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honeymoonjin · 3 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with. Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

#bts x reader #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #the gentlemen #tgm #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core.

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again.

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #thor x reader #dark thor #loki x reader #dark loki #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #yandere

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remember-to-be-gentle · 3 years

Text

Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: House Party Bully 4 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, (accidentally) induced labor, drinking, smoking (weed), obsession, possessive behavior, forced marriage, dick piercings, family trauma, voyeurism, drunk kisses, jealousy

“Avoid,” Touya said slowly, finally, “the others when you can.” It was obvious advice, especially after what his siblings had done to you, but you just nodded and laid on his bed. He glanced at you and sat down beside you. For a moment, you thought he’d rub your back or pet your hair, but he pushed you onto your side, forcing you to face away from him. “Laying on your side is better for the baby.”

Right. Even if Touya was, arguably, better than the rest of his family, he was just like them: only after the fetus growing inside you and the things that came with it. Milk, whatever prestige fucked up rich families like these got with grandkids, and ownership over you.

“I’ll get a job,” Touya added suddenly, “a good one, then we can move out.”

We. The word felt like an umbilical cord around your throat, connecting you to him and the baby you didn’t want. You were choking. But you needed him. Just as much as he wanted you to need him. “Don’t worry about moving out,” you mumbled into his sheets, “I’m sure your father wouldn’t let us.”

Touya twitched beside you. He seemed to be thinking because he was quiet for a long moment. The mattress caved closer to you. “Hey,” he said, voice soft, “you didn’t like my dad better, right?”

Something cold washed down your body. Every muscle from your head to your toes froze and curled in on themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You felt him roll over, his back nearly pressed against yours, heat soaking through your shirt with unwanted comfort. He was silent for a moment, like he’d rather drop the subject, but then pushed on to say, “You didn’t like him better when he fucked you, did you?”

With as much ice as you could muster you replied, “I didn’t like it when either of you assaulted me.”

That seemed to rile Touya up because the bed shook with the weight of him leaping off it. He grabbed your arm, forced you onto your back, his grip bruising. “I didn’t assault you!”

“Then what would you prefer to call it Touya?” You glared at him, the ice in your body replaced with insufferable heat. “Rape? Teaching a rat a lesson?”

He backed off at that. “No, it was...” He bit his lip. “Forget it.”

He made for the door and your rage washed away with panic. “Where are you going?” You may have hated him, but you needed him to keep the hungry mouths of his siblings off you.

Touya stopped in the doorway and sighed. “I’m going out. The others won’t bother you if you stay in here.” He started to close the door behind him and stopped, one cerulean eye locking onto you. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

You wanted to say something back, something biting and cruel, but the ugly truth was that he’d saved you and you needed him. Your throat was tight when you said, “Okay.”

The door shut.

You laid back on your side. How did Touya bullying you turn into this? You were both just college students and suddenly you’d been roped into his fucked up family and forced to have his fucked up baby. There was a little him inside you. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you laid there and held onto the sheets that smelled like your captor. The safest Todoroki. What an ironic thought. It was like calling him the least poisonous snake: regardless of which one sunk their teeth into you, you weren't coming out unscathed.

At some point you must have fallen asleep because you were startled awake by your phone ringing. You were too groggy to check the ID and answered. “Hello?” Your voice was weak from disuse.

“Did I wake you?” Ice ate your bones when you heard the voice. Deep baritone and stone cold. Enji Todoroki continued, “Sorry. I managed to pull some strings with a friend of mine to keep this quiet. Long story short,” he paused, “welcome to the family Mrs. Todoroki.”

Every word, every reaction, every thought vanished into a vacuum, a vacuum named shock. He’d done it. Any hope of escape after the baby was born vanished just like that. You were branded with his name just as your body would never be the same after it delivered his baby. You couldn’t even muster up the strength to hang up the phone.

“Rei and I,” Enji continued as if he hadn’t just destroyed your future, “are on our way home now. I’ve got another doctor’s appointment scheduled tomorrow.”

You didn’t reply.

“We’ll able to find out the gender of the baby,” he said, “Rei’s eager to know but Touya might prefer the surprise. Do you have a preference?”

The blank space that held your feelings erupted. Your preference? Now he cared about your fucking preference? Fuck no. Fuck that. You screamed and hung up, throwing your phone across the room into a pile of dirty laundry. You wanted to punch Enji in his stupid face. You wanted to kick Touya in his breeding balls. You wanted to... You screamed again and this time tears streamed down your face. Defiance leaked out of you with every sob. You were trapped.

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

For the next four and a half months it felt like Enji was keep you away from Touya. He dragged you from appointment to appointment, insisting you stay in your room. Thankfully the other three hadn't so much as knocked on your door, but that didn't ease your anxiety in the slightest.

As your belly grew rounder it became harder to attend classes without people gossiping, especially with Enji by your side. When you couldn't fit into your desk one day it hit you that you'd have to balance Touya, school, and a needy baby. Suddenly you weren't so sure you wanted to attend classes in person.

It didn't help when you could feel it, yes it because Enji had decided to withhold the baby's gender, kicking inside you. It hurt. It was like being bullied by Touya all over again. The thought made you want to cry, but you were in class and simply bit your lip. The baby kept kicking.

After you got home from school, there was a note on the kitchen counter. "Out of town for Shouto's jujutsu match. Back Monday - Enji." The house was empty. You had the Todoroki manor to yourself. Was this your chance to run, while they were all gone?

But the front door opened. Touya stumbled in with his friends behind him. He looked at you, snarled, and walked away.

Toga smiled at you. "We're having a party tonight, feel free to come and bring your friend, too!" She pointed at your swollen belly and giggled following Touya.

Shigaraki and Spinner barely nodded at you. Twice gave you a thumbs up.

So this was how Touya got away with his parties.

But still the party could be your escape. A million cars on the lawn and—

You doubled over grabbing the counter to hold yourself steady. Throbbing pain burst around belly button as the tiny Todoroki inside you reminded you of it's presence. The baby could come any day. And then where would you go? Even if you ran you'd be alone, almost due, without any of your things: including the funds needed to simply give birth. No wonder Enji was comfortable taking off: you didn't have another option to leave without endangering yourself or the baby. Fuck.

Grabbing a snack you went back to your room and went to sleep.

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

Pounding base ripped you from your dreams. Each vibration traveling down your body and making every cell electrify. A familiar headache formed behind your eyes. This was just like the party nine months ago, disorienting and loud and fuck... The base was making you sick. This needed to stop. Touya. You needed to find Touya.

Quickly you pulled out your phone and called the number that felt like signing away your soul to the devil. It rang and rang and rang. Nothing. Shit. At least you knew where Touya would be. He could stop this.

You made for the door, wobbling and waddling with that cursed ten pound weight on your stomach. Nausea made it hard to focus on where you were. You wanted to vomit. You used the walls to help keep yourself upright as you descended into the bass, cringing when it started pumping louder.

Just gotta get to the study, you thought, that's where Touya always was with his friends.

Even thought you'd lived here for what felt like the better part of your pregnancy, you hadn't had the freedom to walk around alone. It was so big and twisted and confusing, especially since you could barely move. But you could also remember when Touya dragged you to his room, the smell of liquor on his breath and weed in his clothes.

He'd been terrifying then. An unknowable monster that plagued your school life. Now, he was still a monster, but one you were beginning to understand—no matter how much you didn't want to.

You understood that Touya was a result of his toxic family. You understood that Touya would likely never have normal romantic relationships. You understood that you were now parts of both these things. You understood that none of this was your fault and you didn't deserve any of it. And nothing would change in understanding your situation.

You pressed on, breathing hard, and stopped. God you wanted to sit and sleep, but the bass was an ache in your bones that kept biting you awake. You didn't have the energy for this. You checked where you were and nearly sobbed. Big chocolate doors with ornate handles. The study.

You burst through the doors. The smell of weed hit you before anything, making you double over coughing. Enji’s study was exactly how you remembered it, though the potent smell of weed this time was far worse. It was like your body couldn’t handle even the thought of it, your stomach churning, bile lapping at your esophagus. Voices fluttered through the room overlapping and swelling until you could pull out Touya's, talking excitedly. He cut himself and then started again, "There she is." His words were slurred, messy. He’d been drinking.

He whipped around, nearly falling over his legs to get to you. A hiccup raked up his body and he burst into giggles. “She’s here,” he said again, “she came all the way down here to see me. Are you enjoying the party, babe?” Touya wrapped you in a foul smelling hug, burying his face in your hair.

Despite how uncomfortable you were, you couldn’t help noticing how he seemed to be avoiding your bloated stomach. “Turn off the music,” you said, “its giving me a headache.”

“But the party,” Touya whined in your ear.

“You and your friends can smoke and drink, I don’t care, but the music has to stop. Its driving me crazy.”

Whatever happy attitude Touya wore vanished. He dropped his arms from around you leaving you cold. “Its driving you crazy?” He backed you up against the wall, his face inches from yours, a snarl across his mouth. “Do you have any idea how I’ve felt? I’m the one who knocked you up and I barely even see you. We live in the same fucking house! You belong to me and yet you let Fuyu and Natsu suck on your tits like it was their baby inside you.” His blue eyes were fire, boring into you. “The baby isn’t dad’s or my siblings. Its mine,” his fire died out in a moment, head hanging low, the tips of his hair tickling your nose, “even if I didn’t want it.”

Your mouth fell open. This was his scheme, his plan, to knock you up, keep you at his side and he didn’t even want it? “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tears exploded out of your eyes, your nose swelling. “You took my freedom, my life, and you didn’t even want it?” Your voice broke into a shriek, “You bullied me every fucking day because you have a fucking crush on me and—and—.” You burst into sobs, whatever thoughts you had died on your tongue.

Touya stared at you, his eyebrows narrowed. You thought he was going to yell at you, tell you it was your fault for making him like you in the first place. “You know,” his voice was rough, deep, “I always liked it when you yelled at me.” And then his mouth was on yours, teeth against teeth and tongue sloppily trying to enter your mouth.

You tried to push him off, anger flaring in your chest like a wildfire, but Touya was bigger and stronger. Even drunk and high he was powerful. Another reminder of the night he’d assaulted you. Another reminder that the Todorokis could lord over you however they pleased.

One of his friends started laughing. “I’ve never seen Touya get this worked up,” it sounded like Spinner, “wonder how far he’ll go.”

Touya pulled back, spit connecting your mouths. His chest heaved and so did yours as you both took in oxygen. He turned around, smiled. “You just want to see my dick.”

The others laughed in that way stoners did when they weren’t sure what was happening but they were still enjoying themselves. “C’mon,” Shigaraki laughed, “whip it out, Toga said you got a new piercing.”

“Gotta get hard first,” Touya laughed. He dragged you to the automan and pushed you onto your back, your head just a foot from where the others sat smoking. The smile on his face vanished when your shirt rode up over your swollen stomach, your belly button flat against the stretched out skin. Slowly he put his hand on your stomach, feeling how taut it was and froze when the baby kicked.

He met your eyes. “I—.”

“C’mon Touya,” Toga groaned, her mouth stretched into a hungry smile, “show us how you knocked her up.” They all laughed at that. Of all of them, you would have thought that Toga would be on your side, at least telling them off, but she seemed just as into your torture as the rest of them.

Touya snapped out of whatever thought he was in, smiling that doped out smile again. He wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked into your clothed cunt.

A high pitched shriek left your mouth. It was just humping and yet your body was reacting to it like Touya had just pinched your clit. The fiery rage inside you turned into a different type of heat. “Please,” you grabbed Touya’s shirt, “don’t do this.”

He kissed your cheek. “I’m just giving my friends a show,” he smiled cruelly, “rat.” He bucked again and this time you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. "Ah-ah," Touya whined, "you're not allowed to hold back. We're putting on a show." He dug his tongue into your mouth again, careful to make sure you had nothing to hold back your cries except for him.

He roughly bucked against you again, his flat stomach rubbing over your swollen one. His friends cooed and cawed as he humped you through your clothes, his cock growing stiff and swollen in his pants. Touya grunted into your mouth and then pulled off gasping. "Fuck, I want to be inside." He stepped away, clawing at his pants to free himself.

You tried to get up, run away, but his friends pinned you down, held you for him.

Touya didn’t seem to notice the assist, too distracted trying to unhook one of the piercings from his zipper. When he finally managed to free himself, you saw the prince albert piercing you’d felt the first time and new ones along the bottom. Near the base of his cock was the beginnings of a jacob’s ladder.

He crossed back over to you and yanked off your pants with your panties following close behind. He stared at your exposed entrance, a soft drunk giggle escaping his lips. “I don’t think I got a good enough look at this last time.” He kissed your clit and just as quickly bit into it making you shriek. “God,” he groaned, “you’re pretty.” He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in.

A hiss left his mouth, his hands gripping the automan tightly. “Fuuuuuuuck, you weren’t this tight last time.”

“Last time,” your voice nearly broke, “I wasn’t heavily pregnant.”

He smirked at you, “That must be the secret to good sex then.” Touya didn't wait for you to adjust, sliding all the way out and back in, his piercings dragging roughly against your walls. A low groan rippled out of his throat. He hunkered down above you, practically tucking himself into you with his head buried in your neck and stomach against yours. He kept up that rough pace as his friends smoked and laughed.

You winched when the baby started kicking again.

Touya froze. He’d felt it, too. He lifted himself up, keeping his cock firmly inside you, and ran his hands over your belly. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “Hey, calm down,” he said, “Daddy’s right here, there’s no need to freak out. Don’t be so selfish with Mommy’s cunt.”

He started up his rhythm again, rougher and deeper. You shrieked when he hit your cervix and then did it again, taking your cries as encouragement. “Stop it,” you begged, pulling at his shirt, “don’t do that you’re gonna—.”

“Gonna make you cum,” Touya chuckled as if he’d finished your sentence for you. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically shoving your already impregnated form into a mating press. Each thrust had your heavy belly bouncing, your swollen tits leaking, your throat raw from crying. It should have been uncomfortable and terrible but the ugly truth was Touya knew how to fuck you well, from the first time he’d assaulted you to now, he felt good.

He was better than his father.

Touya growled as he started pumping faster, ramming your cervix harder and harder until—

You screamed. This wasn’t you cumming, this was something different, something old and terrible that had your entire body shaking and flexing at once. Hot fluid poured out of you and onto the automan, splashing the front of Touya’s jeans and shirt.

He froze, that careless smile wiped away in less than a second. “What was that?”

“Holy shit,” Shigaraki muttered, “I think you broke her water.” And then he burst into laughter. Everyone was laughing, everyone except you and Touya.

“No,” he whined, “nonononononono. Please don’t, no.” He pulled out of you and tried to cover your entrance but it wasn’t done leaking. “I’m not ready for a baby. I’m not ready to be a father. I don’t want... I didn’t...” He locked eyes with you, fear coloring the blue color of his eyes. Of every expression you’d seen him wear, fear was not one of them: until now. He looked at you like you could do something about it, like you could just hold it in and wait until tomorrow, but the baby was coming and it hurt.

You screamed again and the stoners stopped laughing.

“Bro,” Toga said, “I think she’s actually, like, y’know.”

Touya collapsed on his hands and knees, tears flowing down his face. His chest caved and expanded as he panted. “No,” he kept crying. He crawled across the floor to his phone, quickly opening it and dialing a number. You could barely hear the exchange over your pain, a deep and terrible tearing, but you did hear Touya say, “I didn’t mean to. Dad, please, help me.”

You don’t know how long you laid there curled on your side, sobbing in pain, but the study doors burst open, Enji reeking of cold night air in just a button down and slacks. He looked between you and Touya, sighed, and scooped you off the automan. “We’re going to the hospital, you’re gonna be fine.”

You did not feel like you’d be fine.

Touya had sloppily redressed himself, still crying. He followed Enji out into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat while Enji buckled you up in the back. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming again.

Enji shook the car as he climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled away from the Todoroki mansion. “I warned you,” he growled at his son, “that you needed to be delicate with her and what did you do? You tried to fuck her to impress your friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Touya sobbed.

“You could have given her, or your baby an infection or worse,” he growled, “don’t do it again next time.”

You tried not to think about that last comment.

The hospital was quick and efficient, taking you into the delivery room. Your mind was blank as they talked about contractions and potential complications. And then you were holding someone’s hand and screaming like you’d never screamed before, in more pain than you’d ever experienced in your life, for more hours than you thought possible in a day.

When it was done, a nurse dumped your newborn on your chest, a tiny little lump of flesh so red he matched his hair. His father’s hair. His grandfather’s hair. A baby boy. A nurse said something about a name but all you could do was lay there and watch as the baby opened his cerulean eyes and began to wail.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 4)

Summary: The reader goes to dinner with her step brothers, Michael and Nick, as well as Jensen. When Jensen starts to see how her brothers treat her though, Jensen and the reader have a heart to heart and start to try a different tactic with their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, sibling angst, minor violence, mentioned prior deaths

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Monday Evening

“Hey pipsqueak,” said Nick, your arms crossed from where you sat on the couch trying to watch TV. “Since dad and your mom are at dinner at that fancy place, maybe you could take us out?”

“Yeah,” said Michael, still texting away on his phone at the other end of the couch. “There’s that steak place dad said was good. Y/N, you want to have dinner with your big brothers?”

“Not particularly,” you said.

“She still hate us?” said Nick as he came up to the back of the couch, ruffling your hair and placing his hands on your shoulders. “You gotta let that shit go. We were kids.”

“I was a kid. You were both twenty years old and you two harassed me until I moved out, well past when you knew better. Now that I have money, you two-”

“What was that?” asked Nick and you swallowed. “Come on. Let’s get dinner.”

“Whatever. Jensen! We’re going to dinner wherever you are,” you called out. “Jensen!”

He came down the far hallway near where your office was, his hand behind his back on his holster but you shook your head.

“We’re going out,” you said as he dropped his hand down. “To eat. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“I’m going with you,” he said. You thought that was odd of him but he made his jaw hard and clenched it. “It’s part of my contract. I go where you go.”

“He’s perky isn’t he,” said Michael as he stood up. You rolled your eyes and went towards the front door to get your purse.

Half an hour later the three of you were seated with Jensen sat at the bar close by and keeping an eye on you.

“Surprised he didn’t ask to sit with us,” mumbled Nick. “Why do you have a bodyguard again?”

“After my old manager tried to have me kidnapped for publicity,” you said.

“You know how to pick ‘em,” said Michael. You gripped the menu tight and reviewed it, already knowing your step brothers wouldn’t even pretend to offer to pay for their meals. You never quite understood them. Chuck was always good to your mom and nice to you. You weren’t particularly close but you didn’t dislike each other either. You got along, he asked about you, you spent time together whenever you visited them. Chuck had always been okay in your book. His children though you could have sworn were adopted with how horrible they could be to you.

“How much you want to bet me I could get that douchey little bodyguard over here in less then five seconds?” asked Nick, a smirk on his face you didn’t like.

“He’s just doing his job. Let him do it in peace.”

“I still don’t get why you have one,” said Michael as he looked over the wine list. “Compared to the other girl on the show, you’re like, not good looking.”

“Dude, I’m your sister. You’re not supposed to find me good looking.”

“I know that, dipshit. I mean, you’re just, plain,” he said. “You’re not the main lead. That’s probably why.”

“I’m co-lead. We have no main lead.”

“But you’re second on the call sheet credits thing,” said Nick.

“Cause Gen got hired before me.”

“She’s still hotter than you,” mumbled Nick.

“She’s married and they’re both my best friends.”

“I didn’t say I want to fuck her. Relax. You’re always so uptight,” said Nick. You bit your tongue and weren’t surprised when Michael ordered a few hundred dollar bottle of wine. You got the twenty dollar one you normally did that tasted just as good and Nick went for an expensive Scotch you’d never heard of.

“Oh,” you said to the waiter before he could leave. “The man on the end of the bar there, his drinks and meal are on me.”

“No problem,” he said as he took off.

“She’s got no problem paying for his food,” muttered Michael.

“It’s part of his job. For him, this is a business expense,” you said. You gnawed the inside of your cheek and forced a smile. “The garlic bread is very good here if you guys want to get some.”

“Good with me,” said Michael. He gave you a smile, a genuine one before he was checking his phone again. You’d always liked Michael far more than Nick. On his own, Michael was a pretty decent guy. When he got with Nick though, and that was more often than not, even into adulthood, he was normally pretty unbearable.

“Working any big new clients?” you asked, your voice a tad too high but he ignored it while Nick went to the restroom.

“Potentially. I actually got a job offer in LA. Senior partner,” he said.

“That’s great,” you said, Michael smiling.

“You’re actually happy about that, for real,” he said.

“You’re incredibly smart. You always have been. I’m really happy you’re getting out of our little hometown and going to work at a bigger firm,” you said. “That’s a really big deal. You should be proud.”

“Here I thought you’d tell me not to move to your city,” he said.

“Why do you think I’d say that?” you asked.

“You don’t like us,” he said, nodding to the empty spot beside him. “You never have.”

“You guys are dicks most of the time. You skipped over the getting to know each other thing and went right into horrible dick older brothers.”

“We weren’t horrible. We still aren’t. I have worked cases that would make your skin crawl. We’re the Brady bunch compared to most people.”

“My dad died and I was so excited to have big brothers, you know? That year was so horrible and Chuck made mom stop crying and laugh again and I love him for that. But you guys...it doesn’t matter. I’m happy you’re getting a promotion, Michael.”

“Our mom died too that year,” he said, lowering his head.

“I know she did,” you said. “Forget I said anything.”

“So when do you go back to work?” asked Michael as Nick returned.

“A few months from now,” you said.

“What are you gonna do after that?” he asked.

“Honestly I’m not sure right now. I like TV but I might do movies. My options are pretty open,” you said. “How’s teaching going?”

“Always a joy,” said Nick, taking a long sip of his water. “I got tenure finally. Not sure if I’m gonna stay though. If Mikey moves out here I might take a position at UCLA.”

“Oh. So you’re thinking of moving out here too?” you asked. Nick narrowed his eyes and you you looked away. “Maybe mom and Chuck will come out if you guys do.”

“Maybe,” said Nick. Thankfully you spotted your waiter come back with your drinks and you were able to order your appetizer and dinner, already expecting a nearly thousand dollar bill thanks to their alcohol choices.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You excused yourself and walked over to the bar, Jensen sipping on a glass of beer while he half-watched a TV behind the bar.

“Require saving from your brothers?” he smirked to himself, turning before you could tap him on the shoulder.

“Why do you say that?” you asked, leaning against the padded bartop.

“Just a vibe I get, you and Nick especially,” he said. “Nobody gets a pass from me.”

“He’s not a great older brother but he’s harmless,” you said.

“He intimidates you.”

“Like I said, he’s not great but the worst thing he’s ever done was leave me with a group of strange guys. Michael did the same thing. Otherwise they’re just like, crappy older brothers.”

“Crappy or something else? Like I said, nobody gets a pass from me.”

“Jensen. They would never hurt me. I swear on my life.”

“Michael wouldn’t. Nick...I’ll be keeping an eye on him, both of them, whether you want me to or not. I’m the asshole bodyguard after all,” he smirked again.

“Well, it sounds like they’re both gonna move out here soon so we’ll be seeing them more.”

“Lovely,” said Jensen. “So why’d you come over? Need a break from them?”

“Yes. Also, I already told the waiter but your drinks and food are all on me. Feel free to order whatever you want,” you said.

“I’ll stick to the one beer. I’m at work still,” he said.

“They have really good steak. The filet is amazing along with the green beans,” you said. Jensen smiled and played with his glass, swishing the ice cubes around. “The lobster macaroni is also a great side.”

“That’s a hundred dollar steak.”

“Jensen, you know I can afford it.”

“I also know how much you’re paying me. I can afford it.”

“Jensen. I’m your boss. I’m paying for it. Next time I want Taco Bell, you can pay at the drive through if it makes you feel better,” you said. He smiled, a soft gentle little smile you’d never seen on his face before. You returned it, Jensen staring at you before he shook his head and it fell away.

“I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are. I’d much rather pay for your meal than those two bimbos. I like you better,” you said.

“Must have a pretty low bar for them then,” he said.

“Why’d you stop talking to me? After the paparazzi guy?” you asked. He shrugged and wiped off a stray drop of condensation on his glass. “Please?”

