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niskoo · 3 years

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Burrito run

pairing: rich kid! Jake x rich kid! reader

genre: fluff, crack, bff2l! AU

warnings: food, swearing, sneaking out (??)

word count: 3k words

a/n: my dumbass posted this on my nct acc omfg

this was originally for haechan of nct for my nct acc (@daegall) but i thought i could treat you guys to hehe

networks: @enhypennetwork

You had known Jake for more than half of your lives. Thanks to both of your rich ass parents setting you two up for a playdate at the age of 12, now you have found your rock and partner in crime. You know when he's feeling down, when he wants to cause trouble for no reason, when he has an eye for someone, heck, you know when and how to get him out of any situation when needed.

Like right now, as he gives you a side glance as he talks boringly to a group of men. All they talked about was business. Jake wanted to talk about that one burrito place down the block, he wants to get out of there and go get some. He wants to get out of this stupid high class party he has no part of.

He knows you do too, he knows by the way you keep glancing at the back door by the kitchen, and how you occasionally move to each group closer to the door. You know he catches up to the plan, how he also moves from group to group, excusing himself every 2 minutes.

You politely excuse yourself from the many unknown rich aunts who just questioned your love life, giving them a very passive smile, before turning to move to another group.

You don't get to go to another group, because you're already so close to the door, and Jake approaches you.

"Why, hello there, miss Y/n."

You feign shock at his greeting, holding a hand to your chest, "My, Jaeyun, wasn't it? It's been too long!"

Your best friend nods, playing along to the small skit you two have created, "About 2 hours, I think? You've grown very beautifully,"

You flick your hand at him, nudging his shoulder not-so-gently, "Oh stop."

You bite your lip to hold back a loud laugh when Jake winces at your harsh push at his shoulder, watching as his face twists in playful anger. You can't help but thin he looks absolutely adorable, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed in a non meaningful glare, you ought to kiss his puffed cheeks.

You shake the last thought from your mind, bringing the elegant glass of champagne to your lips, sipping lightly at the sweet and slightly sour liquid. You then take a double check around the spacious room, to see if anyone is watching.

Your mother and father were chatting at the far corner with the parents of Jay, a guy you met earlier this evening. He looked just as bored as you. Jake's parents stood not too far from your parents, greeting anyone who approached them.

This was your chance.

Quickly, as Jake was mumbling something about you growing up strongly as well, you grab his arm. He yelps in surprise, as you drag him through the back door, lightly blushing at your gentle touch at his wrist.

The back door soon slams behind the both of you, and you are met with a large yard.

"Y/n! What if someone caught us?"

Giving Jake a side glare, you start to trudge down the flight of stairs to the garden, "You were too busy complaining about my guns to notice we had a chance to escape. You're welcome."

"You're weak!"

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

You ignore the upcoming argument you could've started, taking off your painful heels. They were absolutely stunning, but stung your feet constantly. Beauty is pain, as mother says.

"Lead the way to the burrito truck you claimed to see on the way here!"

Through the many bushes, and many guards, and even more bushes, you finally make it out the the big mansion, and into the dark streets. It's 10 in the night, you hope the burrito place is still open or your only choice left is a McDonalds about an hour away or convenience store food. Not that you minded, but you haven't had a burrito since you were 18. You had it right after graduation day with one of your closes friends who you have no idea of her whereabouts now.

The last time Jake had a burrito is about last week, the first time he met another rich kid named Sunghoon. Their parents gave them a bunch of money to go spend on expensive and top quality foods, but they both mutually agreed to get cheap burritos that would probably give them a bad stomach.

Jake takes the lead, as expected, for he was the one who spotted the food truck. He took off his blazer some time ago, you don't remember when, but with his jacket thrown over his elbow and sleeves rolled up like that, you can't help but admire.

You notice every single little thing about him, his slow, rhythmic paces, occasionally kicking stray rocks on the sidewalk. You watch as his hair slightly bounces as he kicks yet another rock, and you want to pet his hair.

There was that one time when you were 16 and you had a movie night as your parents went away for some business, he had his head on your lap, you didn't mind for some reason. At some point you had started playing lightly with a few strands of his hair, but you didn't notice. The moment you softly ran your hands through his hair, you realized, and decided to keep your hands to yourself after that. To your surprise he protested against it, claiming it was very comforting. So now every time one of you come over to the other's house, you would somehow find yourself playing with his hair, like pure human instinct.

But now as you observed your best friend more, you have a different feeling running through you as you had an urge to softly play with them once more, as if it wasn't as platonic anymore. But that was absurd. you've been friends for 10 years now, why are you just feeling like this now?

Your heart jumps in your chest when you are suddenly met with Jake's eyes, shining brightly with a slight mischievous gloss glazing over them. "Can we pick up the pace please? I'm getting pretty hungry and I know you are too."

Your heart softens as he sticks his arm out, gesturing you to come next to him. You jog barefoot to his side, instantly looping your arm with his.

It doesn't take long to find the food truck Jake mentioned, just a 10 minutes from the mansion, somewhere near the center of town. You had to drive about 2 hours to get here, and so did Jake, so it's a bit strange how he knew his way around the town so easily. You guess he just is that way.

You practically drool at the smell of savory foods that lingers in the air, sucking the saliva in your mouth.

Your best friend eyes you playfully, nudging your hip with his, "See? What did I tell you? Burrito food truck!"

You don't respond, simply grunting and dragging him to the cashier to order some food.

It takes a lot of time to decide on what burrito you'd buy, there were even tacos, and weirdly, cookies and croissants. It was your dream food truck, really. In the end, you both went for the classic burrito, nothing could beat it.

There were no seats to the food truck, sadly, so you and Jake opted to sit on the curb, legs sprawled out on the road, hopefully no cars drive by.

"You ready?" Your best friend asks you, looking at you with much anticipation. You stare at your own burrito in much more anticipation, it's been 4 years since you had a burrito. You wonder how you could survive that long.

You nod vivaciously, already opening your mouth to take a bite. Jake chuckles as he watches you take your first bite, your cheeks instantly puffing out full of the contents. You shut your eyes in bliss, licking your lips for anything left on them.

As you continue to chew, you shake your head, "Shit, I haven't had anything this good in sooo long." You exaggerate, taking yet another bite of the heavenly treat.

Jake can't agree more, he just had a burrito last week, but somehow eating one with you feels different. Especially when you don't mind him seeing and pointing out the smeared food around your mouth, simply trying to search for it with your tongue instead.

Your best friend wants to cherish this moment forever, keep it deep in his heart and laugh at it in the future when he suddenly gets reminded of it, he wants to brag about it to his friends, maybe even share it with his grandchildren, he doesn't know. All he knows is that you're it for him.

You're the one he's spent all of his teenage years with, his first heartbreak, first sleepover, first drink was with you, heck, you were his first close friend!

You know so much about him, you share so much about yourself to him, he's the one you trust. He's the first person you call out to when you're down, first person you call out to in the best of your times. It amazing how much you've been through together, and Jake thinks anything is possible, as long as it's you.

Falling in love seems so much easier than ever, especially at that moment, eating a burrito instead of the expensive caviar at the party before, just with him. And nobody else.

He wants to make you his. Not just his best friend, his lover, his soul mate, his whole world. Not that you weren't already.

"What's wrong?" you suddenly ask Jake, startling him. "You nudge your chin at the burrito in his hands, "Why aren't you eating?"

Jake flushes, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time, taking a big bite of his burrito, before looking away bashfully. "It's nothing."

You grow suspicious of his actions, watching as he swallows and bites his lip shyly. You choose to leave it there, instead bringing up your parents being out of town next week.

The conversation keeps going, from one topic to the other, swerving all over the place, but that's just how it is, talking to the person you're most comfortable with.

The conversation goes on and on until you find yourself walking along the streets blindly, fiddling with the paper packaging of the burrito you ate. You also find yourself wearing Jake's shoes instead of walking barefoot, he gave to you after you complained about walking over so many rocks, and you didn't like how your heart swarmed and beat dangerously fast as he claimed it would be better if you borrowed them for the night.

Strangely enough, his blazer he took off about and hour ago now stayed on your shoulders, keeping you warm from the cold breezes of the night. All your best friend's actions made you swoon over him, and that wasn't something you would feel often. Maybe occasionally, but not everyday.

Jake doesn't know what got into him when he took his shoes off for you, or when he draped his blazer on your shoulders, or why he took your heels and held it for you. What he does know, is that he enjoys the way your lips purse and a light shade of pink dusted over your cheeks. Or how you pull his blazer tighter around your body and sub-consciously loop your arm around his again.

You two never really got to go through the proper high school experience, your parents forced you to go to a strict school with strict rules, they didn't even have celebrations.

Jake always imagines what it would be like to go to a dance, prom, maybe? Full of fun, dancing, and definitely you. You had a similar vision. Chugging down punch or soda and dancing crazily together until you both get sick and throw up in the bathroom.

Prom was like a mutual yearning for the both of you.

God, how you would kill to have a normal high school experience.

"You know," Jake starts, "this feels like I'm walking you home after prom."

You can't stop the grin from reaching your lips, giving into it and letting out a soft laugh. Softly, you elbow his side, "Corny."

There are a few laughs here and there after that, but overall just comforting silence that goes throughout the night. The crickets that echo throughout the night are your only noises, and the few cars rushing by. You two come to a stop at a random bench by a streetlamp, settling there until you realize it's time to go back to the party.

You realize it, but you just don't want to let go of the moment.

You feel Jake hook his leg under yours, swinging them together in sync as you rest and stare into the night sky. Tonight isn't that much of a pretty night, no stars, barely a moon, but that's alright, you're enjoying the most of it.

You turn your head away from the boring black sky, instead facing the mot interesting thing you find in life. Jake is staring down at your swinging legs, smiling at the sight. He fiddles softly with your fingers, caressing and tracing them as if they were one of the most precious things in the world.

Your eyes trail from your tangled legs, to your tangled hands, all the way up to Jake's face, tracing each and every detail with your gaze. You don't remember when he matured, you only remember the fluffy cheeked bowl cut Jake when you two were still middle schoolers. Now all that cheek has become more defined, especially his jaw, you can't help but admire him. He was like a piece of art. Your favorite piece of art.

For the second time that night, you focus on his hair, and ought to run your hands through them once again. To pull him into your embrace as he rests on you, to simply relax and twirl his strands around your fingers.

It seems like whenever you're staring at his hair, Jake just startles you with his eyes, still glossy, but this time they hold something different.

They admire you just as much as yours admire him.

Slowly, as if an unspoken agreement, you lean in closer to his face. His breath close to your cheek sets goosebumps trailing your body, and his touch now on your neck warms you inside.

Your eyes flit between his eyes and lips, oh those plump, soft lips you dream of. You would never admit it, but you have had many urges to crash your own upon them.

And that's exactly what you do. Though, crash isn't the right word to describe it. They press together softly more than recklessly, pulling into a soft lock, something much more than just platonic love being poured into it. Pure bliss and love are being poured like gentle and calm rivers, the ones you find clear and beautiful in parks. It runs faster as Jake tilts your head to kiss you closer, lips wrapped up in the warmth of yours. It feels like home to him.

Jake is absolutely perfect, you decide, despite all the many nights spent together breaking down, left for each other to pick the other up, it makes him perfect.

He thinks you're the most flawless thing he's ever seen, despite all the gems and crystals he sees in most parties, you're the brightest one shining, he could never find any jewel more valuable than you.

You pull away with one last soft lock of your lips, but stay close and ghost them together. You find his eyes the shining the most you have ever seen in the 10 years you have spent with him, one different emotion fluttering behind them. Love.

You surely don't feel that big of a person when you're at these big rich parties, even if everyone knew of your name. But kissing your best friend and being the one he sees, he loves, being his, you feel like you could rule the world.

You know you're his after this. How could you not? The way he breaks out into a very bashful smile when you leave one last peck on his lips, the way he holds you so close. There was no way he couldn't be yours after this.

A week later you have a very sleepy boyfriend on your couch, his head resting on your lap as you play softly with his hair. Nothing is all that different, except for all the kisses he steals when reaching up to you. And of course, the corny lines being thrown at each other as a competition to see who can come up with the cheesiest, most disgusting pick up line ever.

"I want to wrap you in my arms and make you my baerito."

"Ugh Jake that was just straight but bad! Not even funny or cheesy!"

Jake simply laughs, and wraps his arms around you just as he claimed to have wanted to, mumbling how he agreed into your forehead.

Being in his arms, you feel like you could fight everything that would try to hurt your lover, but for now you stick to the playful pokes he gives to your stomach and sides.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #i land #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake #jake sim enhypen #jake enhypen #jake sim imagines #jake sim scenarios #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #jake imagines

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morkleemelon · 4 years

Text

Jet Lag✈️

1) you and Mark are both idols and you're on video call from different countries and you miss each other. You surprise Mark secretly visiting Korea and you then surprise him in his room and you guys cuddle and stuff ^~^

@smolninja thank you for your request! I hope it’s everything you wanted! I’m sorry for the delay, I had so many issues with Tumblr and accidentally deleted it when I was like 70% done it was so sad. Nonetheless, I really liked writing it! Enjoy :)

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Fem Idol!reader x Mark Lee

The set up: you’re in a 7 member kpop group called Girl Trouble and you’ve just finished the first concert of your Japanese tour. We’re pretending corona doesn’t exist :) The general public does not know that you are dating Mark Lee

-----

You feel the van come to a stop as flashing lights bloom from outside the tinted windows, waking you from your much needed sleep.

“We’re at the hotel y/n,” your bandmate, Yeeun, informs, fixing her hair in her phone camera to make sure she was ready to be photographed.

The excited cheers coming from the street bring you out of your sleepy stupor and you stretch your arms above you in a big yawn.

“How do I look?” you ask Nayoo, your best friend in the group who’s sitting next to you, touching up her concealer.

“Perfect as always y/n, duh,” she replied, playfully winking as she put her stuff away.

“Ok I’m opening the door!” you warn as you grab the handle and take a deep breath, putting on your best smile.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with an uproar of fans calling out your name and a storm of camera flashes eager to capture your latest look. It was your group’s first time in Japan so the fans were especially excited to finally have the chance to see you.

*Click click click click*

You stepped out of the car as gracefully as you could, smile never faltering as you showed off your pearly white teeth and prize-winning dimples. Brushing your hair back slightly as you walk, you tease your new gold earrings as a subtle endorsement to the brand. Your members following suit, you wave to the crowd and make your way to the entrance, nodding at a few fansites you recognized.

- - -

Throwing yourself onto the bed, your freshly showered hair promptly soaks through the comforter but you couldn’t care less.

“Ugh...,” you sighed, melting into the plush goodness of the hotel mattress, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

If only he were here with you...

“Oh!” you gasp, head shooting up from your now wet pillow, “I promised I’d call!”. You rolled off the bed and scrambled to find your phone in your bag, suddenly wide awake.

“You’re calling loverrr boyyyy?” Nayoo teased, dragging out the letters because she knew how much you hated it.

“Stopppp!” you whined, throwing your soggy pillow at her and trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Frantically unlocking your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find your boyfriend, heart racing with anticipation. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Mark and you know it’ll be a few more until you have the chance. You promised each other to call whenever you could, but with NCT dream having a new comeback and Girl Trouble was starting to be really popular, there was only so much you could do. On top of that, it was stressful trying to keep your relationship a secret with all of the prying eyes around you and Mark’s intense fan base. Nevertheless, you’ve been going strong for about 8 months now you know that everything, every struggle, is worth it because of how much you truly love him.

Calling: Baby💕💋🦁...

You don’t bother to fix your makeup-less face and frizzy hair because you know that he’ll say you’re beautiful.

You smile at the thought of him as the FaceTime chimes ring.

*whoom*

“Marky!” you whisper cry, heart racing with excitement as you see his face for the first time in days.

“Baby!” Mark squeals back in the same tone, losing himself to giggles as you both giddily recover from the excitement of getting to see each other. You can hear the sound of voices mocking him in the background and Chenle’s piercing scream cuts through the audio.

“How have you been, baby?” you ask adoringly, ignoring the dreamies and look longingly at the boy in round glasses and his favorite grey hoodie.

“Shut up guys! I’m trying to talk to y/n!” he yells back at them, met with only more mocking and screaming. Sighing and giving up, he turns back to the camera, “Ah you know, I’ve been alright. We’ve been pretty busy with practice. I’m actually at practice right now if you can’t tell”. He pans the camera to the other members of dream who are clearly only taking a break because Mark made them stop for this phone call.

Guilt grips at you as you realize how you were probably inconveniencing them. After all, it was getting late and they all have to stay even later now because of you.

“Oh... if now’s not a good time we can always try tomorrow,” you offer, smiling slightly but not enough to hide your disappointment and guilt.

“Aw baby I’m sorry,” Mark soothes, “don’t worry about us I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you so much and these guys can spare a few minutes it’s fine”.

“I wish you were here, Mark. Or I was there,” you whisper, lying down on your bed once again. Placing your phone in front of you, it’s almost, almost, as if he were there lying with you.

Mark wears a pensive expression as he looks down, using his free hand to fiddle with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. Me too”.

His voice is strained as he thinks about the nights you’ve snuck out together and the secret dates you shared. He misses the way you feel in his arms and the way your soft hair felt when it tickled him awake in the morning. He misses your terrible dad jokes and your night cooking. It was really frustrating how you were both so young and so in love, but everything else in life had to get in the way. Mark really missed you.

You reach out instinctively to stroke his hair but instead of comforting the boy you loved, your hands are met with only the cold surface of your screen.

The two of you talked for a few more minutes, trying to make the most of the time before he had to go. You could tell by the way his voice strained that he was really exhausted.

When he finally hung up, you couldn’t shake the empty feeling off; not being next to him, being able to touch him, to comfort him, to be with him was the worst feeling in the world.

And before you could stop yourself, warm tears began to fall as your shoulders shook with your heartbroken sobs. Video calls were supposed to make you miss each other less, not more. You loved him so much that you’d miss him even if he was right there with you. Being apart was devastating.

“Oh, honey…,” Nayoo coos, crawling into your bed to give you a much needed hug, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let it out”.

Wrapping your arms around your best friend, you let the tears fall onto your already soaked pillow and spilling out the feelings you’ve kept buried inside for so long.

“I just miss him so much,” you gasp, squeezing your fists around the fabric of Nayoo’s sweatshirt.

“Oh I know y/n, I know,” she comforted, “remember back when we were trainees and you just started dating Mark? And I was always there to distract Manager Kim when you snuck out to meet him?”.

You let out a small laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. Nayoo was truly a good friend and she always had your back. You were really lucky to have her in your life.

“I do, Nayoo. I never thanked you enough for that”

“You know I love you. I’d do it again now if you wanted to sneak out and meet him. Actually I bet you could pull it off since our next show isn’t for another 4 days”

“Wait…”

Both of you sat up at the same time, looking at each other with wide eyes.

------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Shush! We already bought the tickets there’s no backing out now”

“What if someone notices me?”

“They won’t. Look at you”

You looked in the mirror of the lobby bathroom you were hiding in. You were dressed in plain, unbranded clothes, your hair tucked in a low, messy bun. The majority of your face was covered by a mask and a baseball hat, making you look nearly unidentifiable to anyone looking.

“I guess,” you sighed, still nervous, “let’s just go over the plan again”.

“Alright sheesh,” Nayoo groaned, “as if I am not a wizard of distracting our manager. You’ll get into the Uber we just called and go to Japan Airport. Your flight is at 2:30am and you’ll arrive in Korea at about 4:00am. Then you’ll go to Mark’s dorm and make out with him yadda yadda-”.

You punched her in the arm.

“Okay! Did I lie though? Anyways, you’ll be on your return flight the next day at the same time so you better savor your time. MY job is to tell Manager Kim that you are having lady problems and you can’t make it to practice today. He hates when we talk about periods so this is fool proof seriously. Plus we know that you will do fine on stage without one day of practice”.

“Okay…,” you chewed your lip nervously, half dreading the thought of being caught and half thrilled at the thought of being in Mark’s arms in a few hours. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you looked at the notification.

*your Uber driver Ayako is here! Look for license plate A29&Q on a black Honda Pilot*

Hugging Nayoo goodbye, you rush out of the hotel and into the cab, adjusting your cap and mask to make sure it covers your face.

Each second that passed, you became more excited about seeing your boyfriend and less nervous about the consequences.

Mark, I’m here for you. I’m coming, just wait a little bit longer.

Your hands itched to call him and tell him what you were doing but you knew that he was catching up on some much needed sleep by now.

When you arrived at the Japan Airport, you thanked the driver and walked briskly through the airport. You had nothing except a small backpack and your plane ticket so getting through security was quick. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there at 2 in the morning so you began to relax.

Successfully making it through security, you finally board the plane and claim your seat at the very back.

Looking out the window to the dark, starry skies, the lights of the airplane wings illuminate the drops of rain that began to fall.

-----

You jolt awake as the plane lands at the South Korea Airport with a rumbling thud. Your hands dart to your face to make sure your mask and hat are still there, sighing in relief when they remain unmoved.

Grabbing your bag, you walk down the aisle of the half-empty plane, each step bringing you closer to Mark.

Rushing out of the airport, your steps gain traction as you feel your heart racing in excitement at the thought of seeing your boyfriend so soon. The cold night air greets you familiarly as you call the nearest cab over. Telling the driver the address of Mark’s dorm building, you watch as the streetlights pass by and you near the boy you’ve been dying to see for weeks.

At last, you arrive at the steps of the apartment complex. Thanking the driver, you rush into the building and attack the elevator button going up. Your breathing is shallow with excitement knowing that he’s there right now. He’s there and you’re going to be with him.

Every second in the elevator feels like hours and you kick yourself for not taking the stairs. The floors seem like they’re all a mile away from the last and you tap your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor.

8...9...10

*Ding*

You speed out of the elevator and find your way expertly to the infamous 10th floor dorm room. Feeling around the crevices of the carpet floor for the spare key, you feel a slight twinge of nerves because you’re technically breaking into their home. But, as soon as you enter the familiar room, any guilt you have washes away and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beating of your heart filled with love and anticipation.

Making your way silently through the dark common room, you stop at the oh-so-familiar door. When your hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob, you swear that the beating of your heart was loud enough to wake the entire building.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door and you see him. Your breath hitches at your throat and you fight back the urge to cry right then and there. Mark was lying on his bed, snuggled under the covers with his arms and legs wrapped around a pillow like he always does when he sleeps. His soft breathing was rhythmic and calming, the warm scent of his room inviting you in.

Without wasting another second away from him, you drop your bag on the messy floor and walk up to his bed. Carefully, you pull at the pillow in his embrace and replace it with your own body. Mark shifts slightly and you freeze, not wanting to wake him up from his rare sleep. His eyes remain closed and his arms instinctively tighten around you. You can see through the darkness that his eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips part, and you wonder if he knew you were there.

“Finally,” you thought to yourself, reaching up slowly to caress his hair, “we’re finally together”. It didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here in his arms. His body was so warm and felt like home to you.

You can feel Mark’s fingers autonomously rub circles into your back. As if his body realized what was happening, Mark’s eyes opened slowly and he peered into your face, blinking slowly to process this new information.

“I’m here, Mark,” you whisper as softly as you can.

Without any hesitation, Mark leans forward and presses a deep kiss onto your lips, conveying ten thousand words with his actions that could only be interpreted as “I missed you so much”.

You kiss him back, fingers gripping onto his shirt with raw emotion in an “I missed you too”. You breathe in deeply, not wanting to forsake any aspect of him, taking in all of his scent and drinking it all like a flower with no water.

He pulls away with a sigh and presses his forehead against yours. Mumbling incoherent words, you notice that he seems to have fallen back asleep.

Your own eyelids feel heavy and they flutter closed as you succumb to the warm welcome of sleep, your heart whole with love.

-----

Dull beams of sun fell slanted through the curtains as you drifted awake the next morning. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you opened your eyes slowly, temporarily forgetting what you had done the night before. Memories flooded back and your attention narrowed in at the smiling boy in front of you.

“You’re really here,” Mark whispered, “how are you here?”.

“It’s a long story,” you whispered back, voice still hoarse from sleep.

He pulled you in closer to his chest and you gladly snuggled into his warm body, nuzzling at his favorite hoodie, the one you got him for Christmas.

“I thought it was all a dream when I saw you last night,” he admitted.

“Stay with me today?,” you ask, worried that your time together would be short. If he had to go to practice, you could hardly see him at all and you’d go back to missing him a thousand miles away.

“I’m not going anywhere today,” Mark replies, kissing the top of your head, “my wishes have finally come true and you magically appeared in my bed. I’d be an idiot to leave”.

You giggled at his words, working your fingers to draw shapes into his back.

You start to tell him what happened after you called him the night before and how devastated you were when you weren’t with him. Mark’s arms tightened around you as you told him you cried when you saw how tired he was and you weren’t there to cheer him up. You told him about how you put on a disguise and snuck around Manager Kim who thought you were dying right now. His body shook with laughter at the crazy night you had and you both agreed that this was the wildest thing you had ever done.

“How long are you gonna stay here?”

“My flight back to Japan is at 2:30am tomorrow morning. What time is it now?”

Mark shifts to unlock his phone on the nightstand.

“It’s 10:49am”

You sighed and buried your face deeper into his chest, trying to get impossibly closer to the love of your life and make the most of your hard-earned time together.

“Let’s do everything today,” you heard him say.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your chin up to look at him, pressing a small his to his jaw.

“Let’s just do everything we always wanted to do. Let’s get ramen from the convenience store together and then go on a walk at the park. Let’s get matching sweaters from the mall and then full sugar boba tea. You’ll drink half of mine and I’ll let you because I’m a good boyfriend”. Mark giggles at his imagination and peppers kisses across your face.

You laugh at the ticklish sensation and your heart swells with love for the Canadian boy.

Your whole body tingled, the feel of his body around yours and his lips on yours sending your head spinning. Rubbing your nose adoringly against his in an eskimo kiss, you vow that you would be strong for him from now on. You might be apart for work a lot, but the love you share is inseparable and undeniable. Nothing could ever come between you. You were his and he was yours.

“Let’s do it, Everything”

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker x reader #joker leto #joker imagine #joker suicide squad #joker jared leto #mister j #mr. j #dc #dcu

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ravenforce · 4 years

Text

Manhattan 8

Word Count: 4557

A/N: Hi! I’m alive. I’m so sorry it took so long for me to write again but here I am. Anyway, I hope you guys are still practicing social distancing and still following the safety protocols wherever you are. Stay safe and healthy, y’all. Let me know what you think of this. I only proofread this once, so have mercy on me. xx

Summary: Definitely not what you asked for. :)

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 9

***

“Lou?”

The Heist crew looked at each other across the board room while Lou just continues to stare blankly out the tall window, unable to hear anyone around her. It’s the time of the year again. The anniversary of the day Lou lost you.

“Lou?” Debbie tried to get her attention by standing directly at her line of sight.

Lou blinked twice before looking up at Debbie. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath and sat up straighter. “Sorry, I was elsewhere.”

“We were just asking if you’re ready with the marketing of this joint exhibit with Selene Quaid?”

“Yes but we’re still waiting for Quaid and her team’s feedback about the graphics,” Lou assured her best friend with a smile.

Debbie stared at her for a couple of seconds before nodding and turning back to the whole team. Lou didn’t dare look back to her friends in fear to see them pitying her for being unable to move on after two years now. Yes, it’s been two years since she thought walking away would be easy but it was far from it. It was agonizing and physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. Especially when she thought seeing you, even from afar, would ease the pain but didn’t.

For the first few months after you left, Lou made secret trips every weekend to visit Tate and hopefully catch a glimpse of you. At first, she was elated to see you thriving; the museum is indeed your natural habitat but as time goes by, it hurts even more because she misses you tremendously. She misses sharing life with you, that’s why it pains her to see you living one that she can’t be a part of. She owns the pain, she knows she brought it upon herself. So, she sucked it up.

