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cali-holland · 3 years

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An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

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Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

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With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn’t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #the irregulars #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you

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7-wonders · 3 years

Text

The Trouble With Wanting

Summary: Though life has changed for you, for the rest of the world, everything remains the same.

Word Count: 1.3K

Author's Note: Hello yes it's the beginning of Act II of Mad Love. Buckle up. Special shoutout to @mrslangdonn for being so pumped for this and making an actual meme. Really hope I didn't let you down with this.

Mad Love Act I here!

In the grand scheme of things, life has been oddly normal lately. Since being kidnapped by witches, saved by your Antichrist husband, admitting that you actually do love said Antichrist husband, and realizing that you’re potentially the only thing that can stop the end of times, the world continued turning and the days marched on. Michael did what he normally did during the days (you don’t really know what it is he does, to be honest. Probably just talking to rich people all day), and you did too. Life continued as it had been, even though it felt like your world had been changed numerous times lately. Honestly, you had expected things to be a lot more dramatic.

But no, life was almost boring now. Mallory had gone back to New Orleans to handle being the Supreme and running her coven, so besides the texts and phone calls with her to try and figure out how to convince Michael that ending the world wasn’t the right course of action to take, the vigilante talk was almost non-existent in your day-to-day life. That was also because neither of you had any idea how to actually put this plan into action. There had been ideas, of course, but none that held any weight. That may be because the best idea either of you had had was a Powerpoint that showed all of the reasons why ending the world was a bad idea, but in your opinion that was still an idea that was on the table.

Also, you assumed that professors wouldn’t take “preoccupied by your husband’s plans for world domination” as a proper excuse for you not completing your work or showing up to class. At the very least, with how turbulent your life had been, you had expected far less homework than what you’re staring at right now.

You’re sitting in your room, doing some reading for class. Surprisingly, the reading isn’t that boring. It’s certainly not fun to do, which is probably why you hear the music right away; your attention absolutely is not all that focused tonight. It catches you entirely off-guard, considering that there’s no speakers in your room and you definitely did not have any music playing from your phone. You listen for a moment, trying to place the melody.

“Is this Frankie Valli?” you question, standing up from your bed and trying to find the source. Opening up your door to see if this is an isolated incident, you find that the music is drifting throughout the house. ‘Drifting’ is probably the wrong word, since it literally sounds like there’s speakers playing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” that are installed in every room and hallway.

“Hi,” you say, finally coming across Michael in the living room. He’s standing there nonchalantly, which you automatically know means that he’s involved in this.

“Hi,” Michael says right back.

“Uh, what’s with the music?”

“Well, I was on my phone earlier, and I came across an article.”

Smiling, you step towards him. “You did?”

He nods. “I did, and it was extremely informative. Did you know that married couples typically have a reception after they officially get married? Apparently, they share a first dance at the reception.”

“And you believe everything you read on the internet?”

“Sometimes, if there’s some truth to what I’m reading.” You stare at him, biting back a laugh. “We’re married.”

“We are married.”

“We didn’t have a first dance when we got married.”

“No, we did not.”

Finally, Michael sighs, tired of you playing dumb. “(Y/N), may I have this dance?”

You grab Michael’s outstretched hand, letting him pull you towards him. One hand goes onto your waist, the other intertwined with yours. He begins to lead you in a simple waltz, and you’re thankful that he knows how to dance because you sure don’t. “I didn’t know you knew this song,” you comment when you realize he’s humming.

“I enjoy the classics.”

“There’s this scene from a movie, where one of the main characters--”

“You’re talking about 10 Things I Hate About You, right?” You raise an eyebrow in questioning, and he chuckles. “Madelyn loved ‘90s rom coms, and sometimes I was bored enough that I would watch them with her.”

“I’m a little impressed.”

Michael spins you around. “You should be.”

The romanticism of the whole situation is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you’re in your living room instead of a reception hall, wearing sweatpants instead of a wedding dress. You’re here with Michael, and just that is romance enough for you. You could stand here like this, with him, forever if he asked you to do so.

“What if we had an actual wedding?” Michael asks.

“We did have an actual wedding.”

“I mean one where you actually have a say in it.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, Michael, but you still haven’t taken me on a proper date.”

“My apologies.” He dips you, kissing you before bringing you back up. “How’s Paris for a first date? Maybe Greece?”

You gasp. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want.” He punctuates each scenario with a kiss, making your body melt into him. The song ends, the house falling into silence before the music begins to repeat. But neither of you are paying attention to that any more, not when he’s staring at you in a way that makes heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He reciprocates, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your throat as his hands move up and down your sides. All too soon, he pulls away, making you groan in disappointment. “We shouldn’t, you know…”

“I know,” you lean your head against his chest with a sigh.

Of course. The main issue that’s been prevalent on both yours and Michael’s minds for weeks now: you’re married and you love each other, but sex is...not going to happen for the time being. You both absolutely, 100% want to, but, as with most things in your life, Satan seems to be the major roadblock. You just never thought that your father-in-law (who you’ve still never met) would end up cockblocking you.

Just because Michael made sure that you wouldn’t be under Satan’s influence, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stop trying. If anything, he’s going to try even more now that both of you had openly defied his will. And what was the one thing that Satan wanted besides the end of the world? For Michael to have an heir. And you didn’t trust any sort of contraception when it came to the supernatural powers that you had been married into. Michael completely agreed with that, especially since he knew first-hand just how easily material things (like condoms and all of the various forms of birth control) could be manipulated. So for now, until you could figure out a way to safely get it on, sex was off the table. Unfortunately.

“I’m going to go finish my reading, then.” Slowly, because neither of you particularly want to, you disentangle yourself from him.

“And I’m going to...take a shower. A cold shower.” You laugh at him, but you’re really in the same position that he is.

“Have a good night,” you say, bounding up the stairs before you can stop yourself.

“You too.” Michael also goes up the stairs, and you shut your door before you have to say something to him again. You still keep separate bedrooms, partly because you really enjoy your space and partly because you know that, given the opportunity to be laying in a bed with Michael when you’re both horny, you would totally let him fuck you.

Sliding your back down the door, you groan as you hold your head in your hands. Saving the world from the apocalypse is definitely difficult. Having to stop yourself from having sex with your incredibly hot husband? Well, that feels impossible.

Tag List (starting from scratch because I need a new tag list so message me if you want to be tagged!): @michaellangdon @trelaney @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @we-did-it-joe @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdonstanaccount

#mad love #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine

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mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack, smut. explicit.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities.

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020. 12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show. How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice. It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter.

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola. It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. Things have just been—” Crazy? Out of this world? Some kind of wonderful? “—hectic.” He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek. It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind.

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants. “It’s fine , Jay.” The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help. “I know you’re a busy guy. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks. You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances. A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying. Not at first, anyway. But when he does? He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter. So you were a little bit better than him. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self. He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.

“You’re mean,” he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it. “And yet you love it.”

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice. He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?” You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his. It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago. “I’m good, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.

“Yes, Mom .”

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!”

“Do you even know how old I am?” Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged. They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages? Where you grew up? Your real names? That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen? Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?” You’re chuckling at your own genius. He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve . Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him. It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

It’s a joke. Obviously , it’s a joke. He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry. It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too. “I have something to tell you.” There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity. Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push. “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.” A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted. You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent. He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening. “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…” How does he start? “I’m not just… some guy.” Okay, that sounds bad. He’s backtracking. “I mean, I’m a guy. I’m normal.” This is going so poorly. His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip. “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy. I’m actually like, uh...”

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly. He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart.

“Jinny?” It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation. Still, nothing. He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way. “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own. You’re trying to be serious, he thinks. “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.” A beat. He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission. “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault. It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!” He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.” He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice. Somehow, it feels different. Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity. “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?” Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him. “Of course not. You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this. He’s a million miles over the moon. You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” There’s no venom in your words. “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.” There’s that unabashed need to hear his name. He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.”

“Is your real name Jinny?” He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin. Jinny’s just my nickname.”

“Well, Jinny—” He says it dragged out and silly. “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first. He snorts. “I live in Seoul .”

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked. It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more. At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020. 10 PM.

Does he smell bad? Should he have showered first? Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail. They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.

“Are you nervous?” Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face. He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “Of course he is.” Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!” The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you get going?” It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet. He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on. The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room.

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love. He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.” You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet. There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun. His heart stutters in his chest. He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance. It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband.

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are. It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist. You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed. He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume. Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home. You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips. Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw. He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence. They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head. He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas. It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district.

“Your laugh is even better in person.” You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.

“Yeah?” Can you see the hearts in his eyes? He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils.

“Yeah. But don’t let that get to your head, mister.”

“Already has - sorry.”

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red; how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty. He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour. You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny. You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down. You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face. There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him. You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on.

“Open up!”

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting. He probably looks stupid as hell.

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound.

“Too hot?” You coo, feigning surprise. You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you. “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing. It burns on the way down. “You eat one now.” He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.

“I don’t like squid,” you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours. You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago. He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food. You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen. He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover. You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?” You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip. He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you. “Of course.”

“I won’t post it anywhere.”

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth. You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose. “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his. You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb. It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp. “No need,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you. He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces.

“We’ll see about that,” you return, equally as soft.

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again. It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills. He should’ve booked you something later in the day. Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea?

“Right.” He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides. He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now. The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move. It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart.

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab. You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.” There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back. It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.” There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection. Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall. Mozart would be proud.

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud. The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening. He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard. “I know.”

“You do?” He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.” You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin. “Can I kiss you?” Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.

“Hm.” The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It’s better than his wildest dreams. It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful. You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River.

“I’m sorry.” It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation. He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this. He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible. Needs it like he needs air - or more of you. Either or.

“Thanks.”

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers. He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down.

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor. You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours. He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.” A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020. 2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior. There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else. No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival. Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away. You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,” Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back. It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.

“It’s a candle,” you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots. “What for? Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has. I know your birthday.”

Right. Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge.

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical. He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear.

“I had them before I met you.”

“Right.” It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him. This is how the two of you are. Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity.

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?”

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold. If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.

“Fine, fine. Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride. It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him. You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary. There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him. There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece; there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground.

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space. Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti. A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should. Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact. There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen: limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise).

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?” He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles. You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank.

“Maybe.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork? Really?”

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up.

“What’re you doing?” You join him even as you ask. He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer. He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?” Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love. You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm.

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?”

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube. He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?” Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows.

“No.” Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.

“Why not?”

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear. It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle. He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves.

“Better?” You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world.

“Much,” he hums, unashamed.

“Welcome home, Kook.” The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest. He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet. There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room. It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game.

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game. He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in. He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew.

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.” He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.

You don’t move. He wonders when the last time you slept was.

“Jinny,” he repeats himself, a little louder this time. There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations. It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of.

Get it together , he scolds himself. In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No! Not yet.” You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly. It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.

“You want to sleep out here?” He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.

“No!” A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face. You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely. There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch. He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair. “I have a gift for you.”

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken. He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes. He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?” You’re looking at him with the strangest expression. He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does. It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him. “I do.”

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart. It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different. It’s urgent but not rushed; he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations. His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours. You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw. Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose. He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.” You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most. He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?” The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands.

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind. You really could read him like a book. He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,” you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.

“Show me how sorry.”

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south. He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you.

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan. “Seriously - dream girl.”

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church. They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh. His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?” He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile.

You’re impatient though - always have been. “Straight down the hall. Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight. Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,” he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.” You say it a lot. He wonders if you really know.

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea. It’s not enough, though. He wants to show you - needs to show you.

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious. “Are you sure you know?” The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes. “Maybe?” You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do. It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?” He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped. For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour. A force to be reckoned with . “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer. You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?” You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one.

“Yes,” you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted. There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed. You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,” he says simply. It’s gone before you can think twice. Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was. The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist. “Please don’t hide from me.”

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?” He means your tattoos, of course. They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream. There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink. Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green. Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows. He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion. You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.” He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out. “My mom’s a big gardener. She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?” The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?” That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way. You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,” he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,” you retort - or try to at least. You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with.

“ Nicer , baby.”

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close. He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily. It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening; it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say.

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat.

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong. He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds. He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth. He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.

“Can you do that for me?” He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting. “What?”

“I said—” It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain. He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries. “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion. It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.

“Kook.” You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life. Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.”

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him. Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought. You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—” He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“What do you need? Ask nicely.”

“M-more. I need m-more .” A hiccup. “Please.”

“Like this?” You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat. “Or like this?” The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times. “Maybe like this?”

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.” Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system. He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb. Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him. He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

“Give me another, okay?”

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit. The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers. There’s too much stimulation. You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook. Jungkook .” His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips. He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot. He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving.

“Come on, baby. Let go.” The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut. You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort. “That’s my girl.”

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you. He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest.

“You did so good.”

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.

“I want you.”

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest. “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.

“I know what you meant,” he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately. “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep. Patience is key, remember?”

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there. It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.” It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave. “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly. “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs. He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.” You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more. Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly. The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place. “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes. the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic). this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple. as always, let me know your thoughts. xo

tag list. @letmebeyour-sun @teawithbucky

676 notes · View notes

woodchoc-magnum · 3 years

Text

L0ne St@r 2x12 Hate Watch

DO NOT REBLOG THIS ONE - thanks, I’m trying to fly under the radar with my negative opinions here

Usual disclaimer, and I mean it this time: If you watch and love this show, that’s great and I hope you continue to enjoy it. Please don’t read this - simply go about having a lovely day.

