversation about your parents’ expectations. Whether it was reluctance or the pure awkwardness of it all, it never came up when you were together. It didn’t matter, though, because if you could avoid it, which you could easily with your training, you would. At all costs. You did not have the time for that and would not for anytime soon.

After dinner, Light and you were pushed to do the dishes, as you always were if you were present. He washed, and you dried and put them away. In the midst of the sink running and the clinking of dishes, you found yourself with the desire to properly thank him outside of the small look you gave him before, but thought twice, three times about it at risk of looking too thankful and soft. “Just say it,” he spoke instead.

“What?”

“You look like you have something to say. You’ve glanced at me twenty-three times in the past seven minutes.” Despite the small grin on his face, you still couldn’t help but consider saying “it’s nothing,” which he would undoubtedly disbelieve, and let it blow over. Knowing him, though, he would twist it out of your system anyway, like a lawyer rinsing the truth in a cross-examination.

“Just—uh thanks, man. For before.” Light laughed, scrubbing in the curve of a bowl.

“You don’t have to thank me for something like that. You’re the type of person society needs, and to have someone talk down at you for being excited about your dreams is wrong. I was only doing the right thing, and I’d do it again.” You avoided his gaze as he explained, suddenly invested in drying the utensils one-by-one.

“Well, yeah, means a lot.”

Was Light’s smell always so nice? Yes, you weren’t going to fool yourself that this was the first time you’ve noticed. You’ve been nearby during one of his heats, and you remember nearly falling out into your own primal senses because of it. If it weren’t for your own reluctant self-control, you’re not sure where that night would have gone to. You’ve managed to deduce his smell to be some sort of chestnut, brown sugar mix. Intoxicating, but undeniably would foster an unwarranted reaction from you if you were too close during those times.

Not to mention that you’ve noticed Light’s good looks sporadically throughout the past. While he plays tennis, focuses on a particularly confusing calculus problem, biting his lip and twiddling the pencil between his digits, or just smiles at you from across the hall at school, you’ve acknowledged it, but never let it grow to anything else. You didn’t want to. Sure, he was handsome, but you had a million other things to focus on than to be tied down by any sort of relationship. Besides, if worse comes the worse, your self-control is unmatched from your countless hours of training. No single individual could sway you from your path.

“It’s really nothing. Like I said, don’t mention it.” And you didn’t plan on it. Light stayed to finish up homework as well as teach you a good two-thirds of the material before telling you he was heading out on his short walk home after you returned from a quick bathroom break. It was getting close to the bedtime that enabled you to get your full eight hours before 5am.

The closer the championship came, the less you saw of people. You ate breakfast and left earlier, came to school right from the gym, (yes, you resigned yourself to shower in the disgusting stalls) went back to the gym after school, and got home later. It gave you less time to do homework or hang out with anyone that wasn’t your trainer. Good thing you had your good friend Light who insisted it was fine to stay late in your room and catch you up on what you were behind in.

It only made sense, then, with your exponentially increasing schedule that things started to become hectic. Of course, you were missing more of what you usually missed, but most recently you’ve begun to misplace things. A t-shirt you knew you had in the drawer, your go-to nighttime sweatshirt, a pair of shorts. You figured some might be at the gym or dropped in your transit from one place to another, but your sweatshirt never left your house and you sure as hell never left it in the hamper to get washed.

It was just your busy schedule, you and your parents agreed. You needed to step back and relax if you were beginning to lose things. Plus, you were hardly sleeping with your anxiety building for the coming fight and the late nights you were practically forcing Light to pull with you.

“You don’t have to do this with me all the time,” you mentioned one night. “If I’m messing with your schedule or anything, I know it’s probably super inconvenient for you to do this so often. I never asked—.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “It’s no trouble. I offered, after all. It’s not like I see you much outside of these sessions anyway. Even at school, you seem to always be in a hurry. I’m actually pretty worried about you. How much sleep are you getting? Are you eating enough? Drinking?” You waved him off.

“You know I always do. I have to eat and drink enough to do this in the first place. I don’t carry a gallon bottle around for the gains, after all.”

“And your sleep?” You glanced towards your window.

“Needs work these days.” A small whack resounded off your temple. Surprised, you watched the weapon be flipped between the assaulter’s fingers in front of you. “What was that for?”

“Don’t be stupid. I get you want to work hard for your match coming up but killing yourself with all this hard work and no rest will undoubtedly lead to your defeat. It’s common sense. You should know that more than anyone.” You set your pen on the desk, the fatigue weighing your eyes down. “Even your dark circles are even showing.” You relaxed your shoulders. “You don’t have to put up your tough guy front with me.”

