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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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i adore everything you write especially erwin like he’s my number one and u write him so well i keep coming back<3 would love to hear your thoughts on the different types of dates he would take you on :)) ty and i hope you’re well !!

Omfg I really needed to hear this today :( thank you so much💛 you're too kind.

Im so happy to hear that I'm write Erwin i a good way! I've actually been thinking about his character a lot! My Erwin posts actually get the least notes bc he's just underappricated, tho imma make sure to write him more from now on just for you 🥰

I actually really liked this request idea so imma split it in two part bc i don't wanna make a long post

Type of dates with Erwin PT.1 {pt.2 in masterlist}

{ Erwin x reader | tw: none | fluff, romance | modern }

{ "La Lettura" 1873 by Antonio Mancini 1852 - 1930 }

Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday, etc.

1. Romantic dinner by candle lights: he's a sucker for classics and romance cliches. Once a month or so, when you're both free. He'd make a reservation at a fancy restaurant, a secluded table with multiple candles and a nice view of the night sky waiting for you.

You'd both dress us, he'd be a gentleman all the way and open the doors for you, tell you how precious you look while kissing your hand. Maybe even a bouquet of fresh flowers if he's feeling extra.

The night would be spent quietly, talking while drinking wine as your food is getting ready. You two could talk together forever and not get bored, he also could listen to you talk about your passions all day.

At dessert time, he slowly falls in love with you again when you offer him a piece of yours, he'll gladly eat it off your fork. You hold hands under the table and he circles his thumb against yours.

When going home, he'd wrap his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. It's the perfect night.

2. Picnic near the lake at sunset, ends with stargazing: this usually takes place in spring or summer, maybe even autumn. When the weather is just perfect and the sky is just clear enough. You both prepare a basket before hand, he wears a light blue shirt to match his eyes.

You arrive around lunch time, having picked a nice place under a tree to shield you from the sun. The sound of children playing in the distance quieting down as time goes on. You both prepared each other's favourite food before hand.

It's around sunset when he wraps the blanket you bought with you around you, the wind having picked up. He kisses your forehead before pulling you closer to his side. You watch the sunset together as the ducks in the lake swim lazily around.

When it's completely dark, is when you finally lay down together, facing the sky. You point to a certain formation and he tangles his fingers with yours before guiding them to the next, he knows a lot about the stars. He shows you the fading ones who's only remains are ghosts of their pasts, he also shows you the newly formed ones who's light is just reaching us.

With your head on his chest, his calm deep voice talking about the stars and the warmth the blanket is offering, you fall asleep.

You wake up in the passenger seat on the ride home, glancing to the side you can see him driving with a smile on his face, he looks happy, relaxed even. You go back to sleep.

3. Going to see a musical together: it's one of the dates he really looks forward too, he's actually a huge musicals nerd but only his close friends know that. So what's better than mixing his favourite thing to watch with his favourite person? You!

He knows the tickets are expensive but he promises you it's worth the inconvenience, so you book two seats online.

When you arrive, you sit next to each other while the room is slowly getting filled. You can hear the actors getting ready off-stage but can't make out what they're saying. Erwin is next to you looking through the play flyer they gave and explaining the story to you.

That day, is the most day you've seen Erwin laugh from the depth of his heart. He'd look at you each time something really funny happens. Squeeze your hand a bit whenever an intense scene is happening. Bring your hand against his lips for a second when a romantic scene is happening.

He's just fully emerged into it. When you see the shine in his eyes, the way his lips curl up just a bit, is when you realise how beautiful Musicals are.

It becames a habit to visit one each year on his birthday.

4. Go to a museum or an art gallery: one thing you've learned from being with Erwin, is that he can turn the most boring things interesting. He just has a way with words and a matching deep voice to go with it, he could read the ingredients on the back of a shampoo bottle and you'd still listen.

Naturally, it was just a matter of time before one of you suggested visiting a museum. You pick a day when not a lot of people would be there.

He makes it fun, interesting and actually educational. You've been walking peacefully in long corridors with paintings and other forms of art displayed around each corner. He seems to have endless knowledge about each piece, telling you both a secret funny fact about it and a base knowledge.

The perfect tour guide, he encourages you to participate and even guess information based on the art and how it makes you feel. He smiles whenever you get something right and chuckles when you don't, it's a win-win situation.

5. Horseback riding: this one happens whenever you visit his parents who retired in the country side, they're really lovely people and seem to genuinely like you. Not to mention how Erwin just shows you off proudly to his parents like you're made out of pure gold.

It's a quiet small town that makes you forget about the city, the air is refreshing and the people are kind, the patries are delicious and the baker is kind. You two could get lost walking near fields of flowers for hours.

He assures you that you have all the time to try everything else, for now he's excited to show you something he's been doing since he was a kid.

The people at the stable seem to recognise him, even the horses are kinder to him than you. You're a bit jealous you won't lie, but he just guides through befriending a certain white horse with braids in it's hair. You even manage to feed them some sugar cubes.

You've underestimate just how tall a horse is, so now when faced with the option to ride on its back you almost back away. Meanwhile Erwin looks really natural and comfortable just getting on one, is this the same man who didn't know you could turn your phone screen sideways till you showed him?

So you end up sharing a horse, he wraps your hands around his waist and tells you to trust him, it will be okay. And just when a glimmer of hope rises in your heart that maybe this isn't as scary as you thought, that man somehow makes the horse go so fast it almost rivals the speed of sound, at least in your mind it did.

It's the most fun and adventures date so far, your heart is pumping by the end of the day as adrenaline runs through your veins. You're both panting and he seems like a kid on Christmas.

Thankfully his parents somehow foresaw this happening and prepared dinner for both of you while apologising for their son. Soon enough, they arm you with enough embarrassing childhood stories about Erwin for later use.

6. Visiting historical spots: it's something his father suggested to you both while you're getting the car ready to drive home. Soon enough you were discussing it while on the road and both of you seemed to be on-board.

It's an actually entirely different experience to see these places in person than in photos in school history books. Everything is so much bigger than you expected, so much older and all the details.

You can see all the different angles just by walking around, both of you seem to be entranced at just how strangely alluring it is to see this great build and know it's more than 500 years old, even Erwin seems to be lost for words for once.

The memories you made, the silly photos you took, the places you held hand and kissed in. It's all was just so lovely. And so it becomes a yearly tradition that you both save up for.

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #erwin smith #commander erwin #Erwin🕯#snk erwin #aot erwin #snk #aot #snk x reader #aot x reader #requests🕯#date ideas #fluff #romance

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sapphire374 · 3 years

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Soy Sol: Chapter 10 (Hopeful Curiosity)

Wattpad Link

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17

The gang is huddled around each other at the Jam and Roller rink. Ámbar proceeds to glance over her clipboard that carries the original sign-up sheet. “So, Ámbar, do we have enough members to make up a team for the competition.” Ámbar quickly looks Luna in the eyes and decides to call out the list of names. “The official Jam and Roller team members are Luna, Simon, Matteo, Gaston, Ramiro, Jim, Delfi, Pedro and Jazmin.” Everyone starts counting with their fingers but before anyone gets the chance to start counting, Gaston and Nina both yell out “that’s nine members, we’re missing one.” Luna rollers towards Ámbar. “Ámbar you’re not on the list. Are you going to join us? Please, pretty please join us. Whether you would like to admit it or not, you’re one of the best roller skaters out there and we need you.”

Ámbar takes a big gulp of air, processing everything that’s going on. Luna’s pout with her watery eyes has made Ámbar reconsider her decision. Before she always wanted the worst for Luna, but the past few years has made them become inseparable. She now views Luna as her younger sister plus being the manager of the gang’s favorite place has made her feel as everyone’s bigger sister, being the mature one. Ambar gives in. “Fine, I’ll do it. Especially since you guys need me so much. You guys aren’t wrong though, I am the best,” Ámbar jokes. The whole gang cheers, everyone jumps up and down and excitement enters the room.

Everyone is huddled as they all set their hands out and chant, “ready! One, two, three Jam and Roller!” Juliana enters through the chaos of excitement. “Opa opa! Seems like the group has never separated and feels closer than ever.” The gang all turn around facing her, their faces show signs of shock. No one was expecting this except one certain person in the room. “Juliana! You’re back! Wait how did you know we got the team back together for a competition?” Simón asks. “A little birdy called me and said that a certain team needed my help so I came as quick as I can.” The whole gang starts whispering, wondering who was it that reached out to her. Luna gives Ámbar and Simón a little smirk.

“So have you guys chosen which song you all are going to skate to?” Juliana questions. “Nope,” Ámbar answers. That’s when the idea hits Simón. “I have an idea! Maybe not only the team gets back together for this competition, but also the band? What do you guys say, Nico, Pedro?” Simón suggests. Nico and Pedro look at each other in disbelief and with a loss of words. “Uhh yes of course! You have no idea how long I’ve missed playing on the drums,” Pedro states. “And you guys have no idea how long I’ve missed collaborating the three of us together again,” Nico chimes in. “I guess that settles it. The band is back!!” Simón announces. The room is filled with so many emotions as everyone is so excited about what’s to come next. True nostalgia and memories really do start coming back to them since working together and competing to save their beloved place truly brings them back to old times. Just like how Matteo and Luna wouldn’t stop stealing glances at each other through the midst of it all.

This competition will be fierce including what’s called two stages. The first stage is the basic entry in which they record a video of their performance, the second stage is where they have the official competition. They first though have to make it through the first stage. For the next few days, Juliana tries to prepare them with some exercises since it has been years some of them roller skated. Then they gradually learned again how to do some simple routines as pairs then as groups. Before the gang knew it, in a week they have mastered all the skills and are ready to practice the actual choreography for the performance. Luna and Matteo still haven’t talked much though, yet they’re constant staring proves to show that they still miss and love each other.