If you do love this show and T*rlos and are braving this anyway - do not come in here. I mean it. This is not a T*rlos friendly zone. I do not ship it. Please enjoy your ship in peace and harmony. I have no intention of getting into arguments with anyone, I will simply ignore you.

I have done everything I can to avoid this showing up in the tags, whatever the LS tags are. Don’t send me hate on anon because I’ll delete them; I don’t care if you think I should stop watching the show, I’m not gonna. I like to suffer.

Eddie Diaz for calm and strength and to centre ourselves:

Hate, as always, under the cut:

Let's do this fucking thing, I've heard bad things about this episode

And I already know I'm wrong about the arsonist which is ANNOYING but maybe also too obvious so that's okay, I also know who the arsonist is and all the main plot points but I’ve still got to watch it to really appreciate the subtle nuances of the episode:

Oooh Billy

I ship it

Billwen for the win

This show is so dumb

Billy is smarter than Owen, maybe he should be the captain of the 126

I miss his lightning scars though

He's TWO HOURS LATER FOR DINNER

TK is looking as bland as always

They seriously waited for two fucking hours for this guy

Maybe should've put some deodorant on before going to dinner there Owen

You know I can't imagine the OG doing a storyline as dumb as this

So Carlos' dad thinks it's someone who works at the 126 or just a firefighter in general?

Well gosh darn it, it looks like Owen fits that profile exactly!

At least we get some Judd early in the episode and I love him

Angela Bassett is executive producer on this show as well? I hope she gets paid cash money for this

Billy is the red herring and I fell right into their trap

I just really wanted it to be him

Ooh Grace was listening

Oh it's 100% the arson investigator and Billy is 100% turning Owen in, I love him

Billy is amazing

He's my favourite character on this show

I hope he's not working with Owen to get the arson investigator? I hope he's actually this devious

I want him to be THIS DEVIOUS

Why the fuck does Owen wear that hoodie everywhere

TK is now having a little bitch fit

"they can't do that, can they?" he asks in a monotone, his face blank and devoid of expression

TK's real real dumb

Oh ho ho is this the shoving scene

IT IS

God Ronen CANNOT ACT

Okay so while I think it is wildly unbelievable that they would send TK's boyfriend to tell him that his father had been arrested by HIS father – it seems like a conflict – I would like to say that Carlos is being calm and reasonable

And TK is acting like a little BITCH

This is escalating quickly

Oh TK you so dumb

THE SHOVING

Wow

FOUR TIMES

Wow

Your fave is problematic, yo

Carlos deserves better than this whiny little piece of shit

And now, an interlude while I rant:

Let's talk about how Eddie Diaz yelled at Buck once in a supermarket and the fandom has never forgotten it; how his character has been villainised despite everything else going on in the show at the time, for that one fucking scene – let's talk about all the fics where Eddie hits Buck, or punches him, or rapes him – because you know those fics exist – let's talk about the "Eddie is violent" narrative that parts of this fandom like to push because Eddie yelled at Buck, one time, once, in a supermarket

Totally ignoring the fact that at no point at all, in any other episode he’s been in, has he been violent towards Buck, at all - let’s talk about how the street fighting arc was out of character for Eddie, because he was struggling to cope and looking for an outlet - let’s talk about how Buck and Eddie moved past that whole storyline and strengthened their relationship; how they built a family together, how they’re a team and they have each other’s backs no matter what, and how, not once in the entire show, have they ever been violent towards each other or pushed each other around in anger - NOT ONCE.

And let's talk about this scene, where TK, ya boy, ya sweet tender boy, just shoved the man he says he loved four times, violently, in front of people at the firehouse.

I betcha any money he doesn’t get tarnished with the Eddie-Diaz-is-violent brush, because he can do no wrong. He’s the fan favourite, and this is totally glossed over by the end of the episode and nothing will ever be said about it ever again.

Because wow, you guys. Wow. If this was my ship, I’d be pissed.

Back to the hate watch:

And I know that whole fight is for nothing because I know the plot twist – I know that the dads are working together in order to reveal the real arsonist, the investigator – so they've basically turned their children, who are in a relationship, against each other?

Also why is Billy allowed to be watching the interview?

Goddamn do we really have to show the gruesome burn victim photos

I really want Billy to be devious by the way, and not in on the plan

Oh here comes TK, looking like the little bitch he is

God he's a fucking awful actor

This is the dumbest plotline ever

Equating OWEN STRAND WITH THOR? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

BLASPHEMY

THOR IS THE GOD OF THUNDER

OWEN IS A DUMBASS

THE TWO ARE NOT EQUAL

Uh oh here comes the evil investigator

Do either of these men – Owen and Carlos' dad – stop to consider that what they're doing has kind of an impact on their children, who are currently in a relationship? No? Okay

Because this is one hell of an awkward situation

Does Owen genuinely think that Billy is the arsonist?

Interesting that the arson investigator wants any info Owen didn't give Carlos' dad, and he turned off the cameras/mics etc

This show is stupid

Arson investigator also knows that the sons are dating, interesting

"And you can pound sand!" oooh great comeback Owen

This episode is so BORING OMG

Why the fuck am I watching a shitty Law & Order knock-off when I should be watching a bonkers 911 episode

Oh no Judd's at Billy's

I really do think Billy Burke is good looking and it is a flaw of mine, I don't know what it is about him and he really doesn't look that good in this show but I really love Billy Burke okay

And I WANT HIM TO BE DEVIOUS

Oh Judd

Oh Judd thinks Billy is the arsonist

See this is why YOU DON'T LIE TO THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU

Oh he punched him

God damn everyone is violent in this show

Judddddddddddddd

Uh oh here comes trouble to the "vagrant's" hospital room

Oh it's the arson investigator, their little bluff worked, incredible, amazing, flawless etc

Wow how amazing

It was the ol' switcheroo

Judd punched Billy for nothing

TK and Carlos nearly came to blows for nothing

Now Owen is allowed to watch the interrogation? They'll just let anyone watch those things these days

OH MAN ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT BILLY WAS IN ON IT WITH OWEN THE WHOLE TIME?

Damn it I wanted DEVIOUS god damn it

Fucking cowards

"I assumed it was probably a trap at the hospital which is why I went there anywhere"

But why is he lighting fires

A FEW MONTHS?

A man is dead

Pure theatre

So annoyed that Billy isn't devious

But the Billwen ship sails on, clowns 🤡

Do we think the arsonist has the hots for Owen? 100% yes, right?

He's very happy to see him wink wonk

This doesn't even feel like an episode of 911, it's so goddamn dumb

"I knew you had darkness in you too" – that dude definitely wants to fuck him

Why is he lighting the fires?

They're so dumb

"And now I'm going to repay the favour" – he's talking about YOUR SONS

WHO HE KNOWS ARE TOGETHER

Wow these two dumbasses really have no fucking idea do they

OH HE'S BURNING HIMSELF ALIVE

Wow this is graphic

What the fuck is up with this show and the horribly graphic scenes lately?

That dude is dead yo

"Take away everything that's important to me" AND HE CALLS THE FIREHOUSE FIRST

THE FIREHOUSE IS THE FIRST FUCKING CALL???

Oh okay it did blow up and TK was there so I'll allow it

But hey look on the bright side – Owen gets to remodel again!

And isn't that what he's the best at?

Yo your firehouse is on fire dudes, better call the fire department

Does Judd apologise to Billy or no

Oh here we have TK and Carlos and their perfect love

And Carlos is the one apologising?

No.

Please tell me no

Carlos you are allowed to be pissed at him – ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

"nobody has to apologise?"

YOUR BOYFRIEND PUSHED YOU AROUND

Oh my god

Wow

Okay.

Look I'm just saying that to me this would be a GIGANTIC RED FLAG but wtf do I know

I'm just saying because I have to – if Carlos was a woman and TK did that? Whole different story gang

Whole completely different mother-fucking story

This show, wow

Wow.

Wow. This is bad.

Domestic violence happens to men too, just saying.

Wow I'm so annoyed that I've paused it to type furiously and rant that wow, they're just not acknowledging that TK was totally out of line? Okay. Wow.

And everyone's just fine with it?

Oh they're just figuring out that he set more than one fire

Maybe there's something else you care about other than the firehouse, Owen

Maybe?

BILLY IS THE ONE WHO FIGURES IT OUT

See this is why Billy is the best

Oh no TK and Carlos are in danger

Oh it's so romantic isn't it? They're gonna fuck now that everything is okay

Wow he left a lot of bombs in Carlos' house

Damn Carlos is hot

No smoke alarms?

That fire has really taken ahold there guys

I'm gonna assume you do have smoke alarms and he disconnected them

Wow he really covered all bases didn't he

Put the bombs in the bedroom as well

RIP Carlos' nice house

"I love you too" after I violently shoved you around today

Oh who needs a fucking fire department when you've got Owen fucking Strand right?

"Carlos" he says flatly. "How are you doing?" he asks in a monotone

"I should've had an extinguisher in the bedroom" DUDE NO ONE DOES

And if TK wanted one in there, he's the fucking firefighter, he should've checked when he moved in instead of assuming like a dumbass

God this show is dumb as fuck and I hate it so much

Billwen for the win

"just a couple of crap magnets" fucking a-men Judd

This show sucks

Oh no TOMMY OH NO

WHAT'S HAPPENING

OH MY GOD

WHAT THE FUCK

What the fuck

Is he dead?

TAKE OWEN AND TK INSTEAD

I’m going to say one more thing about this T*rlos storyline - if they’d done this to Buck & Eddie in the OG, I’d be fucking devastated. Like... if Buck or Eddie pushed the other around the way TK pushed Carlos around, I’d be absolutely gutted. It’s really horrible that they went down that path - whether it’s OOC or not, and you can probably argue that it is - they shouldn’t have included the scene like that in the show.

It just raises a whole slew of questions, like... is TK violent? Is Carlos used to being pushed around in relationships? Is the show saying that it’s okay that they got a little physical because they’re both men? Domestic violence is never okay, and this is kind of... saying that it is, in certain circumstances?

That is problematic as fuck and such bad writing.

These two are in a relationship where they are living together and supposedly love each other, and this is how the writers choose to portray it? If you’re a T*rlos shipper and you’re upset about this episode, I get it. It’s really fucking terrible that they included that scene - and I would bet cold hard cash it’ll never be addressed again.

This is why LS is a bad show. It’s shitty writing. Shitty storylines. Characters who are interesting are shoved into the background and glossed over in favour of the male white characters. The OG doesn’t have this problem - for everyone complaining that Eddie hasn’t been featured as much this season (and yeah, I hate it too) - you can’t complain that the characters of colour don’t get equal screentime.

With LS - it’s the Rob Lowe show, and everyone else is just in the background. And that’s why it’s so frustrating to watch - they have a great cast, and this could be a really good show, but it’s just not.

Do you think the LS writers patted themselves on the back after this arc and were like, "yeah we nailed it, we're amazing?"

This episode is -1,000000/10. This show should be cancelled.

Two god awful miserable fucking episodes to go.

Diaz to cleanse:

#DO NOT REBLOG #lone star hate watch #enter at your own risk

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plaidbooks · 4 years

Note

Hello!☺️ I love your writing so much !! Can I request something cute and fluffy for Barba x reader? Raf being a single dad, please? I can't stop thinking about it, the idea popped into my head and it doesn't go away 😂

Fatherhood

A/N: Heya Anon! Trying to come up with a way that Rafi is a father with no one knowing was fun haha! This is fluff with the slightest bit of angst. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: child abduction

Words: 1638

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @dianilaws

It was a Saturday morning, and Rafael had the day off. Everyone made their jokes about what Rafael Barba even did on a day off—catch up on paperwork, get in a fight on Twitter with a defense attorney or idiot politician, or read up on some obscure law so he could use it in a trial to sound smarter than everyone else—but no one came close to what he actually did when not at work. Dressed in a loose polo shirt and jeans, he made the trip to his sister’s house. Not even Olivia knew his sister existed, let alone anyone else he worked with. Rafael had always been a private man, but he made sure to bury this side of his life so deep down, no one could use it against him…especially after the debacle with Willard digging into his personal bank account. Rafael was smarter, though; he wasn’t stupid enough to have this tied to his public life, his main bank account, his personal cell phone.

He knocked on the door, a wide smile on his face as a little girl with long, black hair and his green eyes answered. “Daddy!” she yelled, throwing the door open and launching herself into his torso.

“Alma, mi vida!” Rafael laughed, picking her up and kissing her cheek. When Rafael’s girlfriend slammed the door in his face 5 years ago, leaving a swaddled baby in his arms, he had no idea what to do. He waffled on the idea of putting her up for adoption, but his Mamí would have disowned him. It’s not that he didn’t instantly love Alma. But with his hectic schedule, and with his student loans and other bills, he had no idea how to care for a child. Thankfully, his Mamí, Abuelita, and sister had stepped up to help as much as they could. And so, he was there for his little Alma as much as he could be, and his sister watched her when he was stuck at work, or when Alma wasn’t in school. He paid for everything—with a private, separate bank account—and he never talked about her…to protect her. He saw how Olivia had to deal with threats, whether against her or Noah, and he didn’t think he could handle it. Even though he was a lawyer, not an NYPD officer, he still got threats on the reg, and he slept better knowing his daughter was safe…even if that meant not seeing her as often.