“You don’t have to put up your perfect student façade either.” You paused. “Sorry. Uncalled for. You’re right, as usual. I love it though. I want to be the best, and this guy I’m coming up against? He’s a maniac. This is the first tournament he hasn’t gone below the belt or spit on an opponent. Who knows when he’ll start, though? I have to be quick. This fight cannot last long, or this guy will injure me. I can’t afford that if I’m moving on to Koyanagi.” You laughed. “You’re really right. You know I’ve been losing stuff left and right? Old shirt here, that black sweatshirt I wear all the time? Gone. No idea. Some tape in my bag. It’s like some leprechaun is stealing my stuff.”

“They’ll turn up. Maybe if you get a proper night’s sleep tomorrow and train only in the afternoon, you’ll remember where you left them.” You groaned, stretching in your spot and allowing yourself to slouch against the wall you leaned against and to shut your eyes. “Hey, at least finish this last problem and sleep in your bed.”

“Don’t want to. I’ll sleep right here.”

And you did, because Light Yagami was too weak to lift you up.

A sore back and neck now healed, you found yourself wrapping your hands for the long-awaited match in the locker room. Heart already beginning to pound, you tried to find solace in the silence around you, but all you could hear was the rhythm against your ribs.

“You ready, kid?” Your coach asked from the entranceway. “Two minutes.” You nodded, reaching into your bag and finding odd space in there. No fucking way. Though your old boxing gloves were present, your current ones were not. God, another thing my dumbass lost. There was no time to sit and shit on yourself. I just lost the fucking match for myself, damn it! You didn’t think about it long before you exited the locker room and into the blur of voices and music on the other side. Your opponent stood on the other side of the room, taller and wider than yourself. “Size ain’t nothing kid. Put your confidence into work too here. Don’t forget the mental part of the fight, ya hear me?”

You didn’t. In the crowd, you saw your family and the Yagami’s looking either nervous or excited. The camera crews around swung cameras across the area of the mat. As your name was announced and you entered the ring, the lights began to move around you. The crowd cheered and yelled in excitement. Your coach encouraged you from behind you.

Sweat, blood, and tears. It is what has gotten you this far, and it will continue to bring you higher. You did not train and work to lose right where you should be beginning. As your opponent entered from the other corner, the familiar sense of adrenaline rushed your veins. Yes, you could do this.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

K.O.

You woke up in your bed the next morning. A white ceiling, white walls beeping a steady heartbeat around you. Then, it all came coming back. The elbow, all the dirty moves used against you pounded in your skin. Out of everything, your head ached the most. Tiny explosions cascaded your brain as you rolled your head along your pillow.

“You’re awake!” It was your father. “Your mother’s worried sick. That stupid asshole. Why they didn’t disqualify him after the first dirty hit, I’ll never know, but you had a fair fight.” You squinted through the migraine.

“…Did I win?”

“From a DQ, yeah. Hardly counts, and I’m sure you hardly feel like it. The guy was a nutcase. The kind that takes out their aggression through the sport rather than respecting it. You’re gonna be out for the count for a while, you know that, right? Grade three concussion. You’re going to have to take a break. Me and your trainer already called every gym around and put you on the blacklist—,”

“But dad—,”

“Nope, I’m not going to hear it. You are not allowed to even think about working out or training. We are going to keep our eyes on you at all times because we all know how you think and what you’re going to try to pull. Recovery is the most important part of an injury. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll never get better in time for the invitational. Got it?” You guffawed.

“You can’t keep eyes on me at all times.”

“Not me, personally, but there is someone with a similar schedule to you that you happen to go to school with and happens to live around the block.” You glared at the man.

“You recruited Light into helping you, didn’t you?” He shrugged and took the steps forward to stand at the foot of the bed.

“It’s more so he volunteered. He knows just as well as the rest of us you need to be watched or you’ll train at some faraway gym or secluded area. It’s for your best interest. You’ll go to school with him and he’ll take you back to their place until we get home—.”

“I don’t need a goddamned babysitter,” you bit out.

“On the contrary, would you not sneak off to train despite your condition?” You shook your head. You were in no condition to be having an argument, yet you stood your ground.

“It’s the lack of trust for me.”

“Yeah, we don’t. Not when it comes to putting your health first. Light was even telling us about how you’re behind in school too. With a concussion, you’ll need help anyway. Discussion over.” If your headache could get any worse, you were pretty sure it would have.

Not that you thought that he was kidding, but you weren’t expecting the doorbell to ring so early as you brushed your teeth, a towel wrapped around your waist from your shower. Spitting quickly, you left wet footprints across the wood floor as you approached the door.

“By god,” you muttered, opening the door. “You really were enlisted, huh?” Light shrugged.

“Well, by the looks of it, you didn’t go out earlier to work out than usual in order to look like you didn’t, unless you’re showering from a quick one between when your parents left for work and I got here.” You rolled your eyes, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow him room to enter.