Monday Evening at the Jam and Roller (after about a week and a half)

Juliana tells the gang that they can rest, and training has just finished. The group has finally mastered the double turns alignment but are struggling with air spins. Matteo heads over to Luna like old times, while she’s drinking water near the rails. “What’s the matter Chica Delivery? Has all the training finally tired you out?” Matteo flirtatiously says. Luna tries to hide her blushed cheeks and smirks at his comment. “Chico fresa you know that can never happen. My internal adrenaline is endless.” Luna and Matteo begin to laugh. Luna stops once she remembers why she was trying to avoid him for the longest. “Matteo don’t think I forgot everything that has happened.” She begins to stare at the floor, holding back a tear. “I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” Matteo begs.

“You know that’s not the issue. I just feel like I can’t trust you anymore. You promised me you wouldn’t lie to me anymore and that’s exactly what you did. I don’t want our relationship to be built out of lies. I’d rather stay single instead of having someone stab me in the back unaware.” Matteo widely opens his eyes, it feels like someone has sucker punched him in the gut. For a long time, Matteo has tried to prove to Luna he has changed and does truly care about her, how can one little lie bring all the pain back. “Luna, you know I would never want to break your heart or ‘stab you in the back.’ I just lied about this because I knew you would get jealous of me hanging out with Viviana.” Luna gasps in astonishment. “Jealous! Now that’s a joke right there. For me to be jealous of her, that would mean I would want to be like her or want something she has but that’s not the case at all. I’m happy with the life I live and don’t want to change it. I just don’t like how close she’s been with you. You know I’m okay with you having female friends, but not when one tries to kiss you when I’m not around and constantly wrapping her arms around you. Even the news outlets think you broke up with me and dating her because of how much ‘quality time’ you guys spend together.”

Matteo responds with, “You know how much I miss it when you call me Chico Fresa and miss these fun bantering moments. I would never fall for her because you’re my one true love. You may not be jealous of her but you’re jealous of her getting to spend time with me. Is that it? You want to hang out more with me? How do I make it up to you?” Luna shakes her head and says, “You just don’t get it and it’s okay. I don’t feel like arguing today.” Luna rollers away and Matteo covers his face as he lays his elbows on the silver polished rails. Gastón heads to him and pats his shoulder. “She still hasn’t forgiven you?” Matteo shakes his head in response. His phone begins to ring in the pocket of his jeans. He lifts himself up and pulls it out. “Hello…. yes……. Already in a week? ..... ah I see, okay that seems appropriate I guess…...tomorrow okay, I’ll see you then.” Matteo hangs up and places his phone in his pocket again. “Who was that?” Gastón questions. “It’s my manager. They’re planning to release my music video with Viviana at the end of this week. Usually, we don’t release music videos this early but apparently she demanded for it since it would look good and perfect for this summer. Well to prepare for the release, they want me to perform with her in a live concert.” Matteo’s expression shows his stress and frustration. “But what about the Jam and Roller training?” Gastón asks him. “I’ll try to practice for the concert before the Jam and Roller training starts every day and the concert is on Saturday so that day I guess I’ll just miss training for that one day. I have no other choice.”

Gastón keeps thinking and doesn’t say a word till an amazing idea slips in his head. “I just got it! I just thought of the perfect plan that’ll get Luna to forgive you and get back together with her.” Matteo starts smiling as Gastón whispers the plan into his left ear. “Hermano, you’re a genius.”

The Benson Mansion

Ámbar doesn’t stop glaring at the letter in front of her. It was the original copy that was locked up in Sharon’s vault. This was what her biological mom wrote to her before she gave her away, it includes her phone number. She wants to call that number, desperately wants to but what if this number doesn’t work anymore? Or what if it does? She feels so confused. The closer the wedding gets, the scarier it feels for her. She wants to invite her biological mom and maybe even Sharon, she’s just undecided. It’s more than just complicated for her.

She sucks up every bit of courage left in her, grabs her phone and types in the numbers smeared at the bottom of the letter. It’s…. ringing. The longer she has to wait, the faster her heart beats. The phone stops ringing. “Hello,” the person on the other end answers. Ámbar’s voice begins to crack, “Uh… yes is this Sylvana Ariel?” Ámbar takes a big gulp of air. The person on the other end responds, “yes this is she. Who do I have the pleasure speaking to?” When Ambar hears that it’s her, she decides to move forward with the plan of meeting her. Maybe it was destiny for her to still have this phone number for so many years? “Yes, this is Ámbar, Ámbar Smith. We need to talk. Are you available today?” Ámbar takes control of the situation showing no signs of hesitation, even though her heart says otherwise. “Oh Ámbar? Yes, I’m available today.” Ámbar takes one good look at the letter and answers back, “Good. Meet me at Pachani’s restaurant today at 7 p.m.” The lady answers with an okay before Ámbar hangs up the phone.

She didn’t know this day would come so soon. Getting to meet her birth mother. What should she say? What should she do? Maybe this would help her understand her whole story and discover more who she really is before she gets married. Simón walks into the living room. “There you are. I thought you would be at the Jam and Roller; you never miss an afternoon of work?” Ámbar quickly folds the letter and slips it into her purse. “Oh yeah I just came home to… find another bridal magazine. I thought I left one of my favorite ones here in the living room.” Simón scrunches up his face, “here? In the living room of the Benson Mansion? But you always look at them at our apartment?” Ámbar clasps her purse and places the strap around her arm. “Oh well I sometimes look at them here whenever I visit the Valentes and have a cup of coffee, by mistake one of these days I left my bridal magazine.” Simón nods showing how he understands. “So how are bridal things going?”

“Pretty smooth. Luna and Nina agreed to go order the sets of flowers and decorations at the boutique right across town,” Ámbar states. “Oh, that’s nice. Luna and Nina were so kind to offer their help. What would we do without them?”

“Yes, I agree. We’re very lucky to have them indeed. Um there is one thing I forgot to tell you. At around 7 p.m I won’t be at home yet, I have a meeting with some other law school students for this project we have going on, so I won’t be home.”

Simón’s smile fades away. “Aww I’ll miss you, but I do wish you good luck on the project. I know you’ll do great on it.” Ámbar smiles from thinking how lucky she is to have a caring, understanding partner by her side. They hug each other and head out of the mansion.

*Gif not made by me. Owner of gif's name is at the bottom right hand corner :) *

Lacey’s Boutique

Luna and Nina wait at the front desk holding a slip of paper that carries a list of things they need to purchase for Ámbar’s wedding. “He said that?” Nina whispers. “Yep, I can’t believe he called me jealous when he was the one who lied and created this whole mess in the first place. When we got back together, we agreed on no secrets and to always communicate. That’s the only way a relationship can go well, just look at Ámbar and Simón?”

“I absolutely agree. I felt awful when Gaston spied on me that day, so I understand what you mean. Luckily everything is fixed now,” Nina cheers. “I’m happy for you Nina, sadly in between Matteo and I is a person who doesn’t stop flirting and hanging out with him. Plus, it’s so obvious too, even Simón thought he was dating Viviana and broke up with me. I can’t believe Matteo doesn’t believe me and instead calls me jealous. After everything we’ve been through.” The cashier heads to the counter and Luna and Nina’s conversation ends. “So, is this the list for everything?” Luna nods in approval. “Okay great, everything will be prepared in time and the delivery will be sent to the place on the date of the card.” Luna picks up the card and puts it away in her tiny backpack.

“Thank you,” she begins to head out before the cashier stops her. “Wait, I have something to give you.” He pulls out another card from his pocket. “Here’s my phone number, maybe we can have a cup of coffee together someday if you’d like?” Luna is speechless and turns to Nina for a choice of words. Nina shrugs and seems to be just as confused as her. “Um... well the thing is I’m in a relationship… well right at this moment I’m not sure…. Honestly I don’t know it’s complicated me and my boyfriend well after what he did, I don’t think he’s still my boyfriend but I don’t know…” Luna stops talking when the cashier extremely perplexed expression shows vividly. “Um… well once you get all that resorted and decide not to be with this… complicated person feel free to give me a call.” He leaves and heads to the back of the store. “Luna, I’m shocked he’s still into you after everything you blurted out. I think you even fried his brain.” Nina and Luna giggle their way out.

Jim and Yam’s Apartment

Ramiro adjusts the collar of his nicely firm long sleeve button up shirt. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers and is trying to collect the right words to say to Yam. He knocks on the door and waits for a response. “I’m coming,” she says. For Ramiro, hearing Yam’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.

She opens the door and is surprised to see Ramiro’s well put together fit. “Before you say anything I want to do this right. Yam, I know our relationship has been like an ongoing rollercoaster, we’ve been through the ups and the downs but the one thing that has always stayed constant is my love for you. After everything that has happened, I always knew I love you and my path ends up meeting yours. Yam would you like to go on a date with me?” Yam covers her mouth in amusement. She’s appalled from the beautiful surprise he’s presented her, and with a speech too. Usually, Ramiro is too cool for all of this but seeing what he has done has proven enough to Yam that he’s committed. “Ramiro of course, I would love to. In fact, I was always thinking what took you so long?” Yam begins to chuckle. “I guess fear from this not working out, but you can’t always live in fear for the rest of your life.”

Yam jumps into Ramiro’s arms and kisses him on the cheek.

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starryse · 3 years

Text

Hot & Cold

13 Days of SVT Christmas- Day 3

Jeonghan x Reader

Fluff, Christmas au, friends?enemies? to lovers au

2.2k

Snow was a given on Christmas, that, anyone knew. It wasn’t odd for inches of snow to cover the ground, and for the sky to be a bright white instead of its normal shades of blue. However, when it comes to Christmas plans, everyone seems to forget about the same snow they had been squealing about days prior.

You weren’t an exception.

Your breath fogged the window in front of you, the dew forming blurring the outside view. Groaning, you dropped your head down, forehead resting on the cold glass.