“Ready to go to the park?” Rafael asked, putting her on the ground. “Go grab your jacket; the wind is chilly.”

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

On the walk to the park, Alma filled in Rafael on everything she had done at school this week. It was her first year in school, kindergarten, and she was excited to fill him in, even though they talked every evening on the phone.

“And then I got a gold star cause I knew the wholeeeee alphabet!” Alma said happily.

Rafael smiled down at her. “That’s because you’re the smartest girl in class!”

They walked by a small ice cream stand, and Alma screamed, “daddy, daddy! Ice cream!” And how could he ever say no to her? So, taking her hand in his, he walked up to the stand, getting Alma and himself an ice cream cone—chocolate swirl for her, vanilla for him. She absolutely covered hers in sprinkles, then giggled as she licked it, covering her face in rainbow chocolate. Rafael grinned, snapping a picture on his backup cell, and pulling out his emergency wet wipes.

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

Days like today made Rafael the happiest man in the world. He laughed as Alma yelled, “daddy, look at me!” while she was on the play structure. He never took his eyes off her, making sure she was safe…well, as safe as a five-year-old could be on a playground with a bunch of other kids. Every time she tripped and fell, he had a mini heart attack, and he forced himself to not rush over to her. But then she’d get back up, laughing, and bounding around the playground once more.

“Is that one yours?” a woman asked, pointing at Alma.

Rafael turned to her, smiling proudly. “My one and only,” he replied.

“Aww, we should schedule a playdate with my little Chelsea! Look at them; they’re already becoming quick friends!” the woman said. Rafael looked back to where Alma was playing but frowned as he didn’t see her. Panic started to blossom in his chest as his eyes scanned the playground, searching for her pink jacket.

“Alma?” he called, his voice raised almost hysterically. He started rushing around the playground, looking everywhere. He only looked away for a second; where could she have gone? “Alma?!”

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

You were jogging down a familiar path in the park, your music low in your ears, breathing measured. Stopping for a moment to wipe the sweat from your brow, you glanced around, taking in the sights; there weren’t many people in this part of the park, mostly just other joggers. But one thing did catch your eye; a man leading a young girl across the grass at a brisk pace. Something seemed…wrong, off. The girl was…struggling? It could just be an unruly child, but…. Following your instinct, you jogged over.

“Excuse me, your daughter is adorable,” you said cautiously, unsure how else to stop him.

“Thanks,” he replied, barely glancing at you as he tried to move passed you.

You kept in front of him. “What’s her name?”

Before he could even answer, the girl whined, “I don’t know this man!”

Heart in your throat, you made eye contact with the man for a split second before instincts took over once again, your fist connecting with his jaw. He dropped to the grass, out cold, and you reached your hand out for the little girl to grab.

“What happened, honey? What’s your name?” you asked.

She looked at you with wide eyes, but she didn’t cry; she just looked shocked. “Alma…he grabbed my arm while I was on the slide,” she explained.

Just then, the man started to stir. You glanced around at the people jogging by, and you waved your free hand. “Hey, I need someone to call the police,” you called, moving to stand on the man’s back.

A woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail noticed you and came jogging over. “I’m NYPD; what’s going on here?”

You explained the situation, and she called for backup. “I’m going to take this little girl back to the playground—find her parents,” you said.

“I, uh, I know you’re trying to help. But I can’t let you leave with that child,” the woman—Detective Rollins, she had said—replied.

“Look, I’m not in the market for becoming a mother. But I’m positive Alma’s is freaking out right now, and she deserves to know her daughter is safe,” you reasoned.

Rollins weighed her options—who knew how long it would take until backup came? And what if Alma’s parents didn’t come this direction? It was a big park; it was entirely possible that they wouldn’t.

“Yeah, okay, fine. But if I see this little girl on a missing person’s report, I will personally track you down,” she promised. You nodded, taking Alma’s hand in yours and heading towards the playground.

“Who are you here with?” you asked. This poor girl; she couldn’t have been more than five…. You were going to rip apart her parents.

“My daddy! I haven’t seen him all week, so he took me to the park to play,” Alma said, giggling. Yep, you were going to kill this man. First, he doesn’t spend enough time with his daughter, and then he lets her get abducted?

You and Alma had made it halfway to the playground before she pulled from your grasp with a scream of “daddy!” and rushed to a man, who in turn yelled her name. He ran to her, scooping her into his arms and hugging her tightly, kissing her forehead. It was an endearing sight, and you felt some of your anger ebb away at the action. His eyes locked to yours, and he made his way to you. The remaining anger left when you realized how attractive he was, his bright green eyes drawing you in.

“Are you the one that found Alma?” he asked, still clutching the girl to him as if he’d lose her again.

“I am, yeah. Some guy was trying to take her; I think a Detective Rollins is still waiting for officers to arrest the guy. It’d be nice if you went and talked to her, showed her that I did return your daughter to you—”

“No, I’m taking Alma home, where it’s safe,” he cut you off. You gave him a questioning look, and he quickly changed subjects. “Thank you so much, for saving my little girl. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Besides talking to that detective for me?” you smirked. He opened his mouth to reply, before he was cut off.

“Daddy, can she come over for dinner?” Alma asked, giving you the biggest grin. You felt your cheeks warm and the man’s ears turned pink.

“Ah, only if it’s okay with her,” he replied, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

You glanced at the hand wrapped around his daughter’s back; no wedding ring, no wife to make jealous. “Y-yeah, sure. I’d love to.” How could you say no to this little girl? She was just too damn cute.

“Yay!” she cheered, almost falling from her father’s grasp before he caught her.

He turned to walk back towards the playground, and you fell into step beside him. “My name is Rafael, by the way,” he said, holding out a hand for you to shake.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #Anonymous

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anomander-dragnipurake · 4 years

Text

Gift for Bowser

“Are you sure about this?” Luigi asked with a raised eyebrow for probably the tenth time since Mario had brought the idea up.

“Of course I am,” Mario said with a casual grin as he pulled on his winter coat even though he wasn’t at all sure about this. Getting a Xmas gift for Bowser wasn’t something he’d ever done before even if he had considered it a few times, most often as a joke but this time it wasn’t. “He’s been really good lately, he deserves a reward.”

Ever since Bowser’s sole goal in kidnapping Peach was luring Mario to his castle for a rematch had been publicly outed and broadcasted everywhere, mocking him for his obsession, he’d kept low, showing no sign of himself anywhere in the Mushroom Kingdom. He hadn’t even participated in the karting Grand Prix this year which was rather unlike him. As a result of all this, it had been a while since Mario had last seen him which was nice but… weird.

“Yeah but… do you have to deliver it personally?” Luigi asked he followed Mario out to the car.

“Well it’s a bit too late to mail it.” It was Xmas Eve morning, the Lakitu mail service wasn’t running for obvious reasons.

Luigi frowned. “You bought it a week ago though. You could’ve mailed it then like I thought you were going to.”

Mario shrugged as he slid into the driver’s seat of his car. He’d waffled a lot on whether or not he’d wanted to send it even after buying it and had only decided firmly that he was going to do it last night after it was already too late to mail it. So he would drive down there, give it to Bowser, maybe exchange some words to see what was up with him, and then come back home to spend whatever was left of the day and tomorrow with friends and family.

“I’ll see you in a few hours bro, don’t worry,” he said, closing the door before Luigi could try to talk him out of it or protest any further. The annoyed look Luigi gave him as he backed out of the driveway made him feel kind of guilty but… whatever, Luigi would get over it. He was just worried and maybe had a right to be since Mario was going to see Bowser. But everything should be fine, even if things didn’t go well, Mario had never lost to Bowser before.

Unsurprisingly, surrounded by lava pools and active volcanoes, Bowser’s Kingdom was warm even in the dead of winter. Mario shed his jacket well before reaching the castle itself. It was nice though; he’d always preferred being hot over cold.

Unsure of what kind of welcome he’d get, he parked outside the castle walls, angling his car so it’d be pointed away. He doubted he’d need to make a fast getaway but it was better to be safe than sorry.

By some miracle the portcullis was down, allowing him to stride right into the castle grounds, giftbox in hand. He was stopped by a trio of goomba guards.

“Halt right there,” one of them said.

“Go no further,” another added.

“Or else,” the third finished.

When Mario did as they commanded they froze, turning a bit to exchange a three-way nervous look. They clearly hadn’t expected their order to be obeyed and had no idea what to do next.

“Uh… I come in peace,” Mario said, putting on a smile. “I have a gift for Bowser.” He gestured it with it.

There was a long silence before one of them spoke again. “Uh… you wait right here, we have important matters to discuss.” With that they scampered off a short distance and huddled in to mutter amongst themselves.

Assuming the doors were unlocked, Mario could stride right in. He wouldn’t though even if dealing with all this was a pain because it might be taken as a hostile move and he didn’t want that. So he waited for several minutes while the goombas discussed things. One eventually ran off into the castle.

“We sent word to Bowser that you’re here,” “so stay right here,” the other two goombas said as they returned to glare at Mario in a poor attempt at being intimidating.

Mario sighed, resigning himself to waiting. Luckily it was only a few short minutes before the goomba guard returned, huffing and puffing from the run.

“Lord Bowser has agreed to meet you in the throne room,” they said to Mario as they stepped aside to let him enter. “Hustle, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Inside the castle was noticeably cooler than outside, still quite warm though. The way to the throne room from the main entrance was short but surprisingly bustling with goombas, shy guys, koopatroopas, and the other kinds of minions Bowser employed. Based off their muttering and the way they were all looking at Mario, news of him being here had already spread. Not surprising; back at Peach’s castle within minutes of an interesting person’s arrival every Toad living on the grounds knew of it, why wouldn’t it be the same here? Mario acted as if he here were unconcerned as he strode past them and into the throne room.

Bowser stood in the middle of the room and glared at Mario as he came in. “Why are you here?” he asked as soon as the door was shut and before Mario could try to say anything.

“I brought you a gift,” he replied as he strode closer, hiding his nervousness behind a mask of nonchalance.

“Why?”

“Xmas is tomorrow so Merry Xmas.” He smiled as he stopped right in front of Bowser, holding the gift towards him. He’d wrapped in shiny gold paper with a fancy bow on top and a big tag that read ‘to BOWSER’ on it.

Bowser leaned forward to give a it a good look but didn’t reach for it. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to open it to find out.” Mario had thought long and hard on what to get him before settling on a statue depicting a serpent like dragon wrapped around a crumbling stone tower. He’d known Bowser long enough to know he liked decorative items, especially if they had a dangerous feel to them.

“It’s a trap, isn’t it?” Bowser said taking a step back. “It’s probably a… cloud of poison gas or something, right? You’re trying to kill me.”

Mario shook his head to hold back a chuckle because that was just ridiculous. “No, it’s a gift I think you’ll you like. Take it.” He stepped forward, pushing it towards Bowser again.

After a long pause Bowser finally reached out to take it, giving Mario a skeptical look the whole time. He held it away from himself as he gave it a small shake as if he were afraid it might explode on him. “It’s… an Xmas gift?”

“Yep so you can’t open it until tomorrow. It’s safe though I promise.”

“Why did you feel the need to deliver it by hand then?”

“I uh… waited a bit too long to do my Xmas shopping and well I didn’t think it’d arrive in time so I decided to just bring it to you instead.”

Bowser grunted as he gave the box another shake. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too violent with it, though quite sturdy Bowser could probably break it even by accident. “Why get me a gift though? It doesn’t make sense.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spreading a little Xmas cheer around. Don’t worry about getting me anything in return either, I don’t except anything.”

“Good because I didn’t get you anything nor am I going to.”

Well Mario had been hoping for a bit more friendliness but he hadn’t really expected it so this was fine. “All right. It’s been good seeing you. Merry Xmas.” He gave Bowser a smile and a thumbs up before striding back towards the door. He didn’t let himself look back, choosing to trust Bowser not to do anything nefarious. And… he didn’t, Mario made it all the way to door without even a single comment from him.

As he started to pull it open Bowser muttered something behind him that sounded an awful lot like, “Merry Xmas.” He wasn’t entirely sure though so with a grin, he turned around.

“What was that?”

Bowser groaned, glaring off to the side. “I said ‘Merry Xmas’. … And uh… thanks for the gift or whatever, I guess. Now get out of here. I’m sure we both got better places to be then hovering around here and trying to have an awkward conversation.”

He was right so… Mario gave him one smile before leaving. That had gone surprisingly well all things considered, certainly better than he’d expected even if not as good as he’d hoped. Maybe Mario would endeavor to see him again for a proper chat later, it might even be fun.

#My writing #super mario bros #Bowsario #Christmas Fluff #1st day of Xmas

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miraculous-anna · 4 years

Text

Opposite Day (Or DuPont’s Worst Nightmare) Part 2: electric boogaloo

Hello Everyone!! The title is a joke, i promise! I saw a chance, and i took it lol. Anyway, In this part, we’ll be focusing on Lila a little bit, and the class focusing on everything Marinette said to them, and having a couple heart to hearts :) Just an FYI, the taglist is still open! And if you wanna be tagged, send me an ask and i’ll put you on the list!