“Funny. No, I just got up. Guy really did me in one, and you don’t actually have to listen to my parents. You know I’m not going to go do anything that can put my recovery at risk.” He slid his bag off his shoulder and set it on the couch.

“I know you, and the second you don’t wake up in pain, you’re gone. Sitting back and doing nothing kills you, after all. I don’t need to have known you my entire life to tell you that.” The side of your lip quirked.

“Yeah, whatever. Let me get some clothes on,” you turned around and returned to the bathroom. Putting on the folded clothes you left in the corner, you grabbed your bag from your bedroom and met with the boy digging into his bag. “Ready, babysitter? I’m going to call you that all day, by the way. No matter who we’re with.”

“Great. I can’t wait.” …

It wasn’t so bad, having a sitter. You mean, you were with Light when you weren’t training, anyway. Going to his house every day after school was even normal, mind the odd words being thrown around the school by the observers. No one confronted you about it, which came as no surprise. Who was going to confront a boxer about those kinds of rumors?

Light didn’t seem to mind, either. As one of the top bachelors of the whole school, you were sure he had to be aware of them. Just like your parents’ desired future for the two of you, you never spoke of it. Perhaps he was as nervous to bring it up as you were, or at least as reluctant. Still, nothing would change. If he would not speak of it, neither would you.

You never suspected, however, for that dam of silence to ever break in either of you. …

It was nearing the end of your recovery when the only thing between you and getting back in the ring was a doctor’s okay. Your parents and the Yagami’s were going out for a “night on the town,” quote-on-quote. Sayu was at a sleepover, and your parents ordered you to make your way over to Yagami household.

“It’s getting close to you being cleared. No point in ruining it now, Y/N. Just go. You probably have work he has to teach you anyway.” You glared at your parents as they stood adamant. “Go. We will have him drag you there.” “As if he could,” you muttered.

“Let me in!” Two minutes of knocking, you resigned to lifting up the third rock from the right and grabbing the key from the underside. After you broke in three times in a week at age seven, you would think they’d change the key’s location.

You set your possible overnight bag on the couch. On the main floor, it was quiet, which wasn’t all surprising. Light has been spending more time in his bedroom than ever. That was saying a lot, itself, because he was always in there in the first place. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting you. You grinned.

Footsteps light, you tiptoed up the stairs and turned the corner. There were small noises coming from the other side of his door that you could hear from the far side of the hall. As you creep closer, you couldn’t necessarily distinguish what the noises were. Nonetheless, it was clue enough he was too preoccupied to notice the huge scare you’re about to give him.

Hand on the doorknob, you turned it and screamed as you entered.

Though, turns out you were the one that got more scared. Not in fright, but of shock. Light, however, remained composed as ever despite the position you caught him in.

His smell overpowered the room. You nearly were kicked back from it. Back bent upwards off the bed, his mouth agape with small guttural moans and breathless gasps escaping it, all while his hand worked every so slowly stroking his cock. His other hand fisted what you recognized as your lost sweatshirt covering his nose and mouth. Above the material, his eyes were trained on yours, head rolled to the side as his motion continued.

“Jesu—what? Is that my…” Looking around the slightly torn up room, you recognized t-shirts, tape, and even your current pair of boxing gloves lying around the room or on his bed. “I-I don’t…” His fist threw the sweatshirt to the side as the hand came down hard on the bed.

“You don’t—mmh—what? Get it? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer at times, but you can put this together, can’t—uh—you?” His grin grew wider and more wicked as he took in your reaction. “I’ll say, you have an unspeakable amount of willpower, but I think—ah—I’ve had enough of it.”

“What do you mean? Did—did you plan this?! To trigger my fucking—ugh.” He rolled his eyes. Whether it was from pleasure or annoyance, you couldn’t tell, and your mind wasn’t really in a state to think about it under the current conditions.

He had you trapped. His smell corrupted the very air around you and seeped into your skin. It was overpowering. You could feel your rut, your ever so clandestine, rut-stained self, emerging from its thick chains. You couldn’t even take a step backward or turn to open the unlocked door. All of your nerves screamed at you to take him. To make him scream so that all he could say, all he could even think about, was you, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

Because this isn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to be linked with him outside of your parents’ desire for you and him to be wed one day. This was the path to that future, the future that distracted you from your goal.

Light shifted to stand above your lack and bent form that was on its last legs before the rut would take over. A hand softly stroked your head, as a parent would stroke a child’s, and set itself under your chin. It nudged upwards, forcing your gaze to his. At such close vicinity, the scent, his scent, him, it was all you could perceive.

“You really are the worst. The epitome of holding yourself—your desires—back. I know you don’t want what our parents want. I know the thought of something tearing you from your dream kills you. I know that you think that this,” he motioned between the two of you, “would be the exact definition of a distraction, so you’ve pushed it all down. Never acknowledging its existence. Well, do you acknowledge it now?”