You didn’t mind staying cooped up inside when the roads were too dangerous to drive on, in fact, you loved it. It was a nice change of pace when you had to stay home; rather than having thousands of plans a day with only 24 hours to do them, your only option was to relax and work around the house. But when your roommate's annoying friend was also going to be snowed in with you, you couldn’t dread it anymore.

“Aww what’s wrong y/n? Hot date get canceled cause of the snow?”

You backed away from the window, a slight red mark left on your forehead. “Actually no, I’m just so excited to be stuck with you,” you scoffed.

Jeonghan’s smug smile grew, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he plopped onto the couch, “ah ditto, beautiful. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you.”

“Please can you stop arguing for just 5 minutes? We’re snowed in for God knows how long, try and get along”

You and Jeonghan turned your heads towards the scruff voice belonging to your friend. His hand rubbed his creased forehead, eyes squinting shut. You sighed, nodding your head as you walked over to the male, “I’ll do my best, just keep your little devil in check and we’ll be fine”

Jeonghan cackled, leaning over the couch, white-sleeve cladded arms resting on the back, “does that mean you’re my angel?”

You groaned as you walked away from the smirking dark haired man on the couch, “Oh my God I’m going to my room”

“Can I join?!”

You flipped off the laughing male, quickly shutting your door right after.

The sun had begun to set, the snow just barely letting up from earlier. The sunset outside shown through the sheer curtains in your room, soft orange hues reflecting onto your walls. You had been in your room for a few hours, most of which were spent groaning and whining about the crazy amount of work you had to complete before next semester (which was in a week). The other good chunk of the time was you lounging on your bed, fingers mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you mentally prepared yourself to be in the presence of Jeonghan for what could be days.

Yours and Jeonghan’s relationship was a complicated one. Simple really to your shared close friends (which happened to be all of your friends), to them it was mere sexual tension, convinced you both had to big of egos to fuck one out. Meanwhile, to outsiders it may seem as if you truly hated one another, that the pure existence of each other was the bane of your lives. But for you, you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t hate Jeonghan, God no. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his remarks from time to time. And maybe you found him incredibly attractive. Also you 100% daydreamed about him more than you’d like to admit.

No. No no. He annoyed you. Constantly antagonizing everything you did, whether it was when you tripped over nothing and landed on a pile of Mingyu’s dogs shit, or when you were rejected by the waiter you had tried flirting with. Jeonghan always had some remark that made your blood boil.

But he was also the same guy who knew how hard you had studied for your exam, only for you to fail it, and proceed to comfort you and order you takeout. And there were all the times where Coups couldn’t come home and Jeonghan offered to stay with you (he knew how much you hated being alone at night.) He’s confusing. But then again you could only guess you were too.

“Hello my angel, dinners readyyy”

Jeonghan stood at your door, his body leaning against the frame. His dark hair casted over his eyebrows, hair parting to reveal his forehead and the small scar above his eyebrow (you may or may not have accidentally did that when you first met).

You rolled over from your previous position facing your window. Sitting up, you stretched your arms as you twisted your back. Jeonghan couldn’t help but shamelessly watch as your shirt clung to your skin as you moved, he was a simple guy. His eyes quickly darted up towards yours when you gazed over at him.

“Sooo why are you still standing there?”

Your question seemed to snap him out of his haze, his mouth stuttering out random words before he flipped you off and “ran” back out the door. That seems to be a common occurrence in the house. You snorted, standing up from your bed to go eat dinner.

“They say that the snow isn’t going to let up anytime soon. Don’t be surprised if we’re snowed in the next 2 days” Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his elbow propped on the arm rest, head in his hand as he flipped through the Netflix shows.

You sat between the boys, feet propped on the coffee table in front of you,“can’t we watch a Christmas movie, Christmas is literally tomorrow?” Your answer was quickly given when Cheol kicked your legs off the table, causing them to fall onto the ground with a thud. You muttered a few curse words under your breath, bringing your legs up to sick criss cross on the couch.

Jeonghan laughed as he watched the two of you banter over something as little as a Christmas movie, though he wasn’t entirely surprised- you were both immensely stubborn.

Waiting for the perfect timing, Jeonghan slyly reached behind your back, grabbing the remote from the crack of the couch between you and Cheol. His eyes darted from the tv to you two as he sneakily flicked on a movie.

The sound of Christmas bells and people talking caught both yours and the pouty man on your lefts attention, your mouths shutting as you turned to the tv screen.

A loud screech erupted from your mouth, your legs quickly bouncing on the floor as you pointed a finger at the pouting man, “YES! In your face, Cheol! Christmas wins again!” Said man slunk down in his seat, half of his body towards the floor as he groaned in annoyance, “Jeonghan really? I thought you were on my side man”

Jeonghan merely laughed, his arm patting Seungcheol’s shoulder, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for Christmas movies,” his eyes drifted over at you, watching as yours lit up in delight as you watched the movie in front of you, “and maybe I like seeing others happy.”

Seungcheol only sighed, knowing fair well why the dark haired boy betrayed him. Oh how he had looked forward to being a third wheel.

It was close to midnight now, the first movie had been done for a few hours as the 3rd one ran. The small living room was lit up by the lights strung on the tree in the corner and the strands along the archway. You may have fallen asleep halfway during the 2nd movie, leaving just Coups as Jeonghan fell asleep in the beginning of the 3rd.

Seungcheol looked over towards your two huddled figures. You were stuck to Jeonghan’s side like glue, his arm drapes around your side, hand pressed against your hip. The blanket previously wrapped around you was now discarded on the floor, the only thing keeping you from freezing was whatever body heat Jeonghan was radiating without a blanket himself. The eldest sighed, muttering an idiots under his breath as he stood up, tossing the blanket over the two of you before switching off the tv and heading to bed.

“MERRRRYY CHRISTMAS!!”

You moaned, leaning your body away from the sound, stuffing your head into the closest thing next to you. The feeling of hair in your mouth caused you to spew, your eyes peeling open as you lifted your head. The view of Jeonghan’s head right next to yours made you gasp, your eyes widening in shock. You glared over at Seungcheol who stood in front of you with a smug grin, similar to the one the sleeping boy always wore, “Seungcheol. What am I doing?”

The boy tilted his head in mock confusion, “well it seems to me you’re sleeping with Jeonghan?” You scrambled up, grabbing the pillow next to you before wacking the manically laughing man as he ran to sit next to the tree. The sudden movement caused said boy to stir, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You halted your movement, turning to look at Jeonghan who was now sitting half awake beside you on the couch.

“Merry Christmas”

You quickly answered back, a slight pink rising to your cheeks at his deeper than normal voice. God bless mornings.

Seungcheol clapped his hands, a grin etching across his face as he leaned his body over to grab one of the presents underneath the tree, “y/nnn, this ones for you!”

You smiled back, standing up from your seat, dropping the blanket on the floor in the process as you walked over to sit next to Cheol. You grabbed the present from him as he waved one of his hands at Jeonghan, the dark haired boy getting the hint as he tiredly walked over next to you. You waited for Seungcheols cue to open it, his head nodding. You greedily tore the wrapping paper off, the scraps falling onto the floor as well as Jeonghan’s legs that were sprawled in front of him. The boy looked at you, eyes squinting, “in a hurry much are we Y/n?”

You ignored his comment, instead gasping at the camera you’ve been wanting that sat in your hands. Your eyes widened, body immediately flinging into Coups’ already open arms, “you’re the bestest best friend ever, thank you Cheol.”

Seungcheol squeezed you one more time before you leaned back onto your knees in front of the tree. You passed one of the presents from you to Seungcheol, placing it in his hands that were held out flat in front of him. For a 25 y/o, he sure was giddy like a child when it came to presents.

The man cackled at the sight of the sushi boxers in front of him, the hidden meaning of the gift a fond memory, “thanks Y/n, I will cherish these beautes forever.” You smiled, patting his head. You sat back next to Jeonghan, waiting for more presents to be passed about.

Seungcheol smirked at the small, light blue wrapped present in the back of the tree, “ah, I almost forgot about this one. Y/n, this last one is yours”

You narrowed your eyes at the smug man, wondering why he was smirking at you because of a gift. Hesitantly grabbing the gift, you began slowly unwrapping it (much much slower compared to the first few presents you had torn open.) As you focused on the present, you didn’t notice the nervous man next to you, his fingers fiddling together as he gnawed on his bruising lip. He watched you through the hair that crowded his sight, cheeks the color of the lights that decorated the tree.

Your heart slowed at the now un-wrapped present, hands gently lifting the silver chain. You glanced up, eyes meeting Seungcheols. He shook his head, pointing a finger towards Jeonghan as he pretended to stretch his arms out. Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth forming a small O. You looked down at the necklace, fingers tracing the jeweled heart as you opened the locket. Your breath hitched at the engraved letters- a J for Jeonghan and your own first initial as well.

Jeonghan jumped at the sudden contact, his heart beating rapidly at the weight of your body against his. Snapping out of the shock, he softly wrapped his arms around you, his hand placed on the back of your neck as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head. He was on fire, maybe not literally, but he sure felt as if he were in flames.

You pulled back, hands gently cupping his cheeks, “why?”

Jeonghan smiled, and not the usual devilish smirk he did- no, this was different. Was it adoration? Happiness? “Because I'm maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure in love with you”

You melted at his words, a light laugh sounding before pressing your lips on his cheek, “Well maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure am I in love with you too”

The man's eyes lit up at that, a large grin spreading across his face. Pulling you back against him, he squeezed your body as he fell against the ground, a loud cheer leaving his mouth. Your laughs filled the air, a sound you were sure your neighbors could hear 2 doors down.

Seunghceol sighed at the sight, though a fond smile was hidden behind that, “let the 3rd wheeling begin.”

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crystalessenceswrites · 3 years

Note

I bet you thought you had seen the last of me. HAHAHAHA *evil laugh* Hey! (sorry for that). I wasn’t home when I sent the first request and I couldn’t see more of your prompts. Now I looked at it all and I have one more, if I may?