Until she got an intervention.

“You thought we didn’t know? You’re always away on the weekends. You’re not on Ithaca, and you’re not with your brothers,” Debbie says gently as they sit Lou on their board room. Her brothers were in attendance too.

“Rats,” she hissed while looking at Thor and Loki who was leaning against the far wall.

Her friends chuckled. “They didn’t snitch on you. Nine found your trail.”

She whipped her head back to her friends, eyes wide in surprise. “What?”

“You didn’t give us any choice,” Tammy said while playing at the ends of her blonde hair. A telltale sign that she’s nervous. “You won’t talk to us.”

“That didn’t give you the right to hack my email though.”

Lou crossed her arms across her chest. Daphne chuckled at the childish pout on their friend’s face.

“This can’t go on forever, Lou,” Daphne said. “When’s the last time you spent time with us?” Daphne gestured to everyone in the room. “With your brothers?”

Lou caught her brother’s eyes and suddenly she felt a wave of guilt. “We need you here too,” Thor says sincerely. “We all do.”

Loki nodded. “We know you love her. We know that she loves you too. She wouldn’t want this for you.” Loki admonished. “You said you did what you did because you didn’t want Y/N to spread herself thin for you. Well, guess what, as her friend, we know she wouldn’t want this for you too.”

She admits it. Flying back and forth every week was taking a toll on her. So, she relented to visiting Tate at least two times a month. Until it became once a month, then just whenever she’s free or whenever missing you get so intense.

She knew she couldn’t put her life on hold forever.

She knew she can’t just sit around and mope, and wait for you to come home.

***

With the joint exhibit happening in five days, everyone was legit on their toes with everything that needs to be done. The whole office was buzzing with activity the moment Lou walked in at 8 in the morning. Agatha just put the box of breakfast pastries down the one table where everyone likes to work even though they all have designated desks when she walked in.

“Good morning Lou,” Agatha greeted with a smile before handing her, her favourite coffee.

“Morning.” She smiled back before glancing towards Debbie who’s pacing back and forth inside her glass office. “What’s wrong?”

“Debbie’s frustrated that Quaid still hasn’t approved Daphne’s marketing collateral.”

“Has anyone spoken with Quaid?” She asked pensively.

“Yes. Quaid’s secretary said someone will be coming over to represent her,” Tammy answered, rolling her chair away from her computer. Before she can respond though, Charlie entered the room at the same time Debbie exited her office.

“What is it, Charlie?” Debbie asked, immediately picking up on Charlie’s excited demeanour.

“Quaid’s representative is outside,” he responded with a broad smile.

Everyone raised their eyebrow at him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let them in,” Daphne sassed.

“She picked up a call but will be with us right about -” Charlie paused. The door to the office opened. “Now.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you walked in.

***

A collective gasped was heard across the room before silence swept through it. You looked at Charlie who has already recovered from his shock at seeing you again after two long years. You turned back to everyone before smiling.

“Hey.” You greeted. Lou’s heart skipped a beat and ached at the same time. Your voice shook everyone out of their reverie, making everyone simultaneously yell your name in excitement and gather around you.

Nine was the first to reach you and almost tackle you down in a tight hug. “Y/N!” she yelled as she wraps her arms around you tightly. “Oh! My! God! I can’t believe you’re here!”

Daphne, Debbie, and Rose, who weren’t much of a hugger just sidled next to you. “You look all grown up, Y/L/N.” Debbie noticed. Of course, she’ll still be too cool to give direct compliments. You smiled your thanks.

“You were cute before in your graphic tees and distressed jeans. Now, you definitely look -” Daphne stopped to consider her next words.

Nine pulled away from you to look at you a once over. “Hot! Definitely fucking hot, if you asked me” she finished for Daphne making the brunette roll her eyes at Nine’s choice of language.

“Good thing no one asked you,” Constance teased before coming over to give you a short hug, and a whispered ‘I missed you.’

You laughed at their antics but it was shortly interrupted by Rose’s hand touching the sleeve of your suit.

“Are these custom-made, darling?” She asked before she can help herself.

“Missed you too, Rose.” You teased. Rose looked at you wide-eyed and with a soft blush tainting her cheeks.

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to seem more interested in your clothes -” she stuttered out. “-I missed you too, darling.”

“I’m joking, Rose.” You laughed. “And to answer your question, yes, the suit is custom made. I can’t really work in the museum wearing graphic tees, tattered jeans and converse. At least, not all the time.”

Tammy nearly cried before she could have a turn in wrapping you in her arms again. She still feels the warmest, her golden hair are still soft, and she still smell like fresh waffles in the morning. “Oh, are you still my baby?” Tammy wailed, cupping your cheeks and looking at you intently.

You can’t help but get teary-eyed too. You chuckled before nodding at Tammy’s question. “I am,” you said before you launched yourself at her. Aside from Nine and Lou, you’re closest with Tammy too. “I missed you so much, Tams.”

“I missed you so much, too, baby.” Tammy held you a little tighter. Amita who was behind Tammy took a closer look at you from the blonde’s shoulder.

“You look so different, Y/N,” Amita said before raising her hand for a fist bump. You were just about to raise your hand and tap Amita’s fist with yours when Lou’s voice cut through everything that’s been happening around you.

“I don’t think so. I think she looks the same.” Lou’s not looking at you but on her boots. “She’s still breathtaking though.”

Tammy let go of you so you can look at the blonde properly. Everyone held their breath in anticipation. This is, after all, the first time you’re seeing each other after all the mess that went down years prior.

You walked up to your ex-girlfriend. “Say it to my face, if you mean it.” Lou looked up at you in surprise.

“I-” She chewed her bottom lip. “-didn’t mean to say it out loud.” She looked uncharacteristically nervous. “But I do mean it. You look as beautiful as the day I met you.”

You didn’t say anything for a minute, making Lou’s heart almost jumped out of her ribcage. After a long pause, you smiled genuinely at her and opened your arms for a hug. To say that Lou was surprised was an understatement. She thought you would hate her for what she did but there you were opening your arms again for her.

She didn’t have to be asked twice, she stepped towards you and hugged your body close to her. She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from sobbing. It’s been so long since she felt home.

***

Lou rolled out of her bed an hour before her alarm clock hits. She smiled at the ceiling before rolling out of bed and making her way to her open kitchen. She went directly to her coffee maker. She was humming softly while measuring coffee grinds for her morning rations when someone spoke from her couch.

“Isn’t it a little too early to be this chirpy?” Nine groaned before burying her head on the pillow Lou lent her.

Lou nearly spilt the grounds over the counter in her surprise. She literally forgot that Nine and Tammy slept over to help finish some preparations for the meeting with you. Tammy stood up and stretched before walking up to Lou with a smile.

“Don’t take it personally. She’s never a morning person.”

“Coffee?” Lou asked with a soft smile and a light blush adorning her cheek.

“Yes, please.” Tammy sat on the stool by the counter and watched Lou’s back. “Are we having breakfast here or shall we have the kids (Agatha and Charlie) pick up some before heading to the office?”

Lou bit her bottom lip as she thinks about her options. She opened her fridge and studied the contents of it. “Well, I have enough ingredients for your packed breakfasts, if you want to cook.”

Tammy immediately perked up at that. “Yes, please. I’ll make Y/N’s favourites.”

Lou smiled and nodded, just in time for the coffee maker to finish brewing. She got a mug of black coffee before turning towards Tammy who was already opening her cupboards for everything that she’ll need.

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair then.” Lou knows better to stay away from the kitchen when Tammy’s cooking. The woman prefers cooking alone as she knows that their crew tends to leave a bigger mess when they’re trying to help.

Tammy just smiled and shooed her away. Nine walked in the open kitchen right when Lou seated at the balcony of her apartment. They both watched Lou with her eyes closed, face turned towards the early morning sun, and a soft smile on her face.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen her this -” Tammy paused, searching for the right word.

“Happy?” Nine tried to guess. Tammy shook her head lightly, watching Lou for another minute before she found the perfect word.

“Alive.”

***

Nine drove the three of them to work using Lou’s car. A testament of how good Lou must be feeling to let the tech girl drive her precious car. Lou just happily sat on the passenger seat, looking out of the window like she hasn’t lived in the city most of her adult life.

“Nine-” Lou said without looking at the brunette. She just continued to survey the yellow taxi idle next to their car.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know if Y/N’s dating anyone?”

Nine chuckled, Lou has been asking the same question at least every quarter of the year. Since Lou’s not on any social media platform, she didn’t have any means to watch over you. She told herself that making an Instagram account would be a violation of her efforts to move forward. She told herself it will also be futile since she’s sure you won’t let her follow you, as all your accounts are private.

“You’ve asked this before and the answer is still the same.” Nine teased lightly before handing Lou her unlocked mobile phone. “Check for yourself. The girl still flies under the radar.”

She scrolled through the endless apps installed in Nine’s phone before she found Instagram. She opened it and searched your handle through Nine’s following tab. True to her word, there’s really no sign that you’re romantically involved with someone.

Your feed is all travel photos, food crawls in your travel destinations, museums you’ve visited through London and other parts of Europe. There were also photos of your cosy apartment, and your pet cat but that’s it. One might say, there’s nothing juicy about it. You don’t even post selfies. Lou took one last quick scroll through your feed before she closed the app and handed Nine her phone back.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Nine grinned, eyes still trained out front. “So, what’s the plan?”

Lou scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion before turning her body slightly to address her friend. “What plan?”

Nine’s smile just got more mischievous. “The plan,” she said like Lou’s supposed to get it already. When Lou just kept giving her the confused look, she sighed. “What’s the plan to get Y/N back?”

“Oh.” A quick look of worry and sadness passed through Lou’s face before she turned back to the city. “I don’t know, N. I feel like I don’t deserve her. Even more so now.”

Nine frowned at that before she can speak though, Tammy kicked the back of Lou’s seat making her yelp. “What the hell, Tammy?” Lou yelled.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Tammy asked exasperated.

“Exactly that. I mean, I don’t know.” Lou crossed her arms over her chest.

“How about apologizing and telling her the truth that you never cheated on her?” Tammy mirrored Lou’s position: arms crossed and frowning deeply.

“What does it matter now? It’s been long overdue.”

“Better late than never, L.” Nine glanced at her while waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

“It won’t erase what you did but if you want her back, I think coming clean is the first step,” Tammy whispered.

***

Lou resolved to take her friends advice and apologize even though she thinks its overdue. It turns out apologizing wasn’t going to be the problem, it’s actually getting you alone for more than two minutes is. The moment they stepped into the gallery, it seems like everyone gravitate towards you. Besides that, you were also laser focus on everything that needs to be done for opening night that she finds it hard to approach you in fear of disturbing you.

Days passed in a blur of meetings, site inspections, and generally making sure that everything is on point for the event that Lou barely noticed that she still hasn’t had any alone time with you until it was opening night. You arrived at the same time everyone from the Heist was supposed to check in even though you’re technically not their employee anymore. You walked in wearing an elegant black dress with matching black heels.

“Everything is going as planned outside. Security is already in their positions, and I just saw a few VIP cars parking upfront,” you said in place of a greeting while tapping away at your phone. “Deb you might need to get your pretty ass upfront and welcome the guests.”

When only silence follows, you looked up to find every single one of your friends is gaping at you.

”I’m sorry is there something in -”

“You look beautiful,” Lou whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. You looked straight at the blonde’s blue eyes and smirked at her. “I mean -”

“Thanks, Lou.” You cut her off. “You look great too.”

A soft blush tinted Lou’s cheeks. Constance cleared her throat. “Ugh. I hate to interrupt this flirt fest but the guests are coming,” she said before nodding towards the door.

True to Constance words, invited guests started pouring in prompting everyone into action to receive them.

***

The rented space for the event was significantly bigger than the gallery but it’s still packed with art enthusiasts from all walks of life. Selene Quaid’s name plastered in every printed and digital marketing collateral does bring in the people. She’s like the sun, and everyone’s Icarus who doesn’t care if they burn just to be near her. About an hour into the event and there’s still no sign of the woman, which Lou knows because she’s been at the bar surveying the crowd all night.

She just downed her first glass of champagne when you plopped down on the stool next to her and ordered yourself a drink.

“Tequila? This early?” Lou asked after you downed your first shot.

“Yeah.” You downed another shot.

Lou crinkled her eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

You downed your last shot before turning towards your ex-girlfriend. “Selene’s late. Again. You know how tardiness makes me anxious.”

Lou nodded because she does remember the two of your discussing the issue before that’s why she made it a point never to be late in any of your dates in the past. “I’m sure she’s on the way.”

You just hummed in acknowledgement before swivelling the rest of your stool to face the buzzing crowd. Lou can’t help but study the side profile of your face.

“Lou, you’re staring.”

“I can’t help it.” She whispered loud enough for only you to hear. “I just can’t believe you’re here and talking to me.”

You glanced at her and smiled. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” You said before turning back to watch the door.

“Yes, and it may be overdue but I’m sorry for what I did.” Lou’s voice cracked as she tries to reign in her emotions.

You fully turn your attention to her then. “Lou, I’ve for-”

“No before you say that. I need you to know that truth,” she cut you off.

You nodded to prompt her to continue. “I never cheated on you,” she muttered with conviction. You searched her face for a hint of a lie but you can’t find any. “I did lie to you though.”

“Explain,” you said after flagging the waiter for another round of shots. You feel like you might need it with how serious Lou is.

Lou looked so guilty and sad when you faced her again. “I didn’t think you would ever take the job at Tate if you were with me. So I asked Therese to pretend that we were fooling around behind your back.”

You gripped the edge of the counter, as you digest that new information. Lou can see the unshed tears starting to gather in your eyes and she wanted nothing more but to reach out and pull you to her but you were gritting your teeth and she knew your habits very well.

“I’m sorry,” Lou repeated.

You downed 1 out of your 3 tequila shots. “That wasn’t your call,” you whispered angrily at her. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I had to do, not quitting the program to go back and beg you to choose me was the next.”

“I’m sorry.” Lou apologizing again is just making you angrier by the minute. You throw back your second shot.

“We could have made it work. I could have flown to you every Friday night. It’s just a 7-hour flight.” You downed your last tequila shot, ignoring the burn in your throat and almost slamming the glass down on the bar had you not remembered you two are supposed to be working.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Lou tried to reach for your hand but you yanked it away from her.

“You never gave me a chance,” you spat. Lou shook her head.

“You never gave us a chance.

***

Lou wanted to defend her decision but she was cut off when the rest of the Heist crew bounded happily to the bar.

“There you are!” Nine declared enthusiastically. You made a subtle attempt to dab the tears in your eyes before turning to your friends.

“What’s up?” You answered over-enthusiastically.

“Someone’s been looking for you,” Amita quipped.

Before you can ask who, Selene Quaid reached the bar with Rose. When she looked up and saw you, she immediately halted her conversation with the fashion designer and excused herself to come to you.

“Hey.” Selene greeted, scratching at the back of her neck. “You look fantastic.”

“You’re late,” you ignored the compliment and admonished the brunette, which surprised everyone. No one gets to tell Selene Quiad what to do. She goes places and does things in her own pace and time.

“I’m sorry.” Selene cupped your right cheek with her right hand. She looked genuinely remorseful. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You smiled softly, leaning into Selene’s touch as it temporarily soothes the ache from your previous conversation with Lou. “You better,” you said smiling.

Selene took it as a sign that she’s forgiven. Smiling broadly before stepping closer and pulling you into a soft, brief kiss that took Lou’s breath away. Just like that, Lou’s dream of getting you back was shuttered in a million tiny pieces right in front of her eyes.

It’s too late.

She’s too late.

Taglist: @kaytoopio @marvelfansince08love @marvelb00kwolf @shycucumbersandwich @subject7creed @theprassebox @confessionsofawritingdork @gaytrashgoblin @cup-of-stars

#avengers cross #avengers x oceans 8 #avengers x reader #oceans 8 x reader #avengers imagine #oceans 8 imagine #lou miller imagine #cate blanchett imagine #lou miller x reader #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller #cate blanchett

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idlecreature · 4 years

Text

a mountain is a lovely, cold thing to surround one

Barnabas Bennett and Mordechai Lukas have an... unorthodox relationship.

Barnabas has debts, and Mordechai makes sure he pays them.

Vampire!Mordechai for Jonah Magnus Week! Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Mordechai Lukas/Barnabas Bennett, Jonah Magnus/Barnabas Bennett

Content warnings: Dubcon, Unhealthy relationships, heavy on the internalized homophobia, the Lonely, manipulation (hence the dubcon warning), Barnabas does NOT die in this fic, happy ending for Barnabas because he deserves it rrrr

Fragments from a letter written circa Christmas 1814

—and I am looking forward to fainting at the sight of his sweet little face, Jonah! The splendid mane around his neck! Your little tiger, king of his jungle, king Ceasar, his croaky battle-roar as he runs down the hallway for his cream—

Barnabas has a sixth sense for earthquakes. In the hours leading up to one, he feels odd jolts in his bones, like someone is reaching through his skin and rattling him. He feels them where he broke his zygomatic process when his mother dropped him as a toddler, just to the side of his left eye. If he had a soul, he thinks that’s where it would live: in the part of him that was first broken.

When he and Jonah are thirteen and eleven respectively, he feels his skull itching and watches the trembling of their school’s pet rabbit and the anxious pattern of birds wheeling, and on their tea break, he leads Jonah outside and takes the other boy’s hand and presses it to a patch of bare dirt beside the rugby field.

“Do you feel that?” Barnabas asks.

Jonah’s eyes narrow in concentration. His hand scrapes nonsense patterns in the dirt. “Describe what I’m supposed to be feeling?”

Barnabas shakes his head. How does a thirteen-year-old describe a sense of inescapable doom? It feels like standing outside his mother’s room unbreathing and counting down from twenty before knocking. It feels like being sucked under a wave and not fighting as hard as he knows he should to resurface. It feels like waking up on a grey morning crying.

The quake, when it hits that evening, lasts for six minutes. An entire epoch for a child. And Barnabas understands it’s no use knowing about an oncoming earthquake if you are powerless to stop it coming on.

At least he has Jonah, whose dirty hand wraps tightly around his own.

Despite what Jonah believes, there are some things that just can’t be explained in words.

His skull’s been prickling in recent months.

It’s gonna be a bad one.

—It’s freezing cold, and, oh, you know I feel the cold most cruelly. I cannot make myself warm with double-socking, or blankets over my knees, or hot bread and soup... nothing warms me, only the morning sun as she shakes her fiery head. I cannot wait for summer-time—

Isabel Blackwood is a saint.

“Another slice of Three-kings-cake, B....Barny?” Isabel asks, her knife poised in the air. There are two slices left, and James has already found the bean. Her four children stand at her elbows, eyeing the cake with hungry, dark eyes, but they, too, cede to Barnabas. Even the little king bows.

“Mr. Bennett, if you please,” Barnabas replies, aiming for a terse-but-gentle tone. “And I couldn’t eat another bite!” He pats his stomach in emphasis.

“Come on, Mr. Bennett, it’s Christmas!”

“Leave off, Mr. Blackwood,” Isabel says to her husband. She smiles at Barnabas as she cuts the two slices into four and divides them amongst her children.

“Don’t wolf it down or you’ll make yourselves sick,” Isabel warns the two girls, Frances and Annie.

The Blackwoods are decent folk, letting him come over for cake on Christmas. They were the first to sign up for Barnabas’ family charity earlier in the year; he has since taken on half a dozen more, but his closest working relationship is still the Blackwoods. The charity pulled the eldest, James, out of the workhouse and into an apprenticeship, made co-payments on lodgings that are just a step above their old squalid tenement, provided them with new ill-fitting clothes. It seems pitifully little to Barnabas, but the Blackwoods seem to worship the ground he walks on.

You can’t be too friendly with people like that. It’s unfair to you both. It’s awkward enough sitting in their smoky central room, the air smelling like damp and soap and sweat and charcoal, in a tailored suit that may as well have been spun from gold, hands soft from white-collar work, clear-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. Look, his appearance mocks, how the world could be if it were not so cruel.

Before Barnabas leaves the Blackwoods, the littlest one, Henry, gives him a tight hug. Henry tries to wrap his entire body around Barnabas’ middle, constricting him like a snake, and when he doesn’t seem to want to let go Isabel has to pry him off.

“Don’t be so clingy,” she chides her son. She looks at Barnabas nervously. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bennett. He’s somehow got it in his silly noggin that you’re his Uncle.”

Barnabas looks at her in mute horror. “I - I - I should go,” he says, and makes a hasty exit.

Barnabas runs a finger down the perfectly neat columns of his ledger again, double-checking every minutia of his expenses. He’s made a mistake, he must have missed something. He’s fifty pounds short of where he should be.

His hands curl into fists. The absence of fifty pounds shouldn’t be a big issue, not for him and his big house and servants and nice things. But the charity is obviously chewing through more of this month’s allowance than he’s anticipated, and he needs to make some adjustments if he wants to be able to keep all the nice things and pay the servants and keep the debt collector from his door.

This is why he shouldn’t let people become attached to him. Because he ends up disappointing or hurting them. People could starve and it would be his fault.

A thick splat of water lands on his ledger, making the perfect lines run, and that’s just great, isn’t it? What are tears ever good for, when are they ever useful? He is just a very small cog in a very big machine, and now he’s getting ground up in it like the rest of them.

But what else can he do? He must participate in the world if he wants it to change for the better, even if it’s a marginal improvement. He could live in the margins.

He’ll find the money somewhere.

—did you get my copy of Queen Mab? The Vice Society has declared it OBSCENE MATERIAL, and I mustn't be seen with a copy of it in my house, but you do not rely so much upon a good reputation. I hope you keep it safe. I hope you read it and I hope you side with P.B.S. and I. A good world starts with a good person and a few choices that are made with the heart—

Barnabas’s game of solitaire lies forgotten as he stares at Jonah.

They are more different now than ever. Barnabas keeps the company of bankers and lawyers and politicians, and Jonah runs with crackpots and devils and the insane. Jonah has fourteen powers; Barnabas has a list of names in his address book. People he barely knows, who remain in his orbit because of his good breeding, his impeccable reputation, and they still only half-listen to his pleading and his petitioning and his politicking. The people with the power to actually change the world; people he wants at arm’s length.

But there’s just something about Jonah that makes Barnabas want to touch. He flares to gold with an audience; but, even now, curled up on his couch idly scratching between Julius Ceasar’s whiskers, he is a dim and majestic copper. There’s something undeniably old testament about Jonah; the fire and fury of creation, the self-annihilating stare of Lot’s wife.

Jonah’s close to buried under the Millbank proofs spread over his lap, sucking gently on the tip of his pen, occasionally darting down to make some arcane adjustment on the design—just a penstroke or puzzling scribble. Mostly he just stares at the paper, eyes wide enough to look like holes in his face. When he gets like this, Barnabas can balance teacups on Jonah’s head without him noticing. The record is three.

“Still keeping the elevator?” Barnabas asks. It’s just one of the many strange embellishments that Jonah’s insisted upon, putting it far outside the budget of any public works project. The price of Jonah’s fancies must run into the tens of thousands of pounds.

“In my dreams, there’s a glass elevator to the top of my tower, from which I look down upon the imprisoned and the powerless,” Jonah says.

“Taking cues from your dreams?” Barnabas replies. “You know only the desperately mad do that?”

“Or desperately inspired—savants and prophets and visionaries.”

“And prison wardens, apparently,” Barnabas mutters. He bites his teeth together, unwilling to work through this old argument. “Who’s paying for your dream towers, again? Think they might lend me fifty pounds for a project that actually is for the public good?”

Jonah finally unpeels his eyes from his proofs, and Barnabas’s throat runs dry. Jonah stares until he’s got Barnabas squirming in his seat, and then he says, brightly, “Oh, I’m sure he would. I’m sure I could tell you. But I don’t think I will.”

“Jonah,” Barnabas says irritably. “That’s very unfair.”

“Oh, pish posh, life’s unfair, Barny, and I can’t believe that you in your infinite wisdom and your even more infinite disposition to share it can pretend that it isn’t. That the evil in man has made life unfair, that it’s just not the natural order to put some creatures above others.”

Barnabas counters him an instant later. “Obviously, you stupid little man, not everyone was created equal, but it’s the good in man to want to put things to rights, to create a system where unequal creatures can be equal. Are you trying to make me angry with you by playing the devil’s advocate?”

“Just testing you,” Jonah says in his alloyed voice, silver-and-honey-gold.

“Well? Who’s this rich man then?”

Jonah sticks his tongue out at him.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Barnabas says. He tidies his long-forgotten card game and makes ready to leave.

“Wait,” Jonah says.

“It really is getting on, Jonah, I promise you can tease me about secret benefactors some other day.” Barnabas stands up and stretches on his stiff legs.

“No.” Jonah shuts his eyes briefly. “It’s very late. You should stay.”

Barnabas shakes his head and makes his way out of the fire-warm lounge and into the cold front room. Jonah springs up, sending the proofs flying and Julius Ceasar yowling in annoyance and surprise, and Jonah follows close on his heels.

“It’s raining,” Jonah says more softly.

“It is Edinburgh,” Barnabas replies, but cold apprehension curdles in his belly. “I - I need to leave. I - I already visit you too often, Jonah, and you know what people say about you, and they might think that I’m.... I’m some kind of...”

Jonah steps closer. “Aren’t you, though? ‘Some kind of’?” He reaches for Barnabas’s hand where it is clumsily buttoning his coat. “I know you, Barnabas. Your morality has only ever been a thin cover for your shame.”

The blood drains from Barnabas’ face. “That’s very cruel,” he whispers.

“It’s true,” Jonah says. He cants his head. “Haven’t you thought about why your morals don’t ever make you happy? It’s because you wield them like a sword, to keep yourself away from the world. A world that won’t ever accept you for who you are. A world that wants you to keep waving that heavy, sharp thing until you give up and throw yourself upon it. That’s your pain, Barnabas, that’s your fear. Whenever I look at you I can see it as easily as I see your face.”

Jonah steps closer again. His chin touches Barnabas’s chest, and Barnabas can see the pulse fluttering in his friend’s throat. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Jonah says.

“It does,” Barnabas says, stepping out of his reach. “Because - because I’m still afraid, and I still love the world, even - even if to live in it I must throw myself upon my sword and die and haunt my own life, all at the same time.”

Jonah remains silent. If he is stung by the rejection, his expression doesn’t show it. He’s got that crinkle between his brow he gets when he has to solve two maths problems simultaneously.

“Mordechai Lukas,” Jonah says, eventually. “That’s my moneyed friend. Tread carefully with him.”

Jonah wishes him no goodbye when he shuts the door. That’s fine with Barnabas. He’s not the only one nursing fresh wounds.

—I confess since I’ve been away this time my need or my wish for people has absolutely fled. I have learned to love solitude, and I forget what it means to be lonely.—

Mordechai looms as large as a mountain and is beautiful in the way a portrait is beautiful—two steps removed from humanity.

He tilts Barnabas’s head to the side, impervious to the muscles in Barnabas’s neck straining against him.

“Hm,” Mordechai says.

“I take it you’re not convinced by the moral position, then,” Barnabas spits out. His cheeks are burning, but Mordechai’s other hand is wrapped around Barnabas’s hip, stopping him from stepping away.

Mordechai laughs; a strange thing, guttering as it starts, in contrast with his unmoving, lifeless, beautiful face. His thumb strokes Barnabas’s cheek despite Barnabas trying to shake it off. “No. But there are certainly other positions to consider.”

“We’re in public,” Barnabas hisses. He looks pointedly at two women walking down the other side of the street.

“Are we?” Mordechai murmurs. He’s still circling his thumb on Barnabas’s cheek, but his fingers press down on Barnabas’s carotid artery, taking its measure, making Barnabas’s vision swim with silver fish.

“What - what vile magic -”

“Just a glamour.”

Barnabas processes this new information rapidly. “They can’t see us?”

“Would you like them to?”