You didn’t answer. You were nervous about what would come out of your mouth if anything did. Your willpower would die with the next exhale you took. Annoyed with your last stand, he dragged his hand from your neck to your shoulder and shoved your weak state down so you were on your knees. He leaned down so his breath ghosted over your lips.

“You really put on a show for me, you know. Answering the door with only your towel on back then. Deep down, I think you want this too. Deep down, you know that this was bound to happen. Just like your pain in a fight, you ignore it. You’re not a complicated individual to figure out. Just give in. What’s the harm in letting someone else take the reins for once?” He stared down at you, you felt it, but you refused to meet it, choking on shallow breathes in order not to inhale his scent too much. You remained silent, using your leftover strength to power onto your two feet.

“Not going to talk? Fine. Your mouth could—,” you didn’t even allow him the time to finish the sentence or pull through on what you knew was going to be his statement as you rushed to shove him rough enough to force him to fall on his ass on the floor next to the bed. He looked up at you from his seated position, eyes wide and excited. You seemed more shocked than him and took a step backward towards the door. His eyes, yellowed and urgent, followed your movements.

Swallowing, you willed yourself to extend your hand down as a form of apology: one you were unable to voice in current conditions. Light’s hand, soft and delicate, grasped is softly at first, allowing you to lift him to stand just over the bed, then squeezed, brought his other hand to your forearm. and tugged your unsuspecting form onto the bed with him, so you unwillingly straddled his legs.

He was quick to surge upward and lock his arms around your neck. Meeting his lips was kissing the devil himself: everything about it was all-consuming, hot, wrong. Light did not start out slow, just as he was with everything else. With guns blazing, his tongue tore open your lips and invaded your now open maw with vigor and power your conscious self could not meet. He brought his hands to your ass and tugged you forward to push your bodies tight together. Breaking only to breathe and begin to force your shirt up your abdomen with his cold fingers. You helped. God, you shouldn’t have, but your clothes were getting so hot. As soon as the article was off, Light latched to your neck, teeth quick to bite. You gasped, tilting your head back to reveal more skin to him. He brought his hand up and tugged on your hair, eliciting another groan from your lips.

“For someone who abhorred the thought of us together, you seem to be enjoying yourself.” His mouth continued down your form, biting the skin, and then licking the newly affected area. By now, you could feel your length suffocating even under the looseness of sweatpants. The undeniable urge for relief, for him, the one who was adjusting you to stand in front of him. An obvious, wordless request to rid yourself of your confines. “Go on. I’m waiting,” he said, leaning back to show his nude-self off. His cock glistening with a delightful mix of slick and precum. Inviting. Warning. Waiting. Jesus, you needed your fucking pants off!

Hurrying to get your legs bare, you allowed your own slick to make its first drops onto the floor. Light did not make any moves, only locking his eyes onto yours. A silent argument, but you were in no mood to trifle in such affairs with your mind clouded. Surging forward, you would have been able to straddle him once more would it not be for his hand solidly placed on your abdomen. “I said, I’m waiting, you sex-craved beast. Tell me how much you need this. How much you want to be mine. To follow the path carved for you with me. I have enough here to get me through my heat, but you don’t get ruts too often, do you?” Why and how this twig held so much authority, you would never know.

“Just let me—,”

“Let you?” He laughed. “Do you think you’re the one in charge here? What? You think because you’re physically stronger, because you’re an alpha, that you get dominance here?” His eyes, though yellow, spoke true on his words. They demanded compliance. “Now, be a good boy, and beg to fuck me. Beg to stick your cock inside me.” To stress his point, he ground upwards ever so slightly. You hissed at the contact.

“God, please just let me—please just—fuck. Light, I need to fuck you. I need to take you, to mate you, to—fuck—I want you to scream for me, and only me. I want your throat raw from how loud and how much you scream for me.” You gripped the headboard above him while your other hand trailed down his lithe body coated in sweat until it reached his hole. His slick dripped from there due to his heat so that your finger slipped right in. Light moaned. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Please,” you slipped a second, then the third digit in. Light’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as his back arched to meet the thrust of your fingers.

“Shit, it feels so good, Y/N, alpha. Go on. Mate me. Be mine forever just as I’d be yours.” You adjusted yourself to settle comfortably between his legs and used your hands to lift them, bending him in half to expose himself to you. You hissed as his first squeeze around you before you continued to sink in. Shared moans filled the room as you cursed out for each other. “Yes, feel how tight I am for you, how your cock was meant for me.” Heat shot through every nerve fiber of your being, and you did not bother to begin your thrust languidly. Instead, you rushed to build to a quick, pounding pace. Your rut pushing you to go deeper, and faster as he tightened around your length. Your hips met his groan with an audible smack, and, at a certain angle, Light cried out. “What are you… waiting for…? Bite… me. Claim me, you beast.”