Marcus suffered a lot, so the fandom in general likes to set him up in cozy and relationships that he deserves. 40. “I was just thinking… maybe we should move in together.” is such a good one. I am obsessed with the concept of reader being the one to be forward since after everything I believe Marcus would try to hold back a little to not end up hurt again. I am a sucker for reader making it very clear that she loves him and wants all the big stuff. So.... can I request one with s/o asking Marcus to move in? Maybe not even a big thing, just being like “you could just bring your things over, you know. Waking uo to your pretty face everyday would be like a fucking dream” when he asks what she wants for her birthday or something.

Oh, this is too long. Im sorry 😂 but I always jumo on opportunities of more Pike fics. Thank you xoxo

You can have as many Marcus prompts as you want!! This was too cute, Marcus deserves someone who wants him as much as he wants them.

Marcus Pike x gn!reader (there’s one use of the endearment hun because Marcus is a sweetheart)

Warnings: swearing?

Two years ago one slightly scruffy but incredibly charming FBI agent walked into your life and you’ve been on cloud nine ever since. Marcus had swept you off your feet when you met, even despite his hesitance. You understood now why he was cautious and guarded with his feeling, two serious relationships crashing and burning like that would leave anyone jaded. Yet after moving past the initial bumps in the road Marcus was anything but. He was the most attentive, caring and open man you’d ever met, and you found yourself falling more in love with him everyday you spent together. You had known for some time now that Marcus was your one- the one you wanted to wake up to every morning, to come home to every night and to be with through thick and thin. While you had come to that conclusion you had yet to voice it. Every step in your relationship had been careful and slow. A gentle push at each of your boundaries, nothing rushed. There were two coffee dates, a lunch date and one night out for drinks before Marcus had walked you to your door and kissed you for the first time. The depth of your feelings now almost worried you, the last thing you wanted was to push to far and scare Marcus away. Nothing could be rushed. That was okay. You wanted to make Marcus as happy as he made you. You could wait… there were still other steps you two could make before taking the plunge. That still required one of you to ask though.

There had been a few times in the last month you thought Marcus would be open to the idea of moving in together, that he might even ask you first. Something always seemed to stop him, right on the edge of the question. So now you found yourself trying to find the right time to bring it up. To find your courage. It gave you some major appreciation for Marcus and every time he sat down with you to talk about your relationship. He always wanted to be clear on what you both wanted, where you saw things going and how and when you wanted to get there. Communication was key after all. So why was it so hard? He always told you how much he loved you, he would never think less of you for asking, even if he wasn’t ready.

“What’s going on up there?” Marcus’s fingers ghost over your brow, a familiar attempt of his to soothe you. He could always tell when you were wrapped up in your own mind.

“Marcus,” you sigh, sinking further into his embrace, “it’s nothing. Just things…”

“Just things? Not ominous at all,” he chuckles.

“Well when you say it like that!”

His lips ghost down your throat, “so tell me.”

Lolling your head back onto his shoulder you give in, not that its ever been difficult for Marcus to get you talking. “Just everything coming up. Busy next few weeks at the gallery. Lots to think about.”

That was not a complete lie, the gallery you worked for had four exhibitions and fundraisers in the next three weeks. You were bogged down with planning and details. You’d discussed some of it with Marcus before. Even after his long days of chasing down art thieves he still wanted to hear all about you and the gallery.

“Oh hun,” he coos, pressing kissed to the apple of your cheek, “has that been stressing you out?”

“Oh no! I’m on top of everything.” Thank the lord for that. “Just got to thinking, is all.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

Bless Marcus and how much he cared about you. “I’m sure, Marcus.”

“Mhmm,” another series of kissed pressed to your cheek, “have you been thinking about what you want to do after the events are over?”

“What do you mean after?”

Marcus has a full body laugh, the kind that has his whole chest rumbling against your back. “In all your planning have you forgotten what next month is?”

The first thought to cross your mind is your anniversary and guilt washes over you. That was the last thing you wanted to forget… but you hadn’t. Your anniversary was two months ago. You’re not that awful with dates. There’s no holidays coming up that you two have any big plans for. No vacations coming up either.

“Did you forget your own birthday, (Y/N)?”

Oh shit, that was next month wasn’t it.

“You did, didn’t you!” he laughs again.

“Just because I haven’t thought about it doesn’t mean I forgot it,” you pout.

“Oh sure,” he teases nipping at the shell of your ear, “so have you thought about what you want for your birthday?”

Hard no on that front.

You were happy. A good job that you enjoyed, an incredible boyfriend and a tight group of friends. There wasn’t anything you needed. Sitting in Marcus’s arms there was nothing else you could ever want. Except maybe what you’re already all twisted up about.

“Well… there’s one thing…”

“There is?”

He does not hide his excitement well. You can feel his smile against your neck. Like a kid about to learn a big secret. Why did that make this harder?

“Well… I-I was just thinking… maybe we should move in together…”

His arms tense around you and you swear he stops breathing. The panic sets in moments after. You had pushed too far, too fast. He wasn’t ready and you’d been misreading it all. Asking too much of him.

“Or- I mean it doesn’t have to be that… you could just bring some of your things over or I could, you know. I was just thinking waking up to your face every morning would be a gift and we could spend more time together- but if that’s not what you want that’s okay… I don’t want to push-”

Marcus cuts off your rambling with a desperate kiss, pushing you back into the couch. You match his fervor with your own, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Running his tongue along your bottom lip he asks for entrance and you happily allow it, letting him have his way. He leaves you breathless and speechless when he finally pulls away.

“That’d be more of a gift to me than a gift to you,” Marcus grins, “to go to bed and wake up with your everyday would be a fucking dream.”

#request #Marcus Pike x Reader #prompts #the mentalist

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kiras-sunshine · 3 years

Text

Oh, you are the one I want

Written for Carlos Reyes Week day 2: “I’ll always be here for you” + romance

Summary: “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?”

Read on ao3

Carlos leans against the wall of the police station. It’s a sunny day and the sunlight is bright. The wall feels warm against his palm. He squints a little as he looks at his phone and selects TK’s phone number from his contacts list.

The line rings a couple of times before he picks up.

“Hey,” he says as soon as the line connects, and his voice sounds happy.

Carlos closes his eyes. It is ridiculous how much he misses him, even though he saw him yesterday. Still, just hearing his voice makes his heart flutter.

“Hey,” he eventually whispers.

He hears some rustling on the other end of the phone. He knows he is on a shift too, but he hoped it would be a quiet moment and that he would be able to pick up the phone.

“What’s up?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I think--,” he starts but he lets his voice trail off. “I cannot make it today,” he eventually says, and a knot forms in his stomach immediately as he says it.

They had made actual plans because both of them had the evening off. A proper date night with a dinner in a restaurant and he had planned to take TK back to the field where they had watched the aurora borealis to star gaze this time because the forecast promised a clear and bright night sky.

He had been looking forward to it all. An actual date is a bit of rarity for them, not that he wouldn’t cherish any moment he gets to spend with him, but it is still a nice change to their hectic lives.

He wants to see him more than anything, but he is ridiculously tired, and nothing has gone as he hoped during his shift. They have been understaffed during his whole shift, and he has been rushing from call to call, and his stressed co-workers keep snapping at him. Every call he gets send on seems to bring the worst out of people, he has already dealt with drunken people, domestic violence case and an attempted robbery.

On top of that, he had been the first one arriving to the scene of a car crash that was the result of reckless driving and speeding, and the woman driving the car had serious injuries, and she had been taken to the hospital immediately, but he isn’t sure if he believes that she can make it out alive. It has been a while since he has seen that much blood.

He feels hopeless and defeated. He wants to see TK and forget everything about his shift, but he knows he cannot magically turn off his thoughts from work when he gets off shift and it will take even longer to shake off the events of the day, especially the car crash, from his mind and TK deserves better than rushed-down dinner with him shutting down and sulking.

“Okay,” TK says. His voice is quiet, but there are no traces of annoyance in his voice. He hears footsteps from the other end of the call, and he is quite sure he is walking to somewhere more quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says, closing his eyes again.

He feels terrible for cancelling, but he knows, deep down, he cannot just put a brave face on and pretend to him that everything is fine. He would see right through him. It is almost uncanny how well he manages to read him, almost like an open book, and how thoroughly he has managed to learn to know him.

It is a great feeling, being known and seen by someone he loves, and he cherishes the feeling of it, but it also means TK won’t fall for any facades of being alright. He loves him, maybe more than he can ever say, but he knows that his mind would circle just back to the events of the shift. Nothing kills romance faster than talking about gruesome accident scenes, and he knows he cannot avoid talking about it if they have the date as they planned.

A couple of his previous boyfriends always complained that he brings too much work to home and that he keeps constantly talking about his job. He sort of gets how that can be annoying and too much for people but talking it out is his way of dealing with his emotions.

He knows TK would listen to him, without any complaints, if he talked to him, but there is always a certain threshold of sharing the worst parts of his job with him because he understands it too well. He has seen his fair share of horribleness of life in his own job, and it feels almost unfair to dump the ugliest parts of his job on him, too.

“Don’t be,” he says, softly and reassuringly. “Are you okay?”

His voice is coloured by genuine concern and he knows that he is already caught on that something is bothering him.

“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his hand along his face, “just a rough shift and I need to do overtime.”

It’s not a lie, he convinces himself. It’s a simplified, cut-down version of the reality and thanks to the busy shift, the paperwork pile is a lot longer than he would like.

“You can tell me if you aren’t,” he says, simply.

It still makes his heart feel a thousand times heavier in his chest. He wants to see him, he wants to hug him, and he wants to pour all of the messy and unattractive feelings out of him, but he cannot do that in the middle of his own, or his, shift.

“I’m fine. Just—exhausted and people are being idiotic,” he tells him with an attempted laughter, but it ends up sounding hollow and joyless.

He is tempted to ask him to come over once his shift is over, but it feels a just a bit selfish to cancel all of their plans and still ask him to come over just because he needs him.