Barnabas tries to shake his head, but it is locked in place, pulled as taut as a bowstring. The pressure is starting to hurt, and he rests against Mordechai’s hand for a moment to ease it.

“Good,” Mordechai says, and releases him. Barnabas takes several staggering steps backward, massaging his sore neck. “Spirited, aren’t you?”

“I can - I can work up a repayment plan, we can sign it at the -”

“No,” Mordechai replies, his voice heavy with finality. “I decide how I am repaid.”

Desperation is a harsh master, and Barnabas nods. He’d prefer to keep it off the books, anyway. An agreement between Gentlemen.

“You will find my terms very agreeable,” Mordechai says.

Barnabas swallows and feels the heat of his blush creep under his hair. There’s something in the way Mordechai looks at him that promises danger, but Barnabas only feels the anticipation of a fight, so strong he can barely keep it down. He takes his time to make sure he doesn’t sound too eager when he replies.

In the dark of his bedroom when Barnabas finally wraps a hand around himself, he isn’t thinking about Jonah, his many dog-eared fantasies, tired and sad Frankensteinian conjurations of the few ginger kisses they’ve shared, memories of Jonah flushed, excited, exerted stitched together and his own imagination filling in the rest—they’ve been friends for so long it’s completely understandable if Barnabas’ thoughts occasionally (privately, every night) run to intimacy. He’s trying very hard not to think about Jonah.

He’s thinking about that strange, death-pale, flat-edged face, the terrible pressure on Barnabas’s jaw, the feeling of compression on his artery, the voice both mocking and stern in turns. Its appearance in Barnabas’s thoughts elicits a new and fierce shame.

Barnabas rubs his chin, trying to chase the feeling of Mordechai’s hand.

It’s almost comical, how quickly Barnabas’s shame runs to pleasure.

His fifty pounds arrives with an invitation.

The first time Barnabas visits Moorland house, he expects Mordechai to be waiting for him. But Mordechai is not there, and Barnabas is expected to wait.

Moorland is certainly a large and imposing estate, perhaps once opulent, but it has been left to ruin. The building’s beams sag with damp; its tapestries are delicately laced with powder-white fungus; there is an atrocious stuffed albatross over the mantlepiece with half of its feathers snowed around the room. The grounds are pale and bare; an empty wind roils through.

Barnabas is fairly certain that Moorland has three servants, but they whip around or disappear through doors when he tries to approach them. Barnabas’s own house is much smaller, but he has just as many in his staff; he suspects that Mordechai is not a rich man at all, just someone with a once-impressive but dead family name and an estate too large to be managed on a pittance. He wonders why Mordechai pretends otherwise.

These thoughts slip through his mind like freshwater fish down a stream, but Barnabas wanders through the house contentedly enough. After a week he barely even notices the servants’ presence, save for his changing sheets and pressed clothes and the serviceable meals prepared set and left for him in at the kitchen table, in front of the unlit hearth. He eats with blackened silverware and tastes the neglect.

After two weeks, Barnabas sails through the house in fraying silk undergarments and dusty, pink-tinged mink he’s pulled out of a room he can’t remember, his days blurring together in their monotony. He stops to wipe a sleeve at one of the many ancient, spotted mirrors and squints through the smear of dust at his reflection, trying to reconcile the person standing in front of him with the person he thought he was. Wasn’t he supposed to have a purpose here? Wasn’t he needed in London? There is poverty, suffering; but it is far, far away, and he is in a place it would never touch him.

There are as many mirrors as there are portraits of Mordechai’s family, all exactly alike, his haunting beauty and domineering presence. Barnabas drags a finger down the paint of one of them, leaving behind a thin white line. A tally mark to as many days he thinks he’s spent in this place.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, clipping pearlescent roses from the garden for a floral arrangement when he thinks about all those mirrors, and how a ghost could wander this house trapped forever. If he covers up the mirrors, then he could leave.

Mordechai returns when Barnabas no longer keeps track of days and nights; when the mirrors don’t make him think of anything in particular, although he wonders why half of them are shrouded or turned to the wall.

Barnabas drifts down to the coatroom and threads his arms through Mordechai’s.

“Welcome home,” he says dreamily.

“Hello,” Mordechai says. Barnabas makes a small, disappointed sound when Mordechai disengages himself to unwind his scarf. He scratches his beard. “You’re in a biddable mood.”

“‘Course I am. I’m lovely,” Barnabas replies. He presses himself to Mordechai, enjoying the whole, solid block of him. Mordechai’s hands are worryingly chilly, and Barnabas gathers them and blows on them gently. Once he finishes the task he settles against Mordechai again, pleased with himself.

Mordechai forgoes a response but for tipping Barnabas’s head back and sucking an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, working the skin with his tongue and the slick coldness of his teeth, and, oh, this is the touch that Barnabas has craved these past days. He’s felt so forlorn without it, only he never realized.

He’s gasping and moaning by the time Mordechai splits his skin open and drinks his blood. It’s only then, with his blood being pulled out of him in long, deep strokes, that Barnabas remembers with ice-cold clarity why he’s here; to repay a debt; and that he should be feeling rather a lot of either shame, or anger, pain, or worry, but instead he’s trying to rut his puffed-up prick against the vampire’s body.

Mordechai licks the wound closed and kisses Barnabas, sharing with him the taste of his own blood.

“Happy new year,” Mordechai says.

#the magnus archives #jonah magnus week #mordechai lukas #barnabas bennett #jonah magnus #second part up tomorrow it's just another 3k and my wrists are sore

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pluto-art · 4 years

Text

Syncytium - Chapter 2 - Ferrum

Title: Syncytium - Chapter 2 - Ferrum Words: 5,707 Rating: T

Fan Fiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/2/Syncytium

Full chapter below the cut. I’d recommend the fan fiction version, however, which includes all the italicized words which are not emphasized here.

September 11th, 7:30 AM

Darkness.

A light flicked on. It flickered a moment before settling. A pen sharpened... and subsequently broken. Whoops. A vase with three roses delicately placed right near a picture in frame with four occupants. Perfect.

Pinky clasped his hands together, sighed deeply, and tipped his square rimmed glasses down a little, the better to address his eager pupils.

"Good morning, class! I am Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology!"

And he wrote upon the blackboard behind him with vigor as he said it, accidentally flipping the 'k' in 'Pinkus'. He turned back towards the crowd.

"But you can call me Pinky! Ha-ha-ha!"

It was a carrying little laugh, bouncing and pinging excitedly off the walls with a lonely echo.

"I'll be your teacher this semester, and that's because, well, I'm the only teacher of this subject!"

He giggled again. No one said anything.

"You'll be instructed on the topics of Poitilism, Narfonics, and, of course, Trozology. Allllllllll grades are final, except, of course, when they're not, in which case... I'll get back to you on that!" said he, chuckling to himself once more. "Now, are there any questions? Anyone? Yes! Nilly."

If Nilly had raised her hand, no one noticed. But, then again, no one seemed to care. Perhaps it was because Nilly had no hands to raise in the first place. Perhaps this was because Nilly was actually a sack of flour. Or perhaps it was because all the "students" were made up of things like an empty bottle of soda, a bag of corn chips, two toilet paper rolls stacked one on top of the other, and a plunger. Whatever the reason, only Pinky seemed to have recognized Nilly and her very silent question. He didn't seem to mind, however. On the contrary, he positively beamed, acknowledging his pitiful excuse for a pupil-laden classroom as if they were real mice, voles, hamsters, and shrews hanging onto his every word like campfire kids to a spooky story.

"Well, I'm glad you asked that, Nilly, because I happen to be verrrrry versed in the subject!" Pinky snickered, eyes half-lidded as he picked imaginary dirt from his fingers, looking in the direction of his students with a very devious smirk indeed.

Several doors down and around a corner, in the middle of a long hallway, a locker was being absolutely mutilated. Books, pencils, various household tools, and a half-eaten burrito wrapped in tin foil were carelessly tossed onto the floor, its aggressor in a state of pure panic.

"Ohhhhh, shoot. Where are they?!" Gadget growled, hair a little unkempt as she flung a notebook over her shoulder, almost hitting a passerby in the process.

"Hey! Watch it!" the boy mouse shrieked, dodging out of the path of the wayward notebook just in time.

Gadget didn't even seem to notice as she continued to tear through her locker, muttering angrily to herself as she threw a pencil case onto the floor. It burst open. One of the pencils popped out, rolling all the way across from the locker and underneath the door of room three-nineteen. On and on the little chartreuse pencil rolled, finally coming to rest with a soft 'plink' against Dr. Globetrotter's desk. His ear twitched at the sound and his head peered around the side of the desk at its source. There sat a thin, yellow pencil. He picked it up, frowning, and set it down on a far side of his desk.

"As I was saying," Globetrotter rang, clearing his throat, but he'd barely reached out for his mug of steaming hot coffee before the class was interrupted yet again, this time by a very haphazard-looking and goggle-less Gadget.

"Sorry I'm late," she mumbled, head down and gaze firmly directed at the floor as she shuffled past a barrage of staring eyes to plop into her seat between Maisy and Tillie. Gadget shut her eyes tight. She, along with everyone else in the room, knew what was coming, and they all held their breath in anticipation.

The unpleasant echo throughout the room was palpable as Globetrotter set down his mug, glaring.

"Oh, well, I suppose we all can just excuse Miss Gadget here from arriving two minutes past our start time. Obviously, she has more important things to do than be punctual. I guess my precious hours of time spent preparing for this class that will help all of you get a proper education simply don't matter in light of one tardily-inclined, mucilage-chewing student forgetting their pack of lime-flavored gum right before 7:30, is that right?"

Sarcasm dripped like venom from every syllable, causing Gadget to shrink ever lower in her seat. Somewhere in the class, journal boy jotted down "tardily-inclined" and "mucilage-chewing" under the ever-growing list of Globetrotter insults. Maisy glared at their teacher, but, like every other student, she didn't dare say anything. To retort meant a week's worth of detention, and they all knew that it was better to bite the bullet now than suffer the consequences for a harsh retort later.

"It's not like I spend all night grading your measly excuses for a thesis, carefully combing every paragraph for even a sliver of intelligence, while you're at home watching reruns of Dukes of Hazard..."

On and on it went, ironically cutting into his so-called "precious time" to teach. On and on he rolled, all the way up until 7:55 AM. The only good thing about it was that it was twenty-five minutes they didn't have to spend studying. Some had taken to drawing little sketches in their notebooks, others took the opportunity to sneak in a snack or two, and Tillie was full-on knitting.

Finally, he reached the end of his spiel. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Now... Seeing as that's hopefully enlarged your minds a little, please turn to page eighty-seven of your textbooks, as we delve into the absolutely incredible topic of Meiosis."

"'Incredible', my arse," Maisy muttered. "Couldn't find your goggles, huh?"

Gadget shook her head, too embarrassed to give a verbal reply.

"Oh, leave her alone. We've forgotten our fair share of trinkets before," Tillie whispered, putting away her knitting. "What are you so upset about? I thought you had hearts for Globetrotter."

Maisy didn't reply, but shot another scathing glare at Globetrotter as she pulled out her textbook.

"Trusting that we won't have any more interruptions," bit their teacher, shooting a look at Gadget as he said it, "I'd like you all to turn your attention to..."

Bang.

Everyone jumped, including Globetrotter. He turned behind him to stare at the wall. What...?

"A-As I was saying, please direct your attention to..."

BANG.

Nobody jumped this time, but Globetrotter once more turned sharply 'round to inspect the wall. The heck?

A few seconds passed. Nothing. Perhaps someone was just doing maintenance... in the unused classroom?

"Kindly direct your atten-"

BANG!

"Graaaaaaaaahhhh!" Globetrotter growled, storming out of the classroom and followed by a host of eyes watching him go. Gadget cautiously sat up in her chair as he went.

Down the hallways he trundled, shoulders hunched, every footstep a declaration of annoyance as he made for door two-ten, pushing aside the occasional student or teacher who dared cross his path. It was fortunate the door was a little ajar, for he kicked it open with such force that it flew open, BANGED against the wall, and reverberated so heavily that it shook the walls. Had it been closed the door handle probably would have broken along with it.

"What in CURIE'S name are you DOING?!" the angry little mouse shouted, smoke practically steaming off of him as he fumed, his fiery gaze trained squarely at the tall, lanky mouse in front of him.

Pinky was in mid-swing, one leg raised high up in the air as his paws clutched firmly around a wooden baseball bat. He was dressed in full baseball attire, and his classroom had been very primitively set up to resemble a sandlot of sorts, each of his "students" serving as the players. Globetrotter's explosion had thrown him off only a smidgen. If anything, Pinky beamed and waved at the newcomer.

"Mr. Globetrotter! You're just in time for the home run! Or... you would have been if you hadn't thrown me off just now," he giggled.

"Would you kindly explain why you're using your room as a sports arena?!" Globetrotter snapped.

"Oh! Well, Nilly here wanted to know if I was well-versed in the thrilling art of baseball, and I couldn't turn that one down 'cause, you know, I am. Hmhm!"

Globetrotter turned to look at this "Nilly", arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"That's a sack of flour," he retorted, unimpressed.

Pinky gasped.

"How rude! He didn't mean it, Nilly. Did you, Brain? Say you're sorry to Nilly!"

"It's Brian, and I am not apologizing to an inanimate object! And I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from playing baseball in a classroom! Don't you realize you're disturbing the peace - upsetting my students and keeping me from my work?"

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Is your classroom on the other side of that wall?"

"Yes."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Got it, Brain! We'll play baseball later, shall we?"

"You shall."

And with that, he stormed off... right into Olivia, in fact, who was in full delivery mode. The force of their impact knocked her backwards onto the floor.

"Ah! My letter!" she screeched, reaching for a little yellow note that had slipped out of her hands.

"Hmph," Globetrotter muttered, completely ignoring her as he trudged back to his classroom.

Olivia watched him go, reeling back a little at the slam of a door five seconds later.

"Ooo. Too angry. Too angry," she mumbled to herself, sprinting up to classroom two-ten and peering inside.

Pinky was now hard at work not playing baseball. All the chairs, tables, and "students" were being reshuffled to resemble a normal classroom again, the big television in the back rolled up to the front behind the main desk to serve as a new source of entertainment.

"Sorry, class. Baseball is canceled for the moment," apologized Pinky, hooking up the tv as Olivia tip-toed into the classroom and carefully shut the door behind her. "Oh well. That's why I brought my Honeymooners tapes, "he exclaimed, whipping out the tapes from the stand's shelf in a flourish. He was just about to pop one in when a light cough caught his attention. He turned around. There was Olivia smiling at him.

"Oh! Hello, Olivia!"

"Hello, Mr. Pinky," she said, a little shyly this time. "I've got something for you."

"Another letter?" he asked, taking it from her and reading:

Dear Mr. Pinkus,

I must regret to inform you that baseball or sports of any kind are not allowed in the hallways and classrooms. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I also appreciate my job, and I can't very well keep it when there's a home run going on a few doors down. This is for your own sake. I do hope this reaches you before Globetrotter does...

Sincerely, Mrs. Judson

"I think baseball in the school is a wonderful idea," Olivia piped up as Pinky read the letter, his ears lowering a little as he went over each word. "I heard we used to have a field, but... they got rid of that years ago." Her own little ears, round and pink, drooped at this. Pinky thought a moment.

"Well... perhaps we could make a petition?"

"Petition?"

"Certainly!" said he, setting down his tapes for a moment. "We could write up a letter saying we'd like a baseball stadium back on the lot, and if we get enough signatures..."

"We'll get one!" Olivia gasped, tiny hands tucking up against her chest in excitement.

"Well, maybe. It still has to pass the board of directors now, don't it?"

"We'll get a lot of signatures then. You get the form, and I'll get people to sign it!"

Pinky smiled.

"You've got yourself a petition there, Missy! I'll draw one up tonight!"

"Good good!" Olivia exclaimed, bouncing up and down, tam-o'-shanter bouncing this way and that. "So what do you teach?"

"Oh, a little of this. A little of that," Pinky said, dodging the question. "Do you like The Honeymooners?"

"The Honeywho?" she asked, shuffling about his desk and picking up one of the bunsen burners to peer into it with a curious eye.

"Now don't tell me you've never heard of one of the best television shows of all time!"

"Not really. I don't watch a lot of tv."

But whatever Pinky said next in response to this she didn't catch, for she had just discovered his notepad, and of the number of colorful stickers coating it, one in particular stood out to her. She gasped again.

"Is that a radish rose whatchamawhoozit?!"

Pinky was caught off guard. He stopped mid-sentence, stared at her, and slammed his hands down on the table, making her jump.

"You know what a radish rose whatchamawhoozit is?!"

"Look!" Olivia said, sweeping off her tammie, the better to see her fluffy ears. Hanging from each ear was a small earring, both shaped like radish rose whatchamawhoozits. "My mum used to use them for parties! I always liked them."

Pinky went wide-eyed.

"My mum did, too! You know... you're the first mouse I've met who knows what that is."

"I'm surprised most people don't know what that is!" Olivia giggled.

"Me too!" Pinky chuckled back, eyes a little misty.

For a moment they just stood there, smiling at one another, two radish rose whatchamawhoozit buddies meeting for the first time. There was something very comforting about it.

The slow tick, tick, tick of a wall clock nearby brought Olivia back to Earth, and she stepped back shyly.

"I... probably should go," she said, smiling. "She's probably waiting for me."

Pinky's face fell.

"We-.. uhh... would you like to stay for just a minute longer?"

"Sorry, but I really do have to go," replied Olivia regretfully, looking very much as if she didn't want to.

"Umm... what else do you like to do that's... not watching tv?"

"Well... umm... I do like to sing."

Pinky beamed, dug in his box, and pulled out a microphone attached to a small radio-looking device.

"Do you like karaoke?"

Olivia beamed.

Several doors down and one wall over, Globetrotter had everyone in a stupor. Gadget could barely keep her eyes open, one of the boys had taken to drawing circles over and over again in his notebook, and Maisy's brother was actually snoring. Perhaps Globetrotter would have cared if he hadn't been so engrossed in the exciting subject of Meoisis, one hand clasped firmly around a nearly-drained cup of coffee, the other brandishing a thick ruler at the blackboard behind him.

"The initial metaphase takes place when the homologous pairs travel along the metaphase plate. Kinetochore microtubles from the spindle poles attach to the-"

He stopped. His ears twitched. Some of the students lifted their heads, shifting in their seats. A distant sound of singing could be heard, just beyond the wall. Globetrotter frowned.

"Um. The microtubles attach directly to-"

It was soft at first, then it grew - louder, louder, louder. Pinky and Olivia's singing had escalated from a light hum to a crescendo and climbed all the way to the top in a full on opera. The student with the journal counted down on his fingers to his friend: three, two, one...

SNAP!

Right on cue, Globetrotter applied so much anger... or... pressure, rather, to his ruler that it snapped clean in half. Journal boy made a mark in his book: t'was the fourth one snapped this semester, apparently.

For the second time that morning, Globetrotter stomped out of his classroom, although this time he was followed, not by one student, not by two, but almost the entire class, albeit tepidly. Although he probably wouldn't notice them, considering the state he was in, caution was still advised... at least to a degree. Ronald Pinkus was in for it big time and they couldn't afford to miss this. They'd heard the rumors: that when Mr. B. got this flustered he'd actually physically vibrate, lose all mastery of the English language, and sometimes even spout intense poetry at the accuser. It was one of the only exciting things that happened in his classes and they sure as heck weren't going to pass up the opportunity when it presented itself.

Science room three-nineteen's teacher had barely managed four steps out the door, however, when he was approached by a tall lady mouse in a green dress. All the students moved back a pace, retreating into the classroom.

"Ah! Mr. Globetrotter. I was just coming to remind you that the teacher's conference is this weekend at 5:00 PM."

"Yes, Ms. Weatherby. I'll be there," he scratched, barely containing himself.

Ms. Weatherby stepped away, not the least bit perturbed, whether due to pure naivety or a lack of concern none could tell.

She was barely two feet away when Globetrotter continued his trek, down the hall and around a corner. His students followed at a careful pace. He'd just turned the corner when a boy vole with glasses knocked into him, his homework flying everywhere.

"M-Mr. B! I-I mean, Mr. Globetrotter!" he stammered, shaking from head to tail.

"What is it?!" Globetrotter growled, impatience growing by the millisecond.

"I-I-I just wanted to ask about the upcoming assignment. Is there any way I could turn mine in just... a day late? M-My mother is sick in the hospital, you see, and-"

But he was abruptly cut off as Globetrotter shoved him aside with a sharp, "NO!" to boot.

"O-Or I can just turn it in on time then! N-No biggie! Eheh...!" the vole stuttered, clutching the few remaining papers to his chest ever so tightly and quickly picking up the rest before running off. He jumped as he almost ran into Globetrotter's entire class. Gadget reached out a hand towards him, as if to apologize on Globetrotter's behalf, but Maisy stilled her with a shake of the head and a clutch of the paw. They tip-toed on.

Globetrotter was almost at door two-ten when plump Mrs. Judson came flying down the hallway.

"Globetrotter! Don't you even think about touching that door!"

The little mouse grumbled.

"I have EVERY RIGHT to open that door!" he shouted, already trembling. A couple of the boys in the crowd started bouncing up and down excitedly. This was just getting better and better. They might actually get a full show!

"You don't know what that poor boy's been through. He might be a complete boob, but you leave him alone! Let me talk to him," Mrs. Judson spouted, paws on her hips as she went face-to-face with Globetrotter.

"Mrs. Judson," Globetrotter replied, full on vibrating now, "If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll report you to the principle for unlawful involvement in a teacher's affairs!"

"Hmph! 'Unlawful involvement.' There's no such thing."

"Oh, isn't there? I can MAKE it a thing! And," he added, voice low and threatening, "I'll tell them about Marley."

Mrs. Judson went wide-eyed.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Globetrotter seethed.

With brows furrowed and lips tense, she turned in a flourish and marched off, shooting his class a harsh glare as she rounded a corner, shaking her head at them.

"You watch your step," she hissed.

Some of them exchanged worried glances. It was incredible Globetrotter hadn't even noticed the crowd following him; so enslaved by anger was he. It was almost impressive. The entire group collectively held their breath as their teacher, fuming, flung open the door.

"WHAT THE BLAZES ARE YOU-"

But at this, he stopped, for what met Globetrotter's eyes rendered him speechless.

"Aaaaaaand wwwwwwwelcome to the show!"

The room was unrecognizable. A sparkling blue floor complemented an equally sparkling purple stadium decorated with red velvet curtains, all so dazzling that Globetrotter had to rub at his eyes to stop himself from going blind. The entire place looked like a game show one might see on tv - Wheel of Fortune or Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Energetic, happy-go-lucky music blared on a little radio in a corner, completing the effect, and a seemingly disembodied voice, all flamboyant and hospitable, dominated the scene.

"Come on in! Take a seat!" remarked the voice, which turned out to be Pinky's as he scooted Globetrotter into the room and onto a chair right next to Olivia, who waved at him.

"That's my new teacher!" she whispered excitedly to him, pointing at Pinky, who was fully decked out in a purple suit and bow tie. Globetrotter sputtered.

"Now, h-h-hold on! I need to tell you-"

"Why, yes. You do need to tell me your name, good Sir!" interrupted Pinky, holding up a microphone right in front of Globetrotter's face. "And you are?"

"I... ma... puh... G-Globetrotter, b-but that-"

"Ladies and gentleman, give it up for GLOOOOOOBETROTTER!"

An invisible crowd cheered. Olivia clapped.

"And your name, young lady?"

"Olivia!"

"OLIVIA!"

More clapping.

By this time, all of Globetrotter's class was pressed up against two-ten's door, eagerly peering in at the activity with wide, bugged out eyes.

"Now, folks, you know we just completed the singing competition, with an outstanding performance by little miss Olivia."

The invisible crowd cheered again, and Olivia blushed.

"But now it's time for the moment you've all been waiting for! Drum-roll, please," requested Pinky, and right on cue... there came a thundering drum-roll.

The entire class was now shuffling into the room, taking spots at the back that had actually been set up for a proper crowd. They filled every seat.

"TUUUUUURBULENT TRIVIAAAAAAA!"

Clapping and cheering from the invisible crowd on... the radio? another dimension? ... was now mixed in with actual applause from Globetrotter's class. He turned to stare at them, flabbergasted. He had an actual audience?! How embarrassing...

Two pedestals, each with a big red button in their centers, rose up out of the floor to rest in front of Globetrotter and Olivia.

"Now, you all know the rules!" Pinky continued, gesturing to a giant board behind him that was laden with a plethora of different topics. "Our contestant with the most points picks a topic, and both try to answer it! Whoever gets the most points at the end of the show wins!"

And he jumped up and down at this, Olivia mirroring him as she bounced around in her seat. Globetrotter was silent. He wouldn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. Every time he opened his mouth to voice his complaints, no sound came out, as if he was so caught off guard by the affair that he simply didn't know how to react. And rightly so. He simply had no words for this.

"Olivia! You're up first, my dear, so pick a subject!"

Olivia stood up in her seat, thought for a moment, then pointed at one of the topics.

"Ummm... I pick... Science!"

"Science it is! And heeeeeere's your question!"

And the little box marked 'SCIENCE' flipped over to reveal a small paragraph, which Pinky read out:

The first known telescope was submitted as a patent to the Netherlands government in 1609 by which spectacle maker?

Someone slammed down on their red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeeees?" Pinky questioned, sporting a wide, toothy grin.

Surprisingly, it was Globetrotter who answered. He actually was standing up out of his seat, looking mad as a hare.

"That's preposterous! It was patented in 1608, not '09, and the answer is Hans Lippershey!"

"CORRECT!"

Ding ding ding ding ding! went Globetrotter's big red button, as it flashed on and off a luminous green color. He sat down almost shyly in his seat, as if surprised he'd found himself out of it, as his entire class clapped and cheered. He turned to look at them with an expression of absolute surprise.

"Congratulations! You've just earned ten points! But Olivia is still in the lead with thirty. What's your next topic, Olivia?" Pinky asked, an open hand gesturing to the board.

"Ummmm... music!" she piped.

"You got it!" Pinky exclaimed, as the next little box labeled 'MUSIC' flipped over. Once again, Pinky read aloud:

Who composed this famous piece?

And a deep, booming tune played loud and clear throughout the room. Olivia slammed down on her button.

"Go ahead, Olivia!"

"Mozart!" she shouted out, but...

EHNG!

Wrong!

"Ohhhh. I'm so sorry, Olivia! But it's not Mozart! Do we have any other takers? Anyone?"

Globetrotter's button rang again, albeit with a bit more hesitance this time.

"Globetrotter!" Pinky shouted.

"That's obviously Beethoven," Globetrotter muttered, arms crossed indignantly.

"CORRECT!"

Ding ding ding ding ding! rang the little button again as ten more points went up on Globetrotter's side of the scoreboard. The crowd went wild. Some of his students had actually gotten popcorn from... somewhere, and looked as though they were having the time of their lives.

"Go, Mr. B!" some shouted out, and, "Trotter! Trotter!" others cheered. "You can do it!" one gal said. Globetrotter's ears perked up a touch. They were actually... supporting him?

"Oooooo. Globetrotter's giving you a run for your money, Olivia! Better pick a good one!" Pinky egged on.

"Hmm. I piiiiiiiick... mathematics!" she shouted, standing in her seat, two pink paws set firmly on the pedestal in front of her.

"Let's see that math question!" rolled Pinky, pointing at a box with 'MATH' written on it in big, bold letters, and reading out:

The square root of 6,428 is...

Before Pinky could even list out the options, Globetrotter's red button was punched.

"80.1748090113!"

"CORRECT!" Pinky yelled, and the crowd exploded. He was now tied with Olivia!

Globetrotter actually went slightly pink in the face as his class whooped and hollered and cheered him on. He almost dared to smile a little. This was... actually... kinda fun...?