You could barely hear his words through your focus, your feeling, and, after a short while, even Light could not manage words. Only gasps, moans, and a few small screams escaped his lips and you sought your release. Closer, and closer, and closer… fuck. You ground your pelvis into his.

“Shit, I’m gonna—oh, fuck,” you whispered, a quiet worship into the air as you allowed yourself to empty within him. You pulled out slowly, watching small amounts of liquid viscously drool out. Light’s skin was flushed deeply red, sweat glistening off his skin, and cock red, pulsing, and heavy against his torso. His labored breaths from his wide, open mouth forced his stomach to rapidly grow and shrink before he quickly regained himself and focused his eyes on you.

“What? Do you think I’m done with you?” He smirked, still breathing heavily, chest rising and falling. “Come here.” You let his legs go to allow him to surge forward and capture your lips with his own. “I’m still rock hard. Why don’t you do down there and do something about it, hm?” Light supported his point by guiding your hand to grasp his cock. “Go on.”

His scent was all-consuming. Your nose trailing the skin of his cock as it followed your tongue up and down his length. You swirled your tongue around this head while your hand worked the base of his cock. “Eyes on me, alpha. Eyes on your omega, now.” Yellowed eyes dared you to look away. “Go on, and take me in.” Light gasped as you swallowed him. “Fuck, fuck, yeah. Now, suck. Yes. Just like that. Bob your head—just like,” he grasped your head and guided your movements, “that, yes. Damn, you’re a terribly slow study with math, but fuck, you learn to suck cock quickly.”

You followed his instructions, hand lightly teasing his balls, mouth taking him deep then pulling back, until you began to move on your own volition. “Oh, yes. I’m gonna- fuck. You better fucking swallow all of me. I don’t want to see a single drop on the bed.” Light watched with sick delight as you struggled to take his spend in. He was quick to reach down when you retracted your mouth, sealing your jaw shut with his hand until he saw your adam’s apple bob. “Oh, good boy. Now,” ignoring your painfully—once again—hard cock, he pulled you back up, “claim me. Bite me, alpha. Do it.”

“N-no, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Go ahead.” Light moved his locks and stretched his neck out to you. There was nothing more you wanted to do than sink your teeth into the smooth stretch, to have your scent follow him as he walked around the school every day. “Bite me, Y/N. Do it now,” and you did. Light howled in pleasure as copper filled your mouth. You licked the raw skin before sinking you teeth in deeper and sucking what you can.

“Light,” you pulled back, eyes blown wide. “I—,” he shushed you by tightly gripping your cock with a wide smile.

“It all worked perfectly,” he said, beginning to stroke your length in tandem with his words. “I thought replacing your gloves would cause you to lose, to grieve, to stay here, but when I heard of your opponent and talked with him just a bit before your match, angering him about what kind of person you were, I had to. I had to.” You bit your bottom lip, unable to articulate words as he picked up his pace, tightened and loosened his grip, and brought in his other hand. “It hurt to see you injured, but I had to what had to be done. I needed you to make me yours. You don’t belong with anyone else besides me. Your dreams, your work ethic, your body, your mind, they’re all mine, and now, with this,” he motions to the raw, bloodied skin of his neck, “my plan has come to fruition beautifully. It’s like the universe deemed it so.” Your breathing escalated. His thumb moved to tease the head of your cock. “You’re all,” he laughed, “fucking mine.”

He met your lips the same time your release spilled into the open air. “Now,” he leaned back, “let’s keep going, hm?”

#light x reader #yandere light yagami x reader #m!reader #x m!reader #death note fic #yandere death note #Light Yagami #death note #tw yandere #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw dubcon #tw: a/b/o

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Blue Lagoon - ep. 01 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Ward announces a family vacation while being the absolute worst and you meet Rafe for the first time.

A/N: Can’t believe I’m making a Rafe series...super nervous about this one. If you like the first chapter and wanna be tagged let me know! (Also, all the chapters are named after beach cocktails). This is a re-write of Chapter 1!

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Thirteen had been a tragic year. The year of braces and that terrible hair cut that could only be described as the love child of a bowl cut and a mullet. Your best friend had taken scissors to your hair and you had regretted it ever since. It was the year of hoodies and basketball shorts and more layers than Billie Eilish. The year you fell and busted up your face so bad that you suffered through vacation with a bruise the size of Texas on your jaw. The year all your friends caught up to you but you were still taller and your boobs were still bigger and you still felt more awkward. 

The worst thing about thirteen though, had been the vacation. It was the first time your mom had decided to do a joint vacation to the Bahamas over break. You were thirteen and an absolute tragic mess and already so embarrassed just by your existence and then she flew you to the Bahamas to spend Christmas with the Camerons. 