Just a tip lmao: To really get a feel on how i interpret the mood of this chapter i recommend listening to this piano cover of knee socks by Arctic Monkeys, it made me cry :,)

Okay, on to the story!

___________

Original Post / Previous / Next / Masterlist

Footsteps echoed through the halls of DuPont Highschool, going straight towards the bathrooms. I have to make this right! She has to still be there! I have to apologize, come clean, tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to go this far. But i was too stubborn, I let it get out of hand.

Lila raced to the bathroom, only find it was empty. “Dammit! Of course it’s empty!” She cursed, closing the door and going back down the hallway. Lila grabbed her phone, checking the time, and decided on another idea. Perfect, I can’t back out of it this way.

Lila ran towards the library, her backpack slung over her shoulders. Finding a table in the library, Lila sat down, and dug out her notebook. Picking out a pencil, she flipped open a page and got to writing. I have to explain, I need her to understand, and fast.

After a good 30 minutes of writing, Lila grabbed her things, racing towards the front of the school. Sprinting down the steps, she ran toward the cross walk to get to the side of the road, and after looking both ways, ran towards a very familiar and well known building. With determination in her eyes, She pushed open the door, hearing the bell jingle, alerting an older woman of her presence. The older woman smiled, and greeted her. Lila noticed the bakery was very empty at the moment.

“How can i help you, dear?” The woman asked, walking away from the counter. Lila took that as a sign to walk towards her. Walking up to her, with around 6ft between them, Lila took a deep breath.

Suddenly feeling nervous, her mouth goes dry. “Uhm, excuse me..” Lila’s words got caught in throat before the guilt came crawling back in waves. She swallowed, and repeated herself. “Excuse me, ma’am? I.. I need to speak to you.” The woman tilts her head in confusion, a smile still present on her face. “Well, of course, what is it? I’m Sabine, by the way.”

Lila would be lying if she said she wasn’t shocked that Sabine, Marinette’s mother, didn’t recognize her. Surely, Marinette had told her parents about Lila? Just how much was she keeping to herself?

With a shake of her head, Lila decided to say her name. “I’m Lila, Marinette’s..” Lila cleared her throat. “Uhm.. Marinette’s classmate. I need you to give this to her, later tonight. Please, after school is over, and she’s home.” Handing a letter to her, Lila balled her fists at her sides. Straightening her posture, Lila looked Sabine in the eyes, and said, as confident as she could manage, “I made some mistakes, and my apology is in that letter. I need her to read it at exactly the right moment. Your daughter didn’t deserve any of the things that happened. I’d appreciate it, if you’d comply with my request.” Finishing her plead, Lila took a deep breath, and blinked repeatedly to rid of the tears, and the burning sensation behind her eyelids.

“Of course! I’ll give this to her tonight. I’m glad you’re coming clean, Lila. It’s very mature of you. Would you like something from the bakery?” Sabine tucked the letter away in her apron, and gestured towards the glass cases showing the baked goods they had on display.”Uh,” Lila started, reaching into her pocket. Feeling her money pouch with her allowance she kept hid, She nodded her head. “Yes, please. Question, though.”

‘Yes, Lila?” Sabine asked, smiling again. “Which ones did Marinette make?” Lila scanned the room, searching for the macaroons the baker’s daughter was famous among the class for bringing. Sabine pointed towards different colored macaroons and chocolate covered croissants in a display cased with a sign on it called, “Marinette’s specialty baked sweets!”

Pulling out her pouch, Lila remembered just how much was in the pouch, and asked for as much as what was in there could get her. Sabine looked shocked, once again. “Are you sure, this is a lot.” Nodding her head, Lila pleaded for the second time that day. “Please, please make sure that money reaches Marinette. Consider this apart of my apology. It’s the least I could do, honestly.” Nodding her head, Sabine accepted the money, and assured the girl the money would reach her daughter.

Leaving the bakery with goods in hand(s), Lila sighed, hoping her plan would work. I just hope I don’t try to back out of this when i’m back to normal, I can’t afford to.

_____

Sighing, Alya scratched her head. Nino looked over at her, “Something wrong, Alya?” Messing with her hair, Alya groaned, “No, Nino, everything’s peachy!” “Sorry, Alys, dumb question.” Nino said, sheepishly. “It’s fine, i just can’t stop thinking about everything Marinette said.” Alya confessed, alerting the rest of the class. “Honestly, none of us can. What she said really hurt, but she did bring up a few good points.”

“Oh, really? Like what, Nino?” Alya glared, crossing her arms. “Well, We did ignore her for the past month in favor of Lila...” Rose pitched in, sadly. “Yeah, and she doesn’t like Adrien, definitely. I’ve been hanging out with him all month, frequently, and she hasn’t talked, texted, even seen Adrien all month.” Nino explained, He shrugged, “ He even complained how everyone but Marinette talks to him. He says he doesn’t know what he did, but he thinks she’s been avoiding him.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Alix asked, noticing the resident “sunshine boy” wasn’t present. “It IS lunchtime, Alix. His dad probably wanted him home or something.” Ivan replied, shrugging his shoulders. Alya placed her head in her hands, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it. Am I a tabloid reporter? Surely, everything Lila says is the truth! She wouldn’t lie like that.” Mostly everyone was murmuring among themselves, mostly agreeing with her.

“If you think Lila wouldn’t lie, then what about Marinette?”

Silence. Alya surveyed the room. Who had said that? She spotted Nathaniel in the back, staring right at her. He spoke again. “Why is Marinette different then Lila? We’ve known her longer than Lila, she’s never given us reason to doubt her before, and Marinette hates liars just as much as Ladybug hates Hawkmoth.” Nathaniel continued to stare right at Alya, knowing she was one of the main accusers, if not the only one. “Well, you know Marinette acts crazy and kinda stalker-like when she gets jealous-” Alya tried to explain.

“But who is she jealous of? You heard her scream it right in your face. She isn’t jealous of Lila, so yeah, Alya, why would Marinette lie? Did you even check if Lila was telling the truth?” Alix, of all people had decided to speak up. She narrowed her eyes at Alya, deciding to perch like a gargoyle on her desk. Everyone had to admit, it was slightly intimidating.

“Alix? Why are you defending her? I mean, we get Nathaniel, he liked her at one point, but you?” Kim asked, shocked, and very confused. "Because I realized Lila's lies were hurting Marinette a couple weeks ago. Dont you remember? I stopped hanging out with the girls whenever Lila was there." Alix explained, rolling her eyes. Before anyone could say anything to Alix, someone walked in.

In all her glory, there stood Lila.

The class was silent, as they watched her walk to the middle of the room. "I need to speak to all of you, and it's important that you listen to what I have to say while my personality is reversed."

Everyone murmured in shock. Lila knew she was acting different? Everyone quieted back down, and Lila started speaking again. "Over the past month, since I came back, I've been lying to you all. I said that I did all these great things, met all these people, went places. But I lied."

Lila spoke before anyone could say anything in response. "Before you assume why I did these things, I want you to know, that I didn't do them cause I wanted friends, its an entirely different reason that I'm not gonna tell you, until I tell Marinette, cause she deserves to know the truth first. After everything I've done," Lila continued her monologue, taking a deep breath. "Of course, it still doesn't excuse my actions for lying, but one thing I don't get, is why you all believed me. I've been to 5 different schools, counting this one, and none of them except you ever believed my lies. I don't get it."

“Well, we accept your apology Lila. We’re glad you came clean.” Alya spoke up, finally. It was clear she was taking this whole thing the hardest. “Wait, then we really did hate Marinette for no reason!” Mylene cried, her hands flying up to her mouth. Rose gasped, and teared up. “You’re right, oh no..” Juleka hugged Rose, who was now crying.

“I don’t get that either. Yes, I was hard on her, but i never expected you to believe Marinette, the class president, the goody-two-shoes of this school would bully me.” Lila spoke up again. “At least you know what you did.”

And with that, she left. Where, no one knew.

“We have to apologize to her. Immediately.” Alya cried, running out of the classroom, desperate to find her ex-best friend. The girls of the class ran after her, minus Alix. “You guys can apologize to her once the girls are done. I feel like bombarding her at once will be a bad idea. The girls ran out before I could say anything to them.” Alix sighed, jumping down from her desk. Holding her hands behind her head, she walked out with Nathaniel beside her.

____

Arriving at the bakery, Alya opened the bakery door, and the rest of the girls present followed after. “Mlle. Cheng! Where’s Marinette? We need to speak to her, like right now!” Alya pleaded, her words coming out in a frenzy, and very rushed. Sabine looked slightly shocked, and surprised. “I’m afraid Marinette hasn’t been home since this morning, girls. She told me she wasn’t going to be home for lunch because she was meeting up with a friend of hers. I’m sorry, girls.” Sabine gave them a pitying look, turning away to tend to the customer in front of her. “Dammit! Where could she be?” Alya groaned, leaving the bakery with everyone following behind her. “Who knows? Wait, she mentioned a friend?” Rose asked. Everyone nodded, before Rose turned to Juleka. “What about your brother?! They’re friends, aren’t they? You did mention they hang out a lot!” Rose squealed excitedly, as Juleka nodded. Alya grabbed Rose’s shoulders and shook them excitedly, exclaiming, “Rose! You’re a genius!”

“Look! It’s Ladybug!” A bystander cried, pointing to the sky. Everyone watched in admiration and awe as the spotted heroine swung over the city, her feline partner not far behind her.

______

Welp, that’s it for this chapter!! Hope you guys enjoyed it! Remember, if you wanna be tagged, just send me an ask, and i’ll get right to it! :)

Also! If you have any questions about the stories, me, or anything in general, feel free to ask! I love hearing from you guys, It makes me extremely happy! I’ll be happy to answer anything.

Taglist under the cut~

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wellimaginethat · 4 years

Text

Overprotective

Pairing: Adam Ruzek x (female) Halstead!Reader, Will Halstead x sister!Reader, Jay Halstead x sister!Reader!

Word Count: 3003

Author’s Note: Okay I freaking love this request and this was super fun to write, hope it’s close to what you were looking for dear requester! I know you said if I wanted I could add in a loopy reader, and I did to an extent but I didn’t want to go too overboard with it because every time I’ve been given pain medicine I’ve never been that loopy from it, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to write it without it just being completely bizarre, hope you don’t mind!

Trigger Warning(s): Car accident, minor injury, overprotective older brothers, overprotective boyfriend, pain meds, talk of starting a family (i.e. talk of planned pregnancy, and even though it doesn’t go into detail and no one is actually pregnant, I know it’s a trigger for some people with tokophobia so I want to put it out there just in case because I don’t want to cause anyone any discomfort)

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N Halstead is the youngest Halstead sibling and her older brother’s have always been overprotective, even well into her adult years. She never minded it, but it was definitely the main reason she didn’t tell Jay that she was dating his coworker, Adam. However, when she gets in a car accident and ends up at Med, her relationship with Adam comes to light.

Y/N = Your Name

Being the youngest sibling was one thing, being the only girl was another. It caused you to be a bit of a tomboy growing up, always wanting to tag along with your brothers. You adored your older brothers and they adored you. Both of them were insanely overprotective of you as a child, and that didn’t stop even when you reached adulthood. It also caused you to be one of the most protected little girls in Chicago.

Will was always making sure you kept up on your physical health, going to the doctor when you weren’t feeling good and getting regular checkups.

Jay was always making sure that you were safe, whether it came to where you were living, where you were working, or who you were dating, he was always making sure that it was ‘safe enough’ for you.

This is part of the reason you didn’t tell Jay that you were dating his coworker, Adam. Partly because Jay didn’t think any guy was good enough for you, and partly because you knew of Adam’s track record with women. You just didn’t think Jay would be too thrilled, so you kept it quiet.

You confided in Will, which was an odd thing because usually you told both of your brothers everything and never kept something from one that you told the other.

Will told you to talk to Jay, that he would understand and that Jay only ever wanted what was best for you and for you to be happy. Which you knew was true, but regardless you were extremely worried. So that is what had you keeping your six month long relationship with a certain someone on the down low.

Until you were in an accident. It wasn’t your fault. The lady ran a red light and t-boned you.

You were taken to the hospital in an ambulance, you were insisting you were fine as you were wheeled into the ED. You’ll never forget the look on your older brother’s face when he saw you being wheeled in.

“Y/N?” Will asked worriedly as he rushed over to your side. “What happened?”

“An old lady ran a stop sign and t-boned my car.” You told him before looking at Sylvie. “Is she okay?”

Sylvie smiled at you and nodded. “She’s in the ambo behind you but she seems to be doing just fine, you got the worst of it.”

“Okay good.” You nodded some before looking at your brother. “I’m fine. My head hurts but I’m fine.”

Will shook his head some, he wanted to help you but couldn’t because of the code of conduct, so he stepped back and allowed Dr. Marcel to step in to treat you.

They gave you a shot of some kind of pain medication, you weren’t sure if it was morphine or what but it was good shit and made you feel like you were floating.

You were staring off into space when Will walked in. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“I am doing just peachy keen, dear brother.” You told him with a goofy grin on your face.

Will chuckled and shook his head at you. “Glad to hear it.” He paused and looked at you for a moment.

Your face fell as you looked at him. “You called Jay, didn’t you?”

“I had to.” Will told you. “You know he’d want to know and if I didn’t call him he’d get mad at me and I’m not having that.”

You huffed some and crossed your arms, staring at him. “This is gonna cause problems, William.”