“There’s a line I have to keep with you. We can be friendly but if something happens, I am in charge. There can be no doubts about that. I felt that I needed to step back and reaffirm that boundary.”

“We can keep the boundary. But we can be friends too. If you say hide, I’ll hide. If you say run, I’ll run. I know you think I’m a dumb actress but-”

“You’re not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met,” he said. You blinked and he offered a half smile. “You have an ability to push through panic and be logical. I know guys with all the training in the world that can’t do that. You’re not a dumb actress. It’s obvious that you were raised to be intelligent.”

“My point is, I will do what you tell me to when it’s those hard moments. But I have confidence that you were wrong before. You can like someone, maybe even care about them like a friend, and still be able to protect them. I actually think it’ll make you better at your job.”

“Give me one example of where that works. Just one.”

“Maybe you want to try talking to your bestie, Jared,” you said. “Or literally most anyone in a relationship anywhere.”

“Touche,” he said. He smiled and nodded. “No more cold shoulder.”

“Thanks.”

“So I should try the macaroni with my steak?” he asked.

“And the green beans. You get two sides. You can get however many you want actually. The dessert selection here is even better than the steak if you can believe it.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” he said. “But no green beans. Traumatic childhood incident with them.”

“I better not be attacked by the cabbage patch kids. They might just take you down,” you said, Jensen giggling to himself. “Oh, he does laugh. Good to know. The roasted truffle garlic fries are really good too.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll check them out.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” you asked, nodding back towards the table.

“I better not. I don’t think your brothers like me very much,” he said. “I got a better vantage point over here anyways.”

“Vantage point?” you asked.

“Got a weird feeling is all. I want to stay sharp tonight,” he said. You nodded and turned to go, Jensen catching your bicep. “If something happens, what do you do?”

“Duck and cover and wait for you to get me,” you said.

“Good girl. You did read my instructions.”

“Yup. Even read the part about how to get out of your hands being tied behind your back. Unfortunately, I’m not flexible enough and my ass is too big for that,” you said. He chuckled and you smirked. “Oh you know it is.”

“I’m not opposed to that fact,” he said. You went wide eyed and he laughed. “My boss is hot, what can I say.”

“You better stick to the one drink after all, Ackles,” you said, laughing as you lightly whacked his arm. “Try the triple brownie sundae for dessert. You won’t regret it.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“I think I gained five pounds,” said Michael, stretching out in his seat nearly two hours later, the waiter bringing over the check. You frowned at the bill but it was what you were expecting. You stuck your card in the pocket and caught the waiter pretty quickly. It was getting late and you were tired. Even your step-brothers were getting quiet so you hoped to get home quickly.

The waiter returned and you wrote out a tip, sticking your card back in your wallet and purse. You stretched as you stood up, your step brothers taking their time to get to their feet. You headed over towards Jensen when the sound of glass shattering caught your attention. You turned your head and heard tires screeching outside, spotting that the window at the front of the restaurant was gone now. You barely saw the cop car driving by before you heard sharp little noises in the air and felt like you got hit by a truck.

Suddenly you were on the ground, Jensen on top of you. Nick and Michael were ducked down under the table along with most everyone in the restaurant, some people at the bar hopping over the counter and diving behind the back. The whole place was silent and you all heard the front door to the place open abruptly. Jensen stood up in one smooth motion, his gun out and aimed, a shot ringing out a second later as someone yelled. A few seconds later there was a loud echo of feet, Jensen setting his gun on the ground and holding up his hands. Police filled in the place, two very angry looking officers rushing over to him and barking orders.

“It’s okay,” said Jensen to you as he knelt down.

Less than five minutes later he was released and some hostess was thanking him over and over still for stopping the guy that had come in looking for trouble. Jensen shrugged it off, only grazing the guy and the police pretty impressed with him for doing so.

“Are we free to go?” asked Jensen, an officer nodding. He waved for you and your step-brothers to follow, Jensen driving the four of you back to your place quickly. Nick and Michael took their rental car back to their hotel, neither one much in the mood to talk after what had happened.

Jensen checked that the house was secure before he went to his room and shut the door. You weren’t sure if he was okay or not. He seemed pretty calm but he had shot a guy, if only barely. Instead of heading to your bedroom, you wandered down the hall to his area of the house. There was a guest suite there he used for his bed and bathroom but he rarely used it unless he was going to bed and he always, always told you when he was turning in for the night.

As you were about to knock on the door you heard the faint sound of a shower and nodded. He was simply cleaning up. It didn’t sound like a bad idea to yourself honestly. You went down the hall to your room, flipping on the light. It was a soft white in there, the wall behind the bed a shiplap that led up to wood beams going across the vaulted ceiling. Another light was flipped on in the bathroom and you stepped under the shower for a few minutes, washing off your face and skin. After five minutes you went out to the bedroom and over to the closet, finding a pajama shirt and shorts to slip into. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun and you found your oversized fleece hoodie you occasionally slept in. Tucking it under your arm, you headed out of the room and back down the hall, Jensen’s door still shut.

“Jensen?” you said, knocking on the door lightly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said. Carefully you pushed the door open, Jensen walking out of his bathroom in just his boxer briefs, wiping a towel over his head. He tugged it down and stared at you, your eyes going to his chest, legs and everywhere in between.

“I uh, wanted to make sure you were alright,” you said, ripping your eyes away and meeting his gaze. He nodded and tossed his towel back into the laundry basket by the closet.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah. I uh-”

“No need to be nervous around me,” he said.

“Right,” you said, Jensen walking right in front of you before stopping. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to say thanks.”

“It’s my job,” he said.

“Still,” you said. “I...here. I thought you might like this.”

“A hoodie?” he asked as you handed him the fleece. “What’s this for?”

“S’my bad day hoodie. I wear it to bed sometimes. Makes me feel better,” you said with a shrug.

“Old boyfriend’s?” he asked as he pulled it on, a soft smile spreading across his cheeks. “It’s so soft. Thanks, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you said.

“So was it the boyfriends? Or you get it for yourself?” he asked.

“It was a birthday present for my dad. He died the week before. I never got to give it to him.”

“I shouldn’t be wearing this,” he said, moving to take it off when you caught his wrists. He was so much stronger than you but he let you manhandle him and move his hands back to his sides.

“It fits you better than it ever did me. Besides, I think you’re a little on edge and not telling me which is fine. It’s good for that,” you said. “I want you to keep it.”

“Y/N, I can’t keep something like this,” he said. You stared at him, Jensen swallowing. “It’s important to you.”

“Yes. But you gave me your blanket and wouldn’t let me return it. Fair is fair,” you said.

“Y/N-”

“S’an order, Jensen. Keep it.”

“Yes mam,” he said quietly.

“I hate when you call me that,” you said, moving your hands away from him.

“I know you do,” he said, a quick smirk crossing his face. “Why aren’t you using this yourself tonight?”

“I got my blanket. I’m good,” you said.

“It doesn’t explain why you’re giving me this though.”

“Lately, something else has been making me feel better and safe. My dad would have liked you.”

“Your father was a good person. A brave person,” said Jensen.

“You know how he died,” you said, Jensen returning a nod. “I used to be really angry at him. Why’d he have to go help that woman? He could have walked past and been alive. But since I got older, if I was that woman being attacked, I would pray for a man like that to come help me. I know he was good.”

“I will do my very best to be that man for you,” he said.

“I know you will. If you need something, come get me,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said just as you spun around. “May I have the morning off? You will be with family and my sister is in town for the day for work. I’d like to get lunch with her if I could.”

“Take the day,” you said with a smile, looking back over your shoulder. “She can come to dinner if you like.”

“She’s got a flight back at five thirty,” he said. “Thanks though.”

“It’s no problem,” you said. “Goodnight, Jensen.”

“Goodnight,” he said. You pulled his door shut after yourself and went down to your own bedroom to get under the covers. You stared up at the ceiling, hearing a light pitter patter on the rooftop. Rain was so rare in LA that you normally welcomed it when it came around. It reminded you of back home in a way.

A text popped up on your phone just as you were closing your eyes. It was from Gen and was a link to some news article about the restaurant, a picture of you and Jensen front and center.

You wrote back you were fine and turned off your phone, knowing you’d have to deal with questions in the morning.

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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laurenwritesfics · 3 years

Text

Here it is folks, chapter 5! Again, sorry for the wait but I hope it will have been worth it!

Read the previous chapter HERE / read the full series on AO3

Warning(s): Angst (sorry...again)

CHAPTER FIVE: ADJUSTMENTS

Things had started to feel calmer now. Time had begun to slow down, and Frank was grateful for the chance to breathe again. One Saturday, he returned from the boat yard to change his oil-stained shirt and caught sight of Mary’s journal on the kitchen table – Evelyn had forced her into therapy back in Boston, and though she had hated it, journaling was the one thing she kept on doing – it had been left open on a page filled with tally marks. At the top of the page, she had written ‘number of days without Fred’. Frank pressed his palms against the table and dipped his head. Perhaps Mary would always struggle emotionally in one way or another. He was beginning to feel like a failure. Was his best really good enough? It was impossible to tell.

Sunday was just as quiet. They ate together in silence. Roberta didn’t visit. Their new normal was frustratingly abnormal.

“School tomorrow.” Frank cast a glance at Mary. “Homework done? Books ready?” He knew he didn’t need to ask, but he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Mary’s fork danced around her plate. “Obviously.” She huffed.

“Sorry, I was just asking.”

No reply.

Mary scrunched her nose and continued to pick at her plate, retreating back into her bubble.

“Listen,” Frank reached over and put a hand on her cold arm “I know things are hard right now. But if you talk about it, sometimes it makes things easier.”

“You sound like Evelyn.”

Frank’s shoulders dropped. “You don’t have to finish dinner, okay? You’re cold. I’m gonna go get you a sweater or something.”

“I’m fine.”

He ignored her and left the table. Mary pushed him away every time he tried to slip her arms into one of her hoodies. He fought back, not realizing how roughly he was holding her until she winced and slipped off the chair. He immediately swept her into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He rocked her slightly. “You need to stop being so fucking stubborn, Mary.” His voice cracked a little. Her tiny hands squeezed him as hard as they could and she rested her head on his shoulder. When Mary started to cry, so did Frank. He pulled back, brushed a strand of hair from her face and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’m trying my best here. You’ve gotta give me something, kiddo.”

Mary nodded, paused and then ruffled Frank’s hair. He returned the gesture and tucked her under his arm, carrying her across the kitchen and into the living room. She was laughing now. They both were. Mary dangled in his grip, arms limp, then tumbled down, grabbing his hands and stepping on his feet.

“Can we watch TV?” She looked up at him, the dewy sheen of tears beginning to fade from her eyes.

“Sure. But only for a little while. You’ve gotta get up early for school.”

Mary threw her head back and groaned. “Why can’t I just skip class tomorrow? Everybody hates me anyway.”

Frank tugged on her wrists. “Hey, nobody hates you, okay? They’re just jealous of how smart and awesome you are.”

“You have to say that, you’re my Uncle.”

“I’m also an adult, which believe it or not, means I actually know more than you do. About people, at least.”

“Yeah, you are kinda dumb…” She nodded.

“That’s it,” Frank picked her up “you just lost your extra hour of TV.”

In spite of his attempt at sternness, he let her fall asleep on the couch.

Monday came, and Frank finally finished his work on the Celestia. One brief phone call later, he had been invited to join the owner for a trip out on the lake. Frank would usually have been cautious about this – especially with wealthy customers - but he accepted the offer simply because it would give him a chance to clear his head. It was better than sneaking onto someone else’s boat with a six-pack of Heineken at two in the morning, at least. As he wiped his hands on a worn rag, he reclined against the workbench in the corner of the garage. A soft ache spread through his chest. Deep into his biceps. Exhaustion snuck up on him without warning. The chaos of the past few months was finally catching up with him.

He waited so long for Mary to come home from school that he started to think maybe she’d gone on another adventure. His worries subsided when she arrived, shoulders pushed forward under the weight of her satchel. As she threw it down and began to unpack a stack of books, Frank realized exactly what had happened.

“Did you walk all the way from Jackson?”

“Yeah.” Mary squinted as she fumbled around for another book. “Lucy’s really nice. She let me take out a bunch of stuff.”

“She did, huh? Am I gonna be serving you dinner in your room tonight?” He half-joked.

Mary had already stopped listening. Frank shook his head and turned back to the stove to finish cooking. This time, eating in silence didn’t feel awkward – Mary brought a book to the table, fork occasionally missing her mouth as she sat absorbed in whatever it was she was reading. Frank pictured her walking down Jackson with her nose in another book and couldn’t help letting out a soft huff of amusement. She was almost happy. And at least for now, almost was enough.

When he checked on Mary, he peered into a room lit only by a small torch light. She was back in her reading tent. Even though the door squeaked slightly, she didn’t stir. Back in his own bedroom, Frank reached into his nightstand for his phone. Lucy would wake the next morning to a short, thankful text message.

Frank and Mary, however, woke to a prolonged, impatient buzzing. The doorbell.

He was tempted to rub his eyes again when he saw the woman standing on the porch.

Evelyn.

Frank was immediately skeptical, but he opened the door to her anyway.

“Well,” she popped a hip and adjusted her sunglasses “are you going to ask me to come in or shall I just stand here on the porch?”

“Mary’s heading to school in a couple minutes.” His jaw tightened a little as he watched her fingers flex against the handle of her travel case. This wasn’t an impromptu visit.

“I’ll say hello quickly, then.” She barged past him, the wheels of her case narrowly missing his toes.

Mary had a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth and a book clutched to her chest. She covered her mouth as she hurriedly chewed and then walked around the kitchen island to meet Evelyn.

“Hello, darling.” Evelyn planted a kiss on the crown of Mary’s head, leaving a glossy pink mark in her hair. “Off to school?”

“Yep.” Mary replied, popping the ‘p’ curtly. “Are you staying with us?”

“Maybe. That depends on your uncle.” She inclined her head towards Frank in a way that she thought was comical, but it just made Mary cringe.

“Why?” She knelt down to shove the book she was holding into her satchel.

“That’s enough, short-stuff.” Frank intervened, steering her away from Evelyn. “Let’s go.”

“Have a good day, darling!” Evelyn called out, pivoting her suitcase so that it would fit flush against the wall.

When Frank returned, he slammed the front door and crossed his arms as he glared down at Evelyn.

“Alright, what’s this about? What little scheme have you come up with now?”

Evelyn smoothed her sundress and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “You’re so hostile.” She tutted.

“Can you blame me?” He strode over to her and perched on the arm of the couch.

“Not at all.” She clasped her hands in her lap and twisted herself to face him. “I wanted –“she stuttered, blinking “-needed to see my son and granddaughter.”

In that moment, Frank saw himself. The same sunken hopelessness. He noticed raw pink lines beneath her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn seemed human.

“This is about Diane isn’t it.”

“Yes. I couldn’t face another anniversary alone, Frank.”

“You called me Frank.” He mused. “Where’s the real Evelyn?”

She managed the smallest of smiles and reached out rub his arm. “I lost her a long time ago.” She was holding his hand now, squeezing lightly. “I won’t stay too long. I’m sure you must be busy.”

Frank placed his other hand over hers. “Stay as long as you want.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Her icy tone returned.

“I mean it.” He insisted. “It’ll be good for Mary.”

“How is she?”

“Honestly? She’s struggling. She’s stubborn about it, though.”

“I wonder where she gets that from…” Evelyn chuckled.

“She’s dealing with more than a kid should have to deal with right now. Losing Fred, the car accident…”

Evelyn’s head jerked to the side. “Car accident?”

“Don’t worry, Mary wasn’t in the car. It was just me. I was a little drunk, it was stupid.”

“For God’s sake, Francis!” Evelyn yelled. “You stupid boy!”

Francis. Boy. She was his mother again. Instead of fighting back, the ache he had felt earlier returned and he slumped against the cushions.

“After it happened,” his breaths were shallow, a lump forming in his throat “I just sat there thinking about what would’ve happened if...” both his hands and his voice had begun to shake “I can’t take care of her. Not in the way she needs to be. Diane would be so fucking disappointed.”

Evelyn took Frank’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. He buried his face in her shoulder and allowed her to be the mother she suddenly wanted to be.

“Diane would be very proud of you.” She glanced up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. “I’m proud of you, darling.” She whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair. “So proud of you.”

“I just want her to be okay.” He sniffled.

“She will be.” Evelyn turned to kiss Frank’s hair and then stood up, brushing a crease from the skirt of her dress. “Why don’t I cook dinner for us tonight? It’ll give you a chance to rest.”

Frank’s defenses were down, so he agreed.

That night, Evelyn made a shepherd’s pie and sat with Mary as she completed her homework. She piled chocolate ice cream into a bowl and made herself a martini. His mother was back, but she was still putting on the airs and graces of the woman she once was. He knew that if she didn’t, she would be more broken than she had been when she arrived. So he played pretend too.

Almost happy. Almost a family. And that would be just fine for now.

Permanent taglist: @hiddelstannerbarnes @redlipstickandblacktea @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @djeniiscorner @its-tortle @k347 @ixalit @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cevansfics @capchrisevaans @thedamageofherdays @musette22 @mcubabydotcom @worksby-d @chuckbass-love @bluemusickid @fallinforevans @hellobeautworld @katiew1973 @just-dreaming-marvel @disaster-dean @rebthom89 @navybrat817 @just-dreaming-marvel-2 @sirisshamelesshoelibrary @denisemarieangelina @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @deanscherry @celestialbarnes @the-iceni-bitch @caplanbuckybarnes @caplanreads @autumnrose40 @patzammit @mxsamwilson @hevans-angel @elvenfforestydd @harrysthiccthighss @cherry-gemz @brattycherub @brattycherubwrites @angrybirdcr @blossomslibrary @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @honeyloverogers @cloudystevie @steebsbabygirl

#laurenwritesfics #chris evans fanfiction #The Pieces We Leave Behind #Gifted #Frank Adler #Mary Adler #Frank Adler fanfiction #Chris Evans fluff #Chris Evans x reader #angst #Chris Evans x female reader #Frank Adler x Lucy Montgomery

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sugako · 3 years

Text

after class

ta!suga x f!reader cw: 18+ mdni, college au, alcohol consumption mention (not during the main plot), dubcon (bc of power imbalance & suga coming on VERY strong), oral (giving), facefucking, public sex (no one sees), teasing (receiving), blink once & u miss it degradation, fingering (receiving), quickie/rough sex, unprotected sex wc: 2.5k+ a/n: here is my wee lit ta suga brainrot ,, boy do i hate academia but wow do i like writing shit in a college setting

It was just a literature class, an enjoyable one at that. Yet, every time you walked through the door, the dull thump of your heart sped up. Hovering nearby, he was almost always there, not that you really minded. Maybe your mind was clouded with romantic thoughts because of the room - it was in the oldest part of campus and it showed with the cozy wooden walls and a stained chalkboard at the front of the room.

The nostalgia encouraged by the soft, warm light that streamed through the windows only made your longing more intense. He looked like you imagined a tricky mythical being to look, all sweet and inviting on the outside while fierce and feral inwardly. About a week into class he revealed his true self when reviewing - or rather tearing into - everyone's essays.

You noticed his eyes first. They way they lingered on you when he stepped in to lecture, flitted around your face and down your body, lit up when he went on a tangent about a theme he particularly enjoyed. Even though your mind sometimes wandered, everything was still outwardly appropriate. You called him by his last name like he asked, he called on you appropriately, answered your emails and graded your papers just like anyone else's.

One mistake-filled Friday night you made the mistake of following your friends to the nearest bar, and there he was. Face flushed with happy tears in his eyes he stood up at the bar with some of his friends. When his eyes fell on you the gears slowly turning in his head were visible.

He rushed over, chest pressed tightly against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you and ushered you up the counter.

“So good to see you!” He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You knew it was wrong, you tried so hard to tell yourself it was wrong, but he wasn’t much older than you and you weren’t in class now so what difference did it make, you reasoned. Besides, he was drunk and you had a drink in you already and he smelled so nice… “...too, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Huh?” You barely heard him over the roar of the crowd around you and the music vibrating off the walls.

“Heh, nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna buy you a shot, you deserve it after that last essay. Very well thought out.” Being overly crisp in his words to achieve some kind of comedic affect you assumed. He leaned slightly into the counter, bringing you with him, and quickly ordered. Within minutes the bartender had placed the clear shots before you. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, clinking his small glass against yours, sending half of his shot onto the floor.

It burned like always, but you held back your reaction, lips barely pursing as you set the glass back down.

“Thanks,” you started, unraveling yourself from his warm body, “I gotta get back to my friends, but it was nice seeing you.” You said softly, some little part not wanting to leave him.

Suga held you out by your waist and nodded once. “Good to know you can take rough things so well, go on then.” He says with a little push.

His words confusingly haunt you for a moment before you realize he’s talking about the ‘rough’ shot you just took, even if the wording was crude. The rest of the night you agonize over what he meant. “Good to know you can take rough things.” But by next Monday, it’s as if it never happened. He carries on in class like normal and so do you, until a week later.

He’s handing back quiz scores at the end of class, conveniently leaving you until last. The way he sped through lecture today, there’s about ten minutes left and, with no professor around this day to stop him, he dismisses everyone early. Except you.

“Can you actually stay behind a few minutes? I just want to talk about your answers.” When fear flashes across your eyes, he chuckles easily just like he was back at the bar and your heartbeat only speeds up. “Nothing bad, I’m just interested in your answers.” In tense silence, the two of you stand, waiting until the last student has made their way out.

“So which question-”

“Actually, I think there’s a better way for you to improve your score.” He grins devilishly, getting up from his spot beside you to fully close the door. Suddenly the room feels very stuffy and you’re very aware of everything around you. It makes your stomach turn, you’re not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way, but you weather through and take a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m comfortable with the score I got.”

“I know, I know, you did very well.” He soothes while he makes his way back over just to lean precariously against the very tiny desk attached beside you. “It’s just… I know you try so hard, you pay attention to me more than anyone in this class. I think you deserve extra credit just for that.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” You struggle out, trying to find the words. Brain racing, you have no clue what to make of the situation. It seems like he has everything planned out, scripted, and you’re just blindly following along like a lost, little lamb.

“You know, I notice how you blush and smile sometimes when I lecture, and you take notes just so well while I’m speaking. I mean it’s very cute, don’t get me wrong, but you pay even better attention to me than you do your own professor.” He scoffs.

The way your chest is rising and falling is visible now, you’re sure he can see it through the thin material of your little sundress. “Sorry, you’re just always so excited I guess I get caught up, but umm… are you sure there isn’t another class coming in, I jus-”

“No,” he says sternly, “there’s not another class in this room for hours. But why be worried about something like that?” Suga asks with a small, knowing smile.

“I-I, uh, well I don’t know, I just thought… just making sure I g-guess.” You sputter out, quivering voice betraying yourself.

“What did you think I meant?” He asks evenly, the smile slipping from his features. Like a fish gasping for air, your mouth bobs open and shut, struggling to find the words or maybe a lie, but he doesn’t let you. He closes the tight space between the two of you with a short kiss that you immediately sigh into.

Pleased with your relaxed reaction, he pulls away almost at once, dropping your quiz from his hands onto the floor in between you. Mind spinning, you’ve barely registered the kiss before you’re crouching down to pick up the paper.

“Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.” He says plainly, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“No problem,” you begin while you start to rise, only to be stopped by his tightening grip on you.

“Sorry, you just look so pretty down there.” He coos, taking his hand away when you relax onto your knees and place the papers back down. You don’t know what to think, especially with his noticeable bulge so directly within eyesight. You want to be here, you can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt in that brief moment or what lies beneath his pants, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty. The sound of a zipper snaps you back to the reality where you’re on your knees in front of your TA.

“I, um…”

“You can do whatever you want right now, sweetheart.” The nickname he gave you at the bar makes heat surge through your veins. “But I want you to know if you chose to stay here and to touch me, I’m not gonna hold back, mmkay?”

Taking a deep, swallowing breath you nod quickly, fingers grappling at the pale blue waistband of his boxer briefs. “I understand,” you whisper out, “I want you.”

“Okay, princess, don’t say I didn’t-” His big talk is cut off when you mouth over him through the soft fabric, licking over the tiny wet stain he’s produced. “Oh,” he chuckles meanly, “so hungry for my cock, huh?”