"Aaaaaaand now! For the FINAL question! This one... is a TIE BREAKER," Pinky exclaimed dramatically. At this, all the lights dimmed at once, with spotlights thrown on Globetrotter and Olivia only. "Since you both have thirty points each, I'll be picking the question," Pinky continued. "Whoever gets this one right... is the ultimate winner."

The music boomed just as dramatically. Globetrotter actually swallowed thickly. The crowd went silent.

"Here... is your final question, in 'Entertainment'," said Pinky, and he read out:

Which character in The Honeymooners was known for his catchphrase, "Bang, zoom, right to the moon!"

Globetrotter began to sweat, not because he was oblivious, even though it was common knowledge that he rarely watched tv, but because he was embarrassed that he knew the answer. He had to answer, though. Surely, the kid wouldn't know. Would she...? And yet...

SLAM! went Olivia's paw onto bright red button. No way.

"Olivia?" Pinky asked, all ears.

"Mary Poppins!" she rang out.

ENGH! went her button.

"Ohhhhhh. I'm sorry, but that's not the right answer! Globetrotter?"

He was sweating all the more now. He'd surely be teased forever for this, but he couldn't not answer a question he knew the response to...

"Globetrotter? Ten seconds!" Pinky countered.

"Come on, Trotter!" one of his students shouted.

"Yeah, you can do it, Mr. B! Come on!"

And more shouts... and more... and more built up, until finally...

SLAM! went Globetrotter's paw on the big red button.

"Yeeeeeeeeees?" asked Pinky.

"R-Ralph Kramden!" Globetrotter shouted out, eyes tightly closed.

A pause. And then...

"CORRECT! GLOBETROTTER WINS!"

The din was deafening. Balloons and confetti actually fell from the sky as the lights went up all around Globetrotter, Olivia, Pinky, and the entire class as triumphant music was played. Olivia was jumping up and down, actually hugging Globetrotter, not at all perturbed that she'd lost, as the crowd poured out from their seats to congratulate their teacher. Globetrotter was completely stiff. How the heck was he supposed to react to this?

"Congraaaaaaaatulations, Globetrotter! Let's see what you've won!"

There were no show girls, so Pinky himself had to run off-set, grab a selection of items, and fly back onto the stage in front of Globetrotter.

"You win: an orange juicerator, a block of Worcestershire cheese, and a week's supply of paperclips!"

All these he dumped into Globetrotter's hands. Everyone clapped and cheered, and the celebration might have gone on forever had the bell not rung.

"Oh! That's the bell! Time to go, everyone!" Pinky directed, and they all filed out of the classroom, Globetrotter and all, Pinky bringing up the rear. He was still in his purple outfit. "Everybody go on to your next class! Go on! Thanks for playing!" he said, spending an extra second or two to thank Olivia for being such a good sport and handing her a bag of chips. She beamed, thanked him, and skipped off, crunching on them happily. Globetrotter remained, the only participant who hadn't quite taken it all in.

"What... just happened?" he asked, turning to stare at Pinky, his bulky prizes still clasped in his arms.

"You'd better get back to your room, Brain! Your next class is about to start!" was all that Pinky said as he gently pushed him forward, ducked back into his classroom, and shut the door behind him.

Globetrotter just stood there for a moment, staring at door two-ten, before looking down at the batch of prizes he was still holding. Without a word, he slowly, almost drunkenly, meandered back to his classroom. With some difficulty, he opened the door, set down his newfound possessions upon his desk, and breathed in and out, slowly, deeply...

What... had just happened? Never in his life had he ever experience anything like that, not in this school, not in public, not... anywhere, for that matter. It was a time-waster. It was ridiculous. It was... fun? He hated to admit that to himself: that somewhere, deep down, he'd managed to enjoy something so asinine. And yet...

He took a minute to go through each of the "prizes". An orange... juicerator, it was called? It was a portly thing, about half the length of his forearm, and sporting a curved spout that looked a bit like a faucet. How pointless. Unlikely he'd ever find a use for such an item. He'd never even heard of the thing until now. He tossed it in an unused drawer. The second was a block of Worcestershire cheese. That wasn't... all bad. He quite liked this type. In fact, it was his favorite. How did that bumbling idiot know that? Last of all was the "week's supply of paperclips". Handy, he supposed. Nothing wrong with some extra tools for one's classroom. These he put in a top drawer that was visited much more frequently.

He sighed again and stuck his hands in his back pockets. Something crinkled against his right paw... Huh?

He pulled out a note.

Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky

Globetrotter blinked, taken aback, and was caught off guard at a sharp knock on his door. He tossed the note in the trash.

"C-Come in!" he stammered.

It was two of his students: journal boy and his friend.

"Sorry, Mr. B! We forgot our backpacks!" journal boy said, as the two mice ran to grab their packs. But as they headed back towards the door, they stopped. "By the way, um... congratulations, Mr. B!"

"Yeah, that was awesome!" his friend exclaimed.

And with that, they exited the room, closing the door behind them.

Globetrotter stood rooted to the spot. He'd surely die from all these positive comments. Never had he received so many before; at least, not under this roof. He peered into the trash can, paused a moment, then extracted the little note from it. He read it again:

Thanks for playing with us! You have a lovely smile. - Pinky

He settled on those last words again, for they stuck out to him.

You have a lovely smile.

And for a moment, though no one could see him, though no one was watching, he held the little note close to his chest, closed his eyes... and smiled.

-----------------------------

Author's Notes:

- Ferrum is the Latin term for Iron (Fe), which is sometimes found in paperclips.

- The nickname "Mr. B." is actually an obscure reference to another fandom I'm in. If you want the full story, message me. Heh.

- Globetrotter's reaction to Gadget being late was inspired by a friend's story in which one of her actual teachers would respond in a similarly harsh fashion to late students.

- Yes, Olivia's radish earrings are absolutely a reference to Luna Lovegood's equally unusual earrings.

- All of the information about meiosis I got directly from Wikipedia.

- The game show part of this story was my favorite part to write. Originally, I was going to have the whole thing be a lot more low-key, but this is technically a cartoon world, after all, so I figured... why not go all out?

- I finished this at 1:35 AM last night, two days after a surgery and while in pain. I have no regrets.

#pinky and the brain #fan fiction #syncytium

10 notes · View notes

themusicplayedherlife · 4 years

Text

Some Sugar

Part 2: I wanna hold hands with you

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, cassandra jones (oc), selena (oc), others word count: 6k+ warnings: angst, family issues, money problems, cursing, talks of sex summary: sometimes, all we need is a someone to take our hand and help us a/n: the chapters might be getting longer than i anticipated and i might be cutting them up (had to take out Steve’s pov because wow), but it’ll really depend on the flow of the story

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It’s been about a week since you gave your number to Steve.

You had known not to get your hopes up, but after seeing the shy smile that appeared on his handsome face and how kind he sounded when he asked if he could call, it was hard not to get your hopes up!

Why ask for your number and then ask for permission if he’s not going to call?! Who even does that anyway? No one does!

And then leaving you a $100 tip for three beers? What the actual fuck? Not that you didn’t appreciate it but who leaves that kind of tip for three beers? Cassandra had practically hounded you after they left, thinking that you personally knew Captain America, the Falcon, and the Winter Soldier. Fuck, you hadn’t even recognized them when they walked in, so the answer was obviously not! She didn’t believe you--”or else why would Captain America have followed after you?” You rolled your eyes at the suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows and ignored her for the rest of closing.

Because of her teasing, you didn’t mention him asking for your number.

The table in front of you squeaks with your rough wiping—ugh, you have more important things to worry about than a boy—man, person, soldier, or whatever!

A sharp call of your last name causes your body to react violently, jerking your body straight and for the rag in your hand to drop to the floor.

Your boss wears a scowl, thin lips practically disappearing and gums appearing against stark yellow teeth. His beady eyes take you in and you can practically feel the heat of his glare on your face. “Be careful! If you scratch--”

“I know, I know,” you start offhandedly, reaching for the rag you dropped, “it’ll come out of my pay.” Not like you could actually scratch the glass table with a cotton rag, but whatever.

He humphs, shooting you another glare before disappearing into the back. Sighing when the door closes behind him, you share exasperated smiles with your coworkers. Your boss isn’t usually such a dick, but with the holidays coming up and the Italian restaurant getting an abundance of catering orders, he’s been a little off-kilter.

Which reminds you, you were hoping to ask him about this years Christmas bonus and if you could get it in advance, but if his little show just a couple of minutes ago are of any indication, he might not be so willing to be so kind (even if you’ve picked up more shifts this month).

There’s still so much that needs to be done.

You have to check with the bank to see if you’re eligible for another loan—this time to pay back your aunt—as your last resort.

You need to check in with Selena and her progress on the agreement she and her coworkers are working on.

You have to schedule an appointment with Esme’s academic advisor, who’ll most likely suggest that Esme join more after school activities to help her future chances with universities or to beg you to convince your sister to reconsider her decision about cheer. She’s already far behind financially that she needs to make up for it with her grades and extracurricular.

You need to deal with your phone bill, might even have to switch plans or call to ask if they have any promotions to help lower your payment for the next month, or else you and Esme will be without a way to communicate when you’re going to be home late and she’s home alone.

God, why is there so much to do?

“Why don’t you go for your ten?” your coworker Irene suggests, holding a clipboard with all of your coworker’s names and their allotted work schedule. “It’s going to get busy as soon as we open.” And you look like shit, is probably what she’s thinking.

You nod and she smiles as you make your way over to the break room. The cooks usually spend their break in the kitchen, hunched over in a corner to eat, so you and the rest of the servers have made the break-room your little reprieve. It’s small, practically non existent, really, but you and your coworkers make it work. You maneuver around the young chefs and head chef, greeting them as you go, and they return it a little distracted, prepping for today’s menu.

Your boss is in his office, fingers in his disheveled hair with piles of paperwork surrounding him. You pay him no mind as you pass by it.

The break room is empty, devoid of any life other than you.

The lockers your coworkers and you stuff your belongings in is against the right wall, next to the small microwave your boss had installed after some of you complained that you couldn’t use the kitchen to warm up your food in fear of getting in the way of the chefs.

You enter your combination, pulling out your bag to look for your old modeled phone. It sits at the bottom, under your change of clothes. The screen is black, and as you wait for it to turn on, you put everything back and close the locker.

You sit on one of the wooden stools brought in by a coworker, having grown annoyed that there were no seats in the break room. The screen illuminates your face as you wait, until finally your lock screen appears and so does a text message from Cassandra asking if you saw the show she’s been recommending and another from Selena giving you an update on the agreement she was working on, and a missed call from an unknown number who left a voicemail. Your heart leaps to your throat, anticipation growing in your stomach. Could it be…?

You quickly unlock your phone, swiping to open the voicemail. Pressing play, you press your phone to your ear and find yourself biting the skin of your thumb.

“Uh, hello—“ you hate that your heart flutters at the nervous mention of your name. He says it so carefully, gently, as if testing out the waters. “This is Steve. Steve Rogers.” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. A mission we were sent on lasted longer than we anticipated.” He sighs deeply, sounding a bit tired and you grow worried. “I hope you didn’t think I wouldn’t call or that I asked for your number to mess with you.” The nerves melt into a puddle of goo as your head fills with heat, embarrassment licking your skin at having been guessed so easily. “I, um, I was hoping we could meet up soon? For coffee? Or lunch? Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He pauses and the line grows quiet. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I, uh—it might be better if I ask you in person? Call me back when you get the chance. This is my personal number, by the way. Right, then… Have a good day? Shit. Didn’t mean that as a question! I hope you do have a good day—you know what, I’m just going to hang up now.”

The voice mail ends and you pull your phone away, staring at the number on the screen, a small laugh escaping you.

He called you! Steve Rogers really called you! And with his personal number too! God, what kind of messed up dream are you in?

Your bottom lip becomes a chew toy—should you call back? Should you not? You should, right? You were disappointed that he hadn’t called, and now that he has, you should. ...Right?

You let out a loud groan and throw your head back into the empty space. What would Selena and Cassandra say if they were here? You snort. Wow, that was a dumb question. You know exactly what they would say—call him, you idiot.

Before you can let your nerves take over, you quickly press the callback button. It rings, and you swear to god your heart speeds up, a buzzing gathering around in your head as you wait for his answering machine. But that doesn’t happen.

“Hello?”

Your heart that had been lodged in your throat drops to your stomach, and you find your throat growing dry. “Steve?”

He says your name just as he had when he left the voicemail. “Hey. You heard my voicemail.” He sounds almost happy? Excited, maybe?

“I did, yeah.” You curl a strand of hair behind your ear. “You said you wanted to meet up?”

“Yes!” he suddenly squeaks. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no. I don’t.” At all. Okay. Maybe a little? Not because you don’t want to talk to him or meet up with him. But because you’re nervous now and you don’t know what to do. “When did you want to meet up?”

“Today? If you have time?”

You frown, eyes drifting to the clock on the wall, just on top of the lockers. Your ten minutes are almost up. “I don’t know if I can,” you admit. “I’m at work until 4 and then I have to head to my shift at the bar right after.”

“Oh,” he says, a little disappointed. You don’t know why, but you quickly rack your brain to try and ease his disappointment.

“Maybe during a lunch break? At either job.”

“Oh,” his voice lightens, and your chest soars at having not disappointed Captain America. “What time do you have your lunch break?”

“For my current job?”

“Yes,” he answers, papers shuffling in his end.

“Uh, usually around 2 in the afternoon?”

“Then do you want to get lunch together for your break? We don’t have to go far.”

“Okay.” Your inner Selena and Cassandra squeal with delight. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Mind sending me the address?”

“I’ll send it to you right now.”

“Okay.” There’s a tilt to his voice and you picture him smiling, your own lips lifting. “Then... I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes, see you soon.”

Work drags on, and you’re impatient, occasionally tapping your foot and staring out the door, waiting for familiar blue eyes and blonde hair to burst through it at any moment.

“And I’ll have the fig and salami pizza,” a man with a too large nose, bleached blonde hair and dull blue eyes orders. “Make sure that the chef doesn’t add garlic. I hate garlic.” You nod, about to ask if he needed anything else, but he beats you to it. “Oh, and make sure that the dough is perfectly cooked. I like it to snap.”

You nod with a patient smile. “Anything else, sir?”

He shakes his head and waves you away from him and his date.

You sigh when you reach the kitchen, giving your order to the head chef and leave as he reads out the order—making sure not to bump into anyone. Just as you step out, a coworker stops you, his face still new and his name yet unlearned.

“Irene told me to tell you someone is looking for you,” he says before entering the kitchen.

Your heart leaps, and although you know who it might be, you can’t help but ask, “Did she mention a name?”

He shakes his head and the kitchen door closes behind him.

Your feet carry you to the main station where Irene is usually positioned, and unfortunately, she isn’t with the man you were hoping to see.

It’s someone else. A stranger.

He’s tall, handsome, and rugged in a grey suit. Dark hair styled back and dark beard pristine and well groomed. He’s sporting a charming smile, eyes crinkling amicably.

Irene is blushing, cheeks red and eyes wide as they stare up at him. For a moment, she looks away from him and your eyes connect. Her brown eyes light up and she says something to him that has him looking over his shoulder.

Your feet falter, hesitating when you make eye contact with the male. Something in his gaze shifts, eyes narrowing, nothing friendly remaining on his face—it’s calculating and cold.

He fully turns to you and behind him is Irene mouthing something at you and pointing at him. You’re pretty sure she’s saying, “Who is this hottie?”

You have no idea.

“You asked for me?” You direct towards her, hoping there’s been some kind of mistake.

“Yes,” the male answers instead, and there’s a hint of an accent to his voice. It’s unfamiliar to you, just like his face. “We have some things to discuss.”

You want to ask if you know him, but before you can, his gaze returns to Irene.

“You don’t mind if I steal her for a moment?”

“Of course not,” she says. “You came right on time, anyway. I was just about to send her on her lunch break.”

Great. He could be a murderer for fucksake and she could be sending you to your deathbed without knowing!

“Perfect,” he says, eyes returning to you. He roughly grabs your arm and leans down to whisper in your ear, masking it with a jovial smile and pretending he was just moving you away from an incoming co-worker carrying plates. “If you don’t want to lose your job, I suggest you come with me.”

He doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

You muster a glare, twisting your arm out of his hold before addressing Irene. “I’ll be right back.” Removing your black waist apron, you hand it to her before following the strange male out to the front of the restaurant. She’s none the wiser, smiling brightly and giving you two thumbs up.

You stop a little off to the side, making sure to not block the way of people leaving or entering the restaurant, or strolling by. Waiting for a couple to pass you both, your eyes try not to waver as they harden. “Who are you?”

He stands straight, head held high and looking down at you—he’s trying to intimidate you, that much is obvious by his stance and the way his eyes stay narrowed. It’s working. But you’re not about to let him know that.

He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out an envelope, a familiar seal—belonging to the note that had been slipped under your door—greeting you. “Madame Magdalena—“ Madame? What the fuck? First Tia, and now Madame? Is that woman obsessed with titles? “Sends another message.”

You have got to be shitting me!

You ignore your shaking hands and rip the envelope from his hands, opening it without care; and just as you had suspected, it’s another note with the remaining amount and the due date. “She’s threatening me at my job now? Seriously?”

The male remains stoic. “She is growing impatient.”

It hasn’t even been a month since she stopped by the apartment! Hell, it hasn’t even been three weeks!

“Yeah?” You rip up the paper along with the envelope in half. “Well, tell my aunt that if she continues to threaten me, I’m going to the police!”

The man’s eye twitches, but other than that, his expression doesn’t change.

A familiar voice calls your name as a hand settles on your shoulder, guiding you back a step. “Is everything all right?”

“Steve?” you drawl, wide eyes falling on the man you had been waiting for. He smiles down at you, baseball cap barely hovering over his eyes and squeezing your shoulder gently before hardening his gaze at the male in front of you.

“I am only the messenger,” the man says, a little deflated and unsure of the newcomer.

You don’t blame him. His size could be used to intimidate you, but not Steve. Steve is taller by a couple of inches and thicker in muscles, and there’s this air of authoritativeness surrounding him that is hard to ignore. And if the man recognizes who he is, he definitely doesn’t want to mess with an Avenger.

“Then be my messenger and tell her to stop,” you snarl, grabbing the hem of Steve’s denim jacket as a foothold.

The man nods stiffly and turns on his heels. “Excuse me.”

Steve and you watch in silence, neither of you paying any mind to the bustling streets or cars. A man shouts somewhere in the distance and music is playing from the bookstore next door.

It’s not until he’s out of your sight that you take a deep breath, easing your grip on Steve’s jacket and growing lax as the nerves and tenseness leave your body.

“You okay?” he asks, and Steve’s eyes are full of concern.

You manage a smile. “I think so.”

He scans the area, face serious and devoid of any emotions. Is he checking if you’re both being watched? His expression relaxes after doing a quick sweep. “Do you want to reschedule lunch?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, no. You’d be a welcome distraction from what happened, honestly.” Your eyes automatically follow the route the stranger took. “Besides, I don’t think this’ll be the last time this happens,” you admit, trying to keep the wariness and defeat from your voice. “Anyway, lunch?”

Steve doesn’t try to hide his unease with your admission, and you’re almost positive he wants to ask you more questions, but he holds them back. “My friend mentioned there was a good bistro around here. Want to go there?”

“That’d be great,” you say, following after him, but not before throwing the ripped up note into a nearby trash can.

The bistro Steve takes you to is small, almost empty, but it has a cute rustic charm to it—all wooden, open brick, and green plants. You occupy a round table that only fits two people, choosing to sit by the back where the lighting is a little darker and the window is facing away from a main street.

You order a fruit tea, foregoing your usual heavy coffee because a nervous you and coffee don’t mix well.

Steve orders a black tea and two breakfast sandwiches, one which he pushes your way when they arrive. When you give him a bewildered look, he says, “You need to eat something.”

He’s sweet.

“Thank you.”

He just smiles, but something keeps him on edge—eyes moving from you to the door, hand wrapped around his drink but never actually drinking from it.

You sigh, placing your sandwich back on the small plate. “He’s not coming back, Steve.”

He rips his gaze from the door and blinks. “What?”

“The man from earlier?” You meet his gaze, trying to smile. “He’s not coming back. Not today, anyway,” you mutter to yourself.

Deep lines make themselves a home on his forehead and there’s an urge deep in your gut wanting you to reach out and wipe them away. “If he comes back, make sure to call me.”

“He’s not going to hurt me. My aunt wouldn’t let him hurt me just—“ your throat grows dry and his eyes narrow. “I mean—“

“Is she—did she send him to threaten you?”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything.

His face softens, trying to make himself seem more friendly and approachable—seeming like he cares. Especially when he says your name so carefully and slowly, like some kind of treasure. “You can tell me.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “Why?” He doesn’t answer. “Why do you—you don’t even know me.”

He frowns, debating with himself until settling on, “I don’t need to know you to care.”

You retract, leaning back into your chair. That’s not good enough, even if butterflies are beginning to sprout their wings in your stomach. God, have you really been deprived of male attention for so long that you react like this at the first man that shows he cares?

“I… I overheard your conversation that night. Heard you were having trouble and…”

Of course he heard. Of course he fucking did. Fuck. “It doesn’t concern you,” you state coldly, ignoring the humming in your ear. You really don’t want his pity.

His lips purse together and his eyes lower, dark lashes curtaining over blue eyes. You worry your bottom lip, an unsettling feeling stirring in your stomach—guilt. You’re about to open your mouth to apologize but he beats you to it.

“I want to help you.” He licks his lips, meeting your gaze with determination. There’s something so intense and fiery in his eyes that your heart jumpstarts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I think… I think we can help each other.”

Against your better judgement, you ask, “How?”

“I can…” he swallows, nail dragging back and forth on the table. “I can provide you money, help you with your bills and your needs, and in return you give me… company.”

“Are you asking me to be your personal prostitute?” He flounders and your eyes narrow. “Because it sounds like you’re asking for sex in return for money.”

“No! No—There was a term—” He tilts his head, thinking deeply about something before shaking his head. “What I meant was that I—I sometimes have events to attend and if I don’t take a date, women at these things tend to…”

Your nerves begin to ease, amusement taking over at the sight of a flustered Steve. “Throw themselves at you?”

“Yes!” He nods vigorously before mellowing out, eyes dropping to the tea that is no longer steaming. “Yes, they tend to throw themselves at me and it”—he winces, most likely remembering an instance— “it can be too much sometimes.”

“So… you want me to be a sort of barrier between you and these women?”

He sighs in relief that you understand. “Not just that. I meant when I said I wanted company, someone I can have a genuine conversation with.” He exhales through his nose. “Being who I am doesn’t exactly give me time to… meet people.”

Your jaw slackens as it clicks in your head: he wants a sugar baby. He’s asking you of all people to be his sugar baby! “What about the women throwing themselves at you?”

He snorts, lips turning into a self deprecating smile. “Most of them are just interested in what I am. Not who I am.”

You frown. Is he sure about that?

“I just want someone to care about, someone who’ll let me take care of them, protect them and who is willing to get to know me as Steve Rogers, not Captain America.”

You mull over his words, the soft music drifting through the wooden beams of the bistro and the low chattering from the other customers suddenly seeming louder as you think. “Why me? You don’t exactly know me.”

He smiles, all soft and sweet eyes drifting over your face. “Why not you?”

That’s not exactly the answer you were expecting to hear, but you still find yourself relaxing in your seat. “How would this work?”

“Sharon”—Sharon? As in the famed Sharon Carter? Weren’t they rumored to be dating at some point?—“mentioned something about coming up with our terms and agreeing on them together. Maybe we can start there? After you have time to think about accepting my offer or not, of course.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “Okay.”

“You’ve got to be pulling my leg!” Selena practically yells from the other line, and you pull your phone away from your ear, wincing. “Captain fucking America is asking to be your Sugar Daddy?”

You curl under your bed sheets, trying to be quiet and not wake up Esme in the other twin bed. “I know, I’m just as in shock as you are.”

“I’m not in shock. I’m excited for you!” She gushes sleepily. “Please tell me you’re going to say yes! Because if you aren’t, I’m booking a flight to New York right now to slap some sense into you.”

You laugh, voice bubbling with mild glee and nerves. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Good! This is good for you! You deserve someone looking after you. You’ve done enough looking after.”

You shiver from the cold air seeping into the apartment, watching Esme closely—if she shivers too there’s another blanket in the closet you can put on her. “If I do say yes, it’ll be because I’ll have the ability to look after Esme and my mom, Sel.”

“And that’s fine! Not saying that shouldn’t be your driving force. But it’s about time someone looks after you, too. I mean, I know Esme and your mother do, and I know Cassandra does too, and I obviously do,” she says with a playful scoff and you chuckle softly. “But we can't look after you like Steve would. Whoa, can I call him Steve? Or is that only reserved for you?”

You roll your eyes and lift your blanket over your face, covering your cold nose. Rambling Selena is always fun. “Really?”

“Right, silly question. Of course I can, I’m your best friend.” You snort. “As I was saying. Steve can offer the attention and care we can’t, in more ways than one.” She giggles salaciously and you groan into the fabric of your blanket. “What? Is sex off the table or something?”

You breathe deeply, turning on your back. “I don’t know? Maybe? Maybe not?”

“Would sleeping with Captain America be the worst thing to happen to you?” Would it? There’s no denying that you are definitely attracted to Steve, but it’s one thing to fantasize and another to have the ability to make that fantasy come true. And what if he doesn’t want to have sex with you? She sighs, as if reading your thoughts. “Talk to him about it. He did say you could come up with your own terms, right?”

“Yeah.”

She hums thoughtfully. “I say you throw sex on the list, but add that you’ll only have sex if you feel comfortable enough to. And if he forces sex on you, fuck Captain America, not physically, but like, you know cursing him out. Or we could always curse him too, I made friends with some wicc—“

You laugh, knowing her rambling is only going to get worse as she gets sleepier, it’s the only way to stay awake for your sake. She may be three hours behind you, but she’s always been an early sleeper. “I think you and I need some sleep.”

She sighs dramatically. “You’re right. Let’s talk more about this when I’m less… delirious. This deserves our full attention, so you better call me when you’re free, you hear?”

“I promise I will.”

Cassandra’s eyes are hot on your side profile. It makes you regret asking Steve to meet you at the bar during your break this time around, but he was too busy to meet you earlier, and you were busy, too. You had a ten hour shift at the restaurant and during your break you visited your mom; and before heading for your shift at the bar you met with Esmeralda’s academic counselor, who indeed told you that Esme should think about joining more clubs and doing more activities—like cheer.

It solidified your decision on Steve’s proposal.

He takes a tentative sip of his beer, blue eyes bright even in the warm lighting of the bar—blue hydrangeas on the table pale in comparison.

You take out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of your jeans. “I’ve never actually done this, so, um they might be a little juvenile…”

His pretty eyes scan your messy and unsure writing as he drinks in your words; your fingers rubbing hastily at a spot on the table. You mentally recite your terms, helped by Selena, but mostly written by you because she was going over the top with her suggestions (e.g. a gift delivered to your door every week, must cost over $100; roses sent to your work or home every week; a gift to my best friend every month unless she says she doesn’t need one; and so on—“What? He has money!” she said after you called her out for her ridiculous suggestions. “Isn’t the whole point of this him spending money on you?”):

Clear communication about what we want going forward in this arrangement.

Treat each other with respect.

Must get to know each other.

Affection, whether public or private, is okay, as long as it’s not manhandling.

Sex is also okay, as long as we’re both comfortable with one another.

A smile blooms on his face and he chuckles, only making your face heat up. You knew it! They are juvenile! Or was it sex? Maybe he wasn’t interested in sex with you? You don’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. “I could—I could rewrite them?”

His eyes snap to yours and his laughter subsides, but not the amusement in his eyes, they’re clear as day. “No—no, they’re fine, it’s just,” he pauses to reach into his own pocket to pull out his own paper. He offers it to you and you take it tentatively.