Will laughed at you and shook his head. “It’ll be fine.”

“You know he’s gonna overreact.”

“I assured him that you were okay.” Will told you.

~~~~~

After receiving Will’s call concerning you, Jay was noticeably upset.

“Voight I gotta go, my sister was in a car accident. Will says she’s okay but I need to make sure.” Jay told him, the worry very evident on his face.

Voight just nodded, they weren’t busy with a case so he was fine with Jay going to check on his sister.

“Wait, Y/N was in an accident?” Adam asked, his ears having perked up when Jay mentioned you. “Is she okay?”

Jay gave him a bit of a confused look, not understanding why Adam was so worried about you. “Will says she is but I have to make sure.” He told him as he headed out.

Adam jumped out of his seat, turning to Voight. “I gotta go too.” He told him. “She’s my girlfriend.” He explained when Voight gave him a strange look, turning on his heel and following Jay out. “Halstead, wait! I’m going with you!” He called.

Voight shook his head. “That’s gonna cause problems.” He muttered as he turned to head into his office.

Jay stopped to look at Adam. “Why?” He asked him, not having heard Adam call you his girlfriend.

Adam stopped five feet away from him and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well, we’ve kinda been seeing each other.”

“What?” Jay asked, anger rising. “You’ve been screwing around with my little sister?” He stepped toward him.

Trudy jumped in between him and Adam. “Woah there.”

“It’s not like that!” Adam insisted quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s really not like that man.”

Jay glared at him, still angry, a fire in his eyes. “Oh? Then what is it like? Are you not sleeping with her?”

“Well, I am.” Adam started, taking a quick step back when Jay stepped forward.

“Hey!” Voight shouted at them.

“We’re not just sleeping together, I love her.” Adam told him honestly. “I really love her.”

Jay huffed and looked from Trudy to Voight before turning and storming out.

“Ruzek.” Voight called after him as he started to follow Jay out.

“I’ll fix it.” Adam told him, not stopping. “Hey man, wait.”

Jay spun to face him. “I wouldn’t come out here, no one’s here to save your ass.”

Adam shook his head. “Listen to me.” He insisted. “Please. I love her. Okay? I love her, completely and I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“You better not.” Jay told him threateningly.

“I’m not gonna.” Adam told him, not backing down. “She’s the one, man.”

Jay stopped and his expression changed some, having been taken off guard. “What?”

“She’s the one.” Adam ran a hand over his face. “I can’t lose her. If something were to happen to her, I don’t think I could live with myself.” He told him honestly. “She’s the one.”

Jay’s expression softened and he nodded slowly. “You love her that much, huh?”

Adam nodded. “I really do.”

Jay sighed and looked away for a moment. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital and make sure she’s okay.” He beckoned Adam to follow him to his truck.

Adam got in the passenger seat.

Jay got in the driver's seat and started the car, pulling out onto the street and heading towards Gaffney. “So how long have you two been together anyway?”

“Almost seven months now.” Adam told him.

Jay nodded as he drove. “She didn’t tell me.”

“She was worried about how you’d react.” Adam explained. “Given my track record and all.”

Jay huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Of course.” He rolled his eyes some. “So you really think she’s the one?”

Adam nodded. “I know she is. I can’t picture my life without her, and I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep her in it.”

~~~~~

When they got to the hospital, Jay heard you arguing with Will from outside the room. You were upset that Will bothered him, and Will was telling you about how he would want to know.

Jay walked in and wiggled your foot. “Hey brat.” He greeted you with a smile. “Heard you were in a bit of an accident.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted but smiled at him, then your eyes saw Adam waiting inside the door, you cleared your throat. “Officer Ruzek, what’re you doing here?”

“He knows, Y/N.” Adam told you.

You looked at Jay. “You know?” You waited until Jay nodded in confirmation before continuing. “And you didn’t overreact?”

“He did, but Trudy broke it up.” Adam told you. “And then I assured him that I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

You smiled at him. “Aw, how sweet.”

“She’s a little loopy.” Will told them both. “They gave her some pain meds.”

Adam smiled as he walked over to your side. “So you doing okay?”

You nodded to him. “Uh-huh, I don’t even feel any pain anymore.”

“Good.” Adam said softly, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here to check on me, I know you were working.” You told him.

“We weren’t busy, plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make sure you were okay?” Adam asked you, still holding your hand.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You told him, smiling droopily up at him from the bed.

Jay made a grossed out face and looked over at Will, who was smiling. Both were glad that you seemed happy, even if they were worried about who you were happy with.

“She’ll be here overnight for observation, she had a pretty nasty gash on the side of her head.” Will told Jay, but Adam caught it too.

You began to zone out and Adam nudged your upper arm lightly. “You tired, babe?”

“A little, I think it’s cause of the pain meds they gave me. They’re starting to wear off some, but I’m just so tired.” You told him, yawning after the words were out of your mouth, almost like your body wanted to prove your point for you.

“You should get some sleep.” Adam said softly.

“You should get back to work.” You told him, then looked at Jay. “Both of you should, before Voight gets pissed off.”

“He’ll be fine as long as we don’t kill each other.” Jay grinned at you.

“More like as long as your brother doesn’t kill me.” Adam chuckled a bit.

“Don’t you dare!” You pointed at Jay.

Jay chuckled. “I won’t, I actually believe that he loves you.”

You smiled some, your cheeks turning red. “Yeah, he’s such a good boyfriend. He really is.”

Adam smiled softly down at you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, making sure not to kiss you near your injury. “Get some rest, I’ll be back as soon as I can be.” He assured you softly.