Nodding deftly, you tug down on the waistband, letting his length slap against his clothed abdomen. He’s pretty, neatly trimmed, and pale but with a pretty, pink tip that makes you clench around nothing. The way his thighs are tensed under his slacks, you know he’s holding back, and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

At a careful pace, you take him into your hand, pumping gently while you guide him into your mouth. When the salty taste of his precum hits your tongue he snaps. His hands bury into the back of your neck, holding you exactly in place when he shallowly pumps himself into you. Painfully, you relax your jaw, letting him use you while big tears well up in the corners of your eyes from the sting.

Over and over again his cock hits the back of your throat, gliding past the mess of spit that’s built up in your mouth. He feels so right, so good and all you can think about is him. Your nails dig into his legs, trying to find some purchase in the smooth material of his pants.

He watches as you keep your eyes trained up on him, admiring the spit already spattered across your cheeks. “So messy, sweetheart, you’re adorable.” He says just loud enough for you to hear over his unrelenting pace.

It’s hard to understand him with how hard you’re focusing on sucking in his cock while he fucks into you. “Always knew your pretty mouth was good for more than answering stupid questions.” Suga grunts, shuddering when your throat spasms around him, and swiftly pulling out.

Panting for a bit of air, you heave on the floor, upper half only held up by the loose grip you have on his thighs. Before you can catch your breath, he’s dragging you back onto your feet and facing your body away from his. A heavy hand forces your chest down against the tiny desk before you and his feet kick yours apart.

“Wore this cute, little dress for me?” He asks, flipping up the skirt and palming over your ass.

“N-no, I had a, uh, presentation today.” You try to say, the lie evident with how heavy the words weigh on your tongue.

“Oh, shut up,” he laughs, “I know this is the only class you have today, you told me that weeks ago.” He hums, fingers toying with the edge of your underwear, moving them around across your skin this way and that until he finally pulls them down. “And you wore these slutty panties just for me too. Probably thought about touching yourself after class while you thought about me instead. Isn’t this much better though?”

“Yeah, a lot better.” You squeak as his fingers force your thighs farther apart, meeting you aching cunt just to spread your slick around.

“Your panties are ruined, completely soaked. Must have been thinking about me all class I bet.”

“N-no,” but before you can argue he presses two fingers into you, scissoring them inside of you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He replies and you can hear the eye roll in his tone. Again, his free hand presses between your shoulder blades, squishing you harshly against the desk. With a little sigh, he takes his fingers away from you and uses both hands to perfectly position your hips for himself. “Ready, sweetheart?” He asks sweetly, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“Yes, please, please fuck me!” You cry, finally crumbling before him and burning with need.

He’s so close now you can feel him, the want that’s built up in your brain over the last couple months is nearly unbearable now. You feel his fingers curl into the flesh around your hips just before he eagerly sinks into you. Involuntarily, you let out a shaky gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

“Relax for me princess,” he grunts, partially enjoying how tightly you’re clamped around him, “this isn’t an exam.”

It’s impossible to think of a witty retort or even a weak one while you shake around his cock, desperate for him to fill you up. On their own accord, you hips twitch back trying to meet him fully, but he only laughs and keeps you in place.

“I was gonna go easy on you, but since you seem to want me so bad…” he trailed off, slowly dragging himself out, the weight of his cock heavy against your gummy walls, “...you can have me.” His final word is punctuated by a harsh snap of his hips that fills you to the brim.

All you can muster is a broken, little whimper as his thighs continually smack against your backside while he fucks you into the desk. Any regard or concern you had for the world of students or staff outside the thin walls of this room was gone and it appeared his was as well. The wet squelching smacks of your bodies meeting bounced around the walls, the thin carpet failing to dampen much of any noise at all.

Through all of your spasms and twitches his pace was unrelenting. “Go ahead and touch yourself,” he said when he noticed the way your fingers danced around, obviously preoccupied, “wanna feel your pretty, little cunt cum.”

Managing out a little sound of agreement, you quickly wedge your wrist under your body, trying your best to circle your needy clit while he’s ramming you back and forth. It doesn’t take long before your sobbing out, hips rutting against his, feeling the coil deep inside draw you closer and closer to the edge. You keep your fingers in time with his motions, making quick work of your own pleasure, not holding back when you feel the last bit of resistance before your fall.

With a short, choked cry you’re gushing around him, convulsing around his cock while he slows just enough, his own thrusts getting suddenly out of time.

“Good girl.” He groans, a brief surge of pride and energy pushing him to his own finish line, the way you’re still periodically clamping down around him certainly being of some help. “I’m gonna ruin this perfect pussy.” He barely manages to mumble out before he’s holding you deep and close, his cock twitching deep inside of you just before his cum shoots against your walls.

“Feel so good.” You sigh, fully relaxing into his touch, the sleepy haze of your orgasm overtaking your senses. As he comes down from his high, he massages your shoulders, slumping over your own exhausted body and wrapping his arms around your middle. You don’t miss how his fingers cradle just under your breasts, kneading lightly.

“I think,” he starts, still very much out of breath, “we’ll need a couple tutoring sessions, just to clear up everything.”

#suga x reader #suga smut #sugawara x reader #sugawara smut #sugawara koshi x you #sugawara koshi smut #suga x you #hq smut #sugawara koshi x reader

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hoodoo12 · 3 years

Text

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 3/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @mel-time @rainingpaint @infptarius @monsterlovinghours @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @heresathreebee @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe

Monday at the archives went by uneventfully, though Pate did have some difficulty staying awake. She actually ended up going out to her car for her lunch hour and took a nap, the result being that she didn’t eat anything.

Pate was never quite sure these days what she might walk into when she opened her apartment door, but it was unusually quiet when she arrived home. “Beej?” she called out. He’d taken off once or twice before, taking care of she didn’t know what business she didn’t know where, but he’d usually be back before bedtime. Feeling a little more energized thanks to her nap but famished from her skipped meal, Pate changed into loungewear, scrubbed off her makeup, and started preparations for dinner. It didn’t take long, and she would ordinarily wait for Beetlejuice to return from his roaming but she was starved and quickly scarfed down her portion, keeping Beej’s helping warm with a foil tent over the plate.

Unsure what to do with herself with the specter gone, Pate curled up on the couch and put on an animal documentary to wait for him.

⁂

He worked it down to a system.

Find a crack, enlarge it enough to send a tentacle or two to start searching for the next one while he forced the rest of himself through. A few times he was slowed when the scouting tendrils took longer to find the next exit point, and once he was stymied because a crack was above the ‘window’. He had no idea if anyone on the other side of that mirror saw him, or what they thought as he shimmied up the inside of the glass like a striped spider right out of a nightmare.

As Beetlejuice expected, there was no rhyme or reason to any of this, and no way to determine where he was. He could have been halfway around the world or in the apartment next door to Pate’s. Nothing he saw when he looked out--and he looked out of every window--was familiar. Undeterred because he had nothing but time, he kept at it.

Just because he had time, though, didn’t mean he didn’t ache. He’d never worked his tentacles so long that they were sore, and his fingers felt more numb than not. He had no fingernails left and he could feel the scrapes on his face, left after he’d pushed through a hole that wasn’t quite large enough for him to get through.

Hours had to have passed. If he got to Pate’s mirror before she came home, Beej promised himself a rest. Till then, he pressed on.

It seemed a Sisyphean task, this endless clawing into the white space behind mirrors. Evilly, his brain started asking questions like, “how many mirrors were there in the world? What if he was going in a circle? What if Lillian had forced the illusion that he was making progress, when he was still just trapped in her one special mirror?” If he gave into those thoughts or despair, he’d be lost for good. Then, all at once, as he pressed his forehead to the inside of yet another pane of glass to look out, a piece of paper on the outside caught his eye. He’d been through plenty of mirrors that had photos stuck to them, but very few in a bathroom--with the same black and white striped shower curtain as in Pate’s! The photo had curled from the humidity. Around it was a smear of lipstick in the shape of a lopsided heart. She’d been so angry he’d used her favorite shade to add the decoration--with his finger, no less!--but she’d never wiped it away.

He couldn’t see the front of it, of course, but knew the photo: a spontaneous Polaroid shot on her balcony one evening during the golden hour, an old-school selfie taken just because. They’d both been laughing because it had taken time to line it up correctly and not just get hair or half of someone’s face. They’d wasted so much film trying to get a good one. The final shot was the two of them slightly turned towards each other, Pate’s forehead against his temple, her eyes closed and a wide grin on her face. His mouth was slightly open because he’d been caught mid-laugh, but he was smiling too. Both their arms were outstretched because they figured both of them holding the camera might work better. The tips of his hair were pink.

He was home.

Beetlejuice would have cried in relief if he wasn’t so tired. Now all he had to do was wait till Pate came into the bathroom, probably inadvertently scare the crap out of her, and get her to let him out.

⁂

She must have nodded off there on the couch because the next thing Pate knew she was startling awake, heart thumping in her throat. She’d been on the colorful road again in the foggy wood, running from she didn’t know what and towards she didn’t know where.

Pate rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed, swinging her legs to the floor. What she needed was a splash of cold water in her face. Rising to her feet, Pate stretched and squinted at the time on the cable box, noting that Beetlejuice still appeared to be absent. She frowned, slightly unsettled that he had yet to return home.

She padded to the bedroom and on to the bathroom, flipping on the lights. In the sudden brightness she was instantly aware of a figure in the medicine cabinet mirror that was not her own. The initial shock made her jump, but the oh-too-familiar green hair and striped suit made her huff a relenting half smile.

“Okay, Beej, that was a good one. You totally got me,” she said, turning to face him behind her only to find that the room was empty except for her. Brow furrowed, Pate took another moment to look around in case he was hiding and hoping for another shock but there was no sign of him. Turning back to the mirror, where his disembodied reflection still stood with a strange expression on his face, she flashed him a questioning look.

“What’s goin on, Bug?”

Looking more closely at him, Pate noticed that his already mussed hair looked even more awry than normal, and there were marks on his face. Growing concerned, Pate took a step closer, pressed against the counter to lean closer to the cabinet and the mirror with the growing suspicion that something was wrong.

⁂

Time still had no meaning here. He tried the same things on Pate’s mirror that he had in Lillian’s, pounding on the glass with fists and tentacles, to the same zero effect. He even did his best to simply wrench the glass from the wall, but unlike the odd cracks he’d found that was seamless, like it was one solid piece of material. Eventually he gave up and just waited. It was like being in a tomb. He’d had plenty of practice with that, although this was unending light and he could see a portion of the bathroom. That was almost worse torture than just laying in the dark. Pate had to enter here sometime, however. When she did, looking a little like she’d just woken up, it actually startled him. The light was blinding for a moment and he jumped. Pate did too, when she saw him there, and then tiredly derided him for the scare.

He shook his head and said, “No--Pate, baby, you gotta let me out!”

She didn’t see it. She had turned to look behind her as if expecting him to be there.

When she turned back around to face him, she looked confused. She asked him what was going on.

“Pate! Pate!” he shouted, the volume in his voice increasing. “I’m stuck here! I can’t get out, you’ve gotta let me out! I went to see Lillian and she trapped me in her mirror, and then I kept moving from mirror to mirror until I found yours--how long have I been gone? Let me out!” Beej watched her gaze shift from his eyes to his mouth, and realized with growing panic that one, she couldn’t hear him, and two, he just word vomited so much so quickly there was no way she was able to lip-read everything that spilled out of his mouth. He put one hand flat on the glass towards her and licked his lips to try again. Enunciating as best he could, voice still just one notch below yelling, Beetlejuice said, “Pate. I’m stuck. Stuck! Help me get out, baby!” He put his forehead on the glass. The fingers on his outstretched hand, the one pressed palm side to the interior of the glass, trembled as well. The specter lifted his eyes back to her. “Please,” he pleaded.

⁂

Ordinarily after pulling a scare on her, Beetlejuice would be preening like the cat that caught the canary, punctuated with nuzzles and kisses to her forehead and cheeks and statements that he simply couldn’t help himself, she looked so cute when he caught her off guard.

This time, though, he looked positively frantic. His eyes were wide and desperate, his hand pressed flush against the inside of the glass. Pate’s eyes narrowed as his lips moved but she couldn't hear him. She did her best to discern what he was saying by reading his lips, but even then she could only make out a few words.

She thought she caught him say the words “stuck” and “help”. She swallowed, feeling an apprehensive flutter in her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. He was scared, and anything that could scare Beetlejuice was something to be deeply concerned about.

Questions began forming in her mind; how had he gotten himself stuck in her mirror? How could she get him out? The first thought that occurred to her was breaking the mirror, but somehow that didn’t seem like a good plan. What if it hurt him or something?

‘Come on, think!’ she told herself, reaching up to press her hand over the spot where his was in the glass.

Nothing Lillian had taught her seemed to be of any use, it was all about how to keep spirits and specters away, not letting them loose. At that thought she wondered darkly if Lillian might have something to do with this.

“Beej,” she said slowly, in case he couldn’t hear her, too. “Did Lillian do this? Because if she did, I’ll go talk to her right now.”

If the older woman somehow sealed her demon lover away, surely she had the ability to release him, Pate reasoned. And if it meant finally coming clean about having Beetlejuice around, if Lillian refused to teach her anymore because of it, then so be it. She just had to get him out of there.

⁂

Pate putting her hand against his, unable to touch, felt like they were miles apart instead of separated by a layer of glass. He swallowed and ran his free hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t betraying his rising panic with some odd color. She must have picked up something from his spill of words, because she hit on the person who had done this: her mentor. Beej nodded at her query, but Pate’s announcement that she was going to talk to the older woman right now made him pound a fist on his side of the glass in anger and fear. “Yes it was Lillian! But baby don’t--don’t leave me here!” he shouted. “Pate--!” Frustrated and increasingly worried she was going to follow through with her idea to go to Lillian’s right now, walking away from him after he’d clawed his way and only by chance ended up where he wanted to be, Beetlejuice continued to pound on the mirror. A terrifying thought skipped through his head: What if she went back to Lillian’s and he needed to be in Lillian’s mirror to be let out?!

He’d have to get back to the old woman’s apartment. Frantically he glanced in the direction he’d entered this space and to his ultimate fear, it was once again plain unending white. There was no broken seam, no evidence he’d ever been anywhere but where he was right now. That threw him into a state of even more panic, and without warning Pate, he stepped away from the window.

A tentacle immediately nosed the spot he thought he’d come in, but found nothing. His fingers found nothing. The seam he’d torn apart was nonexistent. He’d have to find another to try and leave this mirror, and who knew where that would take him. Where would he be? Could he find his way back to Lillian’s? A whine that he now knew Pate couldn’t hear escaped his lips. Beej pushed himself back to his feet and went back to the window. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Ties That Bind

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dc41896 · 3 years

Text

Attention

Pairing: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst (if it even counts really), also tiny bit of implied happy times, but mostly fluff💕!

Re-reading over your notes for what felt like the millionth time this week, you softly mumble to yourself the highlighted material hoping that everything would remain stuck in your mind for your practical tomorrow.

“Intramuscular means within the muscle and is given at a 90 degree angle. Intravenous means within the vein, given at a 25 degree angle. Subcutaneous: in the subcutaneous layer at a 45 degree angle. And finally intradermal-,”

“Psst....psst!!”

If only your boyfriend would stop being a grown man child and let you finish studying though.

“Yes Johnny?,” you sigh still looking down at your binder.

“Take a break, I want to show you something.”

“No Johnny we’re not doing that again.”

“I wasn’t talking about that princess,” he smirks moving to lean against the bedroom door frame. “Although I’m not complaining if you want more.”

Giving him a look clearly showing how you weren’t in the mood, he chuckles holding up his hands to show he was done joking.

“Seriously though I want to show you something, so can you please come with me?”

“Just tell me, or take a picture of it on your phone and show me that way. I really have to keep studying and don’t have time for a bunch of breaks.” Straightening up, a low huff leaves his lips as you hear him pad through the living room before coming back holding a new action figure posed as if about to throw a handful of flames.

“Look! It’s me!,” he beams squatting next to you holding out the toy for you to see.

“Mhm that’s nice babe,” you smile not really displaying the reaction he wanted you to.

“I see you’re having a hard time containing your excitement,” he retorts sarcastically, bringing his mini me back towards his chest.

“It really is nice babe, it’s just similar to some of your other toys that I’ve already seen.”

“But with this one, the little flame lights up. See?” Pressing the small button on the back to show the tiny, plastic flame glowing scarlet, a wide smile spreads across his face making you giggle.

“Yes very cool. Now if that’s all, I gotta get back to this okay?”

“Alright,” he sighs standing up to return to his spot on the couch probably cold by now. “Why don’t you come study out here? It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the floor.”

“Because you’re watching tv and that’s gonna distract me.”

“Not anymore. The game’s off so I’m done for the night,” he playfully smiles stealing one of your study packets making you whine his name. “Cmon you know you’d rather sit on the big, soft, incredibly comfy couch.”

Wiggling his brows, you roll your eyes trying to focus back on the words in front of you, but as always, seeing his adorable pout was wearing you down. Plus the ache in your buttcheeks was really making the couch, or any soft piece of furniture for that matter, sound like heaven.

“And, as an added bonus, your incredibly hot, charming, all around amazing boyfriend will be there.”

“Johnny...”

“As!...support and to help anyway I can of course. What did you think?,” he feigns shock as you shake your head.

“Alright fine. But if you try to distract me just once, I’m kicking you out for the rest of the night, and you’ll have to either get a hotel, or crash with Reed and Sue.”

“Okay deal,” he chuckles helping you stand and gather the packets, pens, and highlighters you needed to continue your attempted all nighter.

Sat in the middle of the plush sectional with one of his legs draped over your folded ones and the other stretched out behind you, so far he’d done well on his agreement. He stayed busy on his phone watching sports highlights with earbuds attached to his head, and hardly ever touched you unless to give a reassuring hug when he could sense you were getting overwhelmed, or softly dance his finger along your arm making you smile. He even started quizzing you from whichever packet you were on as you lied just below his chest playing with his free hand.

From how he was earlier, seemingly a bit more clingy and not wanting to be away from you, something told you deep down this was all he wanted. Just feeling your body near him as you did whatever, no matter how boring the task was. And although a little distracting, you couldn’t be completely mad at him for his antics since deep down you know you wanted it too.

Honestly need may be the better word judging from your noticeably calmer state. Even Johnny could feel your heart rate gradually decrease to its normal speed through his body.

Soon his yawn began to trigger your own set and eyelids became heavy as the questions came slower along with your answers. You tried to fight it off, but apparently your body had other plans making it increasingly more difficult to open your eyes until both of your light snores were the only sound that could be heard throughout the room.

———

“Good morning Mr. Johnny Storm, Miss Y/N,” the computerized security system greets opening the curtains to reveal the bright sun and cause you to stir. Rubbing your eyes, you see all the packets spread on the glass coffee table quickly reminding you of your exam.

“Sherlock, what time is it?,” you ask in a panic as you sit up causing Johnny to shift slightly without opening his eyes.

Also, why he decided to name the computer system Sherlock, you’d never understand.

“11:30 am miss.”

Grabbing your packets as fast as you can, a string of curses fall from your lips as you run about trying to collect your things. By now you were supposed to be on campus looking over your notes one last time before going in for your slot time at 12. At this rate, you’d definitely be over an hour late and received an automatic zero.

“What’s the rush princess?,” your boyfriend tiredly asks stretching his arms over his head as he stands.

“I overslept and I’m late,” you sniff trying to hold back your tears as you search through drawers trying to find your scrubs. “Where are they?”

Joining you in the room, he tries to kiss your cheek only to miss you completely as you rush past him still looking for your clothes.

“Closet babe. By my suit.”

“Well what about the other ones since those need to be washed now?”

“In the basket to be washed.”

“You mean the same clothes in the basket I asked you to wash last weekend,” you retort changing into the faint ash smelling scrubs. Noticing you wiping your eyes a bit more frequently, he manages to grab your arm stopping you from wherever else you needed to go.

“Johnny seriously I don’t have time for this-,”

“Relax okay? Let’s try to call your professor and tell them what happened to see if you can get a new time.”

“It’s not gonna work. This isn’t an emergency situation, I just overslept like an idiot,” you answer pulling away to finish the rest of your morning routine in the bathroom.

He sighs hearing you bang about while pulling his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants trying to find the number for your school. His upcoming events list popping up though makes him deeply chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Oh honey...!”

“Johnny please don’t start. I’m already frustrated a-and overwhelmed trying to figure out what to do and just need to-.” Holding his phone in front of your eyes, you see his calendar showing all his important meetings and interviews, along with your test date.

Which wasn’t until next Monday.

Pulling your phone from your backpack, you go to your calendar to find the same thing making you feel even dumber.

“...S-So I don’t have my test today?”

“No princess,” he smiles coming closer to caress your face with both hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“And I stayed up all night this week studying for nothing?”

“Well not for nothing. You know your stuff now, so you won’t have to worry about it later.”

“Yea,” you sigh looking up at him as you hold onto his strong forearms. “Sorry for snapping at you about the laundry, and for kinda being cranky yesterday.”

“You were stressed. I get it.”

“But still, there were things I could’ve said differently-.”

“I forgive you,” he smiles leaning in to meet your soft lips with his in a needy kiss he’d been craving since yesterday. Biting your bottom lip as he just barely pulls away, your hands wander from his forearms to his flexed biceps, shoulders, and eventually chest stopping to graze your index finger along the small dip below his neck.

“Well since I don’t have an exam today and no classes, I was thinking...”

“Oh I think I know,” he smirks tilting his head lower to nip at your jaw and neck making you giggle.

“I help you do the laundry.” As soon as the sentence left your mouth, his stopped making you laugh harder while he groaned against your skin.

“Alright I promise it’ll get done today, but can’t we do it later?,” he whines with puppy eyes, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his hips as if trying to persuade you.

“Let me finish. We do the laundry so I can have clean scrubs and between loads, I give you all the attention I know you’ve been wanting that I wasn’t fully able to give this week.”

“Hey it’s not like I’ve been that-,” he tries to deny before meeting your eyes as if they were saying “really?”

“...yes please,” he smiles before his mouth returns to your smiling lips.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @scoop93535

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found on my masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#johnnyxwoc #johnnyxblackreader #johnnyxreader #johnny storm #fantastic four #chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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teamhappyme · 3 years

Text

my world is grey without you

pairing: nick amaro x reader

warnings: tissues. this is not happy.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is pure sadness. i am so sorry, it is all hurt and the smallest pin point of comfort. my first nick amaro fic, and it’s gonna be ~heartbreaking~ but this idea has been in my head for weeks. hope you enjoy some of the pain im serving.

****

You think Mother Nature must be in tune to your emotions, when you wake up that early May morning. The clouds were grey, rain pouring from the sky, collecting in puddles on the cracked sidewalks of New York City. If you had to describe to someone how you were feeling today, you would just tell them to look outside. You felt as gloomy as it was in the city today.

Normally, your walk to the coffee shop was bright and full of sunshine, especially during spring. The flowers were starting to bloom, the sun was staying out longer, and the weather finally started to reach past sixty degrees. Instead it was filled with droopy tulips and black umbrellas covering everyone’s faces.

You got your usual order, and one black coffee to go, hailing a cab across town to your destination. You planned on walking yesterday; the half hour walk would help clear your head and calm your nerves. But today, it would only leave you wet and cold.

Once you pulled up to the brick apartment building, you paid the driver and quickly ran up the stoop and into the entrance. You buzzed apartment 3G, and after a few seconds, you were let in. You rode the elevator up to the third floor, your foot tapping against the linoleum floor the entire time.

You stepped out and took a right down the hall, stopping at the fourth door on the left. After three knocks, the door swung open, and there stood the man of the hour.

“Hey, Nick.” you gave him a small smile, lifting the black coffee you got for him on your way here. “I know it’s early, but I figured this may help you with any last minute packing.”

“I,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “what are you doing here?”

“What, you think you can just leave without a proper send off from your partner? Besides, I’ve owed you this coffee for three years. I had to pay up before you left.”

That got a smile out of him, as he reached for the coffee, and opened the door up a little wider.