“Isn’t that how it usually is?”

His voice is lighter and even though he cannot see him, video chat would have given all of his secrets away immediately, he still knows he is probably sporting a tiny half-smile that tugs in the right corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “and I will make this up to you.”

TK deserves the world, and he wants to make him happy, but as he leans against the wall, he knows that not burdening him with his issues in the middle of the workday or immediately afterwards, might be the best way to do it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies, without missing a beat.

He exhales audibly as he watches people walking in and out of the main doors. He knows he should get back to work.

“I should go,” he says, reluctantly. Merely hearing his voice helps a bit, but he knows he cannot dwell on his thoughts too long if he wants to make through rest of his shift.

“Okay,” he whispers and pauses for a moment. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His voice is still quiet and gentle, but there is such certainty in it that it almost makes it sound powerful and it still sends the same thrill of happiness and warmth through his heart as it did the first time he heard he say it.

He squeezes his phone a little tighter. “I love you, too,” he says, unwilling to let the moment pass, but he still disconnects the call after a couple of seconds.

*****

Coming back to the dark and empty apartment hasn’t felt this much of a sucker punch into the gut for ages, but he knows it’s his own fault.

He throws the keys to the bowl he keeps on the table next to the door and crashes on the couch. He realises there is something underneath his back and he wiggles to pull it away from there. It feels like fabric and he realises that he holds one of TK’s black and plain AFD t-shirts in his hand, and he contemplates calling him, but he doesn’t know what he would say.

Instead, he keeps staring at the ceiling. He definitely loses track of time and he groans when he hears a knock on his door. He is almost tempted not to open the door because the only person he currently wants to see has a key and almost all of his neighbours know he is a cop and they always come to his door if they spot any sort of unrest anywhere near their building.

Still, he gets up and opens to door, and to his surprise, it’s not any of his neighbours, but his boyfriend.

TK is smiling, affectionately, and he is holding two pizza boxes on his left hand. His hair is sticking up a bit, and it looks like he has showered and dried his hair in a rush and instead of his normal short-sleeved button up and jeans, he is wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey, I thought we cancelled,” he replies, not very eloquently, but his mind refuses to cooperate because he wanted to see him, but he also didn’t expect to see him, and it feels slightly unreal to see him standing there.

“We did,” he says, and points him with his index finger, “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?”

Carlos opens his mouth but closes it again, because he is not sure of the answer. He should have known. TK has a big heart, and he is one of the most caring people he has met, and he knows that he loves him, so he should have been able to count one plus one together.

Maybe he had subconsciously been aware of the possibility of this when he called him. Wanting to let him know that he isn’t alright without outright saying it aloud.

“I should have guessed,” he admits, biting down a smile.

“Damn right you should have,” he agrees, and his smile is warm and reassuring, and it reaches his eyes, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

He hands the pizza boxes to him. The boxes still feel warm and the smell is amazing. He still lets out a surprised laugh when he sees the logo on the top of the box.

“You hate that place,” he points out.

He has never met anyone who would have more opinions about what proper pizza is than TK, and he has listened to his rants about superiority of New York’s pizza and the awfulness of the small place he prefers countless times. He would have thought that TK refuses to go anywhere near that place because had been so appalled by the pizza they once ordered.

He rolls his eyes, but he seems amused. “Yeah, but you love it. There’s enough for two, but if you want to be alone, I will go.”

He just stares at him for a moment. It means a lot to him that he tries to give him space and respect his boundaries by not storming into the apartment with his key, but right now, he feels like space is the absolute last thing he needs.

He reaches to place the pizza boxes on the living room coffee table. He returns to the door and curls his fingers around his wrist and pulls him into a tight hug and closes the door behind him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

TK chuckles a little, but he wraps his arms around him too and keeps stroking the space between his shoulder blades with his hand. He just hugs him a little tighter and burrows his face into his neck and the fabric of his hoodie.

He breathes in his scent, and he smells faintly of fruity soap and his hair smells a bit like coconuts. It’s such a familiar scent that he almost feels like he has just arrived at home.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, still against his hoodie, “I might not be the best company right now, though.”

“Hey, none of that,” he insists, determinedly. He holds him a little tighter. “I already know something is bothering you, and that’s why I’m here. I’m all in. I want to be around it all, the bad days and everything. I want you.”

He is half-convinced his stomach somersaults at his words and his eyes are stinging. He is almost speechless, and he just presses a kiss against his neck.

“I want to share it all with you,” he eventually whispers and reluctantly pulls away from their hug. “I just thought it would be easier for you if I didn’t burden you with it.”

He holds his gaze, and his eyes are gleaming. “Yeah, because I always like to take the easy way out,” he deadpans.

A short laughter escapes his throat, despite everything. It’s public knowledge that TK is a walking trouble magnet, no matter what he does. He attracts trouble and he is stubborn and determined. He loves a challenge and when he decides to do something, there is no stopping him. Opting to take the easy choice doesn’t really suit him.

“You don’t have to compartmentalize your feelings,” he points out, matter-of-factly, but there is still kindness in his voice as he picks up the pizza boxes and carries them to the kitchen.

“I never not wanted to see you,” he says, leaning against the kitchen island as TK takes out plates and cuts pizzas into slices.

It feels important that he knows he didn’t try to push him away, he wanted to protect him, shield him. “I had a crappy day, and I didn’t feel like I was up for any of our plans and pretend that nothing had happened,” he adds, staring at the plates, “and I felt guilty for cancelling, but I would have absolutely ruined the date.”

TK places the pizza cutter down. He gestures between them. “If the roles were reversed, would you have understood?”

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, and the ridiculousness of his own thoughts is starting to dawn on him.

“Yeah, so I get it. We are first responders, there is no way of predicting what we will see and experience on calls. There is no guarantees that we even make home after a shift is done. It’s no wonder if we don’t always feel like following our plans and pretend to be a couple who don’t have to face death and destruction every day.”

He lets out a deep breath. He walks up to him and loosely wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “You’re right,” he says with a huff, “I knew you’d understand, it’s just—I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be,” he says, in a tone that is the softest he has ever hear him use, “for someone who reads people as their job, you’re really atrocious at predicting how will I react,” he jokes, but leans into the touch.

“Seems so,” he hums.

It has nothing to do with lack of faith in him, and everything to do with how he has been treated in the past and what he has deemed himself to be worth of.

“It’s a small wonder this doesn’t happen more often,” he muses, as Carlos lets his hand fall away and he sits near him on the kitchen chair. “We should come up with a codeword,” he declares, with a beaming grin, as he sits down, too.

“For cancelling plans?” He asks, as he takes a bite out of his slice of pizza.

“Yes. Just one word that would mean that either one of us has had a horrible day at work, automatically cancelling all potential plans and letting the other know that we might feel less than okay,” he explains, giving him a pointed look, “and no question asked.”

He knows that they can communicate, and that they have gotten better at talking to each other lately, and somehow more often than not they are on the same wavelength and just understand where the other is coming from, but his idea makes sense.

“That’s actually pretty good idea.”

He loves his job and TK loves his, and he knows neither one of them wouldn’t change them for the world, but their jobs can be exhausting, they drain every last drop of energy and it takes a lot to do it everyday basis.

“What should be the word?” He asks, his mouth half-full of pizza.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking around himself, “it could be anything. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else,” he continues, and his gaze lands on the notepad that lies on the kitchen island next to the pizza boxes.

It has his, or more accurately, their grocery shopping list. He skims it through and looks up to him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Broccoli?”

“Broccoli?” He echoes, but he ends up nodding. “Works for me.”

“Broccoli it is then,” he declares and picks up a slice of pizza. He glances at it suspiciously before taking a bite out of it. “If you ever need a proof how much I love you, this is it,” he grumbles, pointing at the pizza in his hand.

“Warms my heart, truly,” he says, with a thin smile, and strokes his calf with his foot.

They eat in silence for a moment until TK speaks again. His whole expression softens as he looks at him, but his eyes are grave. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out and examines his own hand. He runs his thumb over his right palm. “We were understaffed, everyone was grumpy, and it was a busy day. A call after a call, and majority of them were the sort of scenes that could have been avoided if everyone just stopped and considered how their actions affect other people.”

TK keeps his eyes on him, and he keeps nodding as he listens to his rambling. “The worst part was this car accident. Another patrol car had been chasing them ‘cause they were endangering the traffic with reckless driving. She ended up crashing her car against bridge railing.”

He sighs, half out of frustration and half because he can still see the scene in his mind in such a vivid detail. “I was the first one to arrive and it was—bad. The ambulance was a couple minutes out and there wasn’t much I could do, but I tried to help and talk to her.”

TK slides his hand along the kitchen island and takes his hand into his own. He holds it gently, just letting Carlos’ hand rest on his palm and he has his fingers loosely wrapped around it. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant and compassionate.

“The ambulance arrived pretty fast, but I felt so helpless and there was so much blood,” he lets his voice trail off as he swallows. “They took her to hospital, and I hope she makes it, but I don’t know. It had been a bad day, but that was the last straw.”

He looks at their joined hands. “I’ve washed my hands so many times, but I feel like I still have her blood on my hands,” he admits in a brittle voice, even though it feels a bit ridiculous as he says it aloud.

TK says nothing of the sort, instead he reaches to kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. Sometimes there are cases that are difficult to leave at work, he knows this, but it never gets easier. It is still feels difficult to shake them off.

“For me, it sounds like you did your best,” TK adds, softly. “And I know you know it, but it’s not your fault. Any of it.”

“Yeah.”

Deep down, he knows it. It’s only logical that he cannot have control over other people’s actions, but it still feels different to hear it from someone else.

“And it’s okay not to feel okay immediately afterwards. It would be a lot more worrisome if you were not affected by your job,” he adds, just as gently as before.

He supposes he has a point. He smiles at him, hoping that even a fraction of the gratefulness and affection he is feeling gets across. “Thank you for being here.”