You smiled tiredly up at him and nodded. “Okie dokie.”

~~~~~

Two months after the accident and you were all healed up, you and Adam were still together and getting more and more serious about each other.

Adam was out getting beers with the team, he followed Jay to the bar when he was getting a beer. “I just want you to be aware that I’m going to ask your sister to marry me tomorrow night.” He told him calmly.

“Oh okay.” Jay stopped and had to do a double take. “Wait, what?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask her. And if she says yes, then this time is gonna be different.”

Jay stared at him for a moment. “You’re actually going to ask her?”

Adam nodded again, taking a swig of his beer. “I told you two months ago that I can’t picture my life without her.”

“I remember.” Jay told him, nodding. “She’s gonna say yes.”

“I sure hope so.” Adam admitted, chuckling a bit. “I’m actually nervous.”

Jay looked at him. “Why? You’ve been engaged before.”

“Yeah, but like I said, this time is different.” Adam told him. “And what if she says no? I mean, I know she’s outta my league and that she deserves better.”

“Then be better.” Jay told him. “It’s that simple man. Be the man you think she deserves.”

Adam looked at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the man she deserves, but I’m gonna try.”

“Good.” Jay told him, nodding. “Because I’ve never seen her so happy before.”

Adam smiled. “Really?”

Jay nodded again. “Yeah, she loves you and you make her happy, it’s nice to see.”

Adam nodded some and took another swig of his beer before setting it down. “Screw it.” He said, causing Jay to look at him again. “I’m gonna do it tonight.” He headed out of the bar.

“Where’s he going?” Kevin asked, looking at Jay.

Jay shrugged. “Not sure.” He lied, knowing it wasn’t his place to tell anyone what Adam was up to.

It was a bit before ten when Adam showed up at your door, knocking insistently.

You pulled the door open and looked at him, confused. “Adam? Is everything okay? I thought you were getting drinks with the team?”

He nodded to you, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I was, but I needed to see you.”

You raised a brow. “Why?” You asked slowly, a bit worried.

“Well I was gonna do this tomorrow night at dinner, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” Adam told you, pulling something from the pocket of his jacket and briefly looking at it before dropping to one knee.

You gasp. “Adam, what’re you doing?” You asked quietly, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Y/N Halstead, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Adam asked you softly, looking up at you.

You couldn’t contain your smile as you nodded. “Yes.” You breathed out. “Yes!”

He stood up, pulling you into a hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you. The minute your feet were back on the ground he was kissing you. He pulled back and took the ring out of the box, tossing the box aside, and took your hand in his, slipping it on your finger.

You couldn’t stop smiling, tears welling in your eyes.

Adam smiled wide at you and pulled you in for another passionate kiss before pulling back. “Come on.” He said softly. “I wanna tell the world how lucky I am.”

You raised a brow.

“The team’s still at the bar and Will’s there too.” Adam told you. “I think we need to celebrate.”

You smiled and nodded some. “Okay, give me a minute to change, I am not wearing this out.” You motioned to your pajamas.

Adam chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

You hurried off to your room and quickly changed before heading out and putting your shoes on, you grabbed your coat and followed Adam out.

You walked into the bar, hand in hand, still smiling.

You immediately spotted your brothers and the two of you walked over.

“Well she said yes.” Adam told them.

Jay smiled. “I knew she would.”

“Wait, you knew?” You asked him.

“What am I missing?” Will asked, feeling left out and confused.

“Adam asked me to marry him.” You told Will, smiling wide. “And I said yes.” You turned your attention back to Jay. “So you knew?”

“He gave me a warning.” Jay told you with a slight shrug, taking a swig of his beer and beckoning Herrmann over. “I’d like to buy these two lovebirds a celebratory drink please.”

Adam ordered a beer.

“Just a sprite for me please.” You told him. “I’m designated driver tonight.”

“One drink won’t hurt.” Jay told you, trying to get you to order a drink.

You shook your head to your brother before turning to Herrmann. “Just a Sprite, please.”

Jay narrowed his eyes at you, watching you. “Is there something you two aren’t telling us?” He asked you skeptically.

Adam caught on to what he was saying and looked at you. “Babe?”

Will looked at you as well.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m not pregnant guys, I just don’t feel like drinking, okay?”

Jay and Will both nodded and left it at that, but Adam almost seemed disappointed in your answer.

After chatting with your brothers for a bit, you pulled him to the side for a little privacy. “Hey, you seemed disappointed when I said I wasn’t pregnant.” You said softly, looking at him, you two had talked about kids very briefly and you knew he wasn’t ready to have kids yet. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

Adam shrugged some. “I don’t know, I thought I did but I got a little excited at the idea of you being pregnant.” He admitted quietly, not meeting your eyes.

You smiled softly. “Really?”

He nodded to you, finally looking at you. “I know I want a family with you, Y/N. I thought I wasn’t ready but I am, whenever you are.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “We’ll talk more about this when we get back to my place.”

“That’s another thing we need to talk about. We’re engaged now so I think we should live together.” Adam told you.

You paused before nodding. “Okay.”

“And my place is bigger, in case, you know, we do decide to start trying soon.” Adam added.

You smirked some. “I think you just don’t want to be the one moving.”

Adam smiled a bit. “I really like my place.”

You laughed softly and nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll move in with you.” You assured him softly, you really had no problem with moving into his place instead of yours, he was right when he said it was bigger, and it was closer to where he worked and actually to where you worked too, so it only made sense.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you back towards your brothers, who had been joined by Hailey and Kevin. Adam smiled at them. “So guess who’s getting married.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Kevin teased him, chuckling but putting his hand out to shake Adam’s hand. “Congrats, man.”

Adam shook his hand, still smiling. “Thank you.”

Hailey hugged you. “Congratulations.” She told you with a smile.

“Thanks.” You had never felt happier than you did in that moment.

#adam ruzek x reader #adam ruzek imagine #adam ruzek imagines #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines

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setsureadsshit · 4 years

Text

Lost At Sea: A List of WIP’s I am finally letting go of [ Part 5 ]

[ Part 1 ] [ Post 2 ] [ Post 3 ] [ Post 4 ]

*see posts 1-4*

I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for.....probably half a year now, it was a project I took up at the start of the Covid and then I, like the rest of the world, sort of lost interest in everything for a little while. And then I threw myself into projects I could do around the house and hanging out with my housemates and slowly mourning our lost year. So, here’s THE LIST. And uh. Yeah.

The Soldier In The House Of Birds by Bonnie131313

Summary: A young acolyte finds himself paired with a young soldier

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Person Of Interest ; Rinch

Personal Notes: I really wanted to like this fic, I really wanted to but just...something about the style of the writing just doesn’t grab me. But like, I KNOW it’s really good, I can tell it’s well thought out even if it’s not finished but I just can’t...get into it and I’m letting it go.

Sucker For The Classics by nisolex

Summary: Scott was such a bad friend. Stiles only agreed to go on this stupid "pack bonding" trip so he and Scott could spend some time togehter. And what does Scott do? He invites Allison: and he gives her Stiles' seat in the car. Now Stiles is stuck in the Camaro for a 6 hour car ride with Derek Hale. This is gonna be a long week.

**With the show coming to an end, I wanted to write a Sterek fic to take us back to the beginning. This is an ode to the classic Teen Wolf fanfics. It will feature tropes as old as time, and is set sometime around season 3. If nothing else, get ready for some nostalgia, angst, and eventual sexy times.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: Ah man, this fic is so good and tbh it leaves off at a moderately satisfying spot so still worth a read.

Where the lost get found by Ninjanervana

Summary: The Nogitsune took a lot of things from Stiles: Allison, his peace of mind, his consent, his sanity, even his Spark. Maybe it’s time for Stiles to start taking things back.

Last Update: 2019

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I’d hold onto this - if all 7 chapters hadn’t all been posted at the same time and there hasn’t been so much as a peep since. Which is sad because it’s REALLY good but I have a harder time holding onto things that don’t have an update track record I can fall back on you know?

Can’t Hide From The Moonlight by Flarrow

Summary: The semi-unintended sequel to Might As Well Be the Sun, by reader request. One take, a potential telling of part of their married life together.

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I just recently reblogged the first part of this series because I didn’t realize I hadn’t until I checked this, lol. The first one is really good, you should read it! A bummer this second part has kind fallen to the wayside but you know how it goes.

carpe diem by imadoki

Summary: The trials and tribulations that one Tsukishima Kei faces in the events leading up to spring graduation.(aka they're all third years and Tsukishima just wants to give Hinata his second gakuran button but there's a whole bunch of feelings in the way)

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Haikyuu!! ; Tsukihina

Personal Notes: I really love this idiot pairing. There...aren’t really any Hinata pairings I don’t like, he’s just so shippable, lmao. It’s a bummer that this one didn’t really get off the ground, it’s always so interesting seeing this pairing from Tsuki’s side of things.

Condo In The Woods by Strangeredlantern

Summary: Scott gets here in four weeks, hopefully bringing some supernatural answers with him. That leaves Stiles four weeks to figure out Isaac. Why he’s here in Bear Valley, why he’s a werewolf, and why his eyes changed from blue to gold and back again not fifteen hours ago over Camden Lahey’s dog tags.

Last Update: 2014

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Stisaac

Personal Notes: I HAVE HELD ONTO THIS FIC. FOR SO FUCKING LONG. IF YOU CAN’T TELL. I REALLY FUCKING LOVE IT, I HAVE HOPED AND HOPED AND HOPED FOR SO LONG AND I AM SO GUTTED TO FINALLY BE GIVING UP ON IT. I LOVED IT. I STILL LOVE IT. STRANGEREDLANTERN, IF YOU’RE OUT THERE, IF YOU SEE THIS, KNOW THAT THERE IS ONE PERSON ON THIS EARTH WHO LOVED YOUR STORY. WHO STILL LOVES YOUR STORY. WHO HOPES YOU’RE HAVING A GOOD LIFE AND STILL WRITING SOMEWHERE.

Dead To Rights by askanasshole

Summary: Stiles is picky when he chooses his jobs. Can't hurt anyone, can't end the world, can't end with him a different species or trapped in an alternate dimension. Can't be face to face. Simple. Easy. Necessary.

Of course his entire life goes to shit when he's forced into a face to face with a werewolf pack stupid enough to get their Second's heart stolen by a witch. Now if their Alpha would stop being so stupidly hot and he could get this job over with, that'd be great.

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I really enjoyed this, it was such a wildly different take on things, I was really interested to see where it was gonna go. Sad to be finally throwing in the towel on it.

Destiny Knows Best by TaliskerMortem

Summary: It was supposed to be just an ordinary one-night stand. A quick tumble in the sheets and then good-bye. Derek’s wolf however, had other plans.

OR: The one in which Derek and Stiles do the do and a certain part of Derek’s wolfish anatomy decides they should be bonded for life.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: Again, the start was pretty promising and it kinda leaves off in a satisfactory way even unfinished but I’m not interested in it enough to keep holding on it.

Dirty Dealing by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Summary: Stiles had a plan for his final summer before college. He was going to intern at the Sheriff's station, get ahead on the plans for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his dad had some hazy idea of him having 'one last summer' as a lazy teenager. Now, he's stuck cooling his heels and feeling very out of place at some stuck up country club, where he feel he has more in common with the staff than the other members. Of course, that could be because the staff include his new 'how have we never met before' best friend Scott and the 'it should be physically impossible for someone to be that perfect' new crush, Derek. Who apparently hates him - but not enough that he won't swallow his pride and put up with Stiles' presence when he's needed to help get Erica out of trouble...

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: I honestly don’t remember anything about this fic. So. Enter at your own risk.

#Person Of Interest #Rinch #harold finch x john reese #teen wolf #sterek #derek hale x stiles stilinski #haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei x hinata shouyou #tsukihina #the flash #arrow #flarrow #olivarry #stisaac #stiles stilinski x isaac layhe

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ephemeralstark · 4 years

Text

The Targets We Paint

Summary: “Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.” “You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn't, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.” Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.” - Peter knew being Spider-Man put a target on him, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the safety of the citizens of Queens. He just never considered how dangerous it could be to be Peter Parker.

AN: whumptober day 3: prompt - held at gunpoint. TW for bombs, guns, violence, proceed with caution.

Part 1 of 2

“You’re an idiot,” Peter declared as he tugged on the cuff that was wrapped around his wrist and connected to the steel bar that had been installed in the car by someone who had prepared for this, the jagged spikes in the cuff dug into his skin and caused red to appear, “your plan is stupid.”

“Shut up,” came the monotonous reply.

“Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.”

“You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn't, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety.

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.”

Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.”

“Are you trying to be funny right now?” the man asked, whirling around and shoving a gun in Peter’s face.

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouted, “keep your eyes on the road!”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me what to do?” the man asked, although to his credit he did turn back to the road and place his second hand back on the steering wheel, even though he didn't release the gun.

“No, man, I’m just trying to tell you that your plan is deeply flawed,” Peter said with a light shrug as he resumed his efforts in tugging at the handcuffs.

It still hurt, the sharp points were still gouging into his flesh and causing rivulets of blood to run down his forearm, what kind of weird torture car did this dude have? Did he just drive around kidnapping teenagers? And why?

“Hey, man, this deeply flawed plan,” Peter said, speaking up once more, “why exactly has it come about? Like what do you feel you’ll gain from this?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Well, I mean, you are planning to threaten to blow my brains out,” Peter said with a shrug, “it would be nice to know why.”

“Shut up,” was all Peter got in response.

Naturally, he wasn't one to stop questioning things even when there was a gun brought into the situation, “but seriously, like don’t you have back-up?”

“You’re a fifteen-year-old brat, I don't need back-up,” the man said with a humourless snort.

I mean, credit where it was due, the man had successfully snuck up on him and knocked him out before his Spidey-Sense could tell him to watch out for danger, and he had been smart enough to use cuffs that Peter couldn't escape - although there had been no mentions of Spider-Man so Peter was calling that a coincidence rather than accurate preparation.

“I work with Mr. Stark and he’s part of The Avengers, how do you know I haven't met The Black Widow and been taught how to fight?” Peter questioned because he had and she had given him many lessons, the guy should at least be warned of that, it was only fair.

“Come on, Kid, we both know that all you do is fetch Tony Stark’s coffee and carry his files around for him,” the man said.

“Alright, then what use am I to you?” Peter wondered, “if Mr. Stark doesn't give me anything important to do, why bother kidnapping me?”

“Because he has a renowned guilt complex,” the man said, finally revealing something useful.

So this man knew enough about Tony Stark to be aware that he was honourable and emotional despite what the public and the media often portrayed him as, so what? Was he a potential past employee? He didn't know much about Peter’s role in the company so however he was getting his information, it had stopped. He had been cut off from his source.

“Is this about money?” Peter asked.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“It’s funny, Mr. Stark has actually asked that exact same question about thirty times,” Peter said, “it’s like you two are on the same wavelength, hey! Did you intern for Mr. Stark too?”

“Intern?” the man seemed to choke on the word as though he had been offended by the insinuation.

“Yeah, I mean it makes sense,” Peter said, “did you work for him before me? Is that why you’re mad?”

“Wha- listen, Kid, shut the fuck up, alright?” the man snapped, “you’re starting to prove to be more work than you’re worth.”

“So this is about money?” Peter asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Peter decided.

The man breaked harshly and Peter looked out the window, surprised to see they were stopped on the street outside Stark Industries.

“Have you considered what you’re going to do if Mr. Stark isn't actually here?” Peter asked, “because that seems like it would probably be an issue.”

He didn't say anything, he merely climbed out of the care and opened the passenger side, he undid the cuff that was attached to the metal pole and stuck it on Peter’s other wrist, the spikes digging in harshly as they were tightened more than necessary - yeah, Peter had likely hit a nerve… or five.

“I don't think you’re allowed to park there,” Peter mumbled as he was shoved forward, he instantly stumbled and tried to regain his balance so that he wasn't knocked face down onto the ground.

“What did I say about shutting up?” the man growled in his ear, man, he really needed to brush his teeth or take a breath mint.

“Uh, to do it?” Peter asked.

“Exactly.”

“Hey, guys,” one of the security guards called, “you need to enter through the metal detectors please, it’s for everyone’s safety.”

“They’re going to catch you,” Peter said.

“Did you ever consider that I don’t care?”

“What do you-” Peter broke off as he was shoved forwards through the metal detector and it instantly started to blare and lights flashed.

“Uh, guys, can I ask you both to step to the side please?” the security guard asked as he started to approach.

“Don't move!” the man holding Peter yelled, and he couldn't help but let his eyes close as he felt the cold metal of the gun’s barrel dig into his temple.

“Sir, drop the gun!”

“I want Tony Stark,” the man demanded, ignoring the instructions and Peter felt the gun tremble slightly although judging by his tone of voice it was with anger rather than nerves.

Maybe it had been a mistake to constantly nag him with questions in the car.

“You don't get anything until you release the child and drop your weapon.”

“I want Tony Stark otherwise I’m going to blow his intern’s brains out all over this damned floor!”

“Boss has been alerted that Mr. Parker is in danger,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s smooth lilting voice said, breaking through the tension that was coursing through Peter’s shoulders with ease.

“Who was that?” the man asked, waving the gun around quickly, briefly aiming it at any woman he could see before panicking and digging it back into the side of Peter’s head - he could only hope the man didn't freak out completely and accidentally pull the trigger, was the safety on or off?

“It’s Mr. Stark’s A.I.,” Peter said, “she monitors the entire building.”

“Turn her off!”

“I can’t,” Peter said, “no one can.”

“I said turn her the fuck off,” the man said, violently shaking Peter, “otherwise you won’t be the only one who dies here.”

“I can't.”

“I won’t ask again,” the man said, his voice taking on a dangerous tenor and Peter wondered if it was time for him to start saying his mental goodbyes to everyone he loved.

“Hey, fuckwit,” a familiar called as the man himself sauntered out of the elevator, his blue shades sitting on his face as though he were walking into a press meeting and not a dangerous situation, “my kid already told you, he can't turn her off, now why don't you let him go and before I kick your ass and I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why the hell you thought going after him was a good idea?”

“Stark.”

“I would return the sentiment but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” Mr. Stark said as he brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his suit and sauntered forward.

To the regular person, it would appear that the billionaire was unaffected by what he was seeing, however, Peter could see the routine clenching and unclenching of his jaw, and how his hands were occasionally curling into fists before the man seemingly reminded himself that he was trying to appear nonchalant.

“You know who I am,” the man said, digging the gun in harder, Peter was sure he was going to have an imprint in his skin once it was removed, “I know you know!”

“I can’t say I do,” Mr. Stark said with a shrug, he was close enough now that Peter’s enhanced sight allowed him to see through the tinted glasses - his eyes were creased in worry, “although I do know one thing - and that’s that there’s a red cable sticking out from under your shirt, you’re carrying a bomb, aren’t you?”

Mr. Stark was scared, the situation was not controlled, and that was enough to make Peter’s heart drop into his stomach. This was worse than he had thought and he was pretty sure he should definitely not have wound the man up by talking incessantly in the car.

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @spidey-reids-2003 @clover-roseee @spider-child123 @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty

please DM/send ask to be added or removed from tag list!

#peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spider-man #whumptober #whumptober 2020 #whump #part 1 of 2 #my writing

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years

Text

Gonna make full use of my ‘comic rant’ tag and roast Future State: Superwoman.

Spoilers! And yelling! Of the disgruntled kind!

So a few things at the start here: 1.) I wanted to love this book. I wanted it to be great. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, in spite of some iffy stuff in the solicit text. So this rant is not coming from a place of having decided this was going to be awful ahead of time. 2.) My tolerance for bad Supergirl comics is pretty high! Takes a lot for me to actually come out and say that a particular issue is trash. Reader: This story is trash.

It’s not ‘middle-aged white guys writing/drawing a story about sending a minor to a potentially hostile planet fully nude’ trash, mind you. It’s the compost bin, rather than the landfill. Slightly nicer trash, but it still stinks to high heaven. Allow me to expand!

PROLOGUE - SUMMARY: ...I actually can’t summarize this comic b/c it would devolve into a lot of senseless yelling. We’ll just have to tease out this terrible plot as we go along.

PART I - DEAD DOGS TELL BAD TALES: The comic opens with Kara standing at Krypto’s grave. That’s not why this comic is trash, but it bears mentioning. Because why. Why would you do this.

PART II - IN WHICH IT ONLY GETS WORSE: So, Kara has a running inner monologue, and the main thing we gather from Kara’s thoughts is that it was Krypto who taught her to be a hero. On paper, that sounds very sweet! In practice, it reads as Kara having no moral center whatsoever—whatever good qualities she might possess, she did not learn from her parents, or her foster parents, or friends, or fellow heroes. Nor do they come from within Kara herself. Nope, t’was Krypto who taught Kara not to be a jealous rage monster. That is not hyperbole--Kara’s walking around angry about her cousin all the time and she’s like, ‘It was you, Krypto, who taught me not to judge, and to let go of anger.’ Listen, I love Krypto, but this? This is, as the youth would say, a bad look.

PART III - THOSE CERTAINLY ARE...SOME THEMES: The set-up here is that Kara is on the moon, and has established a sanctuary for alien refugees. That’s a dynamite idea! I love that! Buuuuut Kara didn’t look at the plight of alien refugees and say, ‘I want to help!’ Really, she didn’t even look at herself and say, ‘I don’t want others to feel like I’ve felt.’ No, she said, ‘Earth won’t accept me as a hero, and Clark didn’t name me protector of Earth, so. I’m out!’ (Honestly, if your moral compass is so whack that you need a dog to walk you back from Hulk-Smashing...can’t say I blame Clark for not picking you, Kara!) But apparently, the people on the moon don’t really like her either. And it is literally never explained why. There’s a whole montage of Kara fixing stuff and saving lives and all the moon folk just glare at her. This makes both the moon people AND Kara look like a**holes, because they come across as ungrateful, and she comes across as a glory hound. Thanks! I hate it! So the ‘peace’ Kara’s found on the moon isn’t really peaceful at all, cause she still resents her cousin, and people still don’t like her, in spite of the fact that she’s constantly performing acts of service for them.

Also, side note, I’m just now realizing this is an entire population of alien refugees...and Kara is somehow still the odd one out. Like, Earth I get, because everyone else is a human and maybe freaked out by the super powers. But a bunch of aliens? WHY. Why did you do this. Why did this need to be set on the moon with alien refugees if you’re not going to interrogate Kara’s identity as an alien refugee herself AND all of the aliens are inexplicably humanoid in appearance and utterly ordinary in terms of power levels.

Like. This is not the CW show, where they have a budget, and a huge ensemble cast to serve. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. AAARRRRRGHHHH.

PART III CONT’D: There’s also this weird ‘birthright’ element introduced...like, Clark and Jon stole Kara’s ‘right’ to be earth’s defender which is...a terrible reading of Kara’s modern origin. It brings in the idea that Kara is a ‘chosen one’ and because she didn’t get to be that chosen one, all of her hero work is for nothing. Never mind the whole central conceit of what makes Clark and Kara heroic...that they have this incredible power, and choose to do good with it. Nah...it’s all about her ‘right’ to protect the people of Earth! And mean ol’ Clark took that away! THANKS. I HATE IT.

PART IV - A POOR USE OF SPACE: So, all of the Future State books kind of struggle with the issue of too much exposition, which is understandable. They have to introduce an entirely new status quo in a very limited amount of literal page space, so you *really* have to have a handle on how you allocate your time and focus.

Introducing a brand new, lore-heavy heroic character who gets all of the development and dynamic art and pulls focus away from the character you’re meant to be writing is a bad use of a two issue limited series.

Like, this is a crappy Supergirl comic but it’s a great backdoor pilot for a Lynari ongoing, I guess.

Imagine if in the Jon Superman book, they introduced a random, brand new best friend for Jon, and he got the big character arc instead of Jon. That’s something you save for an arc in an ongoing title, NOT A TWO ISSUE EVENT COMIC.

Back to said new character, there’s a lot of forced attempts to parallel Kara and Lynari, but Lynari’s backstory is so confusing, rushed, and poorly explained that it’s like: okay, they’re both...angry? And the moon jerks hate them? ...uh. Okay.

(I’m gonna bring back my ‘why is this set on the moon, even’ question so that my ‘poor use of space’ header becomes a better joke.)

PART V - I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO...B/C THERE SURE AIN’T ONE HERE: I’ve already mentioned that Krypto was apparently Kara’s conscience so when Lynari’s aunt arrives to...kill them? (again, everything about Lynari’s backstory is rushed and poorly explained) Kara gets real mad and basically pulls a Gothel: ‘You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! Now I’m the bad guy.’ But thank goodness Lynari is there to tell Kara no! Don’t murder the giant aunt eel! Lynari then steals Kara’s powers and gives up the swamp jewel that’s been hidden inside their body and now their aunt is less murder-y!

WOW. Couldn’t even give the big damn hero moment to Kara in her own book, huh?

So the day is saved. It takes Kara a while to regain her powers, and it’s only then, when she’s no longer ‘above’ the moon jerks, that they’re like, ‘oh, we like her!’ There is a bit of narration about how that attitude is awful. But that narration is provided by Lynari. See, the inner monologue is no longer Kara’s thoughts, but rather it has switched to Lynari’s point of view. They’re telling us this story. And do you know why?

PART VI - WHY THIS COMIC *SUCKS*: KARA DIES. SHE’S THE FRIGGIN’ ‘SECOND GRAVE’ OF THE TITULAR ‘TWO GRAVES’

Fudge this comic to heck.

See, Kara dies on the moon, presumably of old age. She’s buried next to Krypto. And this random character who we’re suddenly supposed to care about tells us her story. Not Clark. Not the Danvers. Not Brainy. Not even one of the supporting cast members from her solo title. No one from Kara’s life is mentioned at all, save for Jon and Clark, and they’re pretty much relegated to flashbacks of Kara punching them.

PART VII - TIME TO COMPARE DEATHS, I GUESS: First and foremost can I just say that I hate that’s a sentence that I’m typing about Kara in the year of our lord, 2021. But okay: Kara’s big famous death in Crisis stopped the entire DC universe cold. Everyone paused in the middle of the destruction of the multiverse to mourn her loss and honor her (GENUINELY HEROIC) sacrifice. Clark and Barbara--two established characters with a strong connection/relationship to Kara--offered lovely eulogies.

This one: Kara gets to die of old age in obscurity after a lifetime of striving to be recognized and only achieving it by de-powering and serving a population of jerks.

Not the warm and fuzzy ending you think it is!

(Meanwhile, Clark lives for millennia and spawns an entire dynasty of Els, all of ‘em out there, protecting the cosmos. I was looking forward to House of El in the hopes of maybe seeing some Kara stuff but NOPE. Thanks to Superwoman, we’re probably not gonna see any future Kara stuff beyond this! G R E A T)

And like, the argument could be made that this ending makes Kara happy. This is the life she chooses! She wants to be alone and garden on the moon! Except, we get zero insight from Kara regarding the remainder of her life. We only have Lynari’s narration and some montage shots...nearly all of which focus on other characters. But honestly, even if we did get Kara’s side of things, I doubt it would shed much light on her feelings, bEEECAUSE...

PART VIII - SUPER BLAND: This Kara really has no personality outside of ‘detached and vaguely bitter.’ I like Sauvage, I think she’s an incredibly talented artist, but here, Kara is stiff and her expression often reads as aloof. She’s very pretty, but it comes at the expense of being expressive. (And I know Sauvage can do expressive stuff...because Lyanari gets to be expressive.) Like...I love that shojo manga vibe but this is a Kara devoid of spark and warmth.

...Like...Melissa Benoist’s portrayal of Kara is right there...

I’ve already sort of touched on this but her inner monologue doesn’t have much personality either. She’s just parroting the same, ‘I need to do as Krypto taught me!’ nonsense for both issues. Until, of course, we shift to Lynari’s narration, and lose Kara’s thread entirely.

PART IX - LET’S WRAP THIS UP: This book frustrates me to no end because it had a lot of stuff going for it. It’s got a female writer and artist--still a rarity for the Supergirl book--it’s a limited series mostly free of continuity and character baggage, and it’s not tied down to the grimdark cyberpunk stuff happening in the Gotham books. YOU COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING. And, once again, DC goes with a pitch that’s: Kara is angry, Kara resents Clark...and Kara dies.

It’s also happening...right as Kara has no dedicated ongoing title, the movie’s been shelved, the TV show is entering its sixth and final season, and all promotion has shifted to new CW and HBO shows.

*screams into the void*

MAAAAAAN I hate this book. I hate that it retroactively makes me hate the Andreyko run a little bit--a run that I took to be about a traumatized young woman forced to confront her grief, and who leans on a beloved animal companion for comfort. Here, Krypto is L I T E R A L L Y the reason Kara’s not constantly frying folks with her heat vision.

I hate that this book has made me use the word ‘literally’ so much in this rant.

I hate that this could possibly be more in continuity than Millennium.

Remember Millennium? Where Kara was in like...five pages? And she was warm, and kind, and promised to help Rose because it was the right thing to do, and oh yes, WAS PRESIDENT OF EARTH?!??! AND A CLASSY OLD LADY!?!?!?!?! WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’ IN THE FAR FLUNG FUTURE!?!?!?!?!

I hate that I’m using my lunch hour to rant about how much I hate this comic.

I hate that DC editorial seems hell-bent on erasing the interesting aspects of Kara’s character to sand her down to ‘the angry one’ or ‘Batman 2.0′

PART X - LET’S END ON SOME (?) POSITIVES: Don’t read this book! Don’t do it! Don’t waste your time and money!

Instead, check out ANYTHING ELSE. If you want mom!Kara, read Tom Taylor’s ‘Last Daughters of Krypton’ in the DC Nuclear Winter special. If you want heroic oldlady!Kara, read Millennium. Honestly? Pick up anything by Bendis that has Supergirl in it. It is miles away better than this. You want angry Kara working through her grief? Andreyko, Red Lantern, even Infected. ANYTHING BUT THIS. HECK, grab Superman of Metropolis instead! That has bad Kara characterization but at least she doesn’t end up dead.

Anyways. This comic is bad. I wish it wasn’t! And this is now the SECOND TIME IN A ROW that Kara’s book ends on a terrible note before the character disappears from monthly comics for an unknown period of time.

*screams into the void again*

#SG post #future state #future state superwoman #comic rant #and oh it is a RANT

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

Text

Just Like This | Chapter One

Summary: Rayla and Callum have been best friends since elementary school. Now, years later, Rayla is discovering new feelings for her best friend. The only problem: she's about 99% sure he doesn't think of her in the same way. Not willing to risk their friendship, Rayla continues to hide her feelings for Callum. How long until the truth comes out?

a/n: Hey everyone! Here it is, the greatly anticipated Rayllum high school au! Please please please reblog this, because Tumblr won't show this post in the main tags due to an affiliate link! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3372

Warnings: Language

Read on Ao3