“Come on in,” the foyer of Nick Amaro’s apartment usually greeted you with an onslaught of pictures of Zara and Gil, accompanied by many drawings and art projects from the young girl. Now on his last morning here, the walls were stark white, void of anyone ever living here.

“I can’t believe you got this place packed up so fast. It took us a whole day just to get that giant brown couch into the apartment.” You said, as your eyes looked over what was once the living room.

“Well, that’s what movers are for.” He followed in behind you, taking in the apartment he called home for the last two years. He moved in to the first place he could find, not wanting to spend another minute thinking about living without his baby girl. “I would offer you a seat, but my furniture is in a u-haul, probably crossing Kansas right about now.”

You smiled, as you crossed your ankles and sat criss cross applesauce on the hardwood floor. “That’s alright. I prefer the floor anyways, keeps me grounded.”

You were ready for the pointed stare you got from him, only making you laugh harder at your awful pun.

“Three years we’ve been partners, and you still have awful jokes I’ve never heard.”

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes, Amaro.” he sat down next to you, leaning back on his hands and crossing one foot over the other. You knew there wasn’t much time before he had to head to the airport; you purposely gave yourself a small window to minimize the hurt. “How long do I have you for until you head for the sunshine?”

He looked down at his watch, letting out a small sigh as he checked the time. “My cab will be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Alright. Then we have twenty minutes to make the best cop movie script out of our careers together.”

And for the next twenty minutes, you remembered almost every moment you spent with Detective Nick Amaro. From the first day you met, which had a rocky start, to the day he turned in his papers to be with his kids. There were stories of stakeouts that always included pizza and blaring rock music to keep you awake, monday morning bets on who would be in the precinct last, and endless amounts of coffee runs to keep the other person going.

There was a lot of trust built between the two of you over the last three years. Nick had been through hell and back in the time you were partnered together, and there was no choice but to trust each other. At work, he needed somebody he could trust without any doubt, and you made it so easy for him. The kindness and empathy you treated him with from the beginning, even when he didn’t deserve it, made a difference in his life. There was no one else he’d trust with his life more than you.

After some time, you two were in sync with one another. You always knew what the other person needed, whether that was a coffee, space, or comfort, the two of you knew what to do. It made work that much easier, it made the bad days that much better, when you didn’t have to tell them how you were feeling; they just knew.

You had just finished the story about your first undercover op together, when his phone lit up.

“My ride is five minutes out.” he said, the trip down memory lane coming to an end. Your smile morphed from a shiny grin, into a small close mouthed line. It was time to say goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out,” you got out, barely above a whisper, as Nick stood up. He held his hand out to you, helping you onto your feet.

You watched as he grabbed his backpack from his room, patting his pockets to double check he had his phone, wallet, and boarding pass. He took one last look around the place before walking out and closing the door behind him for the last time.

The elevator ride down was quiet, you spent those thirty seconds regulating your breathing and swallowing the growing lump in the back of your throat. This wasn’t about you.

Once the doors opened to the lobby, you felt soft fingers inching their way into your palm, lighty holding you together. You looked over at Nick, slowly, but he was looking straight ahead. You saw the twitch in his jaw, and the bob of his adam’s apple, and you knew he was holding back his own tears.

Moving your hand the slightest bit, your fingers fell into place with his. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before following him out.

The rain had subsided considerably since you arrived, the downpour now more of a spring mist. You stood at the edge of the sidewalk with him for a few minutes, until he got the notification that the car was only five blocks away.

“Well, are you ready to turn into a Cali boy?” you asked, finally turning to see his face.

“I’m ready for no more New York winters. I am gonna miss just about everything else, though.”

“But you’ll have Zara, and Gil, and that’s all that really matters.” you said with a smile, while gently letting go of his hand. “Besides, I’ll make sure to send you endless videos of me shoveling myself out of my apartment building, just to let you know you made the right decision.”

“Please, please keep that promise and send me those videos. There is nothing more amusing than you swearing at snow.” you rolled your eyes, and nudged his shoulder in annoyance.

Instead of bouncing back off his body, you felt his arm snake around your waist. You leaned into his touch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You felt the exhale of his breath before you heard it, along with the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” he started, as you focused on the way his fingers were moving up and down along your hip. “I wouldn’t have made it through everything without you.”

“I was your partner,” you said, the past tense already tasting like bile on your tongue. “I would’ve done anything for you. And I know you would’ve done anything for me.” You turned your head the slightest bit, just enough to see his face. “I’m gonna miss you too. More than I already do.”

He looked down at you, his brown eyes full of emotion and tears. His eyes flickered to your lips for the smallest moment, and you nodded, giving in to the moment, and the man you cared so much for.

His lips met yours in a chaste kiss, just long enough for you to remember what it felt like to hold Nick Amaro this close.

He pulled away, gently resting his forehead against your own. You let the moment last as long as it could, before the inevitable beep left Nick’s phone. They were here.

You pulled away from him, your waist growing cold without his arm wrapped around you. There was a beep from a blue car a few cars up, and you let out a sigh.

“Your ride’s here, Cali boy.” you said with a smile, wiping away the stray tear that traced your cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t. Call me, whenever you need me, alright?” you nodded, trying to memorize the smile on his face. He found your hand one last time, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I will. Now, go, you’re gonna miss your flight if you hit any lunch traffic.” He looked up the street to the cab, before looking back at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and then your lips one last time.

“I’ll see you later, y/n/n.” he said, and you watched him walk down the streets of New York City for the last time.

But you knew you would cross paths with Nick Amaro again one day.

****

tags: @hurricanejjareau @qvid-pro-qvo @crazyshannonigans

#nick amaro x reader #nick amaro fanfiction #nick amaro fic #nick amaro #law and order: svu fanfiction #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu #jules writes shit ??

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crashdevlin · 4 years

Text

Centerfold 3- Pink

Centerfold Masterlist

Author’s Note: Written for Meghan who requested some fluffy A/B/O smut and then I came up with an idea and ran with it. Smut will start after the plot is established. Also, this is gonna go toward my @spnabobingo squares. This chapter fills my First Time square and is rated E for Explicit.

Summary: Dean and Y/n can't get enough of each other.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Reader

Word count: 3104

Story Warnings: kissing, A/B/O dynamics, teenagers (16 and 17 years old) having sex, loss of virginity, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! , protected sex, no knotting, a bit of angst at the end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean felt disgusting. After three days of sweating and masturbating and punching walls, he was ready to feel like normal again...whatever normal was now that he was a presented alpha.

“Thanks for your help the last few days, Sammy.” He ruffled his brother’s hair as he walked out of the bathroom to get his clothes on. “Hate that you missed so much school.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I was already ahead of where the rest of these kids are. It’s not a big deal.” Sam moved to grab his backpack and swiped a piece of paper off of the table. “The girl you spent Monday with stopped by Tuesday after school. She left her number, said call between four and six.”

Dean groaned as he looked at the phone number. “Man...you think I could fool the school into letting me stay in the main building?”

“Nah. Probably not. These places always have an old lady with a nose like a hound dog. You’re gonna end up in the satellite building.”

“Damn it...I’m gonna end up in the satellite building at every damn school.”

“Get over it, Dean. You have two more years. Deal.”

Dean sighed. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and quit that stupid education institution and get my GED, instead.”

“What? No, Dean. Just to avoid being taught by the alpha teachers, you wanna quit? Get your head outta your ass and deal with it. I'm not gonna quit when I present. Dad didn't quit when he did."

"No, he ran off and joined the Marines!" Dean exclaimed. "He ran off to fight, with a bunch of other Jarhead alphas because he couldn't handle living with regular fellas. I'd just be getting a jump on where I'm headed in the first place...it's not like I need a diploma to gank ghosts."

"Okay, but what if...one day you wanna have a real life?" Sam asked. "Away from Dad and hunting and all this junk. If you quit school-"

"I'm not ever gonna have a real life, Sam. Never have, never will."

“That’s your choice, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a choice, it was his life. “Let’s just go.” Dean knew he was going to have to go to the front office when he got to the school, have his classes moved to the alpha classes in the satellite building, but he wanted to see Y/n first. No...he needed to see Y/n. He sneaked in past the teachers to head to C-Hall. He was just about to head into Mr. Phillips’ class when the tall man stepped into the doorway. “Mr. Winchester. You shouldn’t be in this building.”

Dean’s nose crinkled at the scent coming off the teacher. No wonder the man was a pushover with a bad attitude. Omega. “Look, I just wanted to-”

“You need to go to the other building.”

Dean could feel a growl bubbling up in his chest and he could see Mr. Phillips starting to cower when a flash of pink caught his eye. Y/n bounced out of the classroom and put a soothing hand on Dean’s shoulder...which immediately sedated him. “I’m sure Dean just needs an escort to the Alpha building. He’s new so I’m sure he doesn’t know where he needs to go. I’ll take him!” she volunteered.

“No. Miss Y/l/n, I can’t let you-”

“Are you going to take him? You look like you’re about to roll into a ball like a pillbug. I’m not presented. It’s fine. I’ll walk him over and be back before the Pledge. Come on, Dean.” She didn’t wait for the teacher to answer, just pushing Dean down the hall away from Mr. Phillips’ room. She pushed him into the wall by the front office and went to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you know you have to be in the satellite school.”

“I had to see you.” He leaned down and slotted his lips over hers. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You coulda waited by my car after school.” Dean felt a little stupid. He hadn’t even considered that. He just needed to see her again. He needed to see her pink t-shirt and he needed to smell her flower smell and he needed to see her smile and hear her laugh and taste her lips and--He leaned down to kiss her again, hands going to her hips to pull her against him. She looked a bit flustered as she pulled away. “We can’t do this here! If we get caught, my parents will kill me! Go to the office, have your schedule changed and after school-”

“I get to see you after school?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just have to shower your scent off as soon as I get home.” She leaned back in and took a deep breath, whimpering loudly. “You smell even better now.” She shook herself out of her stupor and sighed. “I’ll see you after school, Dean. I’m parked in the same spot. Meet me later.”

Dean watched her disappear back down C-Hall, wanting nothing more than to follow her. “After school. I’ll see her after school,” he reminded himself before turning and finishing his trek to the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was leaning against her trunk as soon as the final bell rang. She was on his mind all day. He had an inkling feeling of need. He seemed almost empty when he was away from her...like something was missing.

She obviously felt the same because she ran out of the main school building and jogged across the lot, dropping her backpack and launching herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He twisted them, pushing her into the trunk of her car and licking into her mouth. “Need you,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Shit, wish your car had a backseat,” he said, pulling back.

“Well...we could...go to the park and...hang out in the jungle gym and...then...I…” She took a deep breath and put her hand on his chest. “My brothers have a competition in Spokane tomorrow. I’ll have the house to myself all day.”

Dean’s throat went dry as he looked down into her eyes. She wanted him to come over to her house while her parents were gone? He’d done a lot of things with a lot of girls, but this was different. He was alpha now...and she wasn’t omega yet. What if his knot popped? What if he hurt her? What if- “I’d love to come over.” She smiled and pushed him away, walking over to grab her backpack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/n dropped Dean off at Jefferson Middle, he was covered in hickies and had a hard on that just wouldn’t quit. “You gonna be okay by yourself for a few hours tomorrow?” Dean asked as they started walking toward the Charles. “I, uh, have a date.”

“A date? What, with her?” Sam gestured at the retreating Mercedes.

“Yeah, with her. I don’t wanna date any other girl. She’s...she’s mine, Sammy.” Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t argue it. He had homework to catch up on from his days off.

Dean didn’t care about catching up on his work. He only cared about Y/n. He only cared about her picking him up in her Mercedes and running her fingers through his hair as she drove toward the suburbs. He only cared about kissing her passionately as they entered her two-story home. He only cared about her leading him up the staircase to her bedroom. He chuckled when she opened her door. Her walls were pink, her bedding lilac, her bed covered in stuffed bears and bunnies. “Wow. You...have a very pink room.”

She smiled and swept her stuffed animals onto the floor. “I like pink.”

“I like you,” he said, immediately hating how cheesy that sounded...but she seemed to like it. She bit her lip and flopped down on the bed. “We, uh, gonna make out?”

She nodded, reaching over to pull open her side table drawer and grab a three-pack box of condoms. “And...more...if you...want?”

“Oh, god, yes,” he whispered, pulling his jacket off and tossing it to the floor. She looked nervous as he moved to sit next to her on the soft mattress. “You okay?”

She looked down bashfully. “I’ve never done this before,” she whispered. “I’ve never gone past...ya know...foolin’ around at the park.” Her cheeks were on fire. She wanted him more than anything, but she was definitely nervous to go all the way.

“Oh...baby, that’s okay. We...we don’t have to-”

“No!” she exclaimed, turning to him. “I want to. I want to so much. I just...don’t know how good I’ll be at it. I’m sure you’ve been with a lot of girls that know what they’re doing and-”

Dean reached over and grabbed her hand. “Y/n, baby, you...I’ve only been with two girls...and I’d…” He chuckled and reached up with his free hand to tip her head back. “I’m not the best at it. We just gotta, you know, take our time and remember it’s not a race. I want you to get there just as much as I want me to get there.”

She swallowed thickly and leaned closer. “And you can...get me there?”

“Oh, I’m sure gonna fuckin’ try, baby,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss her. They immediately moved to tangle themselves together on the bed, groping at each other and pulling their clothes off. He couldn’t help but think about what she was going to smell like when she presented because she smelled so fucking good now. Especially when he got his hand up the skirt of her dress and started rubbing at her through her panties. “Damn, you smell so good.”

“Dean,” she whimpered and he almost came right then and there.

“You ever been fingered, Y/n?”

She nodded. “It hurt. His nails were-”

“My nails are clean...and short. Can I show you what it’s supposed to feel like?” Dean wanted nothing more than to feel exactly how wet Y/n was, to find out what made her whimper and cry out and scream. God, he wanted to make her scream. But not until he heard her say ‘yes’.

“Please.”

Dean had never heard a more beautiful word.

He slipped his right hand into her panties and rubbed at the place he knew would make her moan, fumbling to find her clit. He’d seen enough porn in his almost seventeen years that he knew where to go. She jerked when he found it, gasping loudly and grabbing at his shoulder. “How’s that feel, baby?”

“So good!”

“Let me make it better.” He leaned over and kissed her as he slipped his middle finger down to her entrance. She was soaking wet and his finger slid in with absolutely no resistance. He started thrusting his finger in and out of her, licking into her mouth as he pressed the heel of his palm against her clit. “That good?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yeah,” she whispered back.

“I think I can make you cum like this. Just one finger in your pretty pussy. You think you can cum like this?”

Her cunt clenched around his finger. Seemed she liked dirty talk just as much as him. “I’unno,” she squeaked.

“I think you can, baby. Come on.” He put extra pressure on her clit and she whimpered as her body went stiff. Her eyes rolled back and her breath caught as her orgasm hit her. Dean’s jaw dropped at the animated way she reacted, how she almost arched off the bed. “Damn. That was awesome.”

“Yeah it was. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve lived in motels my whole life. Sometimes there’s skin flicks on the premium channels.”

She giggled and kissed him. “I’ve never watched a movie like that. I found my dad’s magazines in his dresser, though.” She pulled at his boxers as she nibbled on his bottom lip. “Put the condom on, Dean.”

He nodded and stood up, dropping his boxers to her floor and grabbing the box of condoms. When he turned back to her, she was staring at his dick, her jaw hanging. He couldn’t help a cocky smirk. “Well, you get in bed with an alpha, this is what you’re gonna get.” She looked away, embarrassed that she got caught staring. He looked down as fear filled her scent. “We don’t have to. I don’t wanna hurt you. You could just give me a handy j…”

“No! I want to. Just...make sure you go slow?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he repeated, rolling the condom down his erection.

He laid his body over hers and kissed her slowly, grinding his erection into her mound as they made out. When he thought they were ready, he leaned back and reached down, lining his dick up with her entrance. Her eyes were wide with fear, but her pupils were wide with lust. She grabbed his biceps and looked into his eyes as he started pushing his hips forward...slowly, so slowly that it almost hurt him. Her nails dug into his arms, her jaw dropping as he pushed forward more, pulling back and pushing forward to get in most of the way. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

He stopped moving and looked down at her. “You okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Yeah, it’s just...a lot.”

“Can I...can I start movin’?” he asked, softly.

“Slowly,” she reminded him and he nodded, rolling his hips to make her gasp.

He moved slowly, hands twisted in her pillow to keep himself from letting himself go. This was different from his other two, okay three but he didn’t last very long the first time, times. He really wanted her to enjoy herself, he really wanted to do this right, he really wanted to last more than five minutes.

Breathe. Penthouse said breathe deep and treat it like running a marathon.

“Fuck. You feel really good,” he groaned, kissing her jawline.

“Yeah. This is...I mean...you can go faster, I think?” He almost didn’t want to hear that...because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself. But he moved faster, thrusting into her and loving the way she whimpered with each pump of his hips. “Oh, shit!”

“Too much?” he grunted into her ear.

“No! No, I love it!” she exclaimed. “Please, don’t stop!”

“God, you’re so perfect.”

He couldn’t last much longer. He tried. He thought about baseball, imagined his father’s disappointed face, but he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder as his cock twitched inside her, an intense feeling stealing his breath away as he came into the condom. He pulled out of her and dropped to the bed next to her, ignoring the condom on his softening dick as he pulled her into his arms.

“That was amazing. So fucking awesome,” he whispered into her hairline.

“You didn’t pop a knot,” she whispered. “I was...scared of that.” She looked up and caught his eyes. “Thank you, Dean. This was...perfect.”

“You deserve perfect, Y/n.” He looked away from her to stare at the ceiling. “You’re gonna have to clean my scent outta your whole room or your parents are gonna lose their minds.”

“Yeah. Later. They won’t be back for another twelve hours.”

“Awesome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You weren’t supposed to be gone all day, Dean,” Sam complained as soon as Dean walked into the motel room.

“I told you, I had a date, Sammy.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell Dad. He called while you were gone,” Sam said and Dean’s eyes went wide. He was supposed to be at the motel. John was going to tan his hide for being gone when he called. “I covered for you, said you were at the corner store. He wants you to call him.”

Dean sighed. Sammy came through for him, but what did John want? “Thanks, Sammy. He tell you what he wanted?”

“No, but I think he’s coming to get us. He had that ‘new hunt’ tone in his voice.”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed. “We just got here! I can’t leave yet!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We don’t have a choice. We never have a choice. Call him.”

Dean looked at the phone on the table by the bed with disdain. No choice was right...but he didn’t have to like it. In fact, he hated it. The idea of leaving Olympia, leaving Y/n...before she presented, before he got to have her as his omega...it was disastrous.

He had to fight himself to make himself pick up the phone and dial the number. “What took you so long to get back to me, son?” John asked when the phone connected.

“I got distracted while I was out. Sorry, Dad. Was it time-sensitive?”

“No. I just wanted to let you know I caught wind of what may be a werewolf in Connecticut. We’re gonna pull up stakes and head out tomorrow.”

“Connecticut? The other side of the damn country?” Dean whined.

“You wanna try that again, Dean?” John snapped.

Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. “Sorry. I mean...we just got here, Dad. Isn’t there someone else that can go to Connecticut?”

“I know you just got there...but it’s a wolf, Dean. There aren’t a lot of hunters who could handle a hunt like this. It has to be me.”

“Yeah, but why’s it have to be me?” Dean snapped before he could stop it.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Never mind. We’ll get packed. See you when you get here. Bye, Dad.” He slammed the phone into its cradle and punched the wall in rage. “This is bullshit!”

“You should call her,” Sam suggested from across the room.

Dean sighed and nodded. “Yeah...but what do I even say? ‘Thanks for your virginity, you’re never gonna see me again’?”

“I didn’t need to hear that, Dean. But, come on, it’s not like you thought you’d get to stay with her.”

“I thought I’d get to stay a little while, ya know? We usually get a few weeks, a couple months, but this...a week?” He dropped to his bed and buried his face in his hands. “What am I gonna tell her?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala

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#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!dean x reader #teenchesters #teen loving #loss of virginity

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Gonna Be Home Soon

Time’s passed and things don’t feel better. It’s like settling, accepting, the new normal. But sometimes exceptions can be made to the rules.

My fingers slipped. Part 2 of Away for a Moment.

Enjoy my masterlist

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________________________________

When Calum’s phone rings at 8:05 am, he doesn’t waste a second to answer it. He’s been anticipating this call ever since the two of you talked last night and you mentioned errands you needed to run in the morning. And there you are, grinning into the camera, the morning sun bright behind you.

“Morning,” you chirp.

“Morning, love,” he returns, falling back into the mass of pillows on his bed. “Waiting for the bus?”

“Nah, the store’s not too far and I’m already half way there.”

He nods, a hum falling over his lips. Your breathing is a little heavy. He can hear the pants as you walk. There’s a bit of a hill on the way there, if his memory serves him correctly. “Sleep okay?”

You shrug, ducking under a tree to take a short cut up to the concrete steps that lead you into the tiny shopping center. “Slept alright. Woke up in the night sweating my ass off.”

“What about your fan?”

“It was on. I had just cocooned myself and got to hot that’s all. What about you? How’d you sleep?”

Calum starts to answer but like his body knows, a yawn interrupts him. “ ‘Cuse me. Slept okay. Still trying to wake up even though I’ve been up for a while.”

“I’m sorry, love. I can let you go. You need rest.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He doesn’t it say it but you know just by looking at him that even if he were dead tired he’d answer your call. And you know it’s because of the two incidents you told him about while just out. Approached once by men who was too chatty for your comfort—asking too many questions about you personally. And then someone asked for directions which wouldn’t have been weird but they never got off at the stop that you gave them directions for. So when you got off at your stop in front of a gas station you marched right into it and lingered until you were sure the bus had passed.

You don’t regret telling Calum about these strange encounters. And Calum knew you could defend yourself but he didn’t want you to have too. He didn’t like that you had to be on alert and that you were always looking over your shoulder. He knew you would and did still do it in LA with him. He knew all the times you had gone out without before. But he had always been close by. And now he’s not. He’s miles away, across state lines and though he’s not too far it’s still far enough for him to worry more than he did before.

You walk into the Wal-Mart and grab a basket, cradling your phone in one hand. “Wow, it’s kinda quiet in here.”

Calum remembers previous how packed the place was when he helped you move and how you recounted going on a Saturday and immediately regretting it.

“Better hurry,” he teases, looking to Duke who’s now waiting at the edge of the bed. His ears are perked up. Calum picks him up and sets him on his chest.

Your screen when you glance back down is full of Duke’s face and his fur hiding away Calum. But that’s perfectly fine by you. “My boy! Is pops treating you well?”

Duke barks in response to the question. His snout pressing into the screen almost as if that will bring you closer to him. You don’t even realize tears are welling until one falls and hits your screen. “Love you Duke.”

He barks again at the sound of your voice, leaping off Calum to unearth your sweatshirt he buried into the sheets.

“Oh Duke gets tears but I don’t? I see how it is.”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks. “Shut up. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until just then. I know I miss you.”

“Hey, no, I’m just teasing. Is too soon for a visit?”

Calum knows it’s only just over a month. Maybe a full month and a half since the last time he visited. He’s not really sure. All he knows that the days are long. All the clothes you’ve left behind have lost all your scent. Big’s too big and most nights Calum falls asleep on the couch. You text him though well before he falls asleep to make it to the bedroom. You beg him really, knowing that it’s better to have a healthy sleeping schedule. Sometimes he makes it, even sends a selfie from underneath the covers, pouting of course.

In the studio, things feel normal. He can focus on the tasks at hands. And he still can crack jokes. The guys know though. They can all tell that Calum lingers around his phone more so than usual. He takes every call, even the ones that he’d normally ignore because he can tell they’re probably spam. But he takes them know because he can’t be sure it’s not you. Sometimes, he wishes it was you, instead of some bullshit car insurance scam.

The other guys can tell Calum’s a little down in the dumps because when they ask him if he wants to join for dinner, he declines. And it’s not like he couldn’t shoot you a text saying that he’ll have to push back the FaceTime until later, or just hold off until tomorrow. It’s not like you’d flip your shit. But instead, he holds to those FaceTime dates. He holds for the times even if he’s writing, he can glance to his phone and see you riding the bus or walking into your classes.