You eye him and he gives you a small nod, smile curving his lips. You unfold it and as your eyes scan his simple terms that are an exact replica of yours (just with minor word differences) with no mention of sex in his. Your eyebrows furrow and when you look up his eyes are still on you, warmth—that you’ve come to associate with him—in his gaze. His hand reaches for yours and he coaxes your fingers to let go of the paper to take your hand in his—your heart picking up at the rough ends of his fingers smoothing over your palm.

“Just that,” he continues, eyes falling to his fingers caressing your skin, a small frown appearing on his lips, “I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable with sex being part of our agreement.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Should someone touching you as simple as this really feel this good? Are you really that touch starved?

He shrugs, still focused on memorizing the lines of your palm. “You didn’t want money in return for sex, remember?” It’s teasing the way he says it, looking up at you through his thick lashes, too long and beautiful for your liking (fuck, how can a man be so beautiful?) and a small tilt to his pink lips.

You snort, propping your chin on your hand that he isn’t touching, elbow placed firmly on the wooden table and written agreements momentarily forgotten and placed aside. “In my defense, it sounded like you were propositioning me. You could’ve just said you wanted a Sugar Baby from the start, Steve.”

He huffs a laugh, fingers dragging over your skin as he pulls away and you find yourself missing his touch. You have to stop yourself from chasing his warmth. “Believe it or not, I was too nervous to remember anything. Had a hard time forming sentences, too.”

You blink before a smile blooms on your face. “Does that mean we have an agreement?”

Blue eyes once more stare at you—no, into you. There’s concern and excitement whirling around, swimming against the currents they’ve both created around one another. “Have you really thought this through?” he asks, his voice barely heard over the music playing.

“What? This... arrangement or sex?” Because you have. You’ve probably annoyed Selena with all of your questions and concerns too.

He nods, not specifying which.

Your fingers reach for his hand resting on the table, but you hesitate before you can touch him and pull away. He frowns.

You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not yet. You focus on the LED candle lit on the table, avoiding his gaze. “Of course I have, Steve. I wouldn’t be here or have written it down if I hadn’t.” And if you’re being honest, you need this. You need the money and… and you need the affection and intimacy he could give you.

“It won’t be easy,” he tells you softly. “People are going to be prying everywhere we go—like now.” Your eyes follow his quick tilt of his head and your eyes meet the warm glow of Cassandra’s brown eyes. They widen and she quickly turns away, pretending to be cleaning the bar-top that she’s been cleaning excessively since Steve arrived.

You shake your head and smile at your boss as she looks up again and returns your smile with a sheepish one.

“She won’t be the only one wondering what’s going on between us.”

“She’s harmless.”

He sighs, both hands wrapping around the body of his bottle. “I know. But that doesn’t mean the others will be.”

“Are you trying to scare me away? Plant doubts into my mind, because—“ because you already had those before Selena managed to chase them away; Steve bringing them up will only make you anxious again.

He rests his hand back onto the table, between you and him, just out of reach. “No, that’s the farthest thing from what I want.”

“Then…”

“What I want is for you to be certain.” His eyes soften. “Because if you are, I promise you I will do everything in my power to protect you and your family, to keep you and them safe.”

A lump forms in your throat.

This time you don’t hesitate, your fingers brush against his before you’re pressing your palm against his, fingers slipping between his with such an ease that it almost scares you. But you’re not scared. How can you be scared when Steve is staring at you so tenderly? When he sounds so confident unlike when he brought up this arrangement? When he’s not only just thinking about you, but your family as well? When his fingers and yours fall into place so easily?

Yes, it might be hard, you’re aware of that, and he is too. However, if it means helping your family out of this situation, giving Esme a better chance in the future and being able to help your mom, you’re willing to try. “I’m sure, Steve.”

He squeezes your hand, a smile wiping away any visible concern on his handsome face. “Okay,” he says before repeating it again with a firm nod. His eyes move to the clock hanging next to the entrance to the kitchen and back room—your beak is almost over. “What time do you get off work? Let me take you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you assure him, trying desperately to keep your nerves down. You really don’t want to show him where you live, it’s not exactly the best place and if Esme’s home, you really don’t want her asking questions until you’re ready. “Cassandra usually gives me a ride home after work.”

“I want to give you a ride,” he says, face becoming serious. “We still have some things to discuss… like your aunt,” his voice lowers at the end, a brief flash of anger in his eyes, not directed at you, but at the woman who has been tormenting you, even if he doesn’t know all the details.

You gnaw the inside of your cheek and then sigh gently. “I help close, so I’m usually out by two, depending on how many are closing with us.”

He nods. “You don’t mind if I wait here?”

“I don’t, but are you sure you’re okay, waiting?” You check the clock and you frown—10:36 pm. He’ll be waiting for some time. “I won’t be out for a while.”

“I don’t mind,” he reassures you, squeezing your hand once more.

You return to work, a little reluctant to leave Steve by himself, but he keeps himself occupied by using his phone and occasionally, you find him staring at you every once in a while, flashing you a small smile.

“You don’t know Captain America, huh?” Cassandra teases, elbowing you gently on your side as you make a drink.

“I didn’t,” you tell her, shifting on your feet to move away from her prodding.

Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively, her eyes shining with mirth. “And now you do?”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile, but she knows you well enough to know that twitch and roll of your lips. “I guess so.”

She laughs and bumps your hip with hers. “Rooting for you, honey!”

If only she knew.

You’re busy the rest of the night. The bar is starting to gain some popularity again, and that means having to work even faster and harder. Steve at some point moves to the bar, leaving the booth that had been occupied by you and him earlier, but you prefer him being at the bar. It means he’s closer to you and it also means having his back turned to people who could possibly recognize him.

He’s not exactly wearing a disguise, baseball cap covering golden hair and being the only thing keeping people from recognizing him, but if he turns around and someone sober had already been looking at him, they’d know exactly who he is. His handsome face is unmistakable.

He smiles at you when he catches you staring at him and you return it bashfully before sliding another beer to him, his fifth one that night. Apparently with his super soldier metabolism, he doesn’t get drunk. Or hangovers.

Lucky bastard.

It’s not until half an hour before closing time that the bar starts to clear out, making it easy for you and the rest of your coworkers to clean up empty glasses and wipe sticky tables. Your feet are aching, but not enough to bother you for too long.

You’re carrying a tray of drinks to the back when Cassandra plucks it from your hands and grins at you. Your eyes widen and you stare at her with surprise.

“Go,” she says, motioning to Steve at the bar nursing a glass of water.

As if knowing you’re talking about him, he lifts his gaze from his phone and flashes you a half smile that you return with heated cheeks.

“But I’m closing tonight.” It’s more of a question than a factual statement at this point.

“It’s fine. We’ve got things handled. Go! Don’t keep Captain America waiting,” she gushes with a wink.

You playfully groan and nudge her with your shoulder as you both slip into the back. “Will you stop?”

“Only if you leave!” she exclaims jovially, leaving the tray of glasses on top of the counter space of the small kitchen. She turns to you with a hand on her hip and leans against the counter. “Well? You gettin’ outta here or should I ask tall, blonde, and handsome to take me home, instead?”

“It’s not what you think, Cass,” you tell her as you open your locker.

“Uh-huh, sure it isn’t.”

“It’s not. We’re just getting to know each other.” Which isn’t a complete lie.

“Well, that intense hand holding didn’t seem like you’re just getting to know each other.” She’s only teasing, but something about her words have you pausing.

He might not have mentioned it, but it was kind of implied that people shouldn’t know about the kind of relationship (if you could even call it that) you and Steve have now. So it’s good that she thinks you’re together, right?

Cassandra calls your name and you turn to look at her, her brown eyes full of concern and you smile at her to ease that worry away.

“We’re just testing out the waters.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #marvel imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #story: be my sugar #fablyricschallenge

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

You Didn’t Let Me! - Part 1 (Kihyun)

Summary: It took you three guys to realise you had been running from love all along. When you finally meet up again at a university reunion, you weren’t prepared to answer the question of who you wanted most.

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x Park Jinyoung x Lee Seunggi x reader

Genre: romance / angst / self-growth au

Warnings: three hot guys and y/n’s an idiot lol none

A/N: This was initially meant to be a oneshot for the Trick, No It’s My Treat dares. However, the storyline suited being broken up and so I have made it into a mini-series. I hope you enjoy!

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

“He’s calling again,” your best friend Raisa complained, holding up her phone to show as proof. “What do I say? Kihyun’s food is delicious but there’s only so many things I can try out for him before he gets annoyed with my lack of critique.”

“His food is the best, Rai. I wouldn’t turn down a single chance to taste it.”

She looked at you and then smiled devilishly. “Would you give up your night to do just that then?”

“Oh, I was planning to go to a study group,” you answered hastily, trying to avoid her gaze. It wasn’t easy when you were both seated in the living room of your shared apartment, and so you got up, moving into your bedroom to collect your belongings.

You didn’t want to admit to Raisa the sudden reason you got up to leave stemmed from your unhealthy crush on Yoo Kihyun. Before attending the same university, the three of you had gone to high school together and that was when Raisa had introduced Kihyun as her next-door neighbour. You were certain he had a crush on your best friend and so you kept your feelings quiet. The last thing you wanted to do was share a meal with Kihyun and end up blurting out how delicious he was instead of the food.

Yet Raisa didn’t miss her opportunity. “Come on, Y/N. You owe me.”

“I do not!”

“Three weeks ago, stand in date for-”

“Fine!” you caved, nodding immediately. “I’ll do it, just this once.”

“Lifesaver. I’ll tell Ki I can’t make it but you’ll be there at seven. Enjoy the food for me, won’t you?”

You hoped that you would be able to taste it accurately given how nervous you were. Still, you managed to turn up at Kihyun’s apartment a little earlier than seven, and even smiled warmly when he greeted you. He grinned and ushered you inside, the aroma already making your nerves ease some.

“Rai said you would come tonight, it means so much to me. We have culinary exams next week and I’m trying to create the best three-course meal. I hope you’re hungry, there’s a lot to get through!”

“I only brought my appetite with me!” you retorted and he chuckled, gesturing for you to take a seat at the table.

Kihyun wasn’t kidding; there was enough food there to feed a family, not just the two of you. You glanced up at him hesitantly and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, whatever you don’t eat, my housemates will clean up.”

“Oh good,” you breathed, waiting as he dished you up the first meal. You were immediately hooked on the flavour, as was Kihyun on your reactions. You tried not to feel so self-conscious under his continued stare; then again, you weren’t used to having someone watch you eat to avidly either.

“Anything to note?”

“Did you use rosemary?”

He beamed. “You picked up on that? I thought it was too subtle.”

“No, it really compliments the dish, Kihyun. I think this is a winning meal.”

Soon, he was relaxed enough to start eating himself, conversation flowing easily as you shared the meal. You were more than full of knowledge of how his life was going and of food after you placed your spoon down, cleaning up the last bits of the chocolate brownie he had served for dessert.

“You know, Y/N, you gave me so much more feedback than Raisa ever does. I think she’s just too used to eating my food now.”

“I hope it was helpful. You should ace your exams next week.”

Kihyun nodded softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you uh, do you think I could ask you to come over more often? Next semester we’re going to be working in the university restaurant and we each get a night where we have to create the entire menu. I’m a little worried about what to serve and you’ve been the best at giving me proper critique. Minhyuk just eats it all and then whines that I’m over-feeding him and Changkyun just says it’s good every time. And then Rai-”

“I’d love to,” you stated and he let out a breath you hadn’t even noticed it was holding.

“Great, so can we make it a date? Every Thursday?”

A date? You pressed your lips together in hopes it would settle the colour flaring to your cheeks as you nodded your head in answer.

Kihyun grinned so much that you were certain his eyes now were two little crescent moons. You couldn’t help but melt more than the warm brownie had done to the ice-cream scoop on your dessert just before.

“Oh hey, let me walk you home,” Kihyun then suggested, reaching for his coat.

“It’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be fine,” you assured but he shook his head as he shrugged on his coat, locking the front door behind him.

“I’m not going to let you go home this late at night alone. It’s the least I can do when you’ve given up your evening to help me.”

The walk was charged, nothing being said between you. Yet you felt as if he wanted to say something more, and with the way his hand brushed against yours once, you anticipated him reaching out and holding it.

Instead, you made it home safely without a single confession and after a friendly farewell, you went into your apartment completely confused.

“You’ve just let your emotions run away with you,” you scolded yourself, dismissing any niggling signs that remained.

Yet, they returned full force when you went to Kihyun’s the following Thursday. Soon, you were arriving earlier each time, getting the opportunity to watch him cook. God, he was so attractive in his element. You could see his passion for the culinary art, each meal basically sculpted into a masterpiece before you. And whilst there was never something you didn’t quite like, you weren’t just praising him. You pushed him to think out of the box more, offering ideas you had as you ate.

Kihyun’s confidence continued to soar.

“You’re here really early,” he mentioned as he opened the door, allowing you inside as you took off your coat. He stopped moving off to the kitchen, looking you over with concern. “Why are you shaking?”

“It’s freezing out there,” you explained and then you gasped when he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing you vigorously to warm you up.

You hiccupped and Kihyun laughed. “Here, come and get some water. If you recover well enough, you might even get to be my assistant today.”

“Oh, I – might just – like that!” you managed in between hiccups, thanking him silently for the glass of water he handed you. After gulping it down, and announcing you were ready to work, Kihyun held up an apron for you.

“We can’t let your pretty outfit go to waste,” he murmured as he leaned in to tie it around your waist and you begged yourself to not start hiccupping again, focusing on your breathing the entire time.

And then the fun began. Soon, you were giggling too much for this to be anything but a disaster. Kihyun was exasperated, stopping what he was doing every few minutes to assist you in your tasks. He shot you a trying look. “How can someone so good at tasting food be so horrible in the kitchen?!”

“Hey, I take offence to that. It depends on what I’m making.”

Kihyun snorted. “I bet you murder your ramen and do something horrific like drain out the soup too.”

You didn’t answer and that was enough to confirm his suspicions. Eventually, you made it to the table with the meal you prepared, admitting it was the worst in presentation. You giggled. “But I take full responsibility for that.”

“It’s the best-tasting meal I’ve had in a while, Y/N. Sometimes it’s not all about the looks, but what’s felt on the inside,” he mentioned and you merely stared over at him, chewing on your lip lightly.

Should you tell him that you liked him? You believed he was feeling something more each Thursday night, and with how he had started messaging you when it wasn’t about his meals, you were convinced something was brewing and it wasn’t just the hot chocolate he had put on just before in the kitchen either.

Just as you worked up the courage, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue, Kihyun’s phone rang and he nodded apologetically before answering. “What? Oh no, I can’t. No, it’s not that I’m not interested… I’m with my girlfriend right now.”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, Kihyun’s words ringing over and over in your head. Girlfriend? You didn’t even care how giddy you appeared, unable to control the smile now upon your lips.

“Sorry about that,” he mentioned and you shook your head immediately.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s just I kind of lied. I didn’t want to go see the game tonight so I used you as my excuse. I hope you don’t mind, Y/N.”

What part had he lied over exactly? Blinking away your initial joy, you smiled a little more weakly this time. “No, it’s fine, honest.”

“You’re a great friend, Y/N. Do you want one or two marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

“Wait on a minute, it’s Thursday,” Raisa said, stopping in her tracks to the front door. She frowned. “You okay? Shouldn’t you be over with Kihyun? He was literally buzzing to me about how much fun hanging out with you has been lately. He has nothing but good things to say about you it seems.”

“Mm, because I’m a good friend,” you answered, letting out a sigh soon after.

Raisa came over to you and placed a hand on her hip. “Why are you like this?”

“I think I crossed some sort of line with Kihyun. I’ve had a crush on him-”

“Since freshman year in high school, I know.”

You glanced up at your best friend suddenly. “You knew?!”

“Of course I did. What do you take me for? You basically have hearts in your eyes whenever you see him.”

Deflating, you let out another sigh. “I’m just a friend though.”

“Really? I don’t know, I think Kihyun sees you as more than that.”

“No, he used me as an excuse to get out of doing something with a friend and called me his girlfriend,” you said and Raisa went to reply when you shot her a look. “Right after that, he told me I was a great friend.”

“Ouch, what was he thinking?”

“Maybe I was wrong. I confused his invitations to come over each Thursday as dates. I’ve just been blowing off study time to help his own career out. I don’t want to be a great friend anymore.”

“Okay, so maybe you need to see if he gets upset about you not coming over anymore. If his response is just about his cooking, then he didn’t like you. But if there’s more to it, then you should definitely tell him that you like him.”

“You think so?”

Raisa nodded. “Trust me, Kihyun is honest enough to let you know what you mean to him.”

You took her advice, sitting out another two Thursdays much to Kihyun’s chagrin. He had asked if you were okay, and when you mentioned you were busy studying, he was happy enough to leave you to it.

But that was it.

“Oh hey!” you enthused when you crossed paths with Kihyun on campus, waving in greeting. He eyed you cautiously, shouldering his bag a little more. “It’s Thursday, right? Do you need me to come over tonight? I’ve finished the assignment I was working on and-”

“No, it’s fine, Y/N. Honestly. I think I’ve got the menu set now.”

“Oh.” You nodded slowly, your heart sinking into your stomach. “Well, uh, if you need a hand again, you know where to find me.”

Kihyun merely stared at you before smiling firmly. “Sure, what are friends for, right?”

“Friends,” you repeated and Kihyun implored you to say something more. Yet you didn’t quite pick up on it, instead lowering your gaze enough to blink your emotions away. “Of course! I’ll see you around then.”

Heading home, you hurried into your room and shut the door behind you, crying into your pillow for some time. And then when the tears ended, you got up, approaching the full-length mirror on the back of your door. You stared at yourself, feeling unhappy with what looked back at you.

You were too shy, too quiet and you wanted a change.

You wouldn’t spend your Thursday’s worrying about not eating all day anymore to accommodate Kihyun’s meals. Instead, you would sculpt yourself into the person you wanted to be, and someone that Kihyun would regret keeping just as a friend.

_________________ Part 2

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archiveofidentityconstellations · 5 years

Text

cass won't share her cheese nibs and bruce doesn't love me and i think?? that i deserve better??? than this???? i'm moving to alaska where NO ONE CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO

the sequel to that one trix yogurt fic

I feel like I should tell you that I am MASSIVELY fucked up right now

like i am such a garbage heap that oscar the grouch took a look at me and said

“fuckk off!! i have standards!”

anyways

it’s Brimothy, bitch

what is UP mothertrucksrs it is Me i am back here to write a report on the UNBELIEVABLE SHIT I JUST HANDLED.

okay so u know how Gotham city is on crack cocaine all the time. with like some LSD and heroin and never ever any weed except for like who is that pig guy?? nevrm he doesn’t have weeeed but like he is definitely a Pig. what the fuck is his name. what the fuck.

okay so anyways

is it Goyle

Doyle

Pigoyle

tin foil? lmao

OKAY FUCK anyways the City, who Also May Be My Lover, is in a constant life crisis (which i relate? a Lot) and do you want to know this s h i t

Crocodile

Killer Croc

who Steve Irwin would be v disappointed in

Is climbing

into people’s FUCKING TOILETS

???????????????

THIS ISN’T FLORIDA

THIS IS NEW JERSEY

WE WEAR SHOES IN THE WINTER

WHAT SORT OF FLIP-FLOP WEARING CUCKER DOES HE THINK HE IS

okay so obviously KC is a big guy. a Dude. a whack-o whaler of a Male. a Big Boh. the largest banananana in the pack. he is Big. so he cAn’t fit into most people’s toilets. he can, however, fit into Big People’s toilets (big as in wealthy, not As in Tom Hanks)

so KC (crispy,,,nuggest…i wonder if fried alligator is good—not that im thinking of eating him, though someone really should threaten him with cannibalism, like if you’re going to be a bitch about it then you deserve the same done to you, it’s just manners) is in cahoots and canoodles with Someone Who Shall Not Be Named (not bc i don’t know, I do, that’s how detectives work. it’s my JOB to know, and i was a prodigy) but bc there is a whole other report detailing this person and their movements and its case file #4461 if u don’t believe me, but i ain’t no snitch, but i will say that tonight’s events connect to file #4461 so Dad if you’re reading this you should already have it out bc it’s your JOB

speaking of jobs ding ding here is mine coming round the mountain as she comes bc the apple bottom jeans the boots with the fur will be coming round the mountain when she comes shE’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll b e coming round and getting low low low low low l ow low

It was a crisp October night. The sun was blinking its sleepy lids, setting the ballroom with an incandescent glow. Bruce Wayne strode across the floor, his daughter Cassandra accompanying him. They wore matching expressions that the privileged always wear: guarded, yet hungry. Hungry for what? Probably for the crab cakes just out of reach. Neither of them had an allergy, and Cassandra in particular had a propensity to shove anything edible in her mouth, so it really was a tragedy that those crab cakes were all the way across the room. There should really be a table right in the middle of the dance floor just for snacks. That way caterers wouldn’t have to do so much leg work, which is actually a good thing, because that ballroom floor is slippery af. This narrator should know, he has Died A Few Times getting there. Suddenly, the night’s festivities were interrupted by a social faux pas: a scream.

You don’t just scream at regular parties, it’s uncouth and hysterical. But you can scream if the social boundaries have already been crossed, and boy, were they crossed.

You see, Dear Reader, there was a man in the toilet.

I use the term “man” loosely, as his glaring yellow eyes do wonders when you might just crap your pantaloons. You start imagining things, like dinosaurs whcih i am personally a big fan of bc Jurassic Park has a kid named Tim in it and I am also Tim.

hI y is our toilet so big that Killer Croc could wiggle his way up? also how long can he hold his breath.

it seems to be impressively long

hey Bdad how long can he hold his breath? please let me know if you can, and if you won’t i will eat all your wafers becauzs i wa

Mrs. Trenton screamed and fled the impertinent bathroom guest, who wasted no time in ripping the commode to pieces. There was a roar and all the guests paused, unsure if it was merely pipe problems or if they were under attack.

Reader: They were, in fact, under attack.

The guests, deciding that Mrs. Trenton was a social entrepreneur, followed her lead and began to scream. Killer Croc had made it to ballroom, standing at an impressive height just outside the doors.

He was Not wearing a shirt.

okay have u ever noticed that Killer Crog hasn’t got any nipples????? where are they? he’s got pecs but no nipples??

where did they go where are his nip nops i kno people don’t like to think about this but i hAve wondered since i was like 13 like where did they go. has anyone ever asked him.

did they fall off

“Take the crab cakes!” shouted Matthew Fielder, a lil bitch.

“No, take me!” said Cassandra Wayne, who would literally rather die than give up those crab cakes.

Killer Croc paid them no heed. He desired one thing and one thing only, the sweet satisfaction for his carnal craving: Humain Flesh.

(alliteration hell yeah hell yeah take that Mrs. Johnson i do know shit and im creative as well u jusy don’t know how my brian works it’s like a golden goose egg trap ye ye ye)

i just Realized

i am…a high school drop out

i don’t know why im doing this

Dear Reader, as an Aside: Smoking can lead to many health issues, especially if one begins smoking at a young age. Harmful side effects include increased risk of stroke and brain damage; muscular degeneration, eye cataracts; cancer of lips, nose, tongue, and mouth, and nipple loss.

Jason you may want to have a talk with you and your mipples

The terror in the air was stifling. Cannibalism conduct was not something conveyed in etiquette classes. Rich people never expect to be eaten.

Reader, everyone hardly breathed. Something deeply primal had occurred.

From the doorway the golden eyes struck. Deadly. Lethal. Hungry.

This was more than vengeance. It was a sadistic occasion of play.

okay good thing Dames wasn’t there because he fucking HATES KC he gets all huffy and shrieky about him like “he’s a HYGIENE PROBLEM” and it’s like,,,,,.ur right but i don’t want to agree with you because where do we stand if i do that?? as brothers???

i think the fuck not

anyways i just realized i’ve been calling Waylon Jones KC the entire damn time (NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE) but to be fucking h, he wants to to be called that. i called him Allen once and he was so PISSED so i can only think of actually calling him by his name. he wouldn’t even be chill with me naming the sewer alligators even tho they were awesome names. i called one Dundee. that’s fucking genius. that’s just. i’m fucking amazing. stupenous. and unappreciated.

maybe his nipples fell off because he swims in shit every night?????

question: why do i swim in shit almost as often

what the dfck

what are my life choices

i feel like there should have been some fine print involved here

“Robin duties include scraping shit off your asschreks 3 times a week”

mahbe,,,,maybe not what i want

personal choice

though i haven’t really seen any alligators in the sewers for years now, which is

oh my god OH MY GOD HE ATE THEM HE ATE THEM OH MY GOD OH MY GOD !!!!!!!!!!

HE FUCKING HE FUCKING. HE. HE ATE HIMSELF HE FUCNING ATE HIMAELF AND HIS FAMILY HIS COUSINS HIS CPOUSINS HIS FAMILY OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION ALL OVER AGAIN

im so disturbed……..i like, need to eat something. Fucking hell. this Not what i had in mind when i decided to be alive.

i feel like as if i woke up one day and i was the only one in the entire world who remembered Caillou. also could pull off my face and eat it like taffy. imw so. i.

mom i know i refused to go to Shabbat when i was ten so i don’t get to say this but:

this is Not kosher

oh heyy i want some pIckes

i was also thinking of takin a spin class?? like fuck it i like to bike. fuck it. and maybe iwdont want bruce and nigtwink fucking watxhing me with their beady eyes. like get those off my calves. my cleavage is up here, gentlemen. stop talking about proper form. some people can do things and suck at them. i’m never going to be like a professional ice curler. and i shouldn’t feel bad about that. who the fuck curls for fun. maybe Canada???????

note to self: look up the history of the sport of curling

i’m going to get good at it to piss off Jason

Back On Topic:

Killer Croc took a step forward. His mouth trembled, watering in anticipation. He took another step.

Mrs. Trenton drew in a breath.

The room was silent.

Far across the room, Bruce Wayne clenched his champagne glass. Cassandra Wayne stopped chewing the crab cakes. Reader, I won’t mince words: Waylon Jones crossed the threshold.

and the instant he put his foot down on the ballroom floor he fucking slipped like a drunkass toddler

like when Damian is really really tired bc he’s like 2 years old (only an evil 2 years old like chucky) and Jason tries to give him a high five

gremlin still doesn’t get that “down low” precedes “too slow”

and he like. faceplants

onto the fucking concrete

and then Bruce yells at Jason

and then Jason yells back

“I NEVER ASKED FOR SIBLINGS”

like it was something we all did, like wrote it down on our batmas lists for Brucie Claus

and im sitting there, a perennial Forgotten Middle Child

and Damian is like still. on the ground.

anyways KC is just slipping across the ballroom, slippering and sliding bc the floor was just waxed and it’s silent except for the wet slaps of his feet against the floor and the screech his tail makes every time he trips (sort of like this) and when he sometimes falls it makes that sound of when your thighs SLAP against the mats and it sounds like a wet walrus coming to cheer you on while a Giant simultaneously swallows a liquid-filled gummy worm down his throat like QAWAGGHHHHHHH only his falls reverberated against the ceiling panels and the cherubs looked down in like. disgust.