~~~~

Sunday, September 30th, 2020

Katolis Supermarket, 5:31 PM

“Who wrote this list?” Rayla complained loudly, stalking behind Callum at the grocery store, shaking the piece of paper in his face. Her fellow sophomore was pushing a cart around, eternally focused on the task ahead.

“Well, Claudia suggested it, but everyone else added on,” Callum replied, not even looking at her. Stopping in the middle of the isle, he grabbed a 12-pack of soda and loaded it in the cart. “What’s next?”

Looking over the extensive list again, Rayla frowned. “Uh, it says… ‘those little animal cookie things with sprinkles, you know the ones’.”

Callum finally turned to look at her, a wide grin on his face as they both said “Soren,” in unison.

“Jinx,” Rayla giggled, “You owe me a soda.”

“Okay… just take one from the pack when we get home?”

Both teenagers continued through the store, Rayla getting bored of walking and hanging off the front of the cart, laughing as Callum made a big deal of struggling to push them around.

She supposed they should be hurrying. Evening was approaching quickly, and soon all their friends would be over at Callum’s place to study. Callum had dragged her off to the grocery store to get snacks for their cram session, considering she lived only a street over and had a car.

“We’re all going to be sick by the end of the night,” Rayla sighed, loading more snacks into the cart.

“Well, at least we’ll be awake,” Callum, ever cheerful, turned his head around to grin at her.

At his smile, Rayla felt her heart give a small wayward flutter, though she squished it down quickly. Tonight was important; she needed to pass this test to keep her grade up, and it wouldn’t help if she spent the entire night mulling over how cute her best friend’s smile looked.

“Yeah,” She chuckled, trying to pull herself back to the present. Keep it together, Rayla.

They got their unhealthy amount of junk food, collectively winced at the price, bought it anyway, and set about loading it in the backseat of Rayla’s car.

In no time at all Rayla was driving, Callum reclining in the passenger seat. With the radio cranked up, neither felt the need to talk, content to sit in the comfortable silence.

It was hard to believe that they’d been friends for eight years now. Rayla could still remember the first time they met like it was yesterday.

She was eight years old, in second grade, having just moved to a new school after her parents left on a military tour and she went to live with her uncles. Her first day of school had gone off without a hitch.

That is, until she met Callum at recess.

Content to play by herself, Rayla had been making use of the free time by pretending to build a fort under the slide. While pretending to hammer in nails, she noticed a small group of kids nearby. Two boys and a girl.

While she couldn’t make out all the words, the body language she saw was more than enough. The bigger boy, a head of blond hair, was pointing at the smaller, brown-haired boy, and laughing. The girl, black hair tied in two pigtail braids, was looking between them, unsure of what to do.

Curious eight-year-old Rayla snuck up, for she’d always been good at sneaking, and listened in on the conversation.

“Soren, shut up, he’s going to cry!” The girl said.

“Oh, so little Callum’s a crybaby now?” The boy, Soren, taunted.

“I’m not a crybaby, Soren!” The other boy shouted, though he couldn’t hide the sniffle at the end of his sentence.

“Oooh, Callum’s crying! Who’s gonna help him, his dad? Oh wait-”

Soren didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Well, she thought as she sat in the principal’s office twenty minutes later, Runaan will be happy to know that I’m learning something in my karate class.

All four kids were in the office, sitting in chairs in front of the desk. Callum and the other girl, Claudia, were both still sniffling from residual tears. Soren, fresh from the nurse’s office, was holding an ice pack over a rapidly blackening eye.