It’s the new normal and though Calum misses the way it used to be. It’s his new normal that keeps him mostly sane. It’s this new normal that helps Calum orient his days. Monday you text early in the morning to head into your office and you message at every stop too. And then around 2 he can call, after you’re done with one stint of classes. On Tuesdays, you morning starts early but he can call during your morning commute. Wednesdays he knows that it’ll mostly be a text day, you have meetings all in the morning and then classes well into the afternoon. Thursday start to lighten up and you can FaceTime most the day of the day minus the tutoring hours you’re putting in. And Fridays, Fridays are Calum’s solace. He can wake early, knowing you’re up early too, and he can be there for just about everything. It’s your reading day too. So you two talk mostly in the morning while you run errands.

Like today, as you pull out your grocery list, Calum watches you smile at the folks passing you by. “What’s on the list today, love?”

“Batteries. Restock on the veggies and figure out what’s for dinner for the next couple of days. I found these two recipes that I want to try. Just can’t decide on which one.”

“What are they?”

“One’s a chili recipe. Other one is a one pot spaghetti recipe.”

“I vote chili. You can freeze part of the portion for next week.”

You nod, with a hum. “Smart call. Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Calum laughs, scooping Duke back up into his arms. “Not my devilishly handsome good looks.”

“You’re hot, don’t get my wrong. But it’s what? Two years in now? Good looks don’t make a relationship. But they do help.”

“I see, loving me for my brains. I can’t say I’m upset with that.” The aisle aren’t clear as you walk down. But you pause. Calum can’t really see where, thinks it might be the clothes or close to it. You hold up a cartoon sports bra, wiggling your eyebrows. Calum whistles. “Hot.”

You snort. “I’ll pair it with my school sweatpants.”

“Doubly hot,” Calum snickers.

As you wonder about, you show small things to Calum, laughing together as you goof about in Wal-Mart. You show Calum a T-shirt that says ‘I can’t people today’ stating that you need that saying tattooed to your forehead. Even though you’ve gotten into a routine it’s still hard some days just to deal with any other human being. Calum’s always enjoyed watching you, even if it’s just you reading the ingredients lists on the back of box. And you do it out of habit now, taking the time to make sure nothing has changed in the ingredients list. Depending on what it is, sometimes there’s a recipe.

“How many bags of mango slices do you go through in a week?” Calum asks, watching the package fall into your cart.

You duck your head, speeding down the aisle even though you’re reaching back for another bag. “We do not talk about that.”

“You’re going to have a whole mango budget!”

“At least it’s better than you and your Oreos,” you sass back, waiting for the elderly couple to cross in front of you. “How many packs are you up to in a week?”

“Two,” he states through a mumbles. “But I’m cutting back!”

The giggles dissipate and you warn Calum that you’ll have to put him in your back pocket while you check out. It’s not a bad haul and you’re glad for it. You’re trying to keep the weekly grocery spending low, since the rent’s a little high at your place. With all your groceries bagged, you find your reusable bag and then head for the bus stop. Though it’ll take it a little far out of the way, it beats hauling your groceries up two hills and reduces it to one.

The morning’s growing warmer and Calum can see the beads of sweat as you walk down to the stop. He knows he ought to get up too. He should think about getting grocery, and washing the bedsheets, and scrub the bathroom. He doesn’t want to. He wants to wrap his arms around you and bury his nose in your neck and inhale the smell of your shampoo and body wash.

Once you’re safe into your apartment grocery sitting on the counter, you say your goodbyes. It’s in Calum’s eyes. The way the tears don’t fully form but they do glaze over his eyes and you know. It’s going to be a hard day. And if it weren’t for the 200 pages you had to read between your classes, you would’ve stayed longer on the call. You almost ask if he wants to stay on as you read. It almost crosses your lips.

But Calum sighs. “Guess I gotta let you go, but we’ll talk throughout the day?”

You don’t know if he’s got a busy day or not. It’s Friday and while it’s your easy day, Calum might be buried in some work. So you nod. “Of course.”

The groceries are easy to put up. You settle down for the first half the reading, pen and highlighter at the ready. Calum drops the phone into the sheets and turns onto his stomach, face buried in the pillows. The day will be long if he stays like this. But he can afford himself a little misery, a little grace so that he can sigh about how much he misses you but eventually get his own ass into gear.

Between the grocery, scrubbing the bathroom, three loads of laundry, Calum doesn’t even realize more than half the day is gone and there’s nothing much else to do. But that ache of saying goodbye to you finally comes back and he took today off from the studio. Which might’ve been a mistake. But it’s too late now, so Calum walks into his own office and picks up his acoustic guitar.

He was only going to send it to you. But he didn’t want to inundate you with the same old sad sentiments. And sure, this one was a little different, him strumming as his voice is just above a whisper, to let himself finally release the yearning. But still, he didn’t want to bother you. The texts were less consistent than normal but he also understood when you had reading days you were focused on nothing else but the readings.

Your phone buzzes an alert to let you know about an email. You check it, not sure if it was a student making an appointment for tutoring, but it’s just from the school’s bookstore. “Fucking, now I have anxiety about my email,” you chuckle to yourself.

Then your fingers wonder, you exit the mail app and tap onto instagram. Right in the bubbles up top is Calum’s icon. You tap onto it and see, or hardly see the lamps illuminating him. And it’s dark back at home much like it is where you are. His voice is soft as he croons, his cry out for a return. The semester is halfway done and you know even though you’re going to be soon buried in work for midterms, though mostly for the tutoring and teaching and less of midterms for you, you text Calum.

Gonna be home soon. Just for the weekend. I’ll book a train ticket.

Almost immediately after sending the text, your phone buzzes with a phone call from Calum. “I can come to you,” he rushes out.

“Well, it’s not home.”

“Home’s not a building, not a place,” Calum whispers. “And I know some people are going to say it’s not smart to find home in other people. But it’s too late for me. You make me feel at home.”

“Literally, I’m crying into my books,” you return, wiping your cheeks.

“What time are you free on Thursdays? After 6 is good, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, after 6 I’m free.”

“I’ll see you then. We can try that Indian place you pass on the way to class. And I’ll be there to remind you to drink water when you’re grading.”

A soft exhalation of laughter escapes you. “I definitely need that. See you Thursday.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes #away for a moment #gonna be home soon

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

The Personal Trainer - Part 4

Genre: Gym!AU

Pairing: Junhoe x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,487

I’m just going to cut right to the chase.

You spent the next few months in denial. Complete and utter denial. About basically everything.

Unsurprisingly, hugging Junhoe after your meal had been the catalyst for this denial, and the thing you were actively denying was... exactly what your brother had suggested.

All of the emotions you had experienced in that five-second hug had made you realize maybe you actually hadn’t gotten over him and maybe you still did have feelings for him.

But you absolutely did not want that to be true. There was no way you could possibly even begin to think about it because if you did, and if you discovered it was true, then you would find yourself in a very confusing and complicated situation. A situation you really did not want to deal with.

So, you see now why you were in complete and utter denial.

Three times a week, you had been going to your training sessions. Maybe once every other week or so, Junhoe had convinced you to go to lunch or dinner with him -- never a date, just as friends. Your relationship -- friendship -- had progressed to a stage where you now felt comfortable with each other. The thought of seeing him didn’t fill you with dread or make you anxious. In fact, it was quite the opposite --

And back to denial we go.

Your brother, of course, wasn’t helping. Whenever he called you, you did your best not to talk about Junhoe, but it was inevitable that he came up every now and then.

Your conversations typically went like this:

“So, how’s personal training going? You’re still doing it, right?”

“Yes, of course, I am.”

(Your first two prepaid months had come and gone, and you’d decided to continue on for... reasons. Not just to see Junhoe. Why would you think that?)

“How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m still exhausted and sore.”

“Oh, come on! You gotta feel so much better now that you’re being active and taking care of yourself!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“...Junhoe is still your trainer?”

“Yes. Nothing has happened and nothing will happen. Harry says ‘Hi,’ by the way. He keeps asking when I’ll go on a trip next so he can go stay with his favorite Uncle.”

“I’m Harry’s only Uncle.”

So, yeah. You quickly changed the subject whenever your brother brought Junhoe up, and that was the strategy you were going to stick with.

It was also fairly easy to avoid talking about anything even closely resembling feelings or relationships during your training sessions with Junhoe.

You still thought about it -- and denied it, of course -- but there really wasn’t any room to talk about something other than exercising.

It was just the whole thinking about it thing you had to deal with.

But, as I’ve mentioned, you dealt with it by denying it!

That always works, right? Thoughts always just end up going away when you deny them enough, right?

Right.

Of course!

...Anyway.

You had been denying things for a good while now, and your plan was to continue denying them for as long as you needed.

Unfortunately, Junhoe decided he was going to throw a wrench in your plans one Saturday afternoon.

You didn’t know this beforehand, of course, otherwise you would’ve made up an excuse not to meet him for lunch.

Although... you should’ve been tipped off when he suggested going to the same restaurant you’d gone to on your first date.

But Junhoe had never had the absolute best memory, so you had brushed it off as him just forgetting that detail! Plus, it was a really good restaurant, and you hadn’t eaten there since... well, since you’d dated him. It definitely felt weird to go back there with him after all this time, but the two of you were friends now. You figured it was time to make new memories in old places -- friendly memories.

(This is what you kept telling yourself, yes. Friendly. Friendly, friendly, friendly, friendly.)

As soon as Junhoe sat down across from you, though, you knew something was on his mind. Something you didn’t want to hear, but -- as you’d gotten so used to doing it -- you denied it. You told yourself you were imagining things and went on eating lunch like nothing was worrying you.

That lasted for about fifteen minutes.

“Hey,” Junhoe began, his brow furrowed gently as he put his fork down on his empty plate.

“Hey,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table after pushing your plate away from you, and you looked over at him expectantly.

He waited a few moments before he met your gaze and said, “This has been really nice. Getting to know you again and hanging out and stuff.”

His words chipped away at your denial just a tiny bit, but you pretended they hadn’t. “Yeah, it has,” you agreed with a soft smile.

Junhoe’s expression turned to one of slight relief, and that, too, chipped away at your denial.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but...” he murmured, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “Do you... feel like... maybe... there’s still something --”

“Please don’t say it,” you interrupted, your voice just barely above a whisper.

“...Say what?”

“Whatever you were going to say, please don’t.”

Junhoe blinked at you a few times. “But... you don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Things are good as they are right now,” you insisted, hardly even making eye contact with him. “Training sessions at the gym and the occasional meal, and that’s it. That’s good.”

“Y/N --”

“Please,” you urged.

“No, Y/N, I think we should talk about this,” Junhoe retorted, his voice quiet but very firm.

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about --”

“There’s nothing to talk about?” he asked with amused disbelief. “How can you honestly say that?”

“Because it’s true!”

“You really don’t think there’s been something --”

“No,” you cut him off. “I don’t think.”

It was the first time you’d denied it out loud, and... to be quite honest, it had been more difficult than you’d thought it would be. In your head, you’d been ignoring that something Junhoe was talking about for months now. You’d assumed that, if you ever had to actually talk about it, it would come out easily and naturally. So, you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t.

Before Junhoe could say anything in response, the server returned with your check. You quickly reached for it, fumbling in your bag to get some cash out so you wouldn’t have to sit and wait to get your credit card back.

Junhoe tried to stop you, but you ignored him as you slid the cash underneath the receipt, pushed away from the table, and began to head to the exit.

“Y/N, please,” he called out, though he made sure his voice wasn’t so loud as to bring attention to the two of you.

When you stepped outside, you felt his hand gently taking your elbow, and you knew you couldn’t ignore him anymore.

You whirled around, a deep wrinkle marking your forehead as you pleaded, “I don’t have anything to say. Please just let me go. There’s nothing to --”

“Okay, but I have something to say,” he declared. “And I need you to at least listen to me. You don’t have to respond. You don’t have to speak a single word. But please... just listen to me.”

You let your gaze fall to the ground, staring at it for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh and looking back up at him.

“Okay,” you agreed.

Junhoe let go of your elbow, but he took a step closer to you, now just on the edge of invading your personal space.

“I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think I ever really got over you.”

...He was right. You didn’t want to hear that.

“I thought I had,” he continued. “Even after we started training, I thought there was nothing there anymore. That first time we had lunch, I really did want to catch up -- just as friends. But...”

Oh, no. Nothing good ever followed ‘But...’

“But now I’m not so sure. The more time we spend together, the more I remember why I fell for you in the first place. The more I question why we ever broke up. You’re such --” Junhoe paused to let out a quiet but frustrated groan, running his hands through his silky, dark hair. “You’re such an amazing person, and I -- I don’t know. I’m just drawn to you like -- like a magnet. I miss being with you. I miss you.”

His words almost physically hurt your heart. But, just like so many other things concerning your ex-boyfriend, you never wanted to admit it out loud.

You had broken up with him for a reason -- more than one reason -- and you didn’t know how things could’ve changed. You hadn’t been able to overlook how unbothered and unstructured Junhoe was about so many things, and you truly couldn’t see how you would be able to overlook them now.

So, you simply looked at him. You waited until almost a minute of silence had gone by, wanting to make sure he had finished speaking before inhaling deeply.

You opened your mouth to say something... but then you realized you had no idea what you wanted to say.

Was there even anything you wanted to say?

...At the moment, no. You needed time to process everything he’d said before you could properly respond. If you even wanted to respond at all.

You finally just nodded, tipping your chin ever so slightly and murmuring an “Okay.”

And then you turned to leave.

Thankfully, Junhoe took your response to his... I guess we could call it a confession, as exactly what it was: you needing time to process things. Needing time to think about things.

The problem was, you didn’t want to think about it.

You wanted to continue denying and ignoring. Your life would be much easier that way, and why make things more difficult when they didn’t have to be?

He didn’t contact you for the rest of the weekend, and even on Monday, he didn’t send you his normal ‘See you later for training!’ text message.

You knew things would be incredibly awkward once you got to the gym, but you were wiling to deal with that. You were prepared to show up and act like nothing had happened. And if, at the end of your session, he brought it up... you would simply tell him you still had nothing to say.

You didn’t care if that was a cowardly or selfish thing to do. I mean, you cared a little bit, but you’d already been hurt because of him. You’d already gone through so much emotional turmoil, and you really had no good reason to believe you wouldn’t go through it again.

Why wouldn’t you want to spare yourself from that kind of pain?

As you approached the front of the gym on Monday evening, you clutched the strap of your bag and took a deep, slow breath.

You just had to keep reminding yourself that the awkwardness of seeing him would be much more manageable than the pain of losing him again.

You took one more breath before reaching the front door, opening it, and heading up to the desk in the entry way to scan your membership card.

The receptionist greeted you cheerfully, as she always did, and you shot her a warm smile before making your way over to the personal training area.

Unsurprisingly, Junhoe was not there yet. He never was, and you were once again reminded that his tardiness would absolutely bother you if you started dating again.

But you wouldn’t start dating again, so there was no reason to worry about it.

After the first couple of sessions when Junhoe had showed up late, he’d instructed you to get on the treadmill to warm up while you waited for him, so that’s exactly what you did today.

You turned the treadmill on, setting it a very low speed so you didn’t work up a sweat before Junhoe put you through the ringer -- even after a few months of consistent training, you were still fully exhausted after each session.

As you began walking, you tried not to let your mind wander too much -- you tried not to anticipate seeing him because you would absolutely get too anxious if you did that. It would’ve been a good idea to put in your ear buds and listen to some music on your phone, but Junhoe would be here in a few minutes.

Except... a few minutes passed, and he was not here.

You checked your phone to see if he had texted you, but he had not. You looked around the gym to see if you could spot him coming, but you could not.

There was really nothing to worry about yet, so you decided to simply continue walking.

You walked... and walked... and walked... and when a full fifteen minutes had passed, then you decided to worry. You still hadn’t received any messages from him, and surely he would’ve told you if he’d had to cancel.

After turning the treadmill off and slowly coming to a stop, you hopped off and made your way over to the receptionist.

“Hi!” she chirped when you arrived. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, yes,” you answered, hearing the shake of anxiety in your voice. “I’m supposed to have a training session with Junhoe, but --”

The receptionist cut you off with a gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot! He texted me that he’s going to be late.”

...He had texted her? But not you?

“He said there’d been an accident of some sort, but --”

“Accident?” you interrupted harshly.

“Yeah, he didn’t give any details or anything, but --”

You excused yourself, turned on your heel, and marched toward the exit.

As soon as you were outside, you fumbled through your phone to your contacts and pressed the ‘Call’ button next to his name.

With each ring, your heartrate doubled. And when you heard the first words of his voicemail, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing.

What was going on? What had happened? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Was he okay? Why had he texted the receptionist but not you? Was he hurt? Was he on his way to the hospital? Why hadn’t he texted you? What kind of accident? Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Why hadn’t he texted you? How would you live without him if something had happened to him?

...Oh.

You had not expected that.

Well, then.

Part 5

#kwritersworldnet #junhoe scenarios #junhoe imagines #junhoe au #junhoe fluff #junhoe fanfic #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon fluff #ikon fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #ikon #junhoe #koo junhoe #ikon junhoe

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

mixtape | track three

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indiana was sure she’d never had a longer Monday in her life, and Tuesday wasn’t looking any better. Her lecture droned on and she did everything she could to stay engaged, from downing the rest of her water bottle to doodling on the side of her notes.

Just as her professor started to move into the brachial plexus, she saw a small message notification appear in the top right corner of her laptop screen. A text, from Grayson.

Wyd? :)

It took all her power not to scoff in the middle of the room. The fact that he’d actually sent her a ‘wyd’ was almost too much.

learning, what’s it to yah

She scrolled to catch up with her professor, trying to keep up.

I’m bored

You want a vanilla oatmilk latte later, right?

Or did I not remember that right

Triple texter, of course. She typed out a quick shhh, unless you can teach me about the brachial plexus I gotta pay attention. I’ll text you when I’m out and turned back to her notes, scribbling out the diagram that her professor was drawing on the board.

But she still smiled when she got a p sure you just made that up but okay :) from him.

Lecture sped up after that, her professor moving much too quickly through the nerves and innervations of muscles within the plexus that she could barely wrap her head around. She was going to have to review all of it again to even begin to fully understand. At least it wasn’t chemistry like it had been last semester - anatomy she could handle because at least it was interesting. Before she knew it she was closing her notebook and laptop, throwing them in her bag and heading out the door in a bid to get to the hospital faster.

Little did she know, Grayson was waiting in line at Jet’s already, having come to the city much earlier than he needed to, toe of his Air Force One tapping on the tile as his nerves ran wild. He caught his reflection in one of the windows and paused to double check himself, just like he had that afternoon in his mom’s hallway, looking in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. Ethan had caught him in the act, and he knew it wouldn’t slip past him.

“Alright, spill. You’re being sus.” Ethan’s words were garbled by the PB&J in his mouth, but it still made Grayson panic a bit.

“Am not.”

“Cut the shit Gray, you only wear belts when you’re trying to impress somebody and I highly doubt you’re trying to woo over the kids. What’s her name?”

“I hate you.”

“Interesting name.” That earned him a middle finger.

“Indiana.”

“Actual interesting name. She cute?”

“Very. And smart. And funny too. Good with kids.”

“And tick tick tick go the soulmate boxes. You gonna try to make a move?”

“We’ve talked one time bro. That’d be bold.”

“Yeah, and you’re you.You fall in love when somebody blinks at you right. Case made. Let me know when the wedding is.”

Grayson didn’t have a comeback for that, so he just huffed a bit and let out a “fuck off” before he turned to head for city an hour before he needed to.

“Next… Next.”

He pulled his head up, realizing the line had disappeared in front of him. He moved up to the counter, hoping he’d remembered her order right since she’d yet to answer him again.

“Can I do a large dark roast, and a large vanilla oatmilk latte please?”

Down the line, a man with an impressive beard and large gauges perked up as Grayson put his card into the reader.

“Wouldn’t happen to be for Indiana Cross would it?”

He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, so he just went with the truth. “Yeah, actually it is.”

Based on the way that the man squinted his eyes at him, Grayson realized it was apparently very much the wrong answer.

“And you are?” He asked.

“Grayson.”

“Grayson.” He repeated, obviously waiting for an elaboration.

“I uh… I volunteer with her at the hospital?”

Right answer. The man relaxed, going back to making coffee with a nod. He tried to run through the possibilities while he waited for the drinks. Brother? Probably not. Ex-boyfriend? Possibly.

“She’s a good egg, used to work here before school got to be too much. You’re lucky to have a friend like her,” he said after passing over the drinks.

Protective manager. Not what he expected, but he understood. He had a feeling it wasn’t just him who had gotten attached so quickly.

“Yeah, yeah I am for sure. Thanks, have a great day.”

“You too…” he trailed off, waiting. He didn’t know if he’d forgotten his name already or just didn’t want to admit he remembered it.

“Grayson.”

“Right. I’m Patrick. See you around.”

“Yeah man, see you.”

Grayson headed out the door, balancing one cup on top of the other so he could text her quickly.

You at the hosp yet?

no, I’m not at the ‘hosp’ haha I’m walking there now

You didn’t text me when you got out of class

I’m hurt

boo hoo

Lemme just

Throw this coffee away real quick

hey hey now those are fighting words

oh shit I never texted you about the coffee, but you were right, vanilla oatmilk latte

I’ll give you a pass this time since you were learning about the brachial whatever

You’re lucky im awesome and remembered

wow

the most awesome

love to see it

just wait outside of jets, I’ll be there in a minute

Okay :)

He did as she asked, moving out of the steady stream of people that were on the sidewalk to watch people who passed, waiting for her. Every time he saw a head of blonde hair he perked up, until finally he recognized her moving towards him. She was dressed more casually than on Sunday, with a baggy crewneck on with her jeans and Air Force Ones.

She noticed him a moment after he saw her, so by the time she laid eyes on him he was beaming, putting his phone away and moving towards her.

“A large? You spoil me,” she teased, taking the cup from him gratefully. It was delicious as always, but she was more focused on his outfit – a tight black long sleeve shirt tucked into a pair of nice maroon pants, a large belt buckle resting on his waist.

“We match,” he grinned, pointing a toe out to show off his shoes. It was about the only thing that matched – she felt frumpy next to him in her comfy clothes that she wore to class. Even her Air Forces were dingy compared to his, dull and dirty.

“Uh huh, right. I didn’t know that our first joint Buddies meeting was a fashion show, give a girl some warning next time, will yah?”

“Oh shut up, you look cute.”

Her eyebrows went up as she looked down at herself, then back at him. He threw her back the same look of disbelief.

“Did I stutter?” He asked, practically daring her to argue with him. She just blushed and shook her head, taking a drink of her coffee as they started towards Frazier. They walked shoulder to shoulder and Indiana was grateful – it was fractionally less common in the colder months, but she always got her fair share of cat calls on the streets. After getting to know him, she didn’t find Grayson even slightly intimidating anymore, but she still had the image of him on that bench, broad and serious, and she knew it was no coincidence that everyone fell silent with him beside her.

It was a new feeling, having to hold herself back. She’d never had the urge to wrap her arms around someone walking next to her, reach out and hold onto their arm, even just reach down to hold their hand. It made her giddy and skeptical at the same time as she tried to distract herself, watching the cars drive by, honking at each other.

“Where’d you go?” Grayson hummed, bumping her just barely and pulling her out of her head. Her heart swelled a bit hearing her signature phrase fall so easily from his lips, which seemed much pinker than she’d last remembered as he took a sip of his coffee and waited for her answer. A few moments later he quirked an eyebrow – a very well-manicured eyebrow. Did he get those waxed? She resisted the urge to reach up and smooth down her own that she knew were bushy and definitely not as nice as his.

“Indiana. You good?” He tried again,

“Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah I’m good, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I was just checkin on you. Do we have a plan for this meeting or do you normally just go with the flow?”

“Depends on the mood she’s in. I’ve got some stuff in my bag – cards, my school stuff cause she likes to help me study sometimes. Other times she just likes to play 20 questions or hang out and talk. You’ll be the new shiny toy, so prepare for a bunch of questions. Especially about your teeth earrings.”

He balked as they got to the doors, following her quick steps into the lobby.

“I’m sorry my what?”

“It’s not everyday someone has diamonds in their teeth sir.”

“Okay but they aren’t teeth earrings, give me some fucking credit.”

“Definitely teeth earrings.”

“Jewels.”