He reaches to kiss his cheek. He can feel his slight stubble against his cheek as he does so. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Always is an awfully long time, but it fills his heart with happiness to know that they are casually throwing words like that around, that they truly are in it for the long haul.

“Me too, for you.”

TK laughs. “I know, babe. You’ve proved that so many times already,” he strokes the back of his hand. They both glance the slices of uneaten pizza, but he at least has lost any appetite he previously had. “What do you want to do?”

“Sleep,” he replies without any hesitation. His exhaustion is still there, and he feels calmer now, more grounded and that is only intensifying his fatigue. “Or attempt at least.”

It might be that the memories of the crash scene might haunt him or that he feels eventually too restless to lay in bed, but he wants to try at least. And he always sleeps better when TK is there with him.

His smile is warm and bright, like the first beams of a rising sun. “We can do that.”

#carlosreyesweek2021 #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #look i managed to write another one #this was actually pretty fun to write and I hope you like it too

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yukippe · 3 years

Text

wonder what she thinks of me

for @yuekiweek day 3: reunions | word count: 2.3k | read on ao3

“you need to buy your books suki!!” sokka lectures through the phone. last year suki didn’t buy the books for any of her classes and she was fine. she isn’t actually planning on buying books this year either, except now sokka’s roped her into coming to his book club and she can’t lie and say she doesn’t like to watch sokka rant about something dumb while enjoying the baked goods that sokka will have convinced his gran gran and his parents to make for them.

unfortunatley, this means suki has to brave the bookstore during some fancy author signing to try to buy the book sokka’s demanded everyone read for next week. he’s still talking through the phone, though suki’s mostly tuned him out. she’s normally much better at listening to sokka’s rants, but the bookstore is packed with awkward high school students and suki would rather not, at the moment. she slips around a table of overpriced waterbottles and planners and weaves past a random grandpiano over to one of the computers with the bookstore directory. “sokka,” suki asks as she almost trips over a four year old holding a picture book. “why did you have to send me to this bookstore at this time?”

there’s a huff on the other end of the line and suki sighs deeply, “suki, please you should be thankful! they’re running a special discount if you buy a tote bag to go with the book this weekend!!” well. okay, maybe suki collects tote bags and sokka is probably being a good friend. but suki hasn’t been to this store before, having not bothered with buying her textbooks last year and getting anything for fun as an ebook. but sokka believes in the experience of a physical copy or whatever, so tote bags and author signings it is.

suki puts her phone between her shoulder and ear as she sets her fingers onto the keyboard of the computer directory, “hey, what’s the name of the book again?”

“have you listened to anything i’ve ever said to you?” sokka asks her. suki can picture him in their apartment at his desk, doing something fancy with math as he coaches her through a bookstore, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. suki doesn’t actually need him to tell her the name of the book, she just likes to rile him up sometimes. she types in the title. suki thanks him for his help, asks him if hes found his glasses yet (the same glasses she hid before she left) and hangs up with a smirk.

adaptation by malinda lo. there, young adult section. it’s supposedly sci fi thriller and sokka, though he lacks taste in most things, has always had solid book taste. suki looks around for the sign to section she needs and spots it, tucked behind a tech display and next to the little cafe. suki walks over, eager to grab her book and get out of the shop. she walks through the shelves searching for the author’s with the last name l. malinda lo. there, suki reaches out to pluck the book of the shelf, when the back of her hand brushes against someone else.

suki steps back, book in hand, to look at the girl next to her. she has brown hair in a pretty updo and really cute heart shaped beaded earrings. she looks familiar, but suki isn’t sure where she recognizes her from.

“hi,” the other girl says, her voice sounds like a princess. all bells and whistling wind.

“uh,” suki coughs, smiling crookedly and titling her head. “hi!”

the other girl giggles at her, but her smile is warm and suki finds herself settling. “i’m yue - so adaptation? what made you interested in it?”

“oh, my friend is hosting a book club and this is this months pick,” suki tells her. maybe she should have done a little more research on the book before she’d shown up. she hadn’t really pictured a bookstore as the spot to meet a cute girl.

“oh!” yue says, surprised. “i have the same one assigned for my book club. do you want to grab something to drink and let me tell you about it?”

“sure,” suki says, her smile growing even wider. “that sounds great”

yue winks at her as she grabs the same book of the shelf, “perfect, there’s this bubble tea place a block a way i want to show you.” yue turns on her heel, her hair falling onto her back as yue bounces in her steps. suki checks to make sure her flannel is neat and her docs are tied before hurrying after yue.

the two of them wait in line one behind the other at the register and yue flips through the display before the register of pins and pens and bookmarks. a rainbow lion turtle eraser set catches suki’s eye and she lifts it up to her face to look at it closer. it’s the type of thing aang would like, so suki puts it on top of her book when she gets to the register. after she picks out the simplest canvas tote bad (most of them have obnoxious book puns katara would make fun of her for months about) and pays, suki finds yue waiting by the door peeling a sticker off of a sticker sheet suki remembers seeing on the display.

“so,’ yue asks. “where do you want your sticker?”

suki blinks, “what?”

yue waves the - oh it’s a hello kitty sticker with fairy wings. suki blinks at it, “um. cute?” she gets a smile for her efforts and then yue leans in and grabs her wrist, turning suki’s hand around and carefully placing the sticker onto the back of suki’s right hand.

“so,” yue says, after failing once more to steal a drink of suki’s boba. her mouth is screwed up in a light pout, but it feels teasing. “do you go to ba sing se u?”

only a little while later, they are wandering to nowhere in particular, still holding hands. yue keeps trying to steal a sip of suki’s drink even though when suki ordered yue had made a face at the idea of coffee boba. yue’s own drink is sweet like her. strawberry, reportedly to match yue’s nails which are done up in a neat mimic of the fruit.

suki nods, squeezing yue’s hand and lifting her drink over her head, too high up for yue to reach, though that doesn’t stop yue from playfully batting at it. neither of them caring about what passerby might think as they wobble on the sidewalk smiling at each other full of silliness. “yeah, i’m majoring in gender and women's studies with a minor in literature and art.”

yue lights up, the way she’s done every time suki’s shared a fact with her. suki’s face feels flushed, yue makes her feel like she’s on her first date ever. “oh wow!” yue says. “i’m majoring in four nations politics with a minor in theology and spiritual studies but i would love to see what your classes must be like. i think i could be a student forever, you know?”

and then yue doesn’t let go of suki’s wrist. instead, she links their fingers together and suki watches their hands held together hang between them. she looks up and smiles at yue, stupidly happy for a moment. and really, suki doesn’t even know for sure if yue is into girls even if yue does seem to be flagging. for now, suki just lets yue tug her down the street as her phone buzzes in her new tote bag with texts from sokka she’ll ignore for now.

“hm, not really, i think one degree is enough for me. but academics are cute,” suki says, watching as yue swings their hands back and forth as they walk. they’re both absolutely terrible at walking together, suki’s noticed. they can’t seem to walk in a straight line and suki’s almost fallen off the sidewalk twice already. it’s nice. suki’s finding that yue makes her comfortable everywhere.

“oh?” yue asks, her eyes twinkling. “does that mean you think i’m cute, suki?”

“hmmm,” suki teases out, a trace of laughter in her voice as yue finally manages to dart forward to steal her drink, finally realizing her success would be increased if she let go of suki’s hand. suki doesn’t even mind that much, wow. “well,” suki settles, after a moment of false consideration. “yeah, i think you’re pretty cute.”

yue winks at her, the same way she did in the bookstore, and takes a sip of suki’s bubble tea. then she makes a completely disgusted expression shoving suki’s drink back at her. “suki! that’s so gross, tui and la, how do you drink that?”

suki can’t help the laugh that spills out of her as yue sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes, making a fuss that shouldn’t be as sweet as it is. well, suki’s always been a sucker for clowns. suki reaches out and links their hands back together and they both sip at their drink as they seem to stop together at the bus.

they make shy eye contact as a bus comes up to the stop. “so,” yue says. “i’ve got to go, i’m meeting up with a friend. but this was really fun, right?”

suki smiles, “yeah, it was really fun.”

“that’s great! i really liked talking with you!” yue informs her. then, yue leans forward and kisses suki’s cheek before turning around, and her earrings sparkle in the sunlight as she jumps onto the bus right before the bus doors close and it pulls away with the rest of the flow of traffic. suki blinks and watches it go, still feeling the soft touch of yue’s lips on her cheek.

when suki pulls her phone out of her bag to video call sokka he immediately points out the lipstick mark on her cheek and she resolves not to give him any details, no matter how much he pesters her

two weeks later, after bemoaning to ty lee about how she was dumb and completley forgot to ask the cute girl she met at the book store for her number, she sees yue again. at sokka’s book club.

the members of the secret book club hadn’t been a surprise for the most part, consisting of sokka (obviously), aang (one of sokka’s only friends who wasn’t a gay girl), azula, mai, ty lee and suki (the gay girls sokka was friends with). sokka’s parents, hakoda, kya and bato, had baked with sokka all last night and prepared a whole table full of snacks that sokka had made her haul over to their apartment. suki thinks it’s a ridiculous amount of food for their handful of friends, and then she and sokka ate a good section of it before their friends even show up.

mai, sokka and azula are arguing over the finer points of the book already even though the meeting has yet to officially start. sokka and azula, to be fair, have actual opinions that they are fiercly defending from their spots on the floor as mai causes problems on purpose on the couch she and ty lee stole as soon as they stepped through the front door.

there was only one person that had yet to arrive, and apparently only aang had met her before. azula had raised an eyebrow at the pronoun and asked sokka if he’d made friends with another gay girl. the answer had been yes, and suki who was looking for another chance at talking to a cute gay girl after flopping earlier in the month and failing at getting yue’s number or social media or anything, was looking forward to meeting the newest cute gay girl sokka was friends with.

sokka had impeccable taste in cute gay girls (besides azula). so really, maybe suki shouldn’t have been so surprised to answer the door when the bell rang to find yue holding a tray of pastries.

yue stands out in the hallway with its broken light, looking as pretty as the moon in the sky. her face breaks into a smile at the sight of suki, and suki’s sure her expression matches. “suki?!” yue asks. “wow, small world huh?”

suki nods back, her cheeks starting to hurt with how big she was beaming. “so,” suki says. “do you think i could make up for last week and get your number?”

laughter comes from behind suki, and suki knows her friends are probably making fun of them right now, but she’s too interested in yue’s answer to pay any attention.

yue rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t stop smiling, “of course suki, now do you want to help me bring these in so i can program it into your phone? no excuses not to call me this time.”