Cass began chewing the crab cakes again by the time Killer Croc fell for the twelfth time so idk it was an embarrassing situation

we all did that Thing people do when a social barrier is breached

we like…..avoided each other’s eyes and made light conversation

meanwhile Killer Croc’s body screeched in the background

anyways Matthew Fielder was like “so I hear you dance ballet” and Cass responded “uh huh. tap too” and the chewed up crab cake crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the floor

i CAN’T

scrambled cock on a cracker, Cass why does Alfred let this happen????? what is this?????? like she can snort creme puffs like cocaine but GOD FORBID i put my elbows on the table and call damian “a poisonous little bitch” because he ate my croutons

the standards in this family are unbelievable

So everyone is just talking and Mrs. Trenton is sipping champagne now and Luis Alvarez is doing that thing where he starts trying to eat caviar one teeny tiny egg at a time and KC is just like WHUMPH for the thirtieth time

finally dad takes pity on him and crouches down and is like “hey how you doing slugger” which???? Offended me. Very Much.

that’s MY nickname

has Waylon No-Nipples Jones been adopted by Bruce Wayne??? has Waylon No-Nipples Jones retrieved HIS sorry ass from time?? i don’t fucking think so

the audacity of this man

but before Killer Croc can reply

Red Hood

BURSTS INTO THE ROOM

guns out, voice modulator kind of fuzzy like a broke refrigerator that makes an “eeeeeeeeeee” sound ever since i tripped over it and fell on it

which wASN’T MY FAULT

IM NOT “deformed baby zebra clumsy” FUCK YOU JASON

MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T KEEP HIS EXPENSIVE HELMET ON THE FLOOR THEN

you know what? I’m GLAD i tripped over it.

yeah. suck it.

im glad you sound like a 90s japanese transistor radio

off brand too

fuck you

I GOT A BRUISE NOT THAT ANYONE CARES

even Bruce was like “hey tim you need to watch where you’re going”

???

how about YOU watch where YOU’RE GOING

“where” as in TIME TRAVEL

REMEMBER THAT BRUCE

REMEMBER THAT?!???????

HUH BIG GUY?!???????!!???

no one is allowed to criticize me from now on

i am Above Reproach

anyways yeah Red Hood appears at the party and shoots KC and Bruce was like “why the FUCK would you SHOOT HIM” as if he has some misplaced paternal feeling for Waylon No-Nipples Jones because he called him slugger which is something he calls one of his other kids but whatever im not bitter im just insecure and sad all the time but don’t worry about it maybe i’ll die one day and you’ll all be sorry especially about Certain Things like not sharing cheese nibs huh Cassandra

so RH and Bruce Wayne kind of argue. like. literally sniping at each other bc SOMEBODY forgot that Red Hood is a criminal and not their misplaced son and RH is like “it’s!!!!! a tranquilizer!!!!! ya big hoe!!!!!” only he doesn’t really say it like that but everyone isn’t even listening at this point because this party has already been so goddamn weird and we’re all suffering from secondhand embarrassment

i am Assuming,,,,,that Killer Croc Jones “Jonsie No-Nipples” has been taken away to be put into jail and studied for his non-nipple properties but at this point i’ve been sitting here huffing that cold medicine or whatever Bruce gave me. which

oh yeah i was crushed earlier

it was by “slugger” but whatever

yeah his body broke mine

it was because Bruce and Jason were fighting again and not paying attention so

KC was tranquillized and like

fell on me

he drooled on me too

those ballroom floors really hurt

like my head feels like mush

Alfred’s oatmeal

on its second day

because i refused to eat it on the first day

that man has a spine of Steel and he Does Not Let You Waste Food

btw he fell on me because i pushed Luis Alvarez out of the way

he was really transfixed by those tiny fish eggs

it’s fun to put them on your tongue and let them like slide around

so i pushed him out of the way and was promptly crushed to death

B said something about a broken collarbone

i am more worried about a broken butt

fuck

my coccyx

PROFESSOR PYM wait no shit that’s a comic book character

anyways my butt is broken and im hungry and dad wouldn’t let me get out of the chair so i write up this report because I am A Real Life Detective and I do my JOB

once again im the best

hey red jood can you get me some cheese nibs cassandrA won’t share which is p mean especially since i was all for being eaten to give her those crab cakes red hoof red why isn’t he responding to me i want xheese nibs red hanz red red Red Hood please I require sustenance red fhau red gjji red hhood ted joood redb hood red red edds red red edd dedd red red red red red wd red what the fuck what a right bastard sometimes oh hi Badaman

EDIT: His name is “Pyg.” Fucking. Pyg. Points taken off for unoriginality.

decided to have a tumblr version too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#take this and put it on my grave #in remembrance of me

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frangipanidownunder · 5 years

Note

Five times someone else witnessed Mulder and Scully being cute together

Pearl: fic

Five times someone else witnessed Mulder and Scully being cute together

Pearl is glad that serious young man in the basement office had a partner now. He spent too many nights alone in there, hunched over that messy desk, playing around with slides and photos and stuff. She’s not sure where the redheaded girl sits but she hears her sometimes, telling him off, but in a nice way. Her name still ain’t on the door but he calls her Scully and she’s smart, real smart. Smarter than him in lots of ways. But where she’s all answers, he’s all questions, where’s she’s all caution, he’s all impulse. And sometimes that’s the better way to be. You gotta be curious, be bolder, or you end up cleaning offices for a living.

Tonight, they’re both there. He’s all excited, talking about the Smithsonian and Scully is teasing him. It’s the change in her tone that Pearl notices. Scully, with her suits and sensible heels, she isn’t a teaser; that’s his nature. But being on the receiving end, he likes it. Pearl can tell. In fact, he loves it. She stops cleaning the glass plate on the copier for a bit, just so she can hear more.

“But Scully, Professor Carvel showed you the data. How can you deny it?” “Mulder, a collection of anecdotes about beast men and women, albeit far more than I had anticipated, is not enough for me. It speaks of a shared cultural mindset, not of scientific proof that these…these creatures exist.” “But don’t you find it exciting that there is a direct correlation between the biota and the prevalence of sightings? Doesn’t that do something for you?” She laughs, Scully does. Full on laughs. In his face. And it’s the best sound Pearl has heard in years. Because it makes him laugh. Fool doesn’t know what he’s even laughing at, but he’s in stitches and they’re both there, opposite side of that desk, giggling like teenagers. “Why is it so funny?” he asks it eventually, but by then Pearl is back to cleaning the glass. Because it is, she thinks. Because it just is.

Scully left. She just wasn’t there for a while, and Mulder was back to being sad again. But then she came back and he perked up, smiled a lot more, asked his damn fool questions, and waited for her clever answers. Even though he dismissed them to her face, Pearl knew he collected those bits of her wisdom, her sensibleness, and used them when he needed to. And then she was gone again. Taken this time, poor man was a wreck for weeks until she returned, got better and came back to work.

They came back from Florida a day or so ago and he’s been in a jolly mood. Keeps talking about Blockheads and Dog-Faced boys. He even put two tickets on her side of the desk. For Silver’s Circus. As though that smart Scully is going to go on a date with him to the circus. What is thinking, that boy? She’s an art gallery girl, a museum girl, one of those arthouse movie evenings girl. Pearl thinks one day she might have to teach that boy how to properly ask this girl out. So that she says yes. The way they look at each other. The way he pined for her when she was missing. That says something.

“Mulder, can I get you something for lunch?” Scully says from the doorway. Pearl nods at her and gets one of Scully’s pretty closed-mouth smiles. She’s shy like that, tucks her chin to her chest before she smiles. Won’t show her teeth. “Sure,” he says, and he misses the smile on account of how he’s got his face in a report.

It’s not ten minutes before Scully is back and Pearl hasn’t finished emptying the bins yet. She’s holding two paper bags in her hand and she has a bolder smile on her lips this time. In fact, if Pearl didn’t know any better, she’d say that girl was up to something.

Pearl hangs back so she can see through the gap in the door and she gets the pay off straightaway because when Mulder opens his bag without quitting reading his report, he leaps back off his chair with a real girly scream when a bunch of bugs jump out of the bag.

Later, Pearl finds a cricket among the sunflower seed shells and starts laughing.

She notices the keychain on the desk and the gaudy wrapping paper. She’s vacuuming the carpet and didn’t hear him come back into the office. “Hey Pearl,” he says. “Mr Mulder,” she replies and switches off the vacuum. “I’ll come back.” “Don’t mind me,” he says and takes a roll of sticky tape from the drawer. He looks up at her. “It’s my partner’s birthday.” He sticks the key chain on the paper and covers it, folds the ends and sticks it all together with a strip of tape he chews off the roll. He looks up at Pearl again. “Is there something the matter?” Boy doesn’t have a clue. “Nothing,” she says and switches the vacuum cleaner on. He leaves. By the time he comes back, she’s almost done. He’s holding a bag and wearing a shit-eater. “This better?” he asks, pulling out a white gift box with a gold ribbon round it. She nods and he grins and he heads out of the office whistling Stevie Wonder’s Happy Birthday.

They don’t talk like they used to. It’s like after that time they got stuck in Antarctica (the watercooler gossip spreads like wildfire where these two are concerned) they just sort of disconnected. He broods a lot, staying late. She often leaves without saying goodbye. Tonight, though, he seems more upbeat. He’s humming. She sees a folded newspaper on his desk. Box scores for baseball. “Pearl,” he says, “what do you think about aliens?” “I think they’d be real stupid to land here.” “Why do you say that?” “Cos people are mean and they’re more than likely to just hurt those creatures from other planets than treat them with respect.” He nods, chews on the end of a pencil. “And what do you think about baseball?” “I don’t care for it that much. If I was gonna get the chance to sit still for as long as it takes to play a game, I’d sooner watch something beautiful.” The pencil clatters to the desk and he leans forward on his elbows. “What’s beautiful to you, Pearl?” Your Miss Scully, she thinks. And if you opened your eyes you’d see it too. Spending all your hours watching men thwack a ball with a stick instead watching that woman, well, there’s not much hope. “I like the night sky, Mr Mulder. The moon and the stars. And if there are alien ships up there, I like them too. There’s nothing more beautiful than the sky.” His sigh is loud but she thinks he’s made some kind of decision. Something important, by the way he snatches his phone and makes a call on his way out. “Scully, meet me at the baseball fields, 7 o’clock…”

She’s wearing the same sweater, Pearl thinks, as she pushes the cart past the basement office door. That soft green one. It suits her colouring. She’s also wearing a smile and blushed cheeks and he’s talking in such a soft tone, one she hasn’t heard him use before. They’re sitting opposite each other, a desk between them, but their fingers are touching. Pearl smiles as she unwraps the cord to the vacuum cleaner. “I should go,” Scully says. “I’ll walk with you.” His hand is on her lower back as they turn out of the door, steps perfectly synchronised. Standing at the lift, his hand slides lower and he rests his fingers over the swell of Scully’s backside. Thank the Lord for that, Pearl thinks. She nearly whoops out loud. Maybe she did, because Mulder looks over his shoulder and winks at her. They’re going to be okay, she thinks. Whatever happens, they’re going to be okay.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #five times m&s are cute #msr

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driversmutbucket · 5 years

Text

Second Chances

Part 2

Adam Sackler x Reader

Warnings: cursing.

Sorry for the delay kids. I’ve been adulting.

Start at part 1:

———

The next week flew by in a flurry of preperations for the beginning of the rehearsal period, meetings, trials, errands, and that was just work.

You didn’t see Adam again until the Wednesday when he poked his head around the doorway of your workroom.

“Hey y/n!”

Looking up you were met with a big grin, you couldn’t help but grin back.

“Hi Adam, long time no see!”

“Fuck, right?! They got us working like dogs, anyway I brought you this, I thought you might like it.”

He handed you a dog earred book, William Shakespeare - Complete Sonnets.

You beamed at him, he was looking at you apprehensively. “Thanks so much! I actually don’t have this,”, you couldn’t help but gush, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Oh yeah, well, yeah no problem.” You assumed if he had the capacity to blush, he would have.

You tried to ignore a sudden flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

Adam sat himself down in your makeup chair, which looked almost comically small supporting his large frame. He cleared his throat, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I actually came to ask you if you had any plans this weekend?” He asked while somewhat nervously raking his hands through his hair.

“Oh! Well I have the kid, so...” you trailed off, offering him an out.

His face lit up, “I’d love to meet Celia!”, he must have seen something resembling shock on your face because he quickly followed with “oh if that’s weird or something that’s cool, never-”

“No, no! Adam, I mean, sure, as long as you don’t mind possibly having to play with LEGO and have your ear talked off for hours” you laughed, “sorry, most people don’t consider having a 5 year old hanging around as a good time.”

“Well it sounds way fucking better than what my friends do on the weekends” he shrugged.

“Well how about you come over Saturday afternoon, I’ll make dinner?”

Standing up he beamed, “see you then, I’ve gotta get back to the...” he pointed in the general direction of the stage.

You shooed him, “yup, yup, bye.”

Once he was gone you broke into a massive grin.

———

On Saturday the rain pounded against the windows of your apartment.

Upon telling Celia that your friend Adam was coming to visit her little face had lit up. “Will he play LEGO with me?!”

“I’m not sure honey, you will have to ask him nicely when he gets here.”

Celia had promptly scampered off and pulled out all her LEGO in anticipation.

Chewing the inside of your cheek nervously, you hoped he really did like kids as much as he said.

———

Mid afternoon there was a knock at the door, Celia sprinted for the door yelling “I’m gonna get it mom!” Before you could even move.

Standing a fair way behind Celia you watched her open the door.

“Hello Adam!” She beamed up at him.

You couldn’t help but snort with laughter at your confident daughter. She looked tiny next to Adam’s large frame.

Adam chuckled, his eyes found you and you gave a little thumbs up to him.

“Hey kid!” He grinned, “what’s your name?”

“I’m Celia, do you want to play LEGO with me? And why are you so wet?”

“Jesus CC, let him get in the door honey.” You walked over and put your hands on her shoulders, steering her away from the doorway. “But wow you are rather damp there.”

You tried not to let your eyes linger too long at how his damp shirt clung to his muscles. Or his ears that peaked through his dripping hair.

Adam shrugged, “I ran here.”

“You are bloody mad” you scoffed, “I’ll get you a towel, get in here the heating is on”.

“I’ll get one mom!” Celia was already running to the cupboard.

“Oh my god you have a fan and you aren’t even in the doorway! If she become too much just do some desperate sign language at me and I will save you” you smiled sympathetically.

He waved his hand dismissively, “she is pretty adorable, and fuck, she is like a mini you.”

Celia reappeared with a towel, “here you go Adam!”

You realized you were still standing by the front door, “Adam- tea, coffee?”

“Black coffee would be great.”

“Celia, honey, take Adam into the lounge ok?”

She promptly grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards your little living room, chatting away.

Your heart swelled a little.

After making the drinking, you head towards the living room door, you paused in the doorway, almost dropping a cup.

Adam is shirtless, you see his wet top slung over the radiator, drying. He is on the floor, laying on his stomach, assembling LEGO. Celia is also on her stomach, right next to him, handing him LEGO bricks and chattering incessantly.

Leaning against the door frame you give yourself a moment to drink in the expanse of his back, the softly sculpted muscles.

Jesus Christ

Walking in, you bent down and placed a coffee next to Adam.

“Oh hey, thanks” he grinned.

You cocked your eyebrow, “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah I run hot”

Jesus Christ

“Mom you need to build one too!”

“A what?”

“A house! We are making a town!” She beamed.

You sat down on the other side of Celia, so you were opposite Adam, a pile of LEGO between you.

“You have to lay on your stomach, it’s the rules” Adam smirked.

“Yeah mom! It’s the rules” Celia echoed.

“I feel very ganged up on” you huffed as you lay down on your stomach, very aware that Adam had a prime view straight down your v neck tee. You silently thanked the gods you had put on a semi-decent bra.

Looking up at Adam you scowled, noticing the smirk on his face. No doubt he had and will continue to enjoy an eyeful of your breasts, as long as you stayed in this position.

You sipped your coffee and began plucking bricks from the pile, well practiced in LEGO construction.

———

Later that night, after Celia had gone to bed, you sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wine glass in hand.

You watched as Adam (now with a shirt on) studied the mass amount of art covering your walls. He hadn’t really had a chance to actually look around, Celia had almost constantly demanded his attention. She was enamored with him, not that you could blame her. He was silly and playful. Yet somehow soft and gentle?

Adam’s soft murmur broke your thoughts, “these ones are amazing.” You looked up to see his fingers gently stroking the textured surface of a portrait.

“Thanks” you replied.

He turned to you, eyebrow raised.

“You telling me you fucking did these?”

“Yep...” you sipped your wine, amused.

“What the fuck y/n!” He almost barked.

Your eye brows shot up.

“Why do you do fucking face and hair shit when you can paint like this” he gestured at the canvases wildly.

You couldn’t help laugh.

“Sweet Adam, making a living off art is near impossible, even in New York. If it’s any consolation I have pieces in shows here and there.”

He huffed, sitting down next to you heavily.

“Plus” you continued, “not long after college I got myself knocked up. Being a starving artist myself is one thing, but I couldn’t inflict that on a kid.”

You smiled at him softly. He still looked pissed off. It was strangely endearing.

You placed a hand on his arm, squeezing “but thanks for caring so much”, he looked at you intensely, you offered a coy smile.

He moved his arm, putting it around your shoulders. Without thinking you nestled into him, resting your head in his shoulder.

You talked well into the early hours of the morning. About creativity, relationships, life...

———

At about 2am, you groaned.

“I really need to go to bed, Celia will be up at the fucking crack of dawn no doubt.”

“Shit yeah, I didn’t even think about that” Adam said sympathetically as he started to get up.

“You are welcome to stay...” you offered.

His eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, you know, I don’t mind sharing my bed, but if that too awkward the couch isn’t so bad” you shrugged.

“I’m a really good cuddler” he smirked.

You snorted, “god help me, anyway I’m going to have a shower, just help yourself to whatever, you know make yourself at home” you gestured around the apartment, “I really can’t offer you any clothes, even the most oversized things I own will be crop tops on you.”

———

Getting out of the shower, you put on your pjs and made your way to your room, glancing into the lounge the sofa was empty. You gulped, trying to pull yourself together.

Sure enough he was laying on your bed, flicking through a book he had plucked from the shelves in your room.

Hearing you enter, he turned his head to you, “adorable” he grinned, taking in your flannelette pjs.

“I’m a mom, I’m allowed” you huffed, despite the smile on your face.

You got under the covers, sighing happily. You looked at Adam expectantly.

“I’ll just sleep in my clothes on top of the covers.”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t be an idiot!”

He got off the bed and you pulled back the covers on his side.

“I won’t jump your bones, don’t worry big guy” you smirked.

He chuckled, muttering something under his breathe, which sounded vaguely like “it’s not you I’m worried about.”

You turned away while he stripped off his jeans, you felt him climb into bed.

He moved in behind you, “is this ok?” He murmured.

“Mmmhmmm” you signed happily.

His large form engulfed you, it was blissful.

You were asleep within 2 minutes.

———

“Mom, mom!”

Head fuzzy with sleep, you cracked an eye open.

“Yeah?” You mumbled.

“Adam made us breakfast!”

“Wha-” you sat bolt upright, last night came flooding back.

You had slept like the dead, usually your sleep was somewhat broken.

Reaching for your phone you lit up the home screen to read the time.

9.07am, fuck!

That meant Celia had been up for at least an hour.

You could smell coffee and bacon as you walked groggily to the kitchen.

“I got her up!” Celia announced happily, giving Adam a high five.

“I slept like the dead, fuck” you grumbled

“MOM, language!”

“Sorry, sorry. Adam you didn’t need to do this!”

You met his eyes, he was beaming at you.

“Celia’s idea actually, she said she wanted to cook her mom breakfast, right kid?”

You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yup!” She beamed.

“Honey, thank you this is so sweet, I hope you were good for Adam, did you help?” You asked, picking her up and cuddling her.

“Yeah mom! I made the scrambled eggs” she said proudly.

Your heart swelled. You shot a grateful look at Adam, he smiled warmly and winked.

———

Later that morning you and Celia walked Adam back to his apartment.

Celia somehow conning Adam into riding on his shoulders. Shrieking happily and reaching to touch branches and signs up high. Announcing everytime she touched something.

“Be careful please!” You winced at how high off the ground she was.

“I got her, don’t worry” Adam assured you.

“If she is too heavy just put her down.”

“She is tiny,” he rolled his eyes, grinning.

You smacked his chest lightly, “well yeah, for you.”

At one point of the walk Adam suddenly takes off at a near run, Celia shrieking with joy. You just about have a heart attack as visions of him tripping flood your mind.

“Oh my god, Adam! Be careful, fuck sake!” You took off at a run, trailing them.

They had stopped on the corner of Adam’s street, both grinning like idiots.

“I’m...going...to...kill...you...both” you panted, bending over to catch your breath.

Once you got to Adam’s door he crouched down and whispered something to Celia, she nodded. Standing up, he covered her eyes with his massive hand, you looked at him questioningly.

With his other hand he reached and cradled your cheek, stooping down he brought his lips to yours, placing the most gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you” he murmured in your ear.

#Adam Sackler #fan fiction #Adam Sackler x Reader #slow burn #hbo girls

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marielle-heller · 5 years

Text

I’ve been talking with Julie (@marsvronica) about Tim Murphy a lot and I just feel like I need to share our headcanons so here we go, some random ideas:

so I think that most people agree that adult Tim is a paleontologist--and I want to add professor, Dr. Tim Murphy, which is very sexy--and he is extremely passionate about it. despite his experiences in the park he hasn’t been deterred from loving dinosaurs, though he does much prefer them from afar (in both physical distance and time), as nature intended them. he loves this piece of the past, but all of his dealings with it tell him that it should be left in the past

because of this, he is absolutely opposed to the idea of Jurassic World. from the moment he first hears that they want to try again, he is just incredibly angry, like there is no way this is going to be a good thing. and Julie decided that because of this he actually ends up storming into Simon Masrani’s office (who initially anticipates that the arrival of John Hammond’s grandson will be a good thing) and just chews him the hell out, though Masrani won’t budge

Tim also finds out in this meeting that it was apparently his grandfather’s dying wish to make the park work and that just adds to his anger. pal is pissed

so speaking of, Tim is typically rather calm, but when he is angry, he will go the fuck off. he just flies into a rage, comprised mostly of yelling, but combining some over-gesticulating and stomping (even once knocking things off a desk), and it’s kind of incredible just the way he lays into people for being so IDIOTIC. he doesn’t swear much normally, but many a bad word is used

so also since he’s not in the films he may not know, but if he ever finds out that that bitch was trying to sell dinosaurs for soldiers and for entertainment? oh my god the rant would be legendary. like viral on youtube worthy. he would just fucking go at it, yelling until his voice is hoarse and he’s seeing red and he has to sit down and someone has to get him a glass of water, because oh my god when will we fucking learn that man cannot, and should not, try to control dinosaurs? like how many times?

Tim is tired

anyway, Tim is actually pretty surprised when Jurassic World opens and things go well. he even manages to relax after it’s been a few weeks and it seems like no one’s died. but he keeps pretty close tabs on the place, and being Hammond’s grandson gets him good intel--even if he and Masrani are not on speaking terms anymore--so the second he finds out they’re trying to engineer scarier dinosaurs, he just knows things are going to end badly

in fact, he tries to get another meeting, and manages one with park operations manager, Claire Dearing. despite trying to be as calm as he possibly can while freaking out, he is not able to convince her it is a terrible idea

so yes he sees the park’s collapse coming a mile away, and no, no one will listen to him, and yes he is so tired

when the park is evacuated and the dinosaurs are left to populate the island without human interference, he feels like it’s absolutely the best case scenario. even when it turns out they’re going to be taken out by the volcano, he is staunchly against interference (not that anyone will listen to him). yes, he loves the dinosaurs (especially the herbivores who technically have done no wrong) but they were never meant to be alive and all they’ve ever caused is chaos and this is literally a solution to that problem but no one sees that

also, at the end of that whole debacle with the dinosaurs now just roaming free in America?? and some of them are the violent kind??? oh my god the boy is pissed. like he did not survive the park just for this bs. he literally refuses to die in a dinosaur attack 30 years later because someone couldn’t get it through their thick skull after the first time that this was a bad idea

getting into some slightly more relaxed ideas:

I do feel like he’s generally a calm dude. but an enduring quality from his youth is that he is incredibly talkative, and has a great tendency to cling to people whose work he admires, or that he’s just met but sound super fascinating. he’s just very lively and passionate and loves to talk to people! it does still scare some people away at first, but it’s endearing enough that he tends to grow on people

Julie- as passionate as he is about his own work, he's also definitely the kind of guy who encourages other people to talk about stuff they’re passionate about (ooh especially his students and they love him for it), which comes from the fact that he kinda knows what it feels like to not bring up interests when you know people will just give you grief for it. so he’s always trying to bring out the passion in others and it just really makes him the kindest guy

like he’ll go to a friend’s party and he’ll meet some new people and he’ll be trying to get them to tell him all about what they care most about in the world and it’s just so cute

this especially applies if he meets a child. he will listen to them talk for ages, and will tell them that they can absolutely achieve their dreams and they just have to commit to whatever they care about and it will happen

this makes him incredible with kids, and especially I can see him being the world’s most amazing uncle when Lex has children. like those babies are getting the most affection and love and encouragement, they are gonna grow up to rule the world

(also, he’s really good at playing with the kids and like, just getting down on their level and joining them with the toys and it’s just iconic)

so Julie added that Tim is partly this way because he remembers being the kid obsessed with dinosaurs that everybody got tired of hearing from, or else that they only wanted to know about what he went through on the island, so now he's like "just tell me whatever you want to talk about, whatever you care about, I wanna hear all about it"

and to go off of that, people would totally hound him about the island and I feel like he’d just get so annoyed. cause like, the first few times, especially relaying it to people he knows, fine. maybe a bit taxing, emotionally, but it’s still not worn-out in his mind, and this is his family, and his closest friends, so it’s whatever. but when it’s always the first question a new person asks, he gets so tired he just does not want to discuss it

also, sometimes people don’t know who he is but they ask about the scars on his palms or his eyebrow (I can’t imagine it ever healed back to normal, or that the hair came back, so he’s just got a cool scar in lieu of the majority of it and it makes him look kinda badass even though he’s really just a soft nerd) and unless he really likes the person, he tends to come up with a ridiculous excuse to throw them off because it’s so much easier than opening up the whole Jurassic Park can of worms (which is interesting if he later comes to like the person and ends up telling them the truth at some point)

but I feel like sometimes when he’s extra annoyed with the question of what it was like, he’ll just kind of be like “well, there was a t-rex, and fun fact about them...” and then launch into like a 30 minute spiel of all the facts he knows cause it’s a loophole to A. avoid the question, and hopefully convince the person it’s not worth asking again and B. put his focus into gushing about what he loves which is much better for him

J- just like “you thought you were gonna learn about Jurassic Park but joke’s on you here's everything you need to know about dinosaurs from a paleontologist’s perspective”

and yeah he’s the most encouraging person most people know and everyone loves that about him, which also thankfully means that he’s able to start to amass a reputation for being like everyone’s personal cheerleader rather than Jurassic Park boy, which he really appreciates. especially the first time he’s intro’d to someone new and it’s not like “this is Tim, he’s John Hammond’s grandson” or “this is Tim, he was one of the few people who got to see the original Jurassic Park” and instead just “this is Tim and he’s the kindest person you’ll ever meet, you’ll love him” like big 💖 energy

this also happens a bit with his academic work, that he reaches a certain point and he’s finally known more for his research than his family/experience. but unfortunately he is still an academic in a field of people obsessed with dinosaurs, so the topic does come up pretty easily and people do point him out

speaking of, the first time another paleontologist trashes Jurassic World in his presence, someone quickly points out who he is, and the person is in the midst of saying “oh my god I’m so sorry” when he cuts them off with a simple gesture and is like “no it’s okay, I absolutely agree”

after that, most of colleagues know that he will not only participate in, but also sometimes lead the trashtalk, and it’s a fun time, though every once in a while if there are a few new people around, the same scene of realizing who he is and apologizing will play out

one time it happens when he’s a bit tipsy and he’s just kind of a lot less filtered and it comes out more “no it’s okay, fuck that place”, and it’s very non-malicious, but no one’s ever heard him swear when he wasn’t angry so everyone’s kinda looking at him for a few seconds worried he’s about to get pissed about the park again, but then he’s like “um... okay, come on let’s dance” and that’s how his colleagues know that they have given him too much alcohol (at Julie’s suggestion, it was only like 2 glasses (maybe even less), the boy is a light-weight)

also if you thought sober Tim liked to ramble about dinosaurs, just wait till you meet drunk Tim? he’s basically the same, but just a lot more stream-of-consciousness in a way where he doesn’t make any sense but he’s always like “ya know?” and you feel obligated to be like “yeah, I sure do”

and he also likes to make dinosaur jokes. and dance. he’s already got quite a bit of energy when sober and when he’s drunk it just all leaks out in dancing

also one final thing but a few ideas on scars:

so obviously he has quite a few, but as cool as the eyebrow is, I really wanna focus on his palms

I’m imagining them like white patches on his hands, softer, more sensitive skin, that branch out into sharp spindly lines running up his wrist? he thinks they look kind of cool, but they’re definitely a magnet for unwanted attention

sometimes they tingle a bit during a thunderstorm, and times like those he finds it a bit harder to work with his hands

similarly, if he’s been writing for too long, either with a pen or typing, they tend to ache quite a bit, so he’s forced to break more often than he’d like. he tries not to let them slow him down, but occasionally they get to him

especially when he’s working on his thesis (which, sidenote, I don’t know a thing about theses, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that his definitely had to do with the technological breakthroughs that allowed the dinosaurs to be brought back to life, as well as the inaccuracies (due to the missing DNA and a desire to make them scarier rather than realistic), and how they can have a severely negative impact since they were meant to be extinct), they can really frustrate him, but he just tries to take deep breaths, go do something simple for a while like watch TV, and eventually he’s able to get back to it. but seriously, some days when he’s in the flow and he does not want to break it, he either has to fight past the pain (which is going to leave him hurting for longer), or sacrifice that train of thought, and he just gets so frustrated sometimes

his students can usually tell when the scars are bothering him while he’s trying to write at the board. he’ll start to get a bit restless about it, moving around the room more in between writing his notes. in response, they tend to try raising their hands more, asking simple but distracting questions so he has a bit of time away from writing

when he first realizes what they’re doing he’s so appreciative he almost starts crying. he loves these kids and they love him and it’s so sweet

okay I know I said final thing but just one more and then I am finished

Julie and I talked about this a while ago so I can no longer remember who said what, but Tim absolutely has a Jurassic Park shirt

it was given to him by his grandpa a bit before the trip to get the kids really excited

unfortunately there was an order error and the only shirts that came in time were adult large, so Tim didn’t exactly fit into it

that’s fine with him though, and he basically wears it as a night-gown for the whole week leading up to the trip

afterwards, he feels a bit weird about it, and doesn’t really wear it until years later, after his grandpa’s died, when he finds it buried in his closet as he’s packing up to move out for school

he starts wearing it again to bed some nights. he likes to wear it when he really misses his grandpa. despite mixed feelings on the park itself, Tim feels close to his grandfather in that way

by now he’s grown into it, and it’s just the exact perfect fit for him, a little loose, but so well worn in and soft that it’s just absolutely perfect for him 🥰

I think that might actually be it. I love Timothy Murphy so much, this is a PSA

#tim murphy #jurassic park #joe mazzello #long post #nicole watches jurassic park #sorry it's so long?