“Teeth. Earrings. Oh my god, I’m gonna introduce you as teeth earring guy.” Her laughter filled the elevator as they stepped in.

“Oh god,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the side of the little box as it moved up to the second floor. Indiana gave her most mischievous grin when the doors opened, walking quickly through the halls. It took Grayson a minute to realize that she was trying to beat him to Bekah’s room and he sped up his steps, trying to keep it casual as he passed rooms of kids and families, walking as fast as he could without full on running down the hall. They didn’t see the nurses laughing at their antics, but they didn’t care. Indiana side stepped into Bekah’s room abruptly, so fast that Grayson almost knocked her over trying to stop behind her.

Bekah was up walking around in a hoodie and leggings, and when she turned she immediately pointed over Indiana’s shoulder.

“Teeth earring guy!”

They couldn’t help it – they both busted out laughing, Indiana grabbing onto his shoulder to keep herself from falling over. When they finally got it together he spoke up first.

“My name is actually Grayson, but you can call me teeth earring guy if you wanna.”

“I’m Bekah Newcomb. Mandatory intro spiel, I’m 15, stage 3 leukemia. My parents aren’t pieces of shit, they just work a lot so they’re never here. No siblings because why mess with perfection. Any questions?”

Indiana bit her tongue – she had forgotten about the spiel, forgotten that it was Bekah’s favorite way to test new people, make them uncomfortable. Her eyes flickered over to Grayson, but he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Only one, but it’s very important. You ready?”

“Hit me with it,” she said, anxiously waiting.

“Is cereal a soup?”

Indiana couldn’t have planned a better intro for the two of them – they bonded so quickly right there before her eyes, debating the constituting factors of soup, and it had her melting to see him interacting so easily with the girl who meant so much to her. Bekah didn’t even attempt to put up her usual front, just laughed and joked with him as if she’d known him for years. The hours flew by, games of war and BS passing the time as Bekah sat at the top of her bed and Indiana and Grayson sat at the end of it, knees touching as they resisted the urge to peek at each-others cards.

The only hiccup came when Bekah got her meds at 7, but she put on her best show for Grayson, managing to keep her stomach settled enough to avoid puking. It was the most fun visit either of them had had in a while, and Bekah fought her drowsiness until visiting hours were over at 8. Indiana had to be the voice of reason, starting the goodbyes before the nurses came to kick them out.

“Are you both coming back on Thursday?” Bekah called out as they headed for the door.

“Hell yeah we are. Want us to bring anything?” Grayson grinned.

Indiana liked the sound of us.

“Cereal, so we can test our theories.”

“You got it. See yah Thursday Beks.”

“See yah Thursday, Earrings.”

His laugh was so loud that the nurses at the desk peeked their heads around to see what was happening – but they were smiling up at the two of them as they signed out and started down the hallway they’d come up.

As soon as they cleared the ocean hallway, Grayson turned to her.

“Was that okay? Like was that good?” There was genuine concern in his voice, and Indiana had to bite back a laugh.

“Are you seriously asking?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am.”

“Grayson she loved it. She loved you. I haven’t seen her smile that big since she’s come in for this round of treatment. Were you worried about that?” She didn’t stop herself from reaching out and holding onto his shoulder, squeezing lightly as they stopped walking.

“A little,” he admitted, relaxing under her touch.

“You’re a natural, I told you that. I promise you did great, I wouldn’t bullshit you.”

He stopped walking for a minute, and there was an intensity in his gaze that had her stomach fluttering.

She didn’t know what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t for him to say “Can I take you to dinner?”

“Now?” Stupid answer.

“Well, it is dinner time. But if you aren’t hungry I could wait a while. Or if you don’t want to go, that’s totally okay, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything just cause we’re doing this together and we share a buddy and-”

“I want to go to dinner,” she cut him off, and he could see the hesitation on her face.

“I sense a but coming…”

“But -”

His heart sank a bit - he’d fallen into the trap he always managed to get himself into, falling too quickly, making his move too fast. But it was natural to be next to her, to talk to her, to have her hand stay on his shoulder. He liked the feeling of her there, the sound of her laughter and the brightness of her smile, and he couldn’t quite hold himself back it seemed. It made the rejection he knew he was about to get hurt even worse.

“But, I have to study tonight,” she sighed, and there was a genuineness to it that had him breathing a bit easier. She actually seemed disappointed, and the hope he felt rose up again.

“Oh yeah, the biceps whatever thing, that shit sounded complicated.”

“The brachial plexus, but A for effort,” she teased. “No but seriously, I gotta get that shit down or I’m gonna forget everything she said about it today. But I really do wanna go to dinner, I’m not blowing you off.” She rushed through her reassurances, dropping her arm and starting to walk again, towards the stairs this time.

“I believe you. How about Thursday, after we hang with Beks?”

“Yeah, I can do Thursday!”

“Gang.” Fuck. He’d been doing pretty well at hiding all the slang he’d picked up in LA.

“Did you… what?”

“Nothing, pretend you didn’t hear that. Thursday sounds great. Oh, before I forget, can you bring some non-dairy milk with you when you come?”

She paused for a minute, looking up at him from a few stairs below like he’d grown another head.

“You want me to bring milk… non-dairy milk… to dinner.”

“No! No no, for the cereal! I just have a long drive and I don’t want it to get all gross and hot on the way, and since you walked I figure you live close by. I can venmo you for it.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can bring some, you don’t have to venmo me for it, no biggie.”

“Okay cool. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t ask you to bring milk on a da- to dinner. Bring it to dinner. That would be… weird.” His cheeks burned hotter than he realized they could. The fact that he’d almost slipped and said date had embarrassment and panic coursing through every inch of his body, and he could already hear the way Ethan was going to laugh when he told him the story later.

Of course Indiana heard it, but the way he was blushing to his ears had her pretending she didn’t.

“Thursday it is then,” she grinned, opening the door of the stairwell and holding it until Grayson passed through. The massive windows of the lobby were painted indigo, washed out a bit by the city lights but dark nonetheless.

“Damn it’s dark,” he muttered. Even though it was beginning to get dark earlier now with autumn on the horizon, it was still much dimmer than he was used to.

“It’s supposed to storm the rest of the week, probably just the clouds,” she shrugged. She looked small for the first time to him, headed towards the doors.

“Can I drive you home? It’s really dark out.” The words came out before he could think them over - that seemed to be the effect she had on him.

“Oh, it’s okay! I only live like three blocks from here, by the time you get your car I’ll probably be home,” she reassured him with a smile.

“Can I walk you then? I don’t like the idea of you walking out there in the dark by yourself.”

She paused at the door, and he half expected her to turn and remind him that she was very much capable of walking herself. But she surprised him, as she always seemed to do.

“Yeah, yeah that would be really nice actually. If you don’t care.”

“No, I’d love to. You ready?”

She nodded and pushed the doors open, hair blowing back in the wind as she walked outside. The temperature had dropped significantly, the true sign of a storm coming through just as she’d suggested.

He took his spot beside her, shortening his strides so he didn’t stray too far from her, standing tall and broad. Indiana felt small next to him, but in a good way for once. It was even more comforting than earlier, and she took slower steps than she usually did, trying to draw it out as long as possible. She tried to convince herself it was because she wanted to procrastinate studying, didn’t want to have to tackle her notes, but in reality she knew it was because she didn’t want the night to end.

It was a comfortable kind of quiet, the bustle of the city streets creating the perfect background noise as they weaved down the sidewalks. Indiana felt like if anyone looked at them they’d be able to see the little bubble of nervous energy surrounding the two of them - it had her feeling like she was back in middle school, giddy because the cute boy looked at her for two seconds.

Much too quickly, her apartment building appeared, tall and imposing in the dark.

“This is me.”

“Damn, that really was a short walk.”

For once, she wished it had been longer.

“Thanks again for walking me.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem, anytime. Um… have a good night.” He could hear the awkwardness in his tone, felt like it was palpable in the city air.

“Goodnight Grayson. Drive safe.”

“Goodnight Indiana. Sleep safe.”

That earned him his new favorite smile, but only for a moment before she disappeared into the lobby.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Bro, will you fucking focus?”

There were few things that annoyed Grayson more than his brother taking too long to finish his reps on the equipment, but that day he’d become his own pet peeve. In his head, distracted, constantly checking his phone - and Ethan was beyond annoyed.

“Alright, out with it. The fuck is goin on in there?” Ethan smacked Grayson’s head lightly, concern starting to overpower the annoyance.

“It’s nothing, let’s just finish this shit before it rains again,” he huffed, moving to the single pull up bar that he’d built last year and starting his reps. The sky was a dreary gray, the cold of autumn starting to come in and clinging to everything it touched.

It wasn’t nothing. Actually, it was much much more than that, and Ethan knew it too, but he didn’t pry. Yet. He did his best to keep his brother focused for the rest of their Wednesday work out, encouraging him to get more reps, to push a bit harder. It didn’t seem to clear his head at all, and Ethan held his tongue for a few more hours, waited until they were both showered, in fresh clothes and in the kitchen making lunch for him to finally ask again.

“Is it the girl? Indiana?”

Grayson didn’t answer, but the look that he threw Ethan from his spot in front of the stove told him enough.

“What’d she say? Lemme see.”

He passed his phone over, moving back to stir soup he was making as Ethan read the message. Grayson remembered exactly what it said, even if his twin didn’t mumble it out as he read.

“Hey, about dinner tomorrow. Turns out my sister and brother in law are moving out of my place (finally) because Charlie got a new photography deal and I promised I would help them move :( but we could do dinner on Saturday night if that works for you still? If not it’s okay. What’s wrong with that?” Ethan asked.

“She doesn’t wanna have dinner,” Grayson muttered, watching the soup spin in the pot as he stirred.

“That is so not what that means. Is this seriously what you’ve been pouting about all morning?” Ethan had to bite back his laugh. He hadn’t seen his brother this in his head about something in a while, and he didn’t want to make him feel stupid for being worried. “If she didn’t want to have dinner, she wouldn’t have asked about Saturday.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even met her.”

“Cause I’ve had a girlfriend for two years. You just learn what they mean in their texts even if they don’t say it.”

The last thing Grayson needed in that moment was a reminder that his brother was in a very loving relationship, but he let it slide. Eden had come into their lives a few years back, a fireball of take-no-shit and feminine power unlike either of them had ever seen. It was a learning curve, and Ethan was determined to ace the test. Grayson was glad that he had - she’d become a sister to him, and she brought fun and laughter to their life out in California.

“Call Eden, see what she thinks,” Grayson said, scooping soup out into bowls for the two of them. Ethan did as he asked, pulling up facetime and letting it ring through until she appeared on the screen, wide smile bright against her tanned skin, California sun bright in the background.

“Hey baby! What’s up?”

“Grayson’s having girl problems.”

“Oooo I love girl problems, hand him over,” she teased, still beaming when Ethan passed over his phone.

“Alright hit me with it, what’s the tea?”

Grayson tried to give her the short version of how he and Indiana had met, but he found himself elaborating with each detail that he remembered, from every word of the text down to the way she said goodbye the last time he’d seen her, only the night before. It felt like longer than that.

Eden was quiet for a moment after he finally finished the story, but by her coy smile he knew she was just trying to figure out how to word everything correctly.

“Okay, so first off, just to clear things up, she’s not blowing you off.”

He wanted to believe her, desperately, but the doubt must have still been obvious on his face, because she rolled her eyes before she launched into her explanation.

“She texted you today instead of tomorrow, which probably means as soon as she found out she told you. That’s a good sign. She’s nervous too, that’s why she said ‘if not it’s okay’, cause she’s trying to give you an out if you want it.”

He very much didn’t want an out. He actually wanted an in.

“The fact that she reached out at all shows that she cares, and she’s trying to set up another time which definitely means she’s interested. Most girls would just wait to see if you would set up another one, that’s what I would have done. Tested to see if you were invested. But if she’s willing to do it, that means she must be pretty sure of you. Or totally oblivious to the fact that you like her. Either way, you’re in good shape.”

“Who said I like her?” He muttered, getting a barking laugh out of both members of his audience.

He let them fall into conversation without him, the quick catch up of their day that they’d been doing lately since they were on opposite sides of the country. It was hard for Ethan, but he managed it well, with plenty of sappy texts and nightly facetimes that would have Grayson gagging but secretly wishing he had someone to talk to like that.

He wondered what Indiana was like on facetime while he ate his soup. He wondered what her favorite color was, why she took oatmilk in her coffee instead of regular, what her class schedule was. Wondered what time she woke up on the mornings when she could sleep in, what she’d want to do on a real date, what her room looked like. He never realized how much mental space he had for someone other than himself or Ethan, and he found himself obsessing the smallest things, trying to ignore the butterflies it brought to his stomach.

Ethan didn’t help once he finished his call and started devouring his luke-warm bowl of veggie soup.

“Bro you’re in deep, I can tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get this attached this quick before.”

“There’s just something about her dude. It’s scaring me a little honestly. I’ve never felt like this about anybody, and I’ve literally only seen her twice. I mean, I barely even know her, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Is that weird?”

Ethan thought of about twenty comebacks that he could have used, but he bit them back. He could feel his twin’s anxiety, and he wasn’t about to add to it.

“Nah man. It’s not weird. It’s intense, but it’s not weird. And hey, if she ends up being the one someday it’ll make a cute story. You hear all sorts of people say they fell in love the first time they saw their person, who says that couldn’t be you, yah know? But hey, I gotta meet her before you go proposing or some shit.” He bumped his shoulder with a smile, turning back to his bowl of soup so Grayson didn’t feel like he had to respond right away.

He thought on it for a minute, trying to process everything his brother had just laid out on the table. And then he pulled his phone out, clicked on his new favorite thread to check, and typed out his reply.

Saturday date it is

See you tomorrow :)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indiana Cross was never late. In fact, she was usually a minimum 10 of minutes early. But one too many outfits changes had slowed her down and she was cutting it too close for comfort - so close that when she looked out and saw the rain had started up again, she contemplated just running out into it and getting drenched instead of trying to make it back upstairs to get her umbrella.

She peered out into the street through the lobby doors, trying to decide if the drops would be enough to ruin her outfit, when something caught her eye.

A hand, waving quite cutely at her through the glass.

Grayson was outside, massive black umbrella over his head and a wide smile on his face as he walked up to the doors, waiting for her. He hadn’t said anything about coming to pick her up, but her heart fluttered at the sight of him anyways - she’d seen him just a few days ago, on Thursday, where they’d sat on Bekah’s bed again and ate cereal and laughed and joked. But it felt like it had been forever, and with the added stress of moving Charlie and Devin out, and the hard goodbye that she didn’t want to admit was hard, she hadn’t really relaxed since she’d last seen him.

He made sure there wasn’t a gap between the awning and his umbrella so she could duck under it without getting wet. As soon as she was under she made her move, if you could even call it that, and wrapped her hands around his bicep, trying not to gawk at how big it was. Instead, she looked up at him and scrunched her nose.

“Hi.”

“Hi there,” he beamed, and she could see the excitement in every single one of his features. “Figured I could walk you. You ready?”

She nodded, holding on to him as they started to walk down the sidewalks. His slow Jersey pace mixed with her short legs and quick New Yorker steps kept them perfectly in sync as they dodged puddles and soaked up the feeling of being together again.

The conversation flowed as easily as ever, Grayson asking her how moving Charlie out went, if she was sad to have her sister so far away. They talked about Cameron going to school in South Carolina, and how he and Ethan couldn’t spend more than a week apart without going crazy. She talked about school, the assignments she had lined up for the week, the exam she had already started studying for even though it was next Friday. Every time they got to a puddle that was too big for both of them to walk around he guided her to the dry part, walking lightly through the water so he didn’t splash her.

They got to the hospital much too quickly, and she let go of his arm reluctantly so he could pull the umbrella down and shake off the excess water before they made it in. Grayson led the way up the stairs and onto the unit, waving at the kids he saw, giving Andre a high five as he passed and asking the nurses how their shift was going. Indiana couldn’t help but notice the way the younger nurses - actually, all the nurses, seemed to be watching his every move, blushing and smiling at him as he passed.

She fought the urge to reach out and hold his hand, walking just a bit closer to him so their arms brushed against each other as they moved. It sent electricity through every nerve ending on her body, and she got so caught up in it that she almost forgot to stop him before they made it to Bekah’s room.

“Hey, one thing. I know we’re going on a date later, but let’s not have any… like us stuff, while we’re here. I don’t want Bekah to feel like a third wheel or anything, cause we’re here for her. Deal?”

“Deal.” There was a prideful look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place, but she didn’t have time to analyze it before she stepped into the room.

Bekah was in her bed, curled up under the blankets on her side. Her head was wrapped in a light blue scarf - something her mom had brought her a few days prior, sweatshirts pulled down over her hands as she shivered.

Grayson’s face fell immediately, and he froze at his spot by the curtain. She looked sick, actually sick, for the first time, and it brought on a wave of memories and emotion that he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Indiana didn’t blink.

“Hey you. How are you feeling?” Her tone was soft, soothing as she moved to her bedside and laid a hand on Bekah’s shoulder, starting to rub against her cold skin.

“S’ cold,” Bekah mumbled, burrowing down further, so far that Indiana could only see her brown eyes and the dark skin of her forehead.

“Want me to go see if I can get you another blanket?”

She nodded weakly, resting her head back on the pillow as Indiana stood up and moved over to Grayson.

“You okay in here by yourself for a minute?”

Grayson nodded, half to answer and half to convince himself. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before she disappeared out the door. He stood there in silence for a moment, hands shoved in his pockets, unsure of what to do.

Bekah peaked her head out just enough for her mouth to be visible before she spoke.

“I’m not contagious, Earrings, you can come over here.”

The tension in his shoulders released and he walked over, sitting down as gently as he could on the edge of the bed.

“You’re weird,” Bekah said, eyes still closed. He panicked a bit, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Yeah? Why am I weird.”

“You don’t like being around sick people, but you’re volunteering at a kids hospital. Weird.”

“I don’t think anyone likes seeing people sick,” he murmured, trying to word everything very carefully.

“Indiana likes being around sick people because she likes to help. I think you like to help too but it makes you uncomfortable.”

There was no malice in her tone, but it still made him let out a dry laugh.

“You’re an observant one, aren’t you.”

“Not much else for me to do in here but watch people. But seriously, why’d you sign up to make yourself uncomfortable? Did someone tell you to?”

“Yeah, kinda. Someone told me if I could help that I should.”

“Your mom?”

“My dad actually,” he corrected quietly, toying with his fingers. Anytime he said his name out loud, no matter the form it took - dad, father, Sean - it was like he could feel it in his heart, a little tug on the original wound, a finger picking at a scab that wasn’t quite formed yet.

“I’ll have to thank him for that some time. I like having you around, no matter how awkward you are.”

“Well thanks Beks.”

He was saved from his devolving thoughts by a very excited Indiana coming back into the room with not one, but three blankets stacked in her arms.

“I declare it movie night,” she said, passing both of them their own blanket and rummaging for a remote, pulling up Emperor's New Groove before settling down into a chair on the other side of the bed. Grayson pulled one up so he could sit back, and without the distraction of conversation Bekah was out within the first 15 minutes, breaths deep despite the winces that she couldn’t hide. Indiana just ran a comforting hand over her arm until she lulled down further, tired muscles finally relaxing.

“She’s gonna be out the rest of the night, we might as well let her rest. You ready to go?” She asked after another twenty minutes, a bit of excitement returning to her eyes.

He nodded, moving to fix Bekah’s blanket over top of her one last time before he clicked the TV off and left her to sleep.

As soon as they signed out, he couldn’t hold back his questions.

“Is she getting worse? It seems like she’s getting worse.”

“Not necessarily. Chemo is weird like that sometimes, sometimes she’ll have good days with her meds, sometimes she’ll have bad ones. It’s just her body trying to fight for and against her at the same time. Exhausting, I would imagine. But she’s okay.”

“She doesn’t seem okay,” he said, looking back down the hallway before they went through the first set of doors.

“Hey.” He turned back to her, noted for a moment that her eyes were the same color as the painted jellyfish on the wall behind her. It grounded him somehow. “Don’t carry all this out here with you, it’ll wear you down. She’s in good hands, she’s sleeping, she’s safe. They’re doing everything they can for her, you’ve gotta trust in that.”

He knew that sometimes it didn’t matter how much they did, but he kept that to himself.

“You want me to compartmentalize.”

“A little bit, yes. It’s the only way you can survive something like this, trust me.”

He did. And he knew she was right. So he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, let himself let go for a moment and breathe a bit easier. Without a hesitation, he reached a hand out for hers as soon as he opened his eyes, linking his fingers with hers.

“Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

“Let’s go on a date,” she repeated, squeezing her tiny hand against his as they started down the hallway again.

He’d hatched a whole plan, ran the whole thing by both Ethan and Eden. They were going to get dinner at a little vegan food truck that he had made sure would be close by, walk the High Line for the last hour that it was open, and finish off with a late night coffee from Jets.

“Do I get to know the details of this date?” She asked while he opened the umbrella up outside and offered him her arm, almost as if she knew he was running through the itinerary in his head for the entire walk.

“Nope, you’re just along for the ride.” He grinned, trying to keep his confidence up as he started walking down the sidewalk.

For the first block, everything was fine. The rain picked up slightly, but nothing too bad, and it only made her hold onto him a bit tighter, leaning into him to avoid getting wet. He reveled in the feeling, holding himself back from leaning over and kissing her forehead.

The second block, things got a bit worse. The wind began to howl, thunder booming so loud above them that they both jumped. It seemed to shake the buildings around them a bit, and Grayson bit his lip, scrambling to think of what they would do if it got worse.

By the third block, all hell broke loose. The rain was coming down in sideways sheets, soaking their shoes and pants as Grayson tried to angle the umbrella and keep Indiana dry. It worked for approximately two seconds before the wind inverted the umbrella, leaving them both entirely exposed.

“Sorry, fuck, sorry!” He yelled over the roar of the rain, trying desperately to fix it as their shirts became heavy and wet. Their hair stuck to their foreheads, and when he pushed his back he saw that Indiana was laughing, laughing so hard that she leaned back slightly, clutching her stomach.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She grabbed his hand, dragging him along as they ran through the downpour. He followed her blindly, holding tight to her slippery hand as she weaved them through umbrellas and past people huddled under stoops.

When she pulled him into the lobby of her apartment building they were both laughing, breathless and giddy, so loud that a few people turned to look at them.

They didn’t notice.

“Your teeth are chattering,” Grayson laughed, reaching out to rest a hand on her quivering cheek. He was cold too, but he didn’t care. He hoped the blush he got out of her warmed her up a bit. “Not to invite myself up or anything, but do you care if I get dried off?”

She rolled her eyes at him, just taking his hand and leading him over to the elevator.

Unfortunately, a perfectly dry woman in her 40’s stepped on with them, and all it took was the sound of the water dripping off their clothes onto the tile for them to both break into a fit of giggles, Grayson’s mouth going wide in a silent cackle that had Indiana having to cover her own to keep from being too loud. She felt like a middle schooler getting scolded in the back of class until they made it to her floor, stepping past the woman with a muttered ‘sorry’ and wide smiles. They stared at each other until the doors closed, and then they were laughing again, holding onto each other’s shoulders as they tried to make it down the hallway and breathe at the same time.

Grayson was wiping tears by the time they got to her door, still giggling to himself as he started to shiver, his clothes getting colder by the minute. He took his shoes off outside the door, not wanting to track even more water inside as she opened the door

Her apartment was a bit warmer than the hallway, a welcoming and simple space with a small kitchen to the left and a cozy living room in front of him. Without realizing that he had even done it consciously, he had imagined her in a place just like this, with the big windows on the other side of the room covered in rain.

“Nice place,” he murmured.

“It’s no house, but it’s nice enough,” she teased. “Let me see if Devin left anything here that you can wear, hold on.”

She disappeared into a room on the right and he made his way into the living room, showing himself around. The picture frames on the top shelf caught his eye for a moment, and he smiled at how cute she looked as a baby, how beautiful she looked in her dress with her sister beside her. The woman holding her hands in the last one looked just like her, and he was about to ask when he felt Indiana behind him.

“That’s my mom. Nicole.”

“She seems like a great mom.”

“Yeah, she was.”

Grayson froze. Fuck.