“don’t worry,” suki says as she takes the sweets from yue. “i’ll be sure to blow your phone up more than sokka when he’s trying to prove a point.”

she’s rewarded with another kiss to her cheek (and teasing from her friends at another lipstick stain) and yue’s number in her phone saved as yue🌙💖😘.

yue, through suki’s phone, texts something to herself and suki leans over yue’s shoulder to see what it is.

omg yue you’re so hot please go out with me <3

suki bumps yue’s shoulder as best as she can with her hands full and raises an eyebrow. “so, yue?” suki asks. “will you go out with me?”

yue giggles, her lipgloss sparkles and suki wonders what it tastes like, “of course, suki.”

a few seconds later, suki has her question answered and can confidently report that yue’s lipgloss tastes like mango.

suki passes the tray off to sokka, who was helpfully waiting right behind her with the tried familiar expression of accidentally setting up his exes. then, suki tugs yue into the loveseat, kicking out aang who had been sprawled across it.

book club is much more fun than suki was expecting, though almost all things are improved, suki finds, when she’s hanging out with her friends and eating sweets and practically sitting in the girl she likes lap while yue braids her hair and teases sokka with her. yue winks at her as aang and ty lee stop azula and sokka from getting into a fistfight with mai and sticks another hello kitty sticker onto her cheek. suki leans over and kisses the same spot on yue. fair is fair after all.

#atla #yueki #yue #suki #yuekiweek #r.txt #rey's writering #i love how i post before im finished bc im impatient and then i edit for days/j ;_; /

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nanasarea · 4 years

Text

Sucker I xii

Prompt: Y/N attends a school for the supernatural, specifically: werewolves, witches and vampires. The school might be magic, but so is love, right? Right?

Genre: angst, fluff, slight smut

Pairing: reader x 00 line

Inspired heavily by: Legacies (and The Vampire Diaries&The Originals)

main m.list / sucker m.list / i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv

minsoo and jaemin vibin while everyone else is angsty (me giving them some stress free chapters before bringing the angst on them i mean what)

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Jaemin smiled at you as you walked back to your dorm after dinner.

“I wasn’t gone that long.” You teased as he laughed.

“Look, I’m sorry about being awkward, it’s just that things are really confusing right now and I don’t really know how to react to all of it, you know with the witch stuff and Renjun going missing and everything.” You said, seriously as you sat down on your bed.

“Hey, no need to apologize.” Jaemin said as he sat down next to you. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.” He said as he leaned closer to you and playing his hand on your thigh.

“Let me show you how glad I am you’re back.” He plead as you leaned forward to kiss him. His hand immediately went to your cheek as the other stayed on your thigh. You removed the hand from your thigh and slowly made your way onto his lap.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you like this.” he said as you smiled before attacking his lips again.

“Let me lead, for tonight at least.” he moaned into the kiss and you pulled away and looked into his eyes before nodding.

He smiled and told you to lay down. Before you could even process anything, he was on top of you, kissing you again as your hands made their way to his hair.

Just as he was about to take his shirt off, Jisoo walked in and immediately covered her eyes as she saw what was going on.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was planning on staying at Hana’s anyway, I just came for my-” “Jisoo, we’re both dressed, it’s okay.” jaemin reassured as she sighed and quickly took her toiletry bag and left after yelling “have fun!” and winking.

“Did that ruin the mood?” You asked, holding back your laugh.

“Kinda.” he laughed and gave you a quick kiss before saying “Now, where were we?”, causing you to smile and pull him down again to kiss him.

Meanwhile

You straddled him with a smirk on his face and started kissing him again. You ran your fingers through his hair as his hands trailed your body before resting on your ass, making you giggle into the kiss, which made him smirk before you pullled away, both of you breathless.

“What about Jaemin?” You asked. Haechan didn’t mean to keep replaying the memory of his dreams over and over, but he couldn’t stop.

If only he found a spell, which didn’t include dark magic. It was like wherever he looked, dark magic followed, like it was stalking him.

Meanwhile

“Jisung, I’m fine.” Jeno sighed “Hyung?” The younger one asked.

“Yes?” Jeno asked back, as he hit the punching bag again, making it explode.

“I told you. I have been a wolf longer than you, you know?” Jisung explained and pointed at the now destroyed bag.

“Whatever. Look, I’m fine. If she wants to be with Jaemin and if he makes her happy, then I have no business in any of that.” Jeno answered.

“Now, if you excuse me, I have to go scream into the void, as this bag is now dead.” Jeno fake smiled before leaving the gym.

“I know he’s losing it, but he’s insane if he thinks I’ll be the one cleaning that up.” Jisung said to himself, looking at the bag.

Time jump

“Hey, Ren?” You asked “Yeah?” Renjun asked, sitting alone at the table in the library.

“Can, can you help me find out who the man is?” You asked, sitting down next to him. You looked at him with hope in your eyes.

He tried to avoid eye-contact. You were with Jaemin and he knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, especially not now, but it was so hard.

You spent so much time together, not as much as before, because of Jaemin, but now, when you spent time together, he would always try his best not to think of you in that way. To think of you like a friend.

“Anything for you, y/n.” He smiled as your face light up “Thank you!” You said, kissing his cheek before taking out your notebook.

He tried not to think much of it, he was searching the identity of the man already and he was searching about the prophesy as well and why you fit into his plan. Humanity is key, but you were a witch.

Maybe it was about the humanity switch, but only vampires had that. Besides, if you did turn into one, you would lose your witch abilities, so the thought of you being “the one with the power of three”, which he deciphered was a tribrid, wasn’t possible.

You weren’t a werewolf either so you couldn’t be the one. Maybe you were the savior? But were the savior and the one the same person? Was the one in the first part the same as in the last? He didn’t know.

“What’s that?” You asked as you noticed the text. ““The one with the power of three, humanity is key to stop the killing spree, listen to the swan or all will be gone, the savior will be the one.” You read out loud before looking at Renjun.

“It’s....” Renjun had to decide. Tell you about the prophesy and possibly put you in more danger or lie and protect you.

As Hana and Jisoo cuddled on one of the chairs, Minsoo and Jaemin looked out the window of the tree house and argued over which one has the best skin.

“Feel it, baby skin.” Minsoo said stretching his own face, “No, you feel this, this is baby skin.” Jaemin protested and did the same. Both of them sighed and pinched the other’s cheeks as Hana and Jisoo laughed.

They turned around to them as Jaemin asked “What?”

“Oh, y/n would be so jealous if she saw you right now.” Hana laughed.

a/n: which do you think Renjun will do? I’m curious abt what u guys think. As you can tell, Jaemin and y/n are currently dating, but that doesn’t mean that they will be endgame, they may be, they may not be, stay tuned to find out because norenhyuck are still whipped for y/n....

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (9)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 3037

Warnings: Swearing probably knowing me

Author Note: Lots of Peter, not as much Tony. Enjoy.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Something had gone wrong. You’re not sure what because no one will give you an answer, but your dad got back three days ago from Germany and has been at the Compound for all of it, at least that’s what you’ve been told. Someone got hurt, badly, but besides that you don’t know who got hurt or what happened. You were stuck with Happy’s substitute for the past two days and it was awful because he didn’t talk to you like Happy does, but even with Happy back this morning, you haven’t gotten any answers. Pepper has been with you for the nights, but she doesn’t seem to have answers about what’s going on, or if she does, she’s not giving them to you.

Natasha’s phone goes straight to voicemail whenever you try to get a hold of her. You even tried calling Clint, Wanda, and Steve, but none of them will take your calls either. You haven’t heard a word from your dad in the past three days, which almost makes his apology the other day feel like nothing. In the passing period between your last class and your final one for the day, you see if FRIDAY can work on your phone since she does at the tower. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes Y/N?” This is the one time you won’t be mad at your dad for forcing the AI into your tech.

“Where’s my dad right now?”

“He just left the Compound on a chopper. Want me to call him for you?” You should say no, but it’s been three days with no contact and you're sick of it.

“Yes.” It rings once before the call connects.

“It’s not a good time Y/N.”

“You know how often you answer the phone like that? Too often.” Your voice is short, but you don’t have much time before the bell rings anyway. “It’d be nice for you to answer the phone like you like talking to me sometimes.”

“Aren’t you in class right now?” His voice comes out short and he doesn’t even address what you said.

“Passing period.”

“Meaning you should be heading to class.”

“I can talk and walk at the same time. I’m trying to figure out where my father is since he was supposed to be home three days ago.”

“Things came up.”

“They always seem to.”

“Y/N, I know I’m being shitty again, but if this was a big time movie we would be at a big reveal right now.”

“Yeah, but we’re not. Instead, I just am getting let down again.” You hit the end call before he can say anything else and turn the corner. Maybe missing a day of German wouldn’t be the worst. However, you don’t expect to run into Peter Parker at the end of the hallway again.

“Fancy running into you again.” He says with a smirk.

“Yeah it’s crazy. Like we go to school together or something.” You mumble, not in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

“You ok, Y/N?” You finally look at his face and notice a bruise across his face.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You look like you got sucker punched.”

He shrugs, “It was no big deal. You should have seen the other guy.”

“My dad’s not a huge fan of his interns getting into fights, so I’d be careful about it if I were you.” You mention.