The door opened, and in came the principal, shaking her head with a sigh.

“You three again?”

“We didn’t do anything!” Soren shouted, voice whistling through the new gap in his teeth. Oh yeah, she’d knocked a tooth out as well. “She started it!”

“Well you were being really mean to that other kid!” Rayla protested. She and Soren glared at each other from their respective chairs, accusatory fingers pointed straight out.

“I wasn’t being mean, I was just joking!” Soren explained, “Callum’s my friend!”

“Well Soren, what you said was really mean-” Claudia interjected, but the boy, who Rayla had learned was her brother, interrupted.

“Callum, you know I was joking, right?”

“Well…” Soren’s face fell as Callum dropped his gaze to his lap. “It did kind of hurt my feelings, Soren…”

“Wait, you’re friends?” Rayla exclaimed, glancing curiously between both boys. “I thought he was bullying you! And my parents and uncles always said you have to stand up to bullies and-”

“I’m not a bully!” Soren shouted. Voices began to rise between them again, and the principal was forced to interject.

“All of you, quiet down. I’m going to talk with you each individually, and we’ll see what happens then. Callum, come with me. The rest of you: play nice.”

In the end, Rayla got suspended for two days for fighting, and Soren got one day for bullying. Despite the massive lecture Runaan and Ethari subjected her to, Rayla couldn’t help but feel like she’d done the right thing in the end.

When she returned to school, she was surprised to find Callum approach her at recess, a little paper bag clutched shyly in his hands.

“Sorry my friends and I got you in trouble,” He said, passing the bag to her. Opening it, Rayla’s face split into a huge grin at the sight of two tart-things waiting for her, filled with jelly.

“Soren’s usually pretty nice,” Callum continued, “But he doesn’t know when to stop talking. If you hadn’t stepped in, he would have said something mean without thinking, I’m sure. So you kind of helped both of us, in a way.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome, I guess. And thanks for the tarts.”

She was about to turn away and enjoy her spoils, but then Callum kept talking.

“Do you want to come play with us? Me and Claudia are pretending to do magic, and Soren’s a knight. You can do magic with us, if you want.”

Well, this game was certainly right up her alley. “I’ll play,” Rayla conceded, “But only if I get to be an elf.”

Callum grinned broadly, pointing to where the two siblings were playing. “Of course.”

~~~~

“The snacks are here!” Rayla called into the house, arms laden with shopping bags. Callum shut the door behind them, similarly burdened with the case of soda.

The pounding of feet sounded overhead, and several heads poked over the stairwell to glimpse the pair in the kitchen. “Finally!” Soren cheered, racing downstairs to try and rifle through the bags Rayla was carrying.

“Not yet, you lump,” Rayla scolded, pushing past the senior boy, “We’ve got to get upstairs at least.”

“Thanks for going to get snacks,” Claudia called, and her thanks was echoed by the other kids there. Callum and Rayla both shrugged, and made their way upstairs to the game room, where they’d all be studying.

Sitting on the various bean bag chairs and couches, the rest of the study group cheered when the food and drinks arrived. Andromeda, Callisto, Ram, Skor, and Marcos all leapt up to snatch the snacks they wanted. When everyone was sitting again, food in hand, Callum gave a dramatic clearing of his throat, turning all the heads in the room towards him.

“So, uh, thanks for coming over. Hopefully we can all actually get some studying done, since, you know, that’s what we’re here for.” He fixed a firm glance on the two couples in the room. “Ground rules: no making out in my house, don’t be super messy, and also please actually study. Soren, no idea what you’re doing here since you’ve already taken this history class, but okay.”

The older boy shrugged, taking a big gulp of his soda. “Moral support. A welcome distraction.”

Callum clapped his hands together once. “Okay then. I actually made a schedule for this, and if we follow it, we can cover all of the sections by… midnight, I think. 11 pm if we work really fast.”

“You made a schedule for studying?” Callisto asked in disbelief. Andromeda laughed, throwing an arm over her partner’s shoulder.

“Yes, I made a schedule for studying, I think it’s going to be very helpful!” Callum defended, crossing his arms over his chest. Even talking with the other two people, his green eyes somehow still managed to find Rayla’s.

She met his gaze, just for a second, heart pounding, before she looked away again. “Well, guys, if Callum wants to make a study schedule, good for him. Let’s just get started; I really need to pass this test.”

“Since when have you been worried about grades, Rayla?” Skor snorted, reclining in a beanbag chair, dumping spicy chips into his mouth.

“Since I’m in four extracurriculars and if I don’t pass, I don’t play.”

“Try-hard,” Soren coughed from his seat. Rayla just flashed him her middle finger, eliciting wild laughter from the rest of the room.

“Guys,” Callum whined, “I’m trying to be productive-”

“Okay, let’s start,” Claudia said, placing a gentle hand on Callum’s arm. It took everything Rayla had not to glare at the other girl, biting back the unwarranted flash of jealousy.

That’s all in the past. We figured it out.

Usually, she could forget just how close Callum was with Soren and Claudia. But then, something like this would happen, and she’d be reminded that before he met her, it was the siblings who were his best friends.

Having known them his whole life, it was no surprise that he’d developed a massive crush on Claudia in middle school. And he never shut up about it.

His confession at the end of seventh grade had very nearly torn their friend group to shreds. He wanted to ask her to the end of year dance, and when Claudia accepted he was ecstatic. Rayla had been happy for him, and just hoped that when they started dating, they wouldn’t be weird about it and make her and Soren uncomfortable.

But as it turned out, Claudia only thought of Callum as a friend. When she told him, Callum was crushed.

Rayla could still remember opening up her front door to see her best friend standing there, tears streaking down his face.

“Rayla, I just- I can’t believe how stupid I am-”

She pulled him into a fierce hug, and didn’t relinquish her grip on him until his mother came to pick him up. At school the next day, nobody could stop her wrath as she stalked up to Claudia and demanded answers.

“How could you?! You know how Callum feels about you, and you led him on anyway!” Rayla shouted.

“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!” Claudia insisted, “And I do know how he feels and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea-”

“No, I know what flirting looks like, and you led him on! He believed that you felt the same way!”

Claudia looked on the verge of tears, and some sick part of Rayla was glad for it. Let her feel bad for her actions, let her feel the same way Callum was feeling.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just… I don’t see Callum in that way.”

“Then why’d you keep flirting with him?” Rayla’s voice was dangerously low. Their shouting match had attracted a small audience in the school cafeteria.

“I…” She was at a loss for words.

“You know what?” Rayla snapped, “Save it for someone who cares. Explain yourself to Callum, not me. It’s him who needs the apology.”

The next few weeks were tense. Hardly any of them spoke to each other. Even though Soren was in high school and had nothing to do with the drama, he still sided with his sister, like Rayla knew he would.

Things worked out. Slowly, but surely, they worked out. But not without a lot of tears from everyone involved, a lot of yelling, a lot of accusations. Things worked out.

But even after Claudia and Callum were on speaking terms again, he decided to ditch the dance. Rayla, who never was going in the first place, was more than happy to offer up her couch for a night of movie watching and junk food eating. And sure, Claudia’s Instagram photos were cute, but for Rayla, nothing could beat the fun she was having with her best friend, right here.

Rayla was pretty sure that was when she’d started to fall in love with him. Or, more accurately, when she realized that she already had fallen in love with him.

However, confessing your love to your best friend after a recent heartbreak seemed like a bad idea. So she kept it to herself.

Which, she supposed, was how she found herself here, three years later, still madly in love with her best friend who was none the wiser, getting jealous over a relationship she both knew was purely innocent and also she had no claim over anyway.

Cool, Rayla, very cool.

Shoving down her stupid feelings, Rayla listened as Callum went over his plan for the evening. Review through chapter 2, take a 15 minute break, review through chapter 4, continue pattern until they got through all the chapters they needed.

The plan was met with a loud groan of complaint from Soren’s end. “Callum, why are you even doing this? You literally have a photographic memory.”

“Well, you guys don’t, so really I’m helping all of you!”

“I mean…” Rayla snorted, “Soren does have a point. Why are you so worried about studying, Callum?”

The teenage boy scratched at his neck awkwardly. “Well, uh, it’s kind of embarrassing, but… I’ve only skimmed for answers this entire time. I need to actually read the passages to remember it.”

Rayla just rolled her eyes. “Callum. Everyone on earth just skims for answers. We know you’re all goody two-shoes, teacher’s pet, but chill. You’re going to be fine.”

“How are you so chill, Rayla?” Callum demanded, “Weren’t you just freaking out, like, two seconds ago? Hello, Miss I’m-in-every-sport-imaginable?”

“Changing the subject!” Rayla declared loudly, “Open up the textbook, Callum!”

~~~~

“Time check,” Ram moaned from where his face was pressed into one of the beanbag chairs, “How much longer?”

“We’re at-” Callum attempted to respond, but was cut off by a yawn.

“Chapter six?” Rayla asked, though she wasn’t too sure herself. All the words were beginning to jumble together on the pages. At some point her notecards had gotten mixed up, and random dates and events were scattered all over the room.

“No, the time,” Ram complained. The other boy sat up, brushing his shaggy white hair from his eyes. “What time is it? My curfew is 11:30.”

Callisto grabbed their phone and took a glance. “11:15.”

“Ok, let’s review,” Callum suggested. However, the entire room gave a loud groan of complaint.

“My brain is melting!” Soren cried, dramatically tossing his head into Marcos’s lap. His boyfriend rolled his eyes at his antics, though he threaded his fingers through the other boy’s blond hair.

“Soren, you don’t have to take this test tomorrow!” Claudia snapped, “Don’t start whining!” The girl looked almost ready to start pulling her hair out.

“Alright,” Andromeda sighed, “My mom’s calling; she’s probably here to pick me up. Thanks for this, Callum. If I find a quizlet I’ll send it in the groupchat, okay?”

“Yes!” Skor cheered, “Quizlet is my lifesaver!”

“Pass me some Doritos, Rayla,” Callum muttered in quiet defeat. Rayla hummed in agreement, grabbing the chip bag from the pile of snacks nearby. Her friend was so tired that he didn’t even complain when she took a couple for herself.

One by one, the room began to empty. Callisto’s dad came to pick them up, Ram agreed to drive Skor home, and Claudia, Soren, and Marcos piled into Soren’s little car to drive off into the night.

That just left Rayla. And Callum. Alone.

“Place is a mess,” Callum sighed, taking in all the damage. Although they’d started out pretty clean, as the night wore on everyone got lazier and started just piling the trash where they were sitting. Crumbs spilled over the carpet, and empty soda cans rolled about.

“Let me help clean,” Rayla offered, “I mean, some of the mess is mine.” She gestured to the notecards spilled everywhere. Her mind was a bit fuzzy from exhaustion, but she was pretty sure she and Soren had started throwing them at each other at one point.

“No, it’s fine-” Callum sputtered, but Rayla just rolled her eyes.

“Let me help. Then we can both go to bed and you won’t get in trouble for the mess.” She left no room for argument, and started gathering up all the garbage and stuffing it in the empty grocery bags.

They worked in companionable silence, just tidying up the room. Rayla knew his house well enough to know where everything went, and tossed out all the garbage and swept up the lingering crumbs. Soon enough, the room looked nearly spotless again.

“See, fast!” Rayla chuckled. She glanced at her phone. “Just in time, too. Runaan’s asking where I am.”

Callum surprised her with a sudden hug, catching her off guard for a moment before she returned it, trying to calm her fluttering heart.

It’s just a hug. Friends hug all the time, don’t get all excited.

“Thanks for coming,” Callum said, a tiny bit breathlessly, “I know you were worried about the test and I wanted to help, sorry it got kind of out of hand.”

“You… organized this all… for me?” Rayla hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Well, yeah,” He laughed, “Even though you probably didn’t need it. You know all the material really well.”

“Only thanks to you, and you know that,” Giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder, Rayla couldn’t contain her grin. “I do feel better prepared, though. I’ll pass. If my brain doesn’t turn to mush first.”

“You’ll ace it,” Callum assured her, “I’m sure of it.”

His green eyes were so bright. And his smile so genuine. Rayla returned it, albeit with less enthusiasm. “Thanks.” Her voice sounded stupidly high-pitched, even to her.

He held her gaze for another long moment before glancing down, at the buzzing phone in her hand that she hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in staring. “You should go. Get some sleep for the test tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rayla breathed, “You too. I’ll see in English tomorrow.”

It was an effort to leave the room. To walk down the stairs, quietly so she wouldn’t wake his parents, and out the front door. To open up her door and get in the car, turn the key in the ignition.

The entire street was silent. That’s how it always was, she supposed. The first to arrive and the last to leave. A glance up told her Callum was staring out his bedroom window at her, watching her leave.

With a heavy sigh, Rayla put the car in reverse. Pulled out of the driveway.

She wasn’t naive. Callum had always been big on physical contact, and it had never meant anything more than he cared. She wasn’t willing to put her heart on the line like that, not when she was sure he didn’t like her that way.

Rayla was a risk taker. Always had been. But this? To risk the relationship she already had with her best friend? That was one risk she would never be willing to take.

~~~~

a/n: Poor Rayla! I would like to apologize to everyone in advance; the pining is not going to get better for a LONG TIME

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@hipster-rapunzel

#the dragon prince #tdp #mal writes stuff #rayllum #rayla x callum

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