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nctzenchuu-blog · 6 years

Text

Her Favorite

A/N: yay chapter 2 is out since I get random urges to continue things lol. Uh, I’m not too sure if this fic will be interesting for readers out on the interwebs ya know haha, so if any of you guys do enjoy it send hearts or a message. Also, I personally hate my writing so grammar mistakes throughout the entire story is inevitable. Also the summary takes place at a later chapter, just in case you guys were wondering why the dialogue didn’t show up in the last chapter. Anyway see ya guys- milie💕💕💕

jisung/reader

Genre: Slice of life(??), romance, drama

words:2,150

Chapters: (1)

Chapter 2: Murmuring your name

” Memories of you on the fingertips/ Try to forget you, but you are still in my mind/ Although the reach less days are flowing/ Murmuring your name, yet/ It’s time to forget you.”

- 알레그로(Allegrow) - 불러본다(Murmuring your name)

● ● ●

The following morning was filled with disappointment, flooding your mind at every second. Sadness seemed to be the most prominent, thudding against the center of your forehead, distracting you from completing the last questions on your worksheet that was assigned to your class to finish before the end of the period- your pencil laid against the desk, stiff and distant. Blinking quickly to regain some of your attention to what was going on around you-remembering that Sunhye had invited two of your friends to eat lunch today, Miyeon and Rina, she had mentioned.

Hoping that socializing with a few other people would help you forget about the events of the night before, you took only five more minutes to finish the last two questions on your paper, making a mental note to study when you went home later before rushing to clear your desk when the bell rang-signaling the end of the period. Standing up quickly, you brushed down the front of your uniform’s skirt, the fabric of the pleats bringing a small moment of clarity, before quickly heading to your next class.

Lunch had come, hunger making its presence to everyone as it was the most anticipated part of the day.

Sunhye texted you where she and the other girls would be sitting at earlier, giving you time to buy a soda and sweet from the machines near the outside eating area. Looking around the courtyard that was filled with students, you caught sight of a hand waving at you-Sunhye’s and continuing to make your way over to the trio before taking a seat next to Miyeon on her left.

The three girls greeted you warmly, as they too were glad for an opportunity to relax and talk about gossip.

Miyeon spoke to you first, as she opened her lunch that she had brought from home- octopus dogs, rice, kimbap, and a pastry- taking a bite from her food, “How have you been? It’s been about a week since Rina and I ate with you two-softball and all that jazz. You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind right now, so that’s why I’m asking-though you don’t need to share if you’re not in the mood.” Rina nodded quietly in agreement as she also held the same amount of concern for you.

Glancing at your lunch, you were still apprehensive in telling them what happened-worried they wouldn’t believe you, even knowing with how foolish your reasoning was. Of course, they wouldn’t judge me, you think.

“Well,” you start slowly, glancing at the girls around you,” I know this sounds like I’m spewing this out my ass, and I swear it’s far from that-but what if I told you that I met my idol yesterday but he turned out to be a complete ass?”

It was quiet for a few seconds-seconds that felt like hours in your mind- before Rina filled the silence with,” It doesn’t sound fake, I would think you’ve lost your mind if you said that he and you fell in love at first sight-like something those crazy fans come up with, desperate for attention and all.” She brushes away her bangs that fell over her eyes, a simple but chic movement in your eyes that gave you another reason for thinking, wow, how can she be so cool?

“Seems that way at first, but it did happen,” Sunhye pitched in.

It was Miyeon’s turn to look at you, a calculated gaze eminent from her sharp eyes-those of a sphynx, you consider- leaving you nervous. However, Miyeon shook her head instead slightly, putting out a smile when she opened her eyes,” Hm, so your heartthrob isn’t a prince like the rest of his fans think he is? Not surprised one bit,” she laughs,” don’t worry about it too much, he just probably had a bad day, or any other reason. Who knows, you might see each other again randomly.”

Sunhye nudges her elbow against Miyeon’s shoulder saying,” She will actually, this Thursday at the fan sign.” Both her and Rina’s eyebrows raise, interested in the situation that was revealed to them.

“This shouldn’t be a problem then, you can talk to him there and either bring it up to him or not, since it’s your choice. Remember there’s plenty of other idols you could like.” Miyeon ends her advice, strong and helpful as always.

“Yeah- think about it you could make this fun! When you see him before or during you can just not be as engaged as opposed to the other members- it sounds a bit mean, but he did act like quite a jerk.”

Thinking about what you would do in the events of seeing him again were still uncertain, wondering if anything you would say would stick-maybe him completely disregarding your issue, being insignificant as fans were endless for his group, and other girls that would catch his eye.

Taking a quick breath, you agreed with their advice, too tired to think about it any longer. Conversation changed, switching to school homework, and other things the rest of the lunch time until, the four of you went to your next class.

At the end of the day, lounging in your room, homework finished at your desk, you laid on top of your bed wondering if you imagined it was Jisung or a man you simply confused for. No matter how much you tried to change what you saw, you couldn’t forget his eyes- a gaze that burned against brown, with tufts of dyed hair that peeked from under his beanie. Everything showed it was him.

So why had he disregarded your question?

You had supposed it was due to him afraid someone would overhear and bring unwanted attention-or the theory he was disgusted at seeing you.

Whatever it was, it still didn’t help in your heart feeling like it was crushed. It wasn’t every day your idol just bumps into you and instead of being excited at seeing a fan, looks at you and crumbles your spirits like dust.

These drama tropes were starting to be more believable, since it seemed you were living in one.

You could admit that you were acting childish, hurt over something trivial-and a person who wouldn’t remember. It still wasn’t something to forget, since you followed Jisung’s debut-attending a music show on a school night when ‘Chewing Gum’ was set to have its first performance to the public.

It would be best to forget about it since you didn’t want to have any negative feelings at the fan sign that would happen two days from now. Not wanting to divide your support for him and the group.

Deciding that ice cream would help you with your overwhelming urge to scream into your pillow with your issues, you went to the store again, hoping that the fresh air would erase the sense of sadness away- evaporate with the wind.

Greeting the cashier for the second time over the course of 24 hours, you went to the ice creams that were behind the glass door- the various flavors in multiple shelves, each calling for your attention. Which one screams ‘eat your problems away, since boys are the worst’. Opting for Neapolitan, you reached a hand towards the jug at the top shelf, standing on the tips of your toes to reach it, where out of the corner of your eye a hand also reached for the same jug. This caused you and the person’s hands to bump against each other, making you turn saying, “Hey! I was getting that ice cream first- I called dibs first since I had the door open already.”

With no response you glared at the person in front of you, only to come across him again.

It seemed he had remembered you, given that his stoic expression changed slightly, mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed, with widening eyes.

He shuffled uncomfortably, one hand in his track pants-navy this time- and his other hand was still in the air awkwardly.

Pulling his hat so the brim covered his shock he then spoke. “Oh, it’s you from the other night…,” he makes a choked grunt from his throat, clearly nerved by the appearance of you.” Look I didn’t realize I bumped into you on accident, I had to go somewhere really quick due to my sched- emergency came up,” the last part of his sentence ending less strong.

Still recovering from the shock, you just continued to stare at him as he spoke-not listening to a single word- taking in the sight of him. Disheveled clothes, a slight sheen of sweat across his skin, round glasses perched upon the top of his curved nose. It was like seeing the sun, because he radiated such beauty, it made you catch your breath-you were literally next to Park Jisung the idol.

Even as you were here, the erratic beating of your heart would not cease to slow down, even when it should have because you were still hurt over yesterday. You wanted to yell and kick him in the middle of the store, tell him you were done being a fan, but it never happened. Despite that, you didn’t want to lose him, you wanted to continue seeing him outside of his idol life. Outside of the cameras. You didn’t know why it was so important-but you did want to know the real him. Not Jisung, the NCT member, but Park Jisung, the person.

As you looked at him, you murmured his name quietly, catching his attention-looking up at him again, ready for whatever happened next.

“You owe me ramen for that stunt you pulled last night jackass- on top of that you’re going to eat it with me as an apology.”

He was surprised that was for sure- as he let out a laugh from his chest, expecting a crazier request a fan would ask like his photo, number, or anything that would serve as blackmail.

“Ng, ok-ah that’s fine, I was expecting you to blackmail me.”

“Oh, I could do that~so where’s the ramen?” you said slyly.

That must have set something off in him because he then prepared two cups of ramen for the two of you, placing the steaming food on the table outside the store, drunk elders sitting in other chairs-unlikely to recognize him.

As he took a seat across from you, he wondered why you were different from the fans he would come across daily- always asking for requests of fanservice, and cringe sayings that were supposed to be heart fluttering hearing it from their bias, and doting on him with flirting and sweet talk.

But with you, you were nearly going to kick his ass, even if you were much, much, shorter.

It was refreshing- even if he wouldn’t admit it, talking to someone who wasn’t one of his members or staff in an open environment. He pushed those thoughts away somewhere, not wanting to dwell any longer. This was already a huge risk since his members were waiting for him back at the dorms, with Mark waiting for the chance to give him a lecture about curfew.

A comfortable silence between the two of you was welcomed as you ate the ramen in the dead of night, a cold air rushing through. As you finished, you stood up causing him to flinch, when you turned to him with a small smile-careful, you think, you want to keep seeing him.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around for another meal,” you stated, turning on your heel back to your home to sleep.

You failed to notice him watch you go, as he realized you were an enigma to him, and someone he wanted to find out about, A person who changed his daily routine of his job and fake lifestyle.

You made him feel like himself. Someone that he hasn’t been for years now.

Whatever it was, made him realize he didn’t mind this.

He didn’t mind breathing again.

#jisung #nct dream #nct #nct 2018 #nct jisung #park jisung #nct scenario #nct scenarios #jisung x reader #nct angst #nct au #nct dream scenario #im sorry i introduced more characters #my gay #girls...#im horrible writer #millie post

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thedeevirus · 6 years

Note

Prompt if you're in the mood to write season 1 Jim/Ed (can be platonic) hurt/comfort: Jim starts to get worn down by Harvey's insults of Ed both to his face and when he's not around. Jim had given his fair share of brush-offs to Ed as well but it's becoming a legitimate workplace problem.

FOR SUMMER OF GOTHAM WEEK 2; SEASON 1

PART 2 WIP: smut incoming, wanted to keep the really nsfw stuff separate in case the asker didn’t want to see it

Hope you enjoy!

***

‘Ed? You down here?’

‘Where else would I be?’ Ed thought sourly butresponded affirmatively to Gordon’s call.

Gordongave a token knock on the lab door before entering. Ed nodded in acknowledgementand feigned interest in a pile of folders, shuffling them busily.

‘LookI’m sorry about Harv’, Gordon said, ‘I’ve chewed him out for how he talks toyou but he’s got a temper’.

Ed shruggednonchalantly.

‘Justa bit of ribbing that’s all’, he said neutrally, ‘Comes with the job. Besides,if he thinks he upset me or something ridiculous like that th-then shouldn’t hebe down here apologising himself?’

‘He’sprobably afraid of these guys’, Gordon said, jabbing a thumb at a nearby mountedskeleton.

‘Technicallythat’s just a naked human male’.

‘You’retelling me Harvey wouldn’t be spooked if one of those came walking up to himwith a grin like that?’ Gordon smirked, leaning on the skeleton’s bony shoulder.

Edlaughed despite himself. Clearing his throat and put the folders down, he movedto the table where a series of samples were set up ready to be examined beneatha microscope. Ed pretended to examine the first in the line, watching Gordonout of the corner of his eye and wondering why he hadn’t left yet. He seemed almost…interested in Ed’s work.

‘Doesit ever get lonely down here?’ Gordon asked, his voice echoing slightly againstthe bare walls.

‘Notto be rude but is there something you need from me Detective?’ Ed asked, waryof Gordon’s continued presence. People didn’t typically come down to the labfor social calls with Ed. They only visited when they needed something from him.

‘Comeon Ed, Jim’s fine’.

‘Isthere something you need, Jim?’

‘Justchecking if you’re alright’.

Edremoved the first sample and moved on to the next. He didn’t even know what hewas supposed to be looking at.

‘Rightas rain. Wh-why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Just,Harvey can be a bit…brusque’.

Jimrubbed the back of his neck and made a pointed correction.

‘A lot brusque and you usually seem to beon the receiving end’.

‘Believeme, I’m more than capable of taking whatever Detective Bullock’s feeble mindcan dish out’.

Edbit his lip as he accidentally zoomed in to the sample too closely and theglass slide cracked beneath the microscope’s lens: the sound similarly amplifiedby the room. Maybe he was a bit more irritated with Bullock’s insults than hepretended to be.

Jimonly nodded sympathetically.

‘Usedto it, huh?’, he said, ‘I know the feeling’.

Ed abandonedthe samples, worried about damaging another and fiddled with a pair of rubbergloves, unsure of how to respond to Jim’s candid words.

‘Thankyou for your concern Detec-‘ Ed said before correcting himself, ‘Jim. Is thatall?’

‘No.Also wanted to say good work out there today. Get the feeling you don’t hearthat very often’.

‘No,I don’t’, Ed said, startled and pleased by Jim’s honest gratitude, ‘Thank you.Again’.

‘Anyplans for tonight?’ Jim asked conversationally, ‘TGIF right?’

‘Ah,nope’, Ed said, feeling slightly cautious again as talk turned to his emptyprivate life, ‘No plans here’.

‘In thatcase, can I buy you a drink?’

‘You don’t have plans for tonight?’ Edasked, wincing at the unwittingly incredulous way the question had come out.

‘Hey,don’t sound so shocked’, Jim said light heartedly, ‘I’m not exactly MrPopularity here’.

‘Really?Why’s that?’

Jimraised an eyebrow, obviously doubting Ed’s ignorance of his situation.

‘Idon’t get out of the lab much’, Ed said, gesturing at his surroundings in selfdemonstration.

Jimnodded, accepting Ed’s answer.

‘BecauseI don’t think like they do’, Jim said ruefully and turned to go.

Edblinked, taken aback by Jim’s confession and the admiration for the detectivewelling up inside him. Ed hid from people because he didn’t want them to mockhim whereas Jim faced it head on and did what he thought was right. It was astrong position to take. And a lonely one.Ed realised he had misjudged Jim Gordon badly: he had anticipated another muscleheaded bully with an over eager trigger finger and a palm waiting to begreased. Just one more person’s barbed half heard comments and cruel laughterto ignore as he passed.Instead, Jim’s dilemma was practically a cliché: a good cop in a dirty city whoungratefully sneered at his protection. Jim was an intriguing aberration. Hewas a mutant, an outsider. A riddle.Just like Ed.

‘Doyou have a particular place in mind?’ Ed called, hurrying after Jim.

***

‘I didn’tknow you could sing’, Jim said, sighing gratefully as they finally reached Ed’sfloor.

Hehelped Ed take the last step, the forensic scientist swaying slightly on hisfeet but holding up fairly well considering the amount of shots they hadindulged in. Ed coughed, his throat obviously still aching from his spirited participationin the bar’s karaoke competition.

‘’PurpleRain’s’ my party piece’, Ed replied with a grin as they stopped at his door, ‘Notthat I ever get invited to parties. Shoot!’

Hiskeys hit the hallway floor with a clinking noise.He automatically bent to retrieve them as did Jim. Their hands touched as they simultaneously took hold of the keys. Ed froze, alltoo aware of the implications that accidental physical contact could have, especiallywhen mixed with alcohol. He was still trying to figure out how to withdraw hishand from beneath Jim’s when Jim handed him his keys.

Edstraightened slowly, head swimming slightly as he accepted his apartment keysand he inhaled deeply. Both to clear his head and out of relief that Jim didnot seem to have noticed Ed’s misstep. And also for another reason he tried notto think about: how nice it had felt when Jim’s hand had graced his. Ed couldn’tremember the last time someone had touched him without hurting him. He had theawful suspicion it had maybe been years.

‘Youalright?’ Jim asked, conscious of Ed’s unfocused eyes.

‘Rightas rain!’ Ed said with forced brightness, ‘Um, Jim, I…I had fun tonight’.

‘Gladto hear it. Me too’, Jim said, stretching, ‘Been a while since I’ve been ableto relax’.

Therewas a pleasant silence between them and Jim was about to leave when Ed spoke abruptly.

‘CanI ask you something?’

‘ThinkI’m a bit too tipsy for any riddles’, Jim joked but waved a hand invitingly, ‘Butshoot’.

‘Doyou ever get lonely here?’ Ed asked, ‘Gotham’s a big city but it can feel veryempty’.

‘Sometimes’,Jim said thoughtfully, ‘The other guys just…’

Heshrugged obviously struggling to find the words. Ed said nothing, giving Jimtime to process the answer.

‘Ialways feel like I’m outside looking in, you know?’ Jim concluded.

Edsaid nothing. They both knew he didn’t need to.

‘ListenEd’, Jim said, ‘If you ever want to do this again, we can-‘

‘No’,Ed interrupted, hating the word even as it passed his lips, ‘No I don’t thinkthat would be-well, I’d like to but…’

Edsighed heavily before continuing.

‘Let’sjust say you being associated with me may cause you more problems with socialinteraction. But, thank you for the offer’.

Ed’s fingersclasped and unclasped uneasily as a sad disappointment flitted across Jim’sface before it was replaced by his smile once more.

‘That’sokay’, Jim said easily, ‘It was just a thought. Goodnight Ed’.

Jimoffered his hand.Before Ed’s brain had caught up with Ed’s body to respond to Jim’s handshake, Edwas hugging Jim tightly in sheer gratitude. Jim did not pull away and actually pattedEd’s back in appreciation. Responding to the recognition of his gesture, Edinhaled deeply, the scent of aftershave and Jim’s sweat an irresistible perfumethat he longed to taste. His lips brushed against Jim’s ear as he drew backmaking the other man shiver and, before Ed knew what he was doing, he kissedJim on the cheek. It was only when he felt Jim tense did Ed fully realise what he was doing, coldhard reality shattering the warm safety of inebriation in an instant. Ed let goof Jim as if he were a poisonous serpent and hastened backwards, only to banghis back against his own apartment door.

Jim’seyes were wide and his jaw agape: the very image of shock. Ed was used to thatlook. Soon Jim’s lip would curl and his face would metamorphose into one of utterdisgust. The face of Ed’s father that haunted his nightmares. Ed gritted histeeth, furious with himself: why did he always get things like this so wrong?!Why did he ruin everything?! With pathetic tears building in his eyes, Ed beganto babble, trying frantically to unlock his door and retreat within.

‘Ohmy God! I’m so sorry Ji-Detective! I’ve had far far too much to drinkand-and-oh God damn it!’

Thekeys fell from Ed’s shaking hands, destined for the floor once more. Only to beseized in Jim’s lightning fast hand. Ed stood, head bowed, awaiting the simultaneouslyinevitable and familiar: harsh words, a bruised cheek and blood in his mouth.He closed his eyes, feeling wetness pool beneath his lashes and battled withwhether to go limp or brace himself. Instead he heard the keys click in thelock of the door and a soothing hand on his shoulder. Ed opened his eyes and Jim was looking at him with something Ed couldn’t placeat first, simply because nobody had ever looked at him that way before.With desire.

‘Ed’,Jim whispered, ‘Just breathe’.

Thistime Jim took the lead in kissing Ed on the mouth.Ed’s surprise and shame was instantly overwhelmed by the sensation and his eyelidsfluttered as he instinctively surrendered himself to the moment.Ed could feel Jim’s stubble tickling his lip: contrasting delightfully with thesoftness of Jim’s mouth. Ed opened his mouth wider, the better for Jim’s tongueto continue its exploration, entwining with his own in the wet heat making bothmen gasp as the kiss gradually deepened.Ed felt Jim’s hand move to the back of his neck to hold him in place and he eagerlymirrored the gesture. He tried to step closer and bumped against Jim’s crotch.Feeling a rock hard bulge press against his own erection, Ed broke the kiss,gasping for air.

‘What is it?’ Jim asked, his lips glistening.

‘Justa little surprised I guess’, Ed replied, pushing his glasses up, barelynoticing how the glass in the frames had steamed up.

‘Hopeit’s a pleasant surprise’, Jim said softly, ‘It was for me’.

Edmoved from one foot to the other as he internally mapped the calluses of Jim’swarm, strong fingers carefully enfolding his hands. They were thicker than Ed’sand his touch was firm and sure.

‘Whatif they find out?’ Ed asked, swallowing hard.

‘Who’sgoing to tell them?’ Jim said simply, ‘Trust me Ed’.

‘Whyme?’ Ed asked, still convinced this must be the prelude to some kind of crueljoke.Ed had learnt years ago that something that seemed sweet often hid a brass barjust waiting to snap. He still carried the scars from those bitter experiences.

Jimreached out and Ed’s breath hitched as Jim gently brushed a curl of Ed’s hairaway from his eyes. Ed didn’t remember his hair becoming mussed, loosened fromthe protective sheen of gel he always used to keep it under careful control.

‘Youreyes’, Jim smiled, ‘Got a little danger in ‘em’.

Atthe mention of the word ‘danger’, Ed turned his face away, hating how hecouldn’t look Jim in the eyes. Yes, he was dangerous. Sooner or later everyonelearnt what he truly was: the monster inside him. It was why he had been socareful when he came to Gotham. He had cultivated the image of a harmless manwho wouldn’t fight back no matter what happened and hid himself in the coldenvirons of the forensics lab. Wrapping his darkness in a palatable lie was theonly way he felt safe. In control. And yet he could feel his grasp slippingaway as he drowned in the blue of Jim’s eyes.

‘Youdon’t know what you’re doing’, Ed warned, searching Jim’s eyes, ‘There’ssomeone-something dark inside me and…’

Hegasped suddenly and Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion.

‘What?’Jim asked, glancing over his shoulder, worried Ed had seen something behindhim.

‘It’sinside you too’, Ed whispered, heart beating faster and faster, ‘I can see itin your eyes too’.

Jimshook his head indulgently, obviously clueless at what Ed was referring to andstroked Ed’s hair placatingly. Ed leant into the touch and moaned at the simplepleasure of human contact.

Thatlonging moan made the hairs on the back of Jim’s neck stand on end and apleasant warmth spread through his stomach.

‘Doyou want me to stop?’ Jim asked.

‘No’,Ed breathed.

‘You’resure?’ Jim asked, face serious and eyes focused despite his earlier confessed‘tipsiness’.

Jim’sobvious concern for his wellbeing shattered Ed’s last restraint on his self-control. He yanked Jim inside the apartment and slammed the door behind them.

#summerofgotham #riddlergordon #edward nygma #jim gordon #riddlergordon fanfic #gotham fanfic

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seriestrash · 7 years

Text

You Me Her

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 ||

Chapter Sixteen: Prom

Word Count: 6,375

↠ ♥ ↞

After Riley’s conversation with Lucas at the rooftop party, the brunette is left with a confusing empty feeling. She knew this all had to end but just how that was going to happen she had no clue.

Riley decides to confide in Kai. She begins sharing how she might be crushing on CJ. Excitedly, Kai supports this possible development. Riley anxiously frets sharing the rest of her woes but manages to tell Kai that she’s even more confused about Lucas stepping back and honestly a little upset by it.

“Lucas is an idiot.” Kai rolls his eyes.

“Kai,” Riley frowns thinking this was going to turn into another ‘Wonder Boy’ rant.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Kai shakes his head. “Well- I do think he’s an idiot but right now I think he’s stupid for stepping back.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Riley gives her best friend a dubious gaze.

“I don’t have to like Lucas to admit that bowing out of the fight for you is stupid.” Kai shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly.

“I can’t be fought over.” Riley folds her arms.

“I know.” Kai nods. “But not fighting for you, not even a little. That’s idiotic.”

↠

In the week after Riley’s play all of her friends would be accepted into colleges. Kai nearly passed out when his Notre Dame letter arrived in the mail but it’s no surprise to Riley that he’s accepted. Caitlin plays the cool cucumber as her dream of attending The California Institute of the Arts becomes a reality but on the inside she’s exploding with all kinds of happiness and Harper is happy to be accepted into NYU. Although Riley doesn’t hear it directly from the horses mouth, she does learn that Lucas and Zay both got accepted into UT Austin. News also reaches Riley about Isadora’s and Farkle’s acceptance into Princeton.

Things settle after the college acceptance roll out and Riley tries to put her confusion regarding the way Lucas’ absence makes her feel to the back of her mind. Riley tries to not think about it too much in the weeks leading up to prom. She actually avoids all together. Lucas had kept his promise and stayed away. Riley found herself unknowingly looking for him at the bakery and in the halls at school but he wasn’t there. He’d smile and be polite if they crossed paths but he was really trying to give Riley time to work out her feelings for CJ.

Riley works out these feelings by ignoring them. Sure, the piano player gave her butterflies every time they talked at school but there was always the thought of Lucas in the back of her mind, this thought always stopped her from fully giving her attention to CJ. Although the Riley and CJ don’t actually date during this time, nor even talk about their clear feelings for one another, the two do share some sweet, innocent moments.