And if Rafe wasn’t already so attractive and beautifully self-assured; fifteen and already tall and funny and you felt arguably worse about yourself in comparison to him and his sister. But especially him. And part of that was entirely because he’d been so nice. You were fully prepared for him to treat you like every other kid at your school treated you but he didn’t. He was so nice to you and you’d spent a vacation that you thought was going to be horrible having an incredible time. 

But that was the last of the joint family vacations, your mom focusing her time on her new job once you’d gotten home, so you were surprised when she proposed the idea again your junior year of high school. 

“The Bahamas?” 

“Over Christmas...with the Cameron’s.” Your mom replied, barely looking up from her notepad. 

“Oh uh, okay,” there wasn’t much else you could say. She wasn’t about it accept a no from you and yeah, the last trip had been fun, but that nervous insecurity ate away at you from the moment she mentioned it. 

You certainly weren’t the tragic thirteen-year-old mess that you had been back then, and maybe that should have inspired some confidence but instead you were just nervous. If you had gotten arguably better than what did Rafe look like? Probably even more gorgeous than he’d been before. One of your friends suggested trying to find him on instagram but you didn’t need any more anxiety pre-vacation so you avoided the possibility of seeing him before you really saw him at all.

It was Rose who first suggested the little change of scenery for the New Year. Winter break was fast approaching and Ward was at the end of his rope with his oldest and Rose, in an ill-fated attempt to make his exhaustion work for her, mentioned the house in Nassau. Late at night, while Ward sat in his office trying to calm his nerves with a bottle of scotch. He’d been woken by a call from Peterkin that Rafe had been arrested, the third time in two months, for driving under the influence. He didn’t ask what his son was under the influence of and he almost left him in lockup for the night but he got dressed, picked him up, and drove him home in silence. Something had to change and then Rose broached the topic of a vacation. Of course it came with a catch, as everything with Rose seemed to do.

“Dad,” Sarah groaned, looking up from her homework when he announced the trip over breakfast the next morning. “you can’t be serious?”

Ward had come down to breakfast, calling Rafe into the kitchen where Sarah and Wheezie were already eating. He didn’t hate Rose’s idea, even the part of it that benefitted her need to show off, and he decided not to waste time telling his kids the news.

“As a heart attack Sarah.” He replied. “It’s been a busy year and I think this is exactly the kind of family trip we all need right now. Take some time away from the island and our,” he looked across the room at Rafe disdainfully, “more objectionable pastimes.”

“It was one DUI.” Rafe said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He was still a little hungover from the night before and the weed he’d just been smoking had his eyes bloodshot. He would’ve really loved to get some sleep but just as he was starting to doze off Ward was banging on his bedroom door.

“And it would’ve been your third if Peterkin didn’t owe me a favor. I’ve only got so much clout Rafe, I can’t keep bailing you out every time you decide to do something reckless. Your choices-”

“Reflect the family.” Rafe replied, “I know.”

“Then you’ll know this isn’t up for discussion. We’re going to Nassau in a week.”

All of them missed Wheezie’s groan as she laid her head in her hands. The silent onlooker to her family’s revolving door of drama, Wheezie’s role was that of mediator, instigator, and observer, but she wasn’t granted the privilege of an opinion.

“I’m supposed to go to the Keys with Scarlett!” Sarah mentioned, as if it mattered, “why do we all have to be punished just because Rafe screwed up?”

“I didn’t screw up Sarah, I was barely drunk. Shoupe was just trying to give me a hard time.”

“Oh, of course, our mistake.” Ward replied, “the world is out to get you. Do you know where your classmates are right now? In college. Yale, Harvard, Duke, even NCS...and where are you? That’s right, sitting at home every day, smoking weed, wasting my money.”

“I said I’d do some work for you.”

“Because this is what I want representing my company? You can’t even get out of bed before three in the afternoon most days.” Ward snapped, “take this vacation as an olive branch. And when we get back start thinking about what you want your life to look like because any more ‘wrong turns’ and you can forget the nice stuff and the free room and the bailouts.”

“Dad!”

“That’s not fair to me and Wheezie!” Sarah piped up, repeating her earlier argument, “why are we being punished?”

“Don’t rope me into this.” Wheezie commented. She wasn’t going down with this ship. At least not yet.

“I hardly think a week in the Bahamas is a punishment Sarah.” Ward replied, “now, is it possible to get through this without any other objections?”

“Can I invite Topper?” Sarah asked, “you said Rose’s friend is coming with her daughhter so I don’t see why I can’t invited someone.”

“Rose’s friend?” Rafe asked, looking up from his phone.

“Yes. We’ve been on vacation with them before. You remember? He daughter is a year older than Sarah I think.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, the slightest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Can I invite a friend?” Wheezie asked.

“No.” Ward said.

“If Sarah gets to bring someone why can’t I? That’s not fair!”

“I’m done with the arguments and backtalk. We’re leaving in a week. If Dr. Thornton says Topper can come, he can come. But I’m not a babysitting service for you and your friends Wheezie.”