“Shit, Indy, I’m sorry I-”

She put a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. But let’s not talk about it tonight, yeah?”

He nodded, trying to swallow down his guilt. He knew what it felt like to have that sprung on you without a warning, and he wished he could pull the words back out of the air, back out of her mind.

“Try these.” She passed him a pair of pajama pants. “I’m still looking for a shirt, I might have something that’s big enough for you. There’s a bathroom in my room if you wanna change in there.”

“I can just go shirtless for a while, it’s no big deal,” he reassured her. Her eyes went wide for a moment, and he saw her swallow.

“Okay. I’m gonna change now.”

“Okay. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

They stared at each other for a minute before Indiana finally moved, going into her room to start rummaging through her own clothes. She changed faster than she ever had, throwing on a pair of leggings and a crewneck with some comfy fuzzy socks before she was back in the living room.

“All yours. Um, do you want anything specific for dinner? I haven’t gone to the store in a while, and I would feel bad making somebody deliver in this weather,” she mumbled.

“Well, I’m vegan, but don’t worry if you don’t have anything, I can make it till I get home.”

In all honesty, he was starving, but he wasn’t about to end the date early because of a lack of plant based meal choices.

“I’ll see what I have, go change so I can put your clothes in the dryer with mine.”

He did as she asked, moving into her room. It was similar to the living room - white bedding, simplistic artwork in wooden frames on the walls. But above her bed were an assortment of vinyls, and he actually gasped when he saw the one in the middle.

“You listen to Cudi?!” He yelled, running back into the living room. Indiana was in the kitchen with a cucumber in her hands, but he made her jump so hard that she almost dropped it.

“Yeah, do you?”

“I fucking love Cudi dude, he’s the best artist of all time. I can’t believe you listen to him too.”

“Do I not give off Cudi vibes,” she laughed, putting the words in air quotes.

“No, you definitely do not.”

“What vibes do I give off then? Or do I not wanna know.”

“You don’t wanna know,” he grinned, flinching when she raised the cucumber like she was going to throw it.

“Go change Gray.”

He went back in, headed to her bathroom. It was much darker than the rest of the house, with a dark gray shower curtain adorned with wildflowers. He locked the door and stripped down quickly - his underwear were still damp, but he wasn’t about to go commando, especially if he was gonna risk having to hide a boner later. He had no idea how far the night was going to go, but he wanted to be ready for anything.

Standing there in the mirror in his boxers, he contemplated it for a minute, and then pulled a very 2016 Grayson move of dropping to the floor and doing a quick set of push ups so that his bare arms were a bit more swollen than they had been.

He pulled the pants on, groaning a bit at how long they were, and how tight they clung to his ass. Worried that he’d spent too long in the bathroom he picked up his wet clothes and headed back to the living room with the ends of his pants rolled up three times so he didn’t trip on them.

“You didn’t tell me Devin was a fucking giant dude! How tall is that mans?”

“He’s 6’5”,” Indiana laughed from somewhere he couldn’t see her, popping up with a loaf of bread and putting it on the counter. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, so much tanned skin stretched over thick bands of muscle that it had her mouth dry. She swallowed again before she spoke. “Just sit those down, I can put them in the dryer.” “I can do it, are yours already in there?”

“Yeah, it’s over there.” She smiled and pointed to the doors in the hallway. He put them in and turned it on before he finally made it to the kitchen and saw the assortment on the counter. But she wasn’t looking at the food anymore - her eyes were all for him, and he felt himself fall nervous under her gaze again.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just cute.”

“Oh yeah, these pants are what do it for you huh?” He gave her a little spin just to make her laugh.

“Did I stutter?” She tilted her head to the side just barely, and it took all his self control not to lean in and kiss her right then. Instead, he just shook the thought from his head and stood close enough to where her shoulder was against his arm.

“What’re we workin’ with?”

“Well. I’ve got apples, a few grapes, jelly, some lettuce, bread, peanut butter, a sweet potato and crackers. Sorry.” She was sheepish, and he just shook his head at her with a frown.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You trust my PB&J making abilities?”

“That depends entirely on if you cut it into triangles or squares.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s triangles all day,” he scoffed, getting a laugh out of her that had him floating.

“Then yes, I approve. Do you care if I study while you make them? I just have a few things to go over.”

“Do whatever you gotta do,” he reassured her, moving to open the bread while she went back to her backpack. She was back quickly, with a stack of flashcards in her hands.

“Here,” he cleared her a spot on the counter next to where he was working. “Sit up here, teach me some stuff.”

“It’s just vocab stuff, nothing interesting.”

“Just say it outloud, maybe I’ll learn something.”

And so she did, laughing at the way his brows would furrow and the incredulous look he’d give her when it was a particularly long word. He took his time on the sandwiches, moving to cut up two apples and split the rest of the grapes between the two plates that he found after looking through the cabinets.

He cleared his throat and held out the plate on the palm of his hand. “Bon appetit madam.”

“Why thank you,” she giggled, sitting her cards down and taking it from him gratefully. She stayed perched on the counter and he leaned back against the fridge, taking his own plate in his hands. She complimented the food as she ate, wiggling slightly in the cutest way. Finally, she spoke up.

“Since we’re here, do I get to know what the actual date plan was?”

“Nah, I’m saving that shit for the future,” he smiled, taking the last bite of his sandwich. Even he had to admit it was good despite the slightly stale bread.

“Oh the future huh?”

“Yeah. Like next week.”

“I’ll pencil you into my planner then,” she grinned, tossing a few grapes into her mouth.

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcastic or not.”

“It’s not. Writing everything down keeps me sane I think.”

“Hey, organization is sexy,” he laughed, biting down on an apple slice.

“Good to know.” Her words were a bit muddled around the bite she had in her mouth, and Grayson put his empty plate aside, content to sit and watch her finish her meal. It was so easy to be around her, and he didn’t second guess anything he did or said - he hadn’t realized until her how much he altered himself around everyone he met.

“10 outta 10 PB&J, I’m impressed,” she smiled at him, moving her plate to the side after a moment. He couldn’t help but notice the tiny bit of jelly clinging to her cheek, purple and sticky against her skin.

“You’ve got a little - here,” he stepped up to her, reaching a hand out and running his thumb over it to get it off. But he didn’t let go - not when she looked up at him with those bright blue eyes, just like the jellyfish on the walls, and then he watched her look at his lips once before he leaned in.

She tasted sweet, lips soft against his. They were both hesitant, not sure of how far to take it. Short and sweet, they separated and looked at each other. He felt like he could float away when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled him back in for another. He moved a hand to the counter for leverage, leaning into her as she smiled against him.

“You taste like apples,” she whispered, and then they were both laughing like they had been all night, cheeks and stomachs sore in the best way.

“C’mon you, what do you wanna do with the rest of our date night?”

“We could finish Emperor’s New Groove?” She poised.

He moved his hands to her waist, pulling her off the counter as she squealed, sitting her on her feet and taking her hand, headed to the living room. Ten minutes later and he was leaned back on the couch, feet up on the coffee table so she could curl up against his bare chest under the blanket while she scrolled through the film, trying to find where they left off.

He hoped that she’d undershoot it - anything to keep them right there, in each other's arms; bliss, as the storm raged on outside.

#SHES HERE #I.... kinda love this chapter #mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

dance with you

“Jan, calm down, you’ll think of something,” Damian comforts, patting her back gently as Janis lies face-down on her bed and lets out a groan.

“Damian, prom is in a month! And it has to be perfect, it’s our senior year,” Janis huffs into her pillow.

“You’ll think of something perfect. You could... fill her locker with ping pong balls that say ‘prom’ and then when she opens it and they all fall out say ‘I finally got the balls to ask you to prom’?” Damian suggests.

Janis chuckles at that, finally poking her head out. “Is that how Elijah asked you?”

“Maybe,” Damian mumbles. “I thought it would at least make you smile.”

“You got me, then,” Janis says. “Ugh, why is this so hard? I had an easier time with the ACT.”

“Feelings.”

“Gross. I don’t want ‘em anymore,” Janis sighs.

“Just think of stuff she’s into. Like animals or math. You can borrow Pippa if you need to.” Damian says as Janis leans against his shoulder.

“Animals... math... I can probably work with that,” Janis says, a hint of a plan forming in her mind.

“There‘s my Janjan. You go Janjan. Ask the girl you’re already dating to prom,” Damian teases.

“Shut up! You know Caddy loves those tacky promposal things you see on YouTube, I gotta do something dorky,” Janis says. Cady really does love them, she gets so excited every time someone at school gets promposed to, the tackier the better.

“And you’ll think of something perfectly sappy and gross. I have faith.”

“Thanks, D.”

————-

On Monday, Janis uses her study hall period to hunt down Kevin G. Cady is in English on the other side of the building, so unless she goes really out of her way to go to the bathroom there’s no chance of her finding out what Janis is up to.

She finds Kevin in the library, reading what appears to be a math textbook cover to cover. Janis puts on some fake confidence and marches her way up to his table, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Yo, Sarkisian, how ya been?” Kevin asks, closing the book and looking up at her.

“Um... fine. Listen, can you help me with something?” Janis says hastily.

“Depends,” Kevin responds. “What do you need and what do I get out of it?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to ask Caddy to prom, is there any sort of, like, equation or something that would spell out prom if she solved it or something? Something math related I could do?” Janis pleads. She had decided getting animals involved was a little more risky than she was willing to try.

“Oh. Uh, I don’t... actually know about that. I can check with Norbury and get back to you?” Kevin says.

“Sure. Just, would you be able to do it soon? Like, sometime this week? I wanna give her time to get everything prepared, and prom is less than a month away.”

“Sure thing, Sarks. Don’t stress, Africa never shuts up about you. She’ll say yes.”

“Thanks, Kevin. I really appreciate it.” Janis says, relieved.

“Anything for Heron. We’d be a fuckin’ wreck without her.”

—————

On Wednesday, Janis is sitting in art when none other than Kevin comes barreling through the door, making a beeline for her.

“Yo, Picasso, Norbury and I have somethin’ for ya,” He calls.

“Really?” Janis asks, tucking her paintbrush behind her ear.

“Yeah. Um, Norbury got really excited when I told her you were trying to think of a good way to ask Africa and did a lot of research. They have a strange relationship. Anyway. She found this dope series of equations that spells ‘prom’ once it’s graphed. Norbury said you can ask her during Mathletes practice on Friday using it, if you’re into that.” Kevin says.

“Oh, that’s perfect. I’ll talk to Ms. Norbury, I have a free next. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Janis says. “I owe you big time.”

“You wanna design a new logo for my DJ business?” He asks with a slightly creepy wink.

“Sure. Uh, how long do I have?” Janis asks, pulling out her sketchbook to get going.

“As long as you need, I... um. Don’t get many gigs. Also, don’t fuck it up with Heron, please.” Kevin begs.

“I’ll do my best,” Janis says, determined not to.

Janis heads to Ms. Norbury’s classroom next, knocking on the doorframe. This is her plan period, so there’s nobody else there.

“Oh, Janis, hello. Kevin told me you might come by,” She says once she looks up.

“Um, yeah. He said you found something I could use to ask Cady to prom?” Janis says nervously. Ms. Norbury is one of the sweetest teachers at their school, but Janis always gets anxious when she talks to adults.

“I do indeed,” Ms. Norbury says, pulling out a sheet of very complicated looking numbers and letters. “This looks like this, once it’s been graphed.” She flips the page over to reveal a graph with what looks like ‘prom ?’ in cursive.

“This is perfect. Can Caddy really solve this kind of stuff?” Janis asks, looking at the equations again.

“She can,” Ms. Norbury confirms. “She’s my MVP, so to speak. If you’d like, we have practice this Friday after school, we can squeeze this in at the end.”

“That would be great,” Janis breathes with relief.

They decide that Janis would drop by on Friday morning to drop off a few supplies, and then show up before Cady in the afternoon. She would hide in the classroom storage closet until Cady solved her graph, and then pop out with prom balloons and some flowers.

It’s just tacky enough for Cady to love, and not quite tacky enough for Janis to hate. It’s perfect.

———

Friday rolls around quicker than Janis is quite ready for. She wakes up two hours early to head to the party store and get the balloons, and then to the convenience store next door to grab a bouquet of pink roses, one of Cady’s favorite flowers.

Ms. Norbury looks rather startled when she comes barreling into the room in a frenzy, but shoots her a wink as she stuffs everything into the closet and dashes back out the door to meet Cady like normal.

She’s just barely gotten her breath back under control when Cady comes bouncing through the doors, auburn curls in a ponytail today. As always, she looks for Janis by her locker, smiling as she spies her and comes up for a hug.

“Hi, Jayjay,” She says, wrapping Janis up tightly.

“Hi Peanut,” Janis says back, kissing her forehead. “Did you take your medicines today?”

“Mmhmm! Did you take yours?” Cady answers. Cady almost always remembers, Janis almost always forgets.

“No,” Janis answers, looking around as she pulls the bottle from her backpack as if she’s committing a felony. She’s not, but they’re technically not allowed to carry their own medications. “Did you have breakfast?”

“No,” Cady mumbles. She struggles sometimes to recognize physical sensations, occasionally forgoing a meal or forgetting to stay hydrated, especially if she’s sucked into an activity or a routine.

“Eat one of your Kälteens, then,” Janis says once her pills are down and the bottle hidden away in her bag again. Cady does, offering one to her too. “Thanks, babe.”

“Are you okay, mpenzi? You look nervous,” Cady says worriedly. Shit.

“Yeah I’m fine, everything’s fine! All good,” Janis says rapidly, shoving a large bite of her bar into her mouth and grinning at her like a chipmunk.

“Okay...” Cady says, clearly not believing her even slightly but also recognizing it’s not something Janis wants to talk about.

The warning bell rings then, Cady pouting as she hugs Janis goodbye. “Bye, Butterfly. Have a good day,” Janis says, pecking her lips gently.

“Bye, Bluejay. I love you,” Cady says, blowing her another kiss as she walks away.

“I love you too!” Janis calls after her. And that makes this afternoon much easier, she thinks to herself.

Janis is almost relieved when school finally ends, the nerves having been building inside her as the day went on. Luckily Janis has study hall in the science wing directly above the math wing, allowing her to rush down and get to Ms. Norbury’s room before anyone else. Cady has English on the other side of the building, so she’s commonly the last one to arrive at practice.

She opens the cupboard where she’ll be spending the next hour or so, luckily spotting an outlet so she can charge her phone to keep herself busy. Ms. Norbury agreed to film for her, so she has that covered. She makes sure no light shines out and sits on the ground, peeking under the doorframe as Cady enters, calling a hello to everyone else.

They all mill around and chat for a while before Ms. Norbury enters again with their practice problems for the day. Sometimes they practice competition style and other days they just make sure their problem solving skills are still up to snuff. Today is the latter. Cady greets Ms. Norbury as well, asking about her day and complimenting her blouse.

The boys all sit down first, having been informed of the plan, leaving Cady the seat with the best view of the cabinet Janis is in so she’ll be able to see the reveal right away.

Janis watches her work for a while, having to hold on a chuckle as Cady’s brows furrow in concentration and she taps away furiously on her calculator. She’s so cute. She finishes first, taking the time to double check her work before going to Ms. Norbury for the answer key.

“You finished, Cady?” Ms. Norbury asks, taking her worksheet to check over it.

“Yeah, I’m not sure about number eight though,” Cady says, rubbing her sleeve against her lips nervously.

“You got it correct, Cady. We’ve talked about this. Confidence,” their teacher chides gently. “I have some bonus things for you to work on now, we need to work on graphing practice more. Here you go.”

Janis perks up at that, standing quietly and grabbing hold of her balloons and flowers. There’s just a big enough gap between the door and its frame that she can still peek and see what Cady’s up to.

Cady taps away on her calculator again, plotting all the points down with her pencil carefully. Her brow gets progressively lower with her confusion as she goes, starting to realize something might be up here.

Her head snaps up when she finishes connecting all the points and sees what it spells, Janis taking that as her cue to step out of the closet. That’s a hell of a metaphor, she thinks, bracing herself for Cady’s reaction.

Cady gives an excited gasp when she sees her, scrambling out of her chair and rushing to leap into her arms. Janis drops the balloons and flowers to catch her, glad she had the foresight to go for a balloon weight. “Cady Heron, will you go to prom with me?”

“Of course I will, goofy,” Cady says, sounding a little choked up. “This was perfect.”

“Good,” Janis says, setting her down gently and pressing their lips together. She forgets they’re not alone until the other Mathletes start whistling and cheering, and Ms. Norbury gives an audible coo. They both break apart, blushing violently. “I love you.”

“I love you too. How long were you in there?” Cady asks, pointing to the cupboard as she bends over to pick up the abandoned roses.

“I dunno. About ten minutes before you got here, I think. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

“You hid in a closet for an hour just to ask me to prom?” Cady asks, hugging her tightly again.

“Apparently I did, yes.”

“You’re such a dork, I love you. I’m so excited! We get to match this year,” Cady squeals, bouncing up and down.

“Treat that one right, Africa! She’s committed,” Kevin hollers from behind them.

“Oh, I absolutely will,” Cady purrs, leaning in for another sweet kiss.

————-

Damian insists on taking them both shopping, individually of course, so as not to ruin the reveal. Cady gets to go first, since she didn’t get to pick an outfit for Spring Fling last year. Cady would decide the color scheme, and Damian would pass that information to Janis when it was her turn.

“This is fun!” Cady cheers, lugging him around the mall happily.

“We haven’t even gotten to the store yet, Cads,” Damian says, huffing slightly. For how small she is, Cady moves very quickly. He can’t tell if it’s the autism, the bisexuality, or some leftover instinct from Kenya, but he’s exhausted.

“I know, but I like hanging out with you! You’re fun,” Cady says as she swings their arms back and forth happily.

“Aww. You’re fun too, Cads.” Damian responds, touched. “So, do you have any ideas of what kind of dress you want? Wait, do you even want a dress?”

“I want a dress, yes,” Cady giggles. “I think a suit could be fun, but I didn’t get to wear a dress last year. I think I want a long one? But I don’t like when they have long sleeves, they’re usually lace and it’s too itchy.” She looks at him questioningly, as if asking his approval for her opinions.

“Okay, we can work with that,” Damian says as they enter.

“Whoa,” Cady blurts, immediately slightly overwhelmed by all the colors and big poofy skirts.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” Damian chuckles. “Do you wanna split up and look or stick together?”

“Stick together,” Cady says hastily, pressing closer. “I trust your fashion sense more than my own anyway.”

Damian thinks that’s probably a fair assessment. “Okay, I think your sizes are over here.” He starts flicking through a rack, and she roots through the one next to it. They have to be a bit more particular due to Cady’s sensitivity to certain fabrics, but they get several good options.

“Oh, this is great,” Cady says as Damian hands her a gown. “My cousin had some Broadway star take her shopping for her prom last year and it didn’t go very well. Turns out a future Broadway star is much better.”

“Wait, your cousin had a Broadway actor take her prom shopping? How did she swing that?” Damian asks.

“Oh, her school turned their prom into some big civil rights thing, they wouldn’t let her go since she’s a lesbian and wanted to take her girlfriend. They came down from New York to bring attention to it and stuff, I think. Her name is Emma.” Cady says, grabbing another dress from the rack.

“Emma? Wait, does she live in Indiana?” Damian asks, excitement building.

“Yeah, why?”

“Emma Nolan is your cousin?! Janis and I each watched her video, like, fifty times. We donated to her campaign thing for the inclusive prom,” Damian says.

“Oh, really? That’s so sweet, I’ll tell her. She’d love to meet you guys. I’ve told her a lot about you,” Cady says, now weighed down by a mountain of heavy dresses.

“Oh my god, yes please, she’s such an icon. Anyway, give me these, I can’t even see your face anymore. Let’s go pick your dress!” And with that, the pile is transferred to Damian and they head towards the changing rooms.

The first dress she tries is an amethyst color, and mermaid style. She likes how it looks in the mirror, but it’s so tight around her legs that she almost falls flat on her face when she goes to show it off. Damian catches her and immediately turns her around to go try something else.

The second one is an emerald green, with a shorter skirt and long (but thankfully not itchy) sleeves. She’s more into the length than she thought she would be, and the color suits her. Damian takes a photo so they can compare it to her other options.

The third dress is a beautiful yellow color, and has a sweetheart neckline and thin straps. It reminds her of her costume from Beauty and the Beast. She absolutely loves it, but it turns out to be way too large and her whole chest is pretty much exposed. Oh well.

Her fourth option is a periwinkle two-piece contraption with a very complicated top piece and a long poofy skirt. She likes the color and the way it fits, but the neckline makes her feel like she’s choking and the material of the skirt is very itchy. Damian claps when he sees her in it, though, so she decides to keep it as an option.

The fifth time turns out to be the charm. It’s a royal blue gown, the bodice tight and embroidered with a large flower pattern, and a skirt that flares out at her waist. The short sleeves hang just off her shoulders, and it makes her feel like a princess. This might be the one.

Damian’s eyes go wide as he spies her coming from behind the curtain, gasping at the beauty of it. “This one this one this one,” he repeats excitedly, clapping his hands in between. “What do you think?”

“I really like it,” Cady says, turning to look at herself in another mirror. “The material is really nice. And the color is so pretty.”

“It makes your eyes pop. And it goes so well with your hair,” Damian says as he comes up behind her, laughing as she starts moving her hips to see how the skirt swishes.

“The swish is good,” Cady giggles. “Do you think Janis will like it?”

“She would love anything you feel good in, you know that,” Damian says. “But yes, I think we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pass out when she sees you. You look gorgeous, Little Slice.”

“Thank you. Oh, wait, can you take a picture to show my mom? She wanted to come with us but she got stuck with a work thing,” Cady asks. “I think she said someone brought in a sick elephant and they had to decide what to do with it.”

“An eleph- okay, sure. Smile,” He responds, taking her phone and snapping a few photos. “There you go. Wanna go get some boba?”

“Ooh, yes!” Cady squeals.

————-

The week after is Janis’ turn, Damian taking her shopping along with both of their mothers and Juliana. It’s much easier shopping for suits. There’s less variety, so they don’t have to decide from as many options.

Damian goes first, he and his date Elijah having decided on an emerald color scheme for their outfits. He tries on two options, a slate grey suit with a green button up underneath, and a fully green suit with a black button up.

He looks great in both, but Julie in her typical brutally honest fashion says he looks rather like a tree in the full green one. Janis’ mom whacks her on the back of the head and tells her to be polite, but Damian just laughs and agrees with her, going with the grey ensemble.

Janis’ turn. Damian tells her that Cady’s dress is a royal blue, and that’s all the detail she gets. She grins, trying to imagine what her girlfriend will look like on the night, wondering what style of dress she chose. Janis does love Cady in blue.

Their group wanders aimlessly for a minute until Janis finds a black pantsuit in her size, Damian grabbing a soft blue crew neck t-shirt as an option to go under it, as well as a white button down and cobalt skinny tie as an alternate.

She heads to the changing room, tugging the curtain closed and staring at her pieces for a second. She decides to try the more traditional button down and tie first, fumbling with it for a second before giving up and heading out, asking her mom to tie it for her.

Janis looks in the mirror once her mom loops it around her neck correctly, grinning at what she sees. She looks hot. The thin legs of the pants make her look even taller than she already is. They’re a little long, so she’ll have to get it tailored a bit, but the fit other than that is perfect. The dark blazer accentuates her shoulders, and the length of the sleeves makes her feel like a boss bitch.

She turns around to see what her little crew thinks, finding Julie already in Damian’s lap and wide grins on everyone’s faces.

“You look beautiful, hon. Very sophisticated,” Ms. Hubbard says, her own mom sneakily wiping a tear away and nodding in agreement.

“Go see what you look like with the t-shirt instead,” her sister demands. She does, heading back to change before pulling the blazer back on. She looks in the mirror again. The t-shirt is a little less formal, but she still looks very dapper.

“Which do you like better, baby girl?” Her mom asks. She has to think for a moment. The shirt allows her to match more with Cady, and is more comfortable. But if she wore a tie, Cady could use it to pull her into kisses, which she’s always wanted to do.

She decides they’ll be doing plenty of kissing anyway, and goes with what she feels more comfortable in. “I like this. I think once I have my accessories and makeup on and stuff it’ll still be fancy enough.”