Although there were sweet moments with one boy and feelings for another that Riley tried to suppress she deals with the confusion by putting all her energy towards deciding which college to attend.

↠

Noah Pearson had earned himself the tittle of ‘the worst secret keeper ever’ amongst those whom love him most but this early college admission recipient managed to keep the biggest secret ever and surprised those closest to him when he showed up in New York two days before prom.

What should have been a happy reunion somehow turned into an upsetting ordeal. Riley and Kai were at the bakery when Noah showed up casually. At first Kai was bursting with excitement as the two had been separated the past month. The boy in glasses coo the question, “What are you doing here?”

“I came back for prom.” Noah answers honestly. Riley stands one step behind Kai trying to keep her smile unwavering. Of course she was happy Noah was home but she’d be lying if she didn’t think about how this effected ‘the perfect prom’ Kai had promised they’d have. Although, Riley did know that Kai talking up their perfect prom was just a way for him to deal with the fact that he was super disappointed that Noah was going to miss it.

Kai’s immediate excitement quickly turns to anguish once it clicks in his brain what that means for Riley. Kai works himself up into a teary mess as he’s genuinely upset about shifting Riley’s plans around. Of course he was happy to have Noah home for prom but now there was a stronger sense of guilt weighing on him that he was ruining the perfect prom for Riley. The prom he thought she deserved. After the happy reunion flipped the three moved outside for a little privacy.

Noah stands beside Kai, chewing on his bottom lip and he shrinks into himself nervously. In that moment Riley’s heart ached and not for selfish reasons like losing her prom date but for her now college friend. In these past few months Riley had felt upset for Kai, she watched him miss Noah and be sad about him missing prom but what Riley didn’t think about was how Noah felt about this all. Sure she knew he’d be missing home and his boyfriend but what hadn’t registered until just now was the fact that Noah wouldn’t have just been upset about missing prom with Kai but missing his prom all together. Sure, the early acceptance was a huge deal for him but that doesn’t erase the fact that he’s missing out on senior experiences.

Riley’s mouth curls into a soft but genuine smile. “Why would either of you think for a single second that I’d be upset Noah came home for prom? I am so happy he’s here.”

“You are?” Noah asks sheepishly. “I should have told you first, I’m sorry. I never really thought me coming would impact your plans.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Riley squeezes his hand lovingly.

“But your perfect prom?” Kai’s voice wavers as he wipes at his damp cheeks.

“Hey, my prom never would have been perfect without my two closest friends there.” Riley takes Kai’s hand in hers too.

“We could all go together?” Noah suggests positively.

Kai perks up at the idea. “Yeah, like winter formal. The three of us, just like always.”

Riley coaxes her head with a sweet smile at his comment, softly she says, “No.”

“But Riley-” Kai was very close to working himself up again.

“No. This is prom.” Riley stresses. “Had Noah never left I would never have agreed to third wheeling.”

“But you’re not the third wheel, Sunshine.” Noah says.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Riley says genuinely. “This is prom, you two are supposed to have the perfect night together. I promise you that I’m happy you’re going together.”

“I could find you a date?” Kai frowns, still wanting to make things right.

Riley knew he probably could find her a date by the time she went to bed. Kai had that many social ties she didn’t doubt it but something inside her felt the need to reject his offer. Maybe it was because of how upset Kai got at the thought of Riley being alone. Riley didn’t think Kai thought of her as codependent but his reaction to her possibly going alone made Riley think of herself that way and she didn’t like it.

“No thank you.” Riley says simply.

“But, Ri-” Kai starts but Riley holds a palm out in the air to stop him.

“You two have been looking after me for years now.” Riley says. “I’m always going to need you but I also need you to know that I am okay.”

The conversation went back and forth for a little while longer but ultimately it was decided that Noah and Kai would be each others dates and Riley planned to be independent for the evening.

The following day at school Riley goes about her business as normal. After final bell she makes her way to her locker. As Riley opens it a note slips out onto the floor. Riley picks it up and smiles as she read it.

‘Meet me in the music room, CJ’

CJ could have easily texted Riley but she found the fact that he put it in a note rather endearing as it had a sweet innocence about it. The brunette packs her bag and makes her way to the music room as instructed. CJ is already there sitting at the piano. Riley slips in the space beside him on the stool with a smile.

The conversation begins light and giggly as Riley was too nervous to press about why he actually asked to meet. CJ shows how to play a few of the keys and Riley proceeds to butcher the tune completely.

Riley stops playing, the smile on her face fades when she thinks she sees the back of Lucas walking away from the door. CJ notices her off mood and clears his throat.

“I guess you’re probably wondering why I asked you here.” CJ nervously wipes his palms on his jeans.

“The thought had crossed my mind.” Riley turns her attention back to the music man and attempts to bury that longing feeling seeing Lucas pass by gave her.

“I heard some chatter today that Noah’s back in town.” CJ says.

“Yes, he surprised Kai yesterday.” Riley nods.

“I also hear you’re dateless for prom.” CJ shifts anxiously in place.

“Technically yes.” Riley’s heart picks up pace. She suspects he’s about to ask her and the brunette is unsure if her nerves come from wanting CJ to ask or not wanting him to.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go together?” CJ finally asks.

Riley freezes, at a loss for words even though she anticipated the question. “You don’t already have a date?” Riley stalls for time.

“No. The person I wanted to ask was already going with her best friend.” CJ says.

“You wanted to ask me?” Riley is quiet.

“I only thought I’d have to get in before Lucas but then Kai asked me about playing piano for his big promposal.” CJ nervously adds.

Riley deflates at the mention of Lucas.

“Okay, talking about the other guy.. dumb move.” CJ mumbles.

Riley reacts impulsively and kisses CJ. He doesn’t stop her. Riley pulls away with a frown. “I’m sorry.” She slides back on the stool putting some space between them.

“I’m not.” CJ smiles.

“That was selfish of me.” Riley shakes her head. “I kissed you for the wrong reasons.”

“Riley, it’s okay.” CJ tries to soothe her.

“No it’s not okay.” Riley frowns. She had kissed CJ because she didn’t want to think of Lucas as being ‘the other guy’ he wasn’t supposed to be a guy for her at all.

“I have eyes, Riley. I know about you and Lucas.” CJ says.

“But there is nothing going on with me and Lucas.” Riley states firmly.

“Only because you won’t let there be anything.” CJ nudges Riley gently with his arm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Riley laughs nervously.

“I might not know the full story of you two but I do know there’s history.”

“But that’s not entirely true.” Riley shakes her head. “Lucas and I have never officially dated.”

“And yet you’re still not over him.” CJ says simply.

“I am over him.” Riley folds her arms defensively.

“I’m not trying to upset you.” CJ is apologetic.

“I like you CJ.” Riley says. “Like I really like you.”

“I like you too.” CJ smiles. “But you like Lucas more.”

“I don’t.” Riley shakes her head.

“Riley.” CJ coaxes his head to look at her knowingly.

“I don’t want to like him.” Riley says.

“Why not?” CJ asks. “Because of the history you don’t have with him?”

Riley frowns. ‘Because he didn’t choose me and that made me feel like I wasn’t enough and even if his intentions were to really save our connection he still let me go.’ Riley thinks to herself but aloud she says, “Because I don’t know if he’s worth it anymore.”

“I cant pretend like I know the exact circumstances between you and Lucas but what I do know is that you’re kind, strong, smart and brave. You already know in your heart if he’s worth it.” CJ smiles sweetly. “And you do like him, so I can’t imagine he’s not worth it.”

Riley smiles at CJ. A sweet boy that she knows she genuinely likes and she hates herself for not being able to surrender to those feelings.

“So you were willing to escort me to prom even though you thought I might like someone else?” Riley questions.

“I had to take a chance.” CJ smiles. “Any guy who didn’t would be an idiot.”

Riley leans forward and gives CJ another sweet kiss.

“What was that one for?” CJ asks with a smile.

“That one was for me.” Riley smiles.

Riley leaves the music room still content about being dateless for prom. She had kissed CJ for real but they both knew her heart wasn’t fully in it. What was strange was that Riley knew she could get over Lucas and be happy with CJ or someone else but she was reluctant to cut ties with him for whatever reason she wasn’t willing to accept.

The following day is prom. Riley spends the preparation period with her mother. Cory and Topanga were willing to pay for the works for Riley. They both were so proud about their daughters achievements this year and wanted to do something special for her but Riley was actually just excited to spend that time with her mom. In Riley’s eyes, Topanga is as beautiful as they come so if she was in charge of Riley’s hair and makeup that made the brunette feel more special than any professional could.

Since it’s a Saturday they had the whole day before prom that evening. In the morning, Topanga takes Riley out to breakfast and then they spend sometime shopping around the mall. Topanga keeps asking Riley if she was really sure about not wanting the professional pamper treatment. Of course Riley insists she doesn’t want the fuss.

Also throughout the day Riley receives numerous texts from Kai. The boy in glasses kept checking that Riley was alright going to prom on her own, he offered up potential dates and also tried to trick Riley into going in a group thing with him and Noah. The brunette girl loves that he cares so much but she didn’t like feeling that she was not independent enough to go without question. If it was Caitlin and she didn’t have Harper, no one would have batted an eyelash if she said she was going solo. Riley sighs with every reply and finally she firmly tells Kai that she’ll see him at prom after she arrives alone and with no regrets.

Riley had been so caught up with her phone, Topanga had to wave her hand in front of Riley’s face to catch her attention.

“Sorry.” Riley laughs nervously. “What did you say?”

“I said, I know you don’t want the whole fancy treatment but did you want to at least see if they can fit you in for a hair wash?” Topanga motions to the hairdressers in front of them.

Riley looks at it for a moment with this ‘no regrets’ mantra in the forefront of her mind. She turns to face her mom with an almost devilish smile, “Actually do you think we could see if they have time to cut it?” Riley fiddles with the end of her long brown locks.

“Like a trim?” Topanga questions.

“Something like that…” Riley smirks as she’s already taking the initiative to walk into the store.

That evening Riley sits at the end of her bed dressed in a beautiful mid length frock. The bodice fits tightly around her chest with a lovely sweetheart neckline. It’s white in colour but embellished with gold swirly embroidery. Two thin spaghetti straps support the dress on Riley’s frame. The skirt of the dress flares out with an ethereal looking white tulle. Riley was drawn to this dress the moment she spotted it in the store. The gold embellishment and tulle skirt made Riley think of her braver alter ego, Jexica.

Riley is nervously fiddling with the ends of her hair as Topanga crouches down to secure the thin buckle on Riley’s gold Mary-Jane style shoes. “Do you think I made the right decision?” Riley asks.

“I think your hair looks beautiful.” Topanga looks up her daughter with a smile. Riley’s hair now curled beautifully and with the new cut it sits just above her shoulders. A drastic change from Riley’s long brown locks, the ones she had been growing since she first cut her hair freshman year.

“Thank you.” Riley grins. “But I meant about Yale.”

“Oh.” Topanga says. She straightens up before sitting beside Riley on the bed. “You sent in your acceptance a couple weeks ago… Are you doubting it now?”

“No. Yes… I don’t know.” Riley huffily places her hands in her lap.

“Yale has great English and screenwriting programs.” Topanga says positively.

“You also got accepted there.” Riley says.

“Oh, Honey,” Topanga coaxes her head. “You didn’t choose Yale because you think that it’s what I wanted?”

“No. You really helped me choose the best school for me.” Riley smiles genuinely. She had spent hours with her parents researching potential study paths and weighing up the pros and cons of each school. “I know Yale is right for me.”

“Then what’s got you stressed?” Topanga asks.

“Yale is about an hour and a half away.” Riley states.

“I know that but you don’t have to worry about us being close and cramping your college style.” Topanga laughs lightly.

“I’m not worried about that at all.” Riley frowns. “Yale is so close to home and I’m still worried about being too far away. If a measly hour makes me nervous how am I going to survive Europe for two months on my own? I know you and daddy worry about be because of my panic attacks and Kai seems to think I need a prom date. What if you’re all right? What if I need you all too much?”

Instead of answering right away Topanga simply reaches behind her neck and unclips her necklace, the gold double heart she wears everyday.

“Your necklace?” Riley grins as Topanga secures it around her neck.

“A very sweet little girl picked out a single heart necklace for me one mothers day.” Topanga faces Riley with a loving smile.

“Daddy told you the story?” Riley smiles.

Topanga nods. “That morning at breakfast we told you that you were going to be a big sister. You were happy but then quickly panicked, you made your father go back to the store and exchange it for the double heart you saw in the window.”

“One for me and one for the new baby.” Riley finishes.

“I have had the pleasure of watching you grow up a kind, caring and sweet girl. I have watched you mature, I have watched you be driven, I have witnessed your heartbreak and I have seen you pick up the pieces and grow because of it.” Topanga gently rubs Riley’s arm. “Those anxiety driven months were the scariest few months of my life, watching and not being the person who could help fix things for you.”

“You did help.” Riley says, “You were there for me and you took me to someone who taught me how to cope better with things.”

Topanga smiles at Riley trying to make her feel better when it’s supposed to be the other way around. “I watched you pick yourself up out of the toughest of times and you’ve come out the other end just as sweet as the little girl who chose that necklace. You are smart, kind and strong. I am anything but worried about you taking on the world after graduation.”

Riley smile is small but sweet. “You know..” Riley is sheepish. “If you and Daddy and Auggie did want to crap my college style a little, that would be okay too...”

Topanga’s grin widens and she pulls Riley in for an embrace. When the part Topanga has to stop herself from crying so she clears her throat. “I think you’re ready, go on, give me a twirl.”

Riley stands up in the free floorspace of her room and puts her weight on the toes of her gold heels, with arms out at her side she spins around a few times. The white tulle of her skirt dances around as she does. Riley giggles softly as she wobbles after stopping.

Riley notices her father standing in the doorway, awe written on his smiley face as he watched his grown up daughter.

"Do you like it?" Riley nervously pats at the skirt of her dress.

"You look beautiful." Cory says with a wide grin. He takes a step towards Riley, one arm suspiciously hidden behind his back. "Now I know you're happy going on your own but I still wanted to get you this." Cory revels the small plastic container, inside it is a beautiful corsage with white flowers and small gold details around the band that matches Riley's dress. "I hope you don't think it's too lame that your old man bought you a corsage."

Riley smiles sweetly and holds her wrist out. "Thanks Daddy."

Topanga takes a few photos but Riley insists her and her father get going, especially since Cory was supposed to be one of the teachers shaparoning the prom.

Once at the venue holding the dance, Riley waits outside the function room. Cory offers to walk her in but she politely declines. There wasn't a single part of Riley that was embarrassed by her father but more so a strong need to prove that she could go in alone. Cory understands and leaves Riley to have her moment.

The brunettes phone buzzes and it's yet another text from Kai saying she should message him when she's there and he could walk her in. Riley lets out a heavy sigh but keeps her mothers encouraging words in mind. Riley slips her phone back into her gold clutch without responding. She takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders and walks inside. Riley stops in the doorway, it was like something out of a movie where all eyes seemed to fall on her.

Riley is frozen with nerves under the gaze of her peers. Riley subconsciously pats at the tulle of her dress and mentally reminds herself that she’s got the power of Jexica on her side. Then, Riley's concerned expression cracks with a wide smile. She is Jexica. With a soft laugh Riley veers left towards the photo area set up. Riley stands in front of the white backdrop and under the balloon arch. She links her hands in front of herself and smiles as the camera flashes.

Once Riley's done with a few silly poses on her own she steps away from the photo area and is met by a smiley Noah and Kai whose mouth is slightly agape.

Riley approaches with a playfully smug grin. "So you spend years telling me I should let my light shine and you're surprised when I finally listen?"

“You certainly know how to light up a room, Sunshine.” Noah grins.

Kai embraces Riley and when the part he starts fiddling with her noticeably shorter hair, all the while squeaking compliments about how amazing it and Riley as a whole looks. After Kai's finished cooing kind remarks he drops his hand from Riley's locks and softens. "I'm really sorry I've been bugging you all day." He's now realising how wasted his attempts were and how they could have been misinterpreted. "I just didn't want you to think that I don't think you're important."

"Kai you orchestrated a whole five minute promposal in front for an auditorium full of people for me." Riley laughs.

"Yeah but then I ditched you two days before prom. I wanted to give you a date because I thought you deserved one not because I thought you needed one." Kai frowns. "I realise if should have just celebrated you for being your own person."

“I told you Kai, I got this.” Riley smiles. “You both have made sure I’m capable of that.”

“I love this independence look on you but we can still take cheesy prom photos together right?” Kai asks sheepishly.

“We can take a hundred cheesy prom pictures together.” Riley bounces on her toes. The three of them step back towards the photo area and pose goofily for some prom shots.

A while after the prom is in full swing and Riley’s on the dance floor with Caitlin and Harper. The three of them are bouncing around to an upbeat tune. Riley’s face hurts from smiling so much but that doesn’t stop the brunette from happily twirling around with her friends.

Meanwhile Kai and Noah approach Lucas whom is sat alone at one of the tables. Kai places Riley’s gold clutch - which he was holding for her - down on the table and takes the seat beside Lucas. Noah sits on the other side of Kai.

“Hey.” Lucas greets them nervously.

“What are you doing?” Kai asks.

“Taking a break. Zay likes dancing way too much.” Lucas jokes.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Kai gives Lucas a mild glare. “There’s only about an hour left of prom and you still haven't spoken to Riley.”

“I’m giving her space.” Lucas shrugs. “Which I thought you of all people would be happy about.”

“I’m never not going to look out for Riley. I’m never not going to try and protect her or try give her all the great things she deserves in life but I do have to let her decide on her own what makes her happy, without the judgement.” Kai says.

“Are you giving me your blessing?” Lucas does his squinty eye face.

Kai smiles over towards Riley on the dance floor, at this point she’s just dancing goofily with herself. “Do you really think she needs my approval to let herself be happy?”

“I’m sure it helps.” Lucas is smiling after Riley too. “But what about CJ.” Lucas turns his attention back to Kai. “I saw them together in the music room yesterday..”

“I respect what you’re trying to do with giving Riley space but it’s like you've stared in the whole play but skipped curtain call.”

Lucas is staring blankly at Kai. The boy in glasses sighs. “Noah, sport analogy please?” He waves his hand.

Noah smiles and offers up a baseball comparison. “The score is tied, bases are loaded, you step up to the base and you don’t swing.”

“You don’t swing.” Kai parrots and Noah chuckles quietly.

“So you guys think I have a chance?” Lucas asks hopefully.

“I’m not saying that.” Kai says and he gets a little too much pleasure out of watching Lucas deflate. “But letting Riley go without a fight will be the second greatest mistake you’ve ever made. Right after letting her go the first time.”

“Okay.” Lucas nods, stands to his feet and looks to the two guys for a moment. “Wish me luck?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Kai jokingly scoffs.

Lucas makes his way towards the dance floor. with a hopeful smile. The music is louder over there so he has to shout. Riley’s surprised when she sees him and honestly a little nervous. She continues her bouncy dancing.

“Do you want to dance?” Lucas shouts over the music.

“I can’t stop you from dancing.” Riley nervously shouts back and continues her bouncing. Lucas joins in too making for an awkward few seconds before the song fades out.

Then the DJ announces they’re going to slow things down for a minute and Riley and Lucas are awkwardly standing amongst people as they couple off for the slow dance.

"We don't have to if you don't want." Lucas lets out a nervous breath.

"Well standing here like two angsty teens is making me nervous." Riley holds her arms out awkwardly. Lucas steps closer and Riley slowly wraps her arms around his neck. Lucas gently places his hands on either side of Riley’s waist. The pair are tense and Riley looks around anxiously to see if they were drawing any attention but it seemed as though no one was looking. Riley flicks her gaze back to Lucas and they slowly sway to the song.

“You cut your hair.” Lucas says quietly as he didn’t have to shout anymore.

“Yeah. I wanted to cut it this short back in freshman year but I was too scared.” Riley admits.

“What made you do it now?” Lucas questions.

“I’m trying to graduate with no regrets.” Riley smiles.

“I think it looks really pretty.” Lucas smiles. “You looks really pretty tonight.”

“Thanks.” Riley bashfully lowers her gaze.

“I saw you with CJ yesterday.” Lucas says and immediately regrets.

Riley’s head snaps up in surprise, maybe she really had seen Lucas pass the music room the previous afternoon.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound weird.” Lucas shakes his head. “I know I told you I wasn’t giving up. I just realise that it might have felt like I was...”

“I kissed him.” Riley admits.

Lucas nods trying not to show the hurt on his face. “If you’re happy I’m happy.”

“I kissed him,” Riley restates, “And yet I’m here at prom, dancing with you.”

Lucas’ smile is slight and by now they’ve both loosened up into the dance a little. “So I heard from Smackle that you decided to go to Yale.” Lucas tries to keep the conversation flowing and dig them out of the awkward lull.

“Yep.” Riley nods. She had told the genius girl in passing when she congratulated her on Princeton.

"That's still nice and close to New York. You'll be able to go home on the weekends." Lucas says positively.

"Approximately 79 miles..." Riley laughs. "I may have done a little research about distances."

"Just a little?" Lucas smirks.

"Well I might know that there's 774 miles to Notre dame and that Cranberry Township, Pennsylvania is exactly half way between the two... And I know that there's a scary 46 hours between Yale and Cali Institute of the Arts.” Riley lists distances between her friends.

“That makes a measly 27 hours look like nothing.” Lucas says bravely.

Riley coaxes her head as they sway.

“I might have don't a little research too.” Lucas shrugs with a smile.

“Lucas..” Riley says like she doesn’t want him to venture down that avenue but her smile contradicts it.

“I’m just saying.” Lucas laughs innocently. “1,800 miles isn't that far away.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Riley laughs. “That’s very far away. Even for friends.”

Even if she didn’t mean it any other way the phrasing made Lucas giddy that she could think of it being a distance for them romantically.

“I do hear myself,” Lucas laughs too, “And I’m not seeing a problem.”

“There’s barely a month till graduation then I leave that very night for Europe. Then there’s two months before I come home and then there’s what? A week before you go back to Texas to get ready for college if you haven't already?” Riley rambles.

“I’ll take a month and then a week.” Lucas shrugs happily.

“No.” Riley says through a smile. “Then we go to college 1,800 miles apart. I’m just getting used to us being friends again. I want us to be friends. If we keep things as they are right now then if 1,800 miles proves to be too far then no one gets hurt.”

“I could come to Europe?” Lucas raises his brows.

“No.” Riley laughs.

“I could transfer schools?” Lucas smiles.

“No!” Riley scoffs.

“You could transfer schools?” Lucas jokes with a squinted eyes.

“Lucas!” Riley coaxes her head with a jokingly whiney voice. “I’m being serious. It can’t work.”

“I’m being serious too, Riley.” Lucas states. “The only thing that doesn’t work is us as friends. We’re not friends. You know it, I know it. We tried and look where that got us?”

“No. I don’t know it.” Riley lowers her gaze and shakes her head.

“Can you look me in the eyes and honestly tell me that you don’t like me, not even a little?” Lucas softens. “And not just a part of you that liked me back in middle school but you now.”

Riley lifts her head back up and her eyes find Lucas’. The brunette bites down on her smiley bottom lip and she doesn’t say anything. Lucas can’t help but be smirky as he gives her a challenging look like, “Well?”

The music fades as the song comes to an end. Tapping noises on the microphone pulls their attention towards the stage. Riley and Lucas drop their arms from each other and Cory announces it’s time to crown their prom King and Queen.

“And this years Prom King is…” Cory pauses for dramatic effect, “Mr. Lucas Friar.”

Claps come from the crowd and suddenly Riley feels all eyes pointing in her direction as Lucas stands by her side in a state of shock.

“I didn’t even campaign for this.” Lucas looks to Riley for answers.

“Since when does our school care about things like that?” Riley laughs. “They decide what they want.”

“Your majesty, your crown awaits.” Cory hurries up the Texan.

Riley playfully curtseys and Lucas gives her a small smile before taking to the stage. Riley claps softly as she watches Lucas have the crown placed on his head. Cory steps up to the microphone again. “And now for your Queen.” He waves the envelope in hand. “This years prom queen is…” Cory pauses but not for dramatic effect, he nervously looks around for his daughter before announcing, “Maya Hart-Hunter.”

Just like that it felt as if the wind had been knocked of the brunette. Riley can barely clap her hands together once as she watches Maya drag her feet onto stage. Lucas looks to be shocked too but Riley isn’t processing anyones emotions but her own.

Every bit of happiness she let herself feel these past few months with Lucas hanging around had been tainted by this very moment. Every single insecurity she’s felt in the past six years comes to the surface. Every doubt in the triangle, the moment Lucas said he chose Maya, the first time she saw them kiss. For the first time in a long time Riley felt like she was downing again. This was like hearing Maya and Lucas has been voted cutest couple all over again but more intense. All Riley wanted to do was get out of there.

On the other side of the room Kai stands with Noah, the boy in glasses tries to stretch up and look over the crowd for Riley sensing she needs her best friend but he can’t find her.

“And now if everyone could make some room for the King and Queen to have their first dance..” Cory addresses the room.

Maya stands awkwardly by Lucas as he pays no attention to her. Lucas looks off to the spot he left Riley at, the crowd is making a path for the couple and Lucas cant find the brunette anywhere. Then he spots a glimpse of her white tulle dress as she pushes her way out the door. Lucas looks to Maya with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, Maya.” Lucas says genuinely as he shakes his head.

“Go get her.” Maya wears a small smile and gives him an understanding nod.

Lucas jumps off the stage and bypasses through the crowd. Lucas makes his way into the hall where he spots Riley a small distance ahead.

“Riley, wait!” Lucas calls out and she turns around to face him.

Riley spots Lucas breathing heavily, he’s not out of breath from running but he’s in a panic and a few feet behind Lucas is Noah and Kai as they spotted Riley moments after Lucas did.

“I had no idea that was happening, I don’t even know why anyone would vote for us-“ Lucas speaks quickly as he makes his way up to Riley.

“This is how everyone sees you two.” Riley says with a lump in her throat. “Cutest couple. King and Queen. I don’t know why I ever thought it could be different.”

“It can be- It is different.” Lucas says desperately. “It doesn’t matter what a bunch of our classmates think. I don’t see me and Maya that way. I never have.” Lucas stresses and he reaches out to touch Riley’s arm but she takes a step back.

“It does matter.” Riley shakes her head. “I can’t do this.”

“But what about you and me?” Lucas questions. “What about our dance and everything we talked about?”

“Maybe in a parallel universe you chose me at the ski lodge and we lived some crazy stupid fairytale.” Riley wipes away a fallen tear with the back of her hand. “But in this life there is never going to be a you and me without her.”

“Riley, please-“

“No, Lucas.” Riley blinks out a few more tears. “This is it. This is moment where the chasing has to stop. Please?” She’s pleading with him to let her go.

Lucas literally takes a step back, his heart shattering at the situation and from seeing Riley so upset. “Okay.” He says softly. Riley nods, almost thanking Lucas for not putting up a fight, she wipes at her cheeks, takes a deep breath and turns around. She continues down the hall and doesn’t look back.

Lucas feels a hand on his shoulder, he’s surprised to see it’s Kai.

“I had no idea that was going to happen.” Lucas is desperate as he turns around to face Riley’s two male friends.

“I know.” Kai says and he’s even teary from watching Riley be so upset. He doesn’t stick around to say anything more because his number one priority was catching up with Riley to comfort her should she want it.

End Notes: Yes. Yes I did really write in Rowans real life haircut bc I was shoooook. And she looks so darn pretty.

So, yeah, this happened. Don’t hate me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Next Chapter ‘The third side’.

Chapter after: GRadUation. And I’m not even sure if there’s going to be an epilogue for this story...

As always, reviews etc are SO welcomed!!

Stay tuned for more :))))))))))))

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #rucas imagine #rucas fanfic

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