“Sarah always gets to-”

“Louisa!” Ward snapped, hand hitting the marble countertop. Sarah’s eyes went wide and Rafe looked up from his phone, standing up a little straighter at the notable anger in his father’s voice.

“Sorry.” Wheezie shrunk down in her seat, looking away from her dad.

“Now, do you think it’s possible that we can all get through this without any more arguments? We leave on Sunday. Since I have actual work to do, unlike any of children,” Ward said, looking over at Rafe, “I’ll be in my office.”

All three of them stayed put as they listened to their dad’s footsteps as he headed upstairs to his office. Sarah got up from the table, grabbing her phone and heading outside to call Topper while Wheezie still sat there looking close to tears for being yelled at.

Rafe put his phone down on the counter and crossed the kitchen, putting his hand on his sister’s back and rubbing small circles. “Hey, no worries, okay? I’ll hang out with you on the trip.”

“You’ll just off with Topper and Sarah and I’ll be stuck with Rose while she day drinks.” Wheezie muttered, rubbing at her eyes.

“I promise Wheez, I won’t ditch you.”

“Okay,” she looked up at him, holding her hand out, pinky extended, “pinky promise?”

“Yeah, pinky promise.”

The week went by faster than any of them wanted it to, Sunday creeping up too soon. Trips to Nassau were usually staggered. Ward might go with Rose, or Rafe and Sarah went with friends or Ward took Wheezie, but they never went altogether. A family vacation hadn’t happened in almost four years.

Rafe could remember the last trip. Sarah had brought Scarlett because, once again, she was their father’s favorite child. Ward told Wheezie she couldn’t bring someone, pretending that she was too young but Sarah had been twelve and she’d been allowed to bring someone. Scarlett was a nightmare on vacation and an absolute bitch to you, Rose’s best friend’s daughter. Rafe had spent most of his time with you just to avoid his sister and Scarlett but he’d actually had a great time. Probably the last great time he had sober.

On Sunday morning he stood at the back of the SUV, helping his dad load it up for the drive to airstrip.

“Alright, do we have everything we need to go?” Ward asked, looking toward the house as Rose came out with her biggest suitcase rolling alongside her. “Rose, it’s a week for godsake.”

Sarah leaned out the window at her stepmom before sharing a look with Rafe, rolling her eyes. Rose caught the look and frowned. “Sorry all my clothes aren’t the size of Malibu Barbie and require a little extra space.” She said, glaring at Sarah.

“Here we go!” Sarah swore.

Ward took a deep breath, “just get in the car. Please.” He passed the suitcase to Rafe before following his wife around the side of the car, “and Sarah, behave.”

“Are you kidding me? She literally started it. I said nothing.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Sarah groaned, sitting back in her seat, “this is the stupidest vacation, why do we all have to go?”

“Sarah!” Ward shouted, “not another word! Some of you are lucky that we’re all going since you certainly don’t deserve a nice vacation.”

Rafe shut the door as he climbed in the backseat beside Wheezie, “am I supposed to say thank you?” It didn’t surprise him that somehow his dad yelling at Sarah had turned into his dad taking a dig at him.

“It’s beyond my comprehension how I managed to raise such incredibly spoiled, ungrateful children.”

“Sorry dad,” Sarah muttered.

“Well I won’t wait for the other two apologies.” He said, looking in the rearview mirror at them. Wheezie had her airpods in, staring down at her phone, “this one probably can’t even hear me.”

Rafe nudged his youngest sister and she looked up, “huh, what?” She took one headphone out and looked around the car but Ward had already changed the subject.

“Is Topper meeting us at the airstrip or am I supposed to be picking him up?”

“He said he would meet us.” Sarah replied, slumping in her seat as they backed out of the driveway and headed to the airstrip.

“You know Sarah,” Ward mentioned, always happy for an opportunity to dig for a dig at Rafe’s expense where he could find one, “I really do like this young man. He’s very responsible. It’s a shame my own son couldn’t be so disciplined and mature.”

“This is gonna be a great vacation dad, you were right.” Rafe piped up.

“You can save the snark Rafe.”

The only thing quieter than the rest of the drive to the airstrip was the flight to Nassau. Quiet and awkward, so much so that Topper spent the entire trip too tensed to even move, aside from his knee bobbing uncontrollably. None of the Cameron kids seemed to notice the unease or they were all so adapted to it that it didn’t seem to affect them.

Ward had eased up on the commentary and Rafe was silent, hoping he wouldn’t have to listen to anymore of his father’s opinions if he just stayed quiet. He knew that wasn’t the case but it was working so far. Rose was too engrossed in her phone to bothered with any of them, Sarah and Wheezie taking up similar approaches to the flight.