“I think so too,” Damian says, removing her sister from his lap to stand. He heads to change back into his so their moms can take pictures of them together.

Janis’ phone pings right as she’s about to hand it over for a photo. She pulls it back to check, grinning a little when she sees a message from Cady.

Caddy Cakes: Hi lovey!!!! 🥰📷 Did you pick an outfit yet??

Jellybean: hi baby

Jellybean: i just picked my suit, no you can’t see it yet

Caddy Cakes: D:

Caddy Cakes: Just kidding, I know. I have a request

Jellybean: 🤨

Caddy Cakes: Can I see you in heels????? Pleeeeeeaase?? Just for prom night and then I’ll never make you wear them again 🥺🥺

Caddy Cakes: Sent a picture: Pwease?

Jellybean: you gotta stop doing the puppy eyes

Jellybean: fine. i’ll talk to damian

Caddy Cakes: Oh yay!!! Ok I’ll let you go now. I love you!!!!! Mwah!

Jellybean: i love you too baby 📷📷

She clicks her phone off and stares at it for a second, realizing what she’s just gotten herself into.

“What happened?” Damian asks, concerned something is seriously wrong.

“Caddy wants me to wear heels,” Janis whines as she buries her face in his blazer.

“You are so fucking whipped,” Damian teases. “We’ll find something.”

Their moms finally finish taking photos and they head to the shoe store, Janis looking longingly at the flat men’s dress shoes Damian chooses from. Once his are picked, they head over to the high heels. Janis stares incredulously at the height of some of them, very glad she escaped the Plastics before the heels got this high.

Juliana suddenly comes running at her holding a box, nearly tripping over her own feet and falling on her face until Janis reaches out to steady her. Julie shoves the box at her, Janis taking it curiously and looking to see what her sister has found.

She pulls back the tissue paper to find a pair of stiletto heels (which concerns her, thin heels are not a good way to introduce yourself to them), about four or five inches high and the same royal blue as their color scheme.

“These are huge, Jules,” Janis says incredulously. “Pretty, but... damn.”

“They’re the only ones that match,” Juliana pants, still out of breath from dashing around the store. “I checked everywhere.”

Janis looks at them again. Maybe if she practiced wearing them she could do it. “I’ll try them. You gotta help me, though, or I’m gonna fall on my ass.”

Juliana giggles at that but nods as Janis heads over to a bench to sit, tugging off her comfortable boots. She immediately regrets agreeing to this, but does kind of understand the appeal once she stands up for the first time.

With the height of the heel she’s roughly six and a half feet tall and feeling like she can grind the patriarchy to a pulp under her foot. Of course, it all flies out the window when she tries to take a step, since her entire gait has to shift.

Julie grabs her hands to steady her, guiding her slowly down the aisle like she’s teaching a baby how to walk. Unfortunately, Damian and their mothers come back at this point, all of them immediately bursting out laughing at the sight.

“Oh, baby girl, you’ll have to practice,” her mom giggles.

“Those shoes are perfect, though,” Damian says excitedly.

“I picked ‘em!” Juliana says proudly.

Damian looks impressed. “Nice, squirt. You have a knack for that.” Juliana beams proudly as Janis messes up her hair, immediately losing her balance.

“Who fucking invented these,” she grumbles crankily under her breath.

“Language, Janny,” her mom chides warningly, despite knowing she swears all the time.

Janis looks sheepish, turning away. “Sorry Mama.”

“Alright, let’s go get you kids fed and head home,” Ms. Hubbard says.

“God, yes please,” Janis breathes, yanking the shoes off her feet and stuffing them

back in the box.

————-

The day before the dance, Cady insists on all three art freaks (plus Juliana, who had her own middle school dance on the same night) going to the spa together.

It’s a lovely place, very clean and bright. Janis decides to get her nails all painted the same royal blue shade to match their outfits, Cady gets a glittery silver, and Juliana gets a purple to match the dress she had picked. Damian felt left out and decides to get his painted green.

Since they’re not getting any kind of fancy processes done, they’re all led back to sit next to one another in massage chairs to wait for their nail technicians. The hostess offers them a drink of their choice, Damian and Julie choose a cola, Cady gets water and Janis asks for a Sprite.

While they wait for their drinks, their nail techs come to get to work on them. It turns out that part of the package is hot stone massages on their legs, and warm lotion massages on their arms while they get their nails painted. Janis nearly falls asleep in her chair, lulled by the soothing warmth of the lotion and the repetitive motion of the chair.

She’s startled back awake by the lady returning with their drinks, learning that they had run out of Sprite and offered a Mountain Dew instead. She says it’s fine and takes it, finding the contrast of the drink and the sensations she’s experiencing very funny.

Once their nails are all painted, they’re led over to a drying station in the middle of the room, sitting on benches and sticking their hands and feet under fans to blow their nails dry. Cady leans her head on Janis’ shoulder while they wait, Janis kissing her hair and pressing her cheek against the top of her head.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Cady whispers. “I’m so excited.”

“I can’t wait either, Peanut. You’re going to look so beautiful,” Janis responds softly, pulling her into a sweet kiss once her nails are finished and safe to use again.

Cady looks sad to see Janis go once they have to pay and leave, but cheers up a bit when she’s reminded that they get to spend the whole night together tomorrow.

————

On the day, Janis’ mom helps her get ready. The dance doesn’t start until nine, but she and Cady are going out to dinner with Damian and Elijah first, so she has to be ready early.

She’s lucky that her mom appreciates her style. She applies some natural looking makeup around her eyes, which is a bit different than Janis normally does, but she does have to admit it’s a nice look. She’s surprised when her mom gets to the lips, pulling out a blue lipstick, so dark it’s almost black. It’s perfect.

Janis thinks she looks sort of like a model when she looks in the mirror as her mom starts working on her hair.

“I’ve missed doing this for you,” her mom says as she starts brushing out her hair.

“You can anytime, Mama. I hate doing it,” Janis huffs.

“You always did, baby girl, you always did,” her mother replies. Once she finishes brushing it, she applies a few products to get her natural wave back into it, and then starts slicking it to the side with some gel. Once it’s finished, all her hair is resting over her shoulder. It’s a very elegant look. “There.”

“Mama, are you crying?” Janis asks, turning around to hug her.

“No,” her mom sniffs. “Yes. You’ve just... grown into such a beautiful young lady. Feels like the years have gotten away from me. Won’t be too much longer before I’m doing this on your wedding day.”

Janis laughs at that. “You’ve got a while, I’m nowhere near ready to be married yet. I love you.”

Her mom squeezes her, brushing a hand against her cheek as she lets her go. “I love you too, baby girl. Go put your suit on, I’ve got to help your sister now.”

Janis heads to her room, tugging on her now perfectly tailored suit pants, then her royal blue t-shirt, her blazer, and necklaces. She decides to forgo the shoes for as long as she can, leaving them resting on her bed. She slides her fanciest rings on as a finishing touch and heads to look at herself in the mirror.

It’s strange. She’s wearing a suit, but she looks more feminine than she has in a long time. Even in comparison to her suit from last year’s Spring Fling where she wore a skirt, it’s a more feminine look. She decides she’s into it. She looks good.

She heads downstairs right as Damian and his date pull up outside. Juliana goes rushing up to hug him, looking beautiful in her lavender dress. Janis is glad her sister and best friend get along so well.

“Looking good, guys,” she says as her sister finally releases him. Elijah wound up choosing the option Damian didn’t, looking quite handsome in his green ensemble. He’s shorter than Damian, so he looks less like a tree.

“So do you! You look so good, Jan,” Damian says, pulling her into a gentle hug so he doesn’t mess anything up.

“Thanks,” Janis says shyly, spinning around to show off with her shoes still in her hand. “When’s Caddy coming? I wanna see her.”

“She texted me and said she’s gonna be a couple minutes late, she shouldn’t be too much longer,” Damian responds, checking the time on his phone. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Cady’s parents pull up then, Cady’s door opening before the car even comes to a complete stop. Janis gasps when she sees her girlfriend in her dress for the first time.

Before she even has time to fully process it, her jaw hanging open, her girlfriend is in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Janis, oh my god! You look incredible!”

“So do you,” Janis says, pulling back for a second to see her. “You look like a princess.”

Cady really does, her long auburn hair has been braided into a thick crown around her head, the remaining strands tied in a bun on top of her head and two little pieces hanging out to frame her face. Her makeup is heavy around her eyes, silver shadow on her lids and eyelashes dark. She looks very ethereal. Her lipstick is more natural, and Janis likes that she can still see her freckles through her face makeup.

“You look so hot! Very, um, sexy businesswoman going to a fancy thing,” Cady says, reaching out to feel her blazer. Janis realizes when she doesn’t have to reach as far that their height balance is off, thrown by Cady’s shoes.

“Thanks,” Janis laughs. “I think.”

“Put your shoes on, I wanna see,” Cady demands, pointing to the heels Janis is still holding in her hand.

“Fine,” Janis pouts as she rests them

on the ground and steps into them carefully. Cady reaches out to steady her at first before letting go once she’s more stable. Janis has been wearing them around the house all month to get used to them.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Cady giggles, looking up at her. “Oh, wait, I have your-um. Thingy.”

“Boutonnière, baby. Thank you,” Janis laughs as Cady tenderly pins it on. “Here’s your corsage.”

“Why thank you,” Cady says as Janis slides it on her wrist and kisses her knuckles. “Now come on, we gotta take pictures. I want to kiss you but I can’t mess up your makeup until those are done.”

“Okay, Peanut, let’s go,” Janis chuckles, taking her hand and stumbling slightly as she heads over to Damian, Elijah, and their parents.

They take every cliché prom photo in the book, all awkward poses and cheesy smiles. Janis nearly breaks her ankle trying to do their jump shot in those shoes, but Cady somehow does and lands it perfectly, reaching out to steady Janis with a chuckle.

They take one more jokey shot of each other with the wrong dates, Cady with Damian and Janis with Elijah looking at each other confusedly before switching back to who they’re meant to be with.

“Alright, you crazy kids, get out of here,” Damian’s mom demands, shoving them towards their Uber that had pulled up. None of them were into the idea of renting a limo, but none of them wanted to drive either.

“Be safe!” Janis’ mom adds.

“Make good choices!” Cady’s mom pipes up. Her dad and Cady both roll their eyes lovingly.

————-

As they pull up to the restaurant, everyone clambers out quickly. Damian and Elijah head in first, Janis and Cady following hand in hand a few paces behind them. Just before they reach the doors, Cady tugs on Janis’ hand, hauling her backwards.

“Wha- oh, okay,” Janis stutters, gasping as Cady looks around quickly before fisting a hand in her t-shirt and pulling her down for a hot mess of a kiss. Turns out the shirt works just fine. Janis kisses her back just as hard, wrapping her arms around Cady’s waist to pull her closer.

When they finally break apart, their lipsticks have fully blended together. “Glad we made it to the dance before we ruined our makeup,” Cady chuckles breathlessly, pulling two makeup wipes out of her clutch to get rid of the evidence. Damian looks at them knowingly when they walk in several minutes late suddenly missing lipstick, but neither of them care.

It’s a fancy restaurant, and their table is next to a water feature. Janis immediately sticks her hand in it, causing water to splash everywhere for a second until she pulls it out.

“Janis, what? Why did you do that?” Cady asks in exasperation as she grabs a napkin from their table to dry Janis’ hand.

Janis looks down sheepishly. “I wanted to see if it was real.”

“Well now you know,” Cady says, dabbing at the splash marks on her suit and wondering how a fountain could be fake. “And I’m sitting next to that. You get the outside.”

“Sorry, Caddy.”

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I just worry about your regard for social norms and sense of self preservation sometimes.” Cady comforts, kissing her cheek gently to cheer her up.

“Oh, speaking of which, I got a great idea for senior pranks,” Janis says excitedly. Damian and Elijah both lean in across the table, as if they’re plotting something for the mafia. “I’m gonna get a cow and stick it on the second floor, and then put chickens in the elevator. Cows don’t go down stairs, so they’ll try to put it in the elevator and find the chickens.”

“Where are you going to get any of these things?” Elijah asks. It’s a fair question.

“My mom knows a guy, one of her old classmates is a farmer and he said I could borrow some of his livestock,” Janis explains.

“I- wh-“ Cady stutters, trying to find a response to this. “If you get expelled before you can graduate I’m not gonna help you.” Her own plan was just to stick a bunch of plastic forks in the football field. Gretchen and Karen had already agreed to help, too.

“I won’t get caught. It’ll be fine,” Janis says, sounding as if she already knows it won’t.

“That’s actually kind of genius, Jan,” Damian says. “I’m gonna put a speaker in the gym playing the chorus to It’s a Small World on repeat and then put a bunch of cups full of water in the way of it.”

“Nice!” Janis cheers, high-fiving him.

“You guys,” Cady pleads, looking as if she’s witnessing a murder plot. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“That’s the fun of it, Peanut! The risk,” Janis says boldly. “Plus, Regina knows how to hack the security cameras so there won’t be any proof. Unless someone rats me out.”

Cady thinks she might, just to save herself the headache. She feels as if she’s gotten a very telling taste of her future. “Jesus Christ.”

Cady and Elijah make exhausted eye contact periodically throughout their meal, exasperated with their respective partners. Once they finally finish eating, Cady has to haul Janis away from the fountain by the tail of her blazer to stop her from reaching into it again.

“Come on, Jayjay. No fountain or I’m revoking your little spoon rights for a week.”

“Fine.”

————-

A few minutes after nine, their group strolls into the school. Janis and Cady head to the bathroom to reapply their respective lipsticks before going into the main dance.

Janis stops Cady before she can put hers back on, pressing her against the wall gently and kissing her soundly again. Cady grips the fabric of her blazer at her waist, having to restrain herself from messing up Janis’ hair.

Janis checks under the doors to make sure they’re alone before coming back, pulling Cady flush against her and sucking on her lower lip. Cady groans softly, making Janis want to fast forward through the dance and take her home.

Cady gives her one last good smooch before pulling back, both of them panting slightly. “We should go in,” She breathes, ghosting the words over Janis’ lips. “We have time for this later, we only get one senior prom.”

“Fine,” Janis pouts, kissing her gently one more time before heading to a mirror to finally put her lipstick back on.

They head hand in hand into the gym, looking around at how it’s been transformed. The theme this year is a Night Under the Stars, so they’re surrounded by dark balloons, gold decorations, and glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling. Janis is reminded of Cady’s speech from last year’s dance. Maybe that served as the inspiration.

“Whoa,” Cady says excitedly. The school puts much more funding into prom than Spring Fling, since it’s supposed to be a kind of final memory for the seniors. It actually looks quite nice. “I’m gonna go say hi to Regina and Gretchen and Karen really quick, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Butterfly. I want punch, I’ll be over there.” Janis kisses her quickly and sends her on her way.

She people-watches as she sips slowly from her cup, wanting to get as much punch as she can before someone inevitably spikes it. Damian and Elijah have already been lost to the mob of dancers, but she can spy them just across the way. Regina looks strangely nervous in her baby pink dress. She’s been wary of large crowds since the bus incident. Gretchen and Karen look adorable as ever together, in royal purple dresses that are slightly different styles.

Janis is working on her third cup of punch when the DJ announces a request for Born This Way by Lady Gaga. She and Damian lock eyes from across the room, nodding slightly. Damian sometimes choreographs dances to his favorite songs, and almost always drags Janis into learning them. They both have backgrounds in dance, and can do them quite well. Janis figures they might as well go out with a bang.

They meet in the middle of the floor and start their routine. Damian is a talented choreographer, having spent hours studying for his various shows. The routine is actually very well put together.

People gradually start realizing what’s happening and stop dancing themselves, surrounding them to watch and cheer them on. It’s a nice feeling, if a bit strange for them. She spots Cady with the former Plastics watching her excitedly, and shoots her a cheeky wink before continuing her moves.

When the song finally ends, they pause in their ending pose for a split second before standing and blushing scarlet. Everyone claps for a short while, looking rather stunned as they head back to their friends. “Well damn,” the DJ says into his microphone. “Did not expect that. Uh, here’s the Macarena.”

Cady wraps Janis in a tight hug once she finally reaches her, yelling, “Janis, what the hell?! I had no idea you could dance like that, that was incredible!”

“Thanks,” Janis pants. “I’ll teach you sometime.”

“I’m such a klutz, good look with that,” Cady giggles. “You need more to drink, you must be exhausted.”

She leads Janis over to the table, pouring them both one more glass of punch. “We should go see who the prom court is, too.”

Prom court worked a bit differently than Spring Fling, in that it was a secret until the night of the dance. Student council made nominations, which allowed some of the less popular students to make the ballot, and then whoever attended the event got to vote.

“There’s two winners of each this year? That’s different,” Janis mumbles on seeing the sign at the voting table.

“Regina said it’s because there’s a lot more LGBT+ couples that are out and coming to events together now, and should both be able to win. They’re doing it from now on,” Cady says. “And look at who’s on the ballot.”

Janis does, surprised to see her own name listed, along with Cady’s and the three former Plastics. “I’m an option?”

“You are,” Cady chuckles. “And Damian is up for Prom King, too.” Sure enough, Damian and Elijah are both listed along with all the Mathletes.

Janis is stunned. It doesn’t make up for the years of torment they faced at the hands of these kids, and she doesn’t think for a second that she’s going to win, but it’s a nice gesture at least. A start.

They’re each allowed to vote for two people for each category. Janis votes Cady and Karen for queen and Damian and Elijah for king. Cady votes Janis and Gretchen as queen and also votes Damian and Elijah as king.

Once they slip their papers into the boxes, the DJ announces a slow song. “May I have this dance?” Janis asks in a suave voice, reaching out a hand for her girlfriend.

“You may,” Cady giggles, taking her hand and following her onto the dance floor. Janis kisses Cady’s knuckles gently before letting go to hold her by the waist, Cady grinning up at her as she holds onto Janis’ neck.

“I love you,” Janis murmurs as they start swaying softly to the rhythm of the song. Cady pushes up briefly to brush their lips together.

“I love you too,” she whispers when she pulls away again. “I’m so glad we got this night together.”

“I am too. We’ve come so far in a year, it’s crazy,” Janis responds.

“Crazy indeed,” Cady chuckles. “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Janis says, surprising Cady by dipping her. She squeals and clings tighter to her neck, but giggles when Janis kisses her quickly and pulls her back up.

“You’re so smooth,” Cady teases as the song ends.

“Thanks,” Janis responds as she kisses her again. “God, my feet are killing me.”

“Take your shoes off then, Jellybean. The ticket lady will hold them for you,” Cady says. “Mine kind of hurt too, we can just walk around barefoot.”

They both sit on the bleachers to take their heels off, breathing a sigh of relief once they’re back to their normal height. Now that they’re free, they meet back up with Damian and Elijah, letting loose and dancing crazily to the loud music, jumping up and down as they laugh. It’s freeing, dancing like nobody’s watching in a room packed with people.

After several songs, the DJ announces that it’s time to reveal the winners of prom king and queen. All the nominees head up on stage next to him, Janis and Cady holding hands as they make their way up.

They announce the kings first. “Your nominees for prom king are: Damian Hubbard, Elijah French, Kevin Gnapoor, Marwan Jitla, and Tyler Kimble!” The DJ calls dramatically. “And your kings for tonight are... Damian and Elijah!”

Janis and Cady both cheer happily as their friends receive their crowns, clapping for them excitedly.

“Moving to your nominees for prom queen! Caddy Heron, Janis Sarkisian, Regina George, Gretchen Wieners, and Karen Smith!” Cady pouts a little at the mispronunciation of her name. “And your prom queens tonight are... Caddy and Janis!”

Janis blinks rapidly, stunned. They’re handed the tiaras to put on each other, Cady having to pop up on her tippy toes to reach that high. Janis places the crown tenderly on Cady’s head, sliding it in place around her updo. Cady bravely decides to pull her down into a brief, sweet kiss. A few people clap for them then, which is nice.

They’re led off stage after that, Janis still in shock. How the hell did I win? These people all hated me. If Cady finds out later that Regina had threatened everyone into voting for them, she’d take that secret to her grave.

They decide to stick around for one more slow song, this time with Cady leading. Janis leans down and presses their foreheads together, looking into Cady’s clear blue eyes happily.

Cady tries to dip her, too, nearly dropping her on the ground until Janis barely manages to pull herself back up at the last second. Cady looks very sheepish, until Janis kisses her cheek gently to make her smile.

“Can we go home?” Cady asks quietly once the song is finished, pressing close to Janis. “I feel buzzy.”

‘Buzzy’ is how Cady had taken to describing the feeling of being overstimulated. She surprisingly isn’t feeling too overloaded, given the amount of noise and the lights, but knows it will get to be too much for her soon.

“Of course, baby. Go get our stuff, I’ll go tell Damian,” Janis answers, kissing her sweetly and pushing her towards the door.

She heads to fetch Damian, who is deep in conversation with Elijah. She doesn’t want to interrupt, but he spies her lurking and waves her over. “Caddy and I are going home, she’s tired.”

“Okay, I’ll come say bye,” Damian says, kissing Elijah on the cheek and standing to follow her. Janis leads him over to where Cady is waiting with her bag and both pairs of their shoes.

“Bye, little slice,” Damian says, wrapping her in a hug. “See you later.”

“Bye, Dame,” Cady responds, leaning into his embrace as best she can. Damian heads back to his date then, Janis leading Cady by the arm out the doors gently. She taps into her phone to order their Uber home before sitting down on a bench and pulling Cady into her lap.

“Did you have fun, Peanut?” She asks, kissing Cady’s forehead as she squeezes her tightly to help with the sensory overload. Cady nods against her shoulder, too overwhelmed to speak unless she absolutely has to. “Good.”

It’s a cold night for springtime, and Janis notices Cady start shivering slightly in her embrace. She pulls away for a second to tug off her blazer, wrapping it gently around her girlfriend and pulling her back in. Cady kisses her jaw a few times in thanks.

————

Once they get back to Janis’ house, Cady leads Janis quickly up towards her bedroom, desperate to get out of her now heavy and uncomfortable gown. Janis hands her some makeup wipes as she pulls out Cady’s emergency sleepover pjs from her dresser, as well as some shorts and a sweatshirt for herself.

Cady takes the pjs once all her itchy makeup has been removed, but tugs gently on the hem of Janis’ sweatshirt, silently asking for one too. Janis goes to fetch another one, kissing her cheek as Cady heads to get changed.

Cady is scratching at her head when she returns, trying to relieve some of the ache caused by her hairstyle. “Help?” She asks quietly, barely above a whisper. Talking takes energy she doesn’t have to spare at the moment.

Janis nods, gesturing for her to sit between her legs as she removes the crown, starting to unravel the mess of pins and ties holding up her hair. Cady breathes a sigh of relief once her long curls are flowing down her back again, and her eyes flutter shut as Janis starts stroking a brush through them gently to remove any excess product.

Once she’s finished, Cady ties her hair up loosely so it’s not in her face before turning to face Janis. “Now you.”

Janis switches spots with her, taking a wipe to take off her own makeup as Cady starts gently brushing the gel and hairspray out. They’d still have to shower tomorrow, but that can wait. They’re both exhausted.

Once Janis’ hair is sufficiently soft, Cady lies down and pulls Janis to lie on top of her. Janis was worried about squishing her the first few times, since Cady is so much smaller, but Cady had explained that the pressure didn’t hurt and actually was very helpful when she was upset.

Janis tugs the duvet over them gently, kissing Cady goodnight before tucking her face into her shoulder and closing her eyes.

“I love you.” Cady mutters quietly, rubbing Janis’ back.

“I love you too, baby. Sweet dreams.” Janis says back, popping an eye open to look at the two tiaras resting on her nightstand. She grins happily before shutting her eyes once more and drifting off to dreamland.

Tonight belonged to us.

hope you enjoyed! if you want to check it out, I put some images of their outfits and such in this chapter of my work on wattled (titled cadnis oneshots so I can get some f*cking sleep). I'm sorry I didn't put them here, but I frankly do not have the energy.

requests are still open! please leave them either here, on my wattpad, or on my ao3. I've been getting a fair few recently (thank you all!) so it may take a few weeks for yours to be published, but I am doing my damndest to crank these out and will get to everyone's eventually.

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady x janis #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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