“You know we could be taking a private plane to like, Paris or something right now? Wouldn’t that be kind of incredible?” You asked, reaching for one of the bagels that your stepdad had laid out on the table.

“The Bahamas are equally incredible,” Your mom piped up, smacking your hand and making you drop the bagel, “eat some fruit, you look bloated.”

“I’m not bloated mom.”

“Well, you're either bloated or pregnant and let’s not hope it’s the latter.” She snarked, pushing the bowl of fruit closer.

“Thanks mom.” You rolled your eyes, “and thanks so much for this vacation when I was supposed to be in Ptown with Ben.”

“Ptown’s not going anywhere.” She replied. “Try to be positive, remember what Dr. Nygaard said, try not to decide the outcome of an event before it happens.”

“Thanks for that inspirational advice,” you said, “you should get it printed on a t-shirt.”

Your mom had announced the trip not three days after you had committed to going to Provincetown with friends for Christmas. You’d paid for a fifth of the house that your friend group was renting for the week only for your mom to announce that you had to cancel. Rose had invited her (and you and your stepdad) to the Cameron’s Nassau house and she had accepted, effectively canceling any plans that you had. There was no chance of arguing the point with her, if she said you were going then you were going. And to be fair, part of you kind of wanted to go, just for the opportunity to see Rafe. Though it was for that same reason that you were really dreading the chance to go to.

The Cameron’s landed at the airstrip in Nassau an hour after your family had already arrived and your mom had taken the liberty of renting two SUVs for the week. When Ward did land, Wheezie pressed her face to the window, looking out at the private port. “Who is that?” She asked, not recognizing Rose’s friend or her family.

“My friend LeAnn, you remember we went to Nassau with them last time.” Rose replied.

Your mom nudged you, a silent jab meant to tell you to turn your phone off. You were only making yourself more depressed anyway, seeing that your friends were having a great time while you were stuck on a family vacation.

Rose waved as she exited the plane and your mom waved back enthusiastically. “LeAnn, I’m so happy you could make it!”

“Thank you for inviting us,” your mom said, hugging Rose before looking to Ward, “we always talked about vacationing together again, I’m so glad it finally worked out.”

“Oh me too,” He replied though it sounded half-hearted.

“It’s so beautiful here.” LeAnn said, looking around as if she hadn’t had the opportunity to before, “didn’t I tell you how nice it would be?” She asked you.

“Yeah, it’s super warm here.” You made a point of moving your hand up to block the sun, squinting behind your sunglasses and scrunching your nose.

“Don’t mind her, she was going to spend her vacation in with friends but she’ll get over it.” LeAnn said, excusing your behavior.

The rest of the family, Rafe, Sarah, Topper, and Wheezie, caught up with Ward and Rose, bags in hand and ready to get to the house. Wheezie avoided introductions, a quick wave before she headed straight to the second car, putting her airpods back in as she did. Rose ignored her daughter, going through a round of introductions anyway, as if you had all completely forgotten each other. As she pointed to Rafe you looked up from your phone, your eyes meeting his. Four years since your seen him and that same familiar pull in your stomach was still there when he smiled, like butterflies erupting. It lasted only a second as your mom spoke up and you turned to look at her.

“I can’t believe how old you both are now! And Wheezie, the last time I saw you all you were just kids.”

“Well it’s been four years mom.” You pointed out.

“I know how long it’s been.” She said, glaring at you. “I guess we’ll see you all back at the house right?”

As everyone piled into their respective cars, your stepdad offered up the backseat if anyone wanted, noting that they had four people to get in the back of their car and your family only had you. Rafe looked at the back seat as Sarah climbed in, bag still in his hand as he slowly stepped away from the car.

“If you don’t mind?” He said, catching your attention.

You stopped what you were doing, hand hovering over your bag as you stood there at the open trunk, your stepdad answering Rafe, “not at all, hop in.”

He nodded, coming around the back of the SUV and putting his bag in the back. You were still standing there, practically frozen as you followed the motion of his bag getting tossed in the trunk as he turned to you, “need help?”

“I can lift a bag, promise.”

“I mean, last time-”

“The latch wasn’t on my suitcase last time!” You laughed, “I can’t believe you remember that, that was so embarrassing.” You had been lifting your suitcase onto the cart at the hotel last time you were here and dropped it on the ground, the latch popping and spilling your clothes and belongings everywhere. The worst of it being Rafe picking up the stuffed dog that you had brought with you. “I did bring Wilbur though,” you said, just to get a laugh.

It worked, Rafe shaking his head at you as he put your bag in and shut the trunk door. You followed him around to the backseat and he let you get in first, sitting so close to you that his thigh touched yours. It was unnecessary, since there was plenty of room with just the two of you, but he acted like he didn’t even realize it.

“Sorry you had to give up vacation just to come here.” He whispered, turning to look at you.

“And miss the opportunity to hang out with you for a week?” You asked, grinning.

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