“Yeah, I will.” He looks you over as the bell rings giving you the warning that classes are about to start. “Where you heading to?”

“I’m thinking classes aren’t going to hold my attention today. Really long story. I’ll see you around Parker.”

“Can I come with?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I come with you? I don’t think classes will hold my attention either.” He says with a shrug.

“Sure. I don’t have a plan though.”

“That’s the best kind of day.” Peter looks around the corner for teachers before opening the side door for you to walk out. You almost expect him to stay behind, but he follows, closing the door softly as to not alert anyone who might walk by.

“So I never would have thought Peter Parker to be a skipper.”

“Never thought Y/N Stark to be a skipper.”

“Only when the time is right.” He goes to walk out onto the street and you grab his shoulder pulling him back towards the school. “Hold on.” You glance around the corner, looking to see if the paparazzi are waiting. The last thing you need is for your dad to find out you skipped school, with Peter nonetheless, through the gossip blogs. But seeing as it’s over an hour before school lets out, none of the usual suspects are there. “Ok, we’re in the clear.” You motion him forward.

“In the clear from what?”

“Paparazzi.” You say with a shrug.

“They stalk you at school?”

“You haven’t seen them? They’re there before and after school like every day hoping to see Pepper or Dad dropping me off or picking me up. But especially since Dad accidentally leaked my name online, it’s been a bit worse.”

“I guess I haven’t paid that much attention. Is that rough?”

“It was at first. Now I just kind of ignore it as much as possible.” You turn the corner towards the coffee shop where you used to grab coffee before all of the Tony stuff happened. “Coffee?”

“Uh, I don’t usually drink it, but I’ll come with you.” You both walk into the mom and pop shop and you wave to Marcie who seems so happy to see you.

“Oh I should text Happy.”

“He’s an interesting person.”

“You’ve met him?” You’re surprised since most of the time Happy shuttling you to and from school.

“He came with your dad when I got offered the uh internship.”

“Oh I guess that makes sense.” You say even though it doesn’t. Happy was with you the day that your dad said he spoke with Peter.

“Does Happy drive you to school often?”

“Every day basically. And picks me up. But if I don’t text him now, he’ll be waiting for me the moment school is done and I don’t feel like being cooped up in the tower so soon.” You pull out your phone and send a text about a study group meeting at school. “That will give me at least a couple hours before I have to meet him.” You mention as you shove your phone in your pocket. “Are you interning today?”

“Uh sort of?”

“I figure not with Dad since he’s off on Avengers duty.”

“Yeah uh, I’m waiting to hear with who.” Peter says as he crosses his arms across his chest. He knows he needs to change the subject or he might blow his cover story and then he won’t even get to pretend he’s an Avenger. “Can I ask, why cooped up in the tower? I feel like the Avengers Tower would be amazing.”

“Maybe it would be if I had a choice in all of it. But I also have like zero freedom. It’s literally, get driven to school, get driven home, and school in between. I can’t leave the tower unless I have Happy and another adult with me because of ‘safety’ reasons. And I just want some of my freedom back.”

“That does sound rough. If you weren’t living the life of Y/N Stark, what would you be doing on a day like today?”

“I’d…” You pause to think about it. What would you be doing? “I’d probably have a sleepover with Betty and Astrid. Watch movies and stay up way too late. Talk about things that have little meaning like trying to get a date to homecoming or the hot guy in our English class. I don’t know. Just be normal. Not have to worry about the Avengers getting in trouble or whether or not my dad is going to find out about me skipping school thanks to the paparazzi taking pictures of me.”

“The normal?” Marcie asks as you get to the counter and you nod, feeling a little bit of normalcy fall into your life. You give her a ten dollar bill and drop the change in the tip jar. It wasn’t like Tony wasn’t giving you an allowance now, as much as it was weird every time he gave it to you.

“What about you? When you’re not interning, what’s the normal life of Peter Parker like?”

“Uh, Ned and I build a lot of legos.” He admits as a pink flush rises to his cheeks.

“Those like plastic building blocks?”

“Yeah, they have some really cool builds and stuff. We’re working on a Lego Death Star right now.”

“Lego Death Star? What’s that?” Peter’s jaw hits the floor.

“You don’t know what the Death Star is?” Peter pulls out his phone and pulls up a picture. Not a Stark Phone you note. “This is the Death Star.”

“Cool?” You shrug as Marcie puts your sugar free hazelnut latte with almond milk on the end of the counter.

“Have you never watched Star Wars?” Peter asks, confusion lacing his words. You shake your head. “How have you lived without seeing Star Wars? It’s literally the greatest thing ever.”

“I bet I could find at least five space themed books that are better.” You tease, knowing how uptight Star Wars fans are about their genre usually.

“Ah a reader.” You walk over to but a couple equals into your coffee. “I should have known.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tease back.

“You’re missing out on some of the best films ever made because you think the books are better. Well I’ll just have to find you some Star Wars books.”

“Fine but no Star Wars fanfiction. I’m not stooping to that level.”

“Like you would understand it.” Peter teases back. Your phone goes off in your back pocket.

H: What study group is happening on a Friday afternoon?

“Quick what study group would be happening on a Friday afternoon?”

“SAT prep group.” Peter throws out.

“You’re a genius!” You quickly type back to Happy as Peter can’t help but smile at the compliment that you gave him. He likes being out with Y/N. You’re different from the brief times he spent with Mr. Stark or Happy. You’re more relaxed. More down to earth, and he would be lying if he didn’t want to get to know you better. In the back of his head, Mr Stark’s don’t even think about dating my daughter reverberates, but he can shove it aside as he lets you ramble for a few minutes about some great space books and even about the time your Pops took you to see a space documentary at the planetarium when you were a kid. But then your phone goes off again and you can’t help but groan.

P: Since when did you join an SAT prep group?

“I can’t lie to Pepper too.”

“Pepper Potts? Like CEO of Star-” Your hand flies over his mouth.

“More like my dad’s girlfriend.” Even though you’re sitting outside the coffee shop, you don’t know who could be listening in. “And she’s asking me when I joined an SAT prep group, which means Happy texted her, and she texted me, which could mean she might text my dad.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Not touch it with a ten foot pole? If I lie to her and she catches me in it, it’ll just…” You mock an explosion with your hands.

“You could tell her you’re trying it out. Wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. You didn’t join it.”

“But she’ll want me to stay in it and the lie will just get bigger and bigger.” You leave Pepper’s message unread, knowing there’s nothing you can do with it right now. “When do you have to get to internship?”

“Not for a bit.” Swinging across Queens could wait especially since Peter didn’t know when he would get another chance to be with Y/N again. “What time is Happy coming to get you?”

“I’ll probably tell him to come in like an hour. I don’t want him to think I’m pushing this too much. Plus the longer I push it, the more of a chance that Pepper gets suspicious.” You take a sip of your coffee and then an idea comes to you. “Do you need a ride to the labs? Happy could drive you.”

“What, uh no, it’s fine. I’ll take the subway.”

“Right, yeah. I just figured we were heading into Manhattan so I’d offer.”

“No, yeah. I appreciate it, I just really like catching the train.” Peter admits, which is true, but also he’s not heading into Manhattan.

“I get that. The feeling of the train moving under you. One of the best feelings in the world.”

“Exactly.” Peter wishes he had bought a drink so he has something to sip on, but at the same time, he hates the taste of coffee. “Do you and your dad ever take the train and go places together?”

“Dad? Taking the subway? That sounds like the craziest thing that has ever come out of your mouth Parker. Dad doesn’t like taking things that people try to hand him. You think he would take the subway with me?” You can’t help but laugh. “He won’t even let me take the subway to school. I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve taken the train since I moved in with him. So to answer your question, no he does not take the train and he doesn’t let me take it either because it’s apparently a safety issue.” You roll your eyes.

“But you disagree.”

“I’ve been taking the subway since I was a baby and it only became a safety issue when I moved in with him. So no I don’t agree.”

“Have you talked with him about it?”

“Have you tried to ask him to consider anything? It’s like talking with a concrete wall. Unmovable and unchangeable. Hell, I can’t even get him to come home half the time.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“That’s the life of being a Stark.” You say with a shrug.

“That sounds unfair to you.”

“Yeah well he hasn’t really been home much for me to talk to him about it. Even if he had been, I doubt he’d listen to me.” Your eyes focus on the coffee cup in front of you, not sure why you’re admitting this to a boy you’ve only had a handful of conversations with. “I shouldn’t be dumping all of this on you. I’m sorry. I’m being a real buzzkill today.”

“I don’t mind it.” Peter reaches across the table to gently rub your hand. “That’s what friends are for. Listening to the hard stuff.”

“So we’re friends now Parker?”

“I’d like to think so. Friends skip class together.” He says with a shrug.

“Friends it is then.” You take a sip of the coffee in front of you and try to ignore the sparks that are sitting where Peter’s hand touched yours.

You expect the tower to be empty like it has been the past few days when you get home, but instead Pepper’s waiting for you. “Oh, hi Pepper.”

“How was SAT Prep?” She asks.

“Fine. I was trying it out, but I don’t really like the group, so I don’t think I’ll be sticking with it.” You’re proud none of that lie got stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t the fact that it interfered with your German class?” Pepper’s right eyebrow raises at you.

“Ah so you know about that.” You say, knowing that lying when she already knows about it isn’t going to fix anything.

“Yeah, funny the school calls when you miss a class. So want to try that again?”

“So I might not have been at a SAT prep course.”

“I had a feeling. Wanna sit down and talk?” She asks, patting the couch next to her and setting her files on the table in front of her. You set your book bag on the floor and sit down on the couch next to her. “Come here?” She opens her arms to you and you fall into them. “So, what made German not worth it today?”

“Do you ever feel like the Avengers are more important than you?”

“Ah so Tony Stark.” Pepper says as she rubs a hand up and down your shoulder lovingly. “The Avengers have a hard job, but I think you and I have a harder job.”

“Really?”

“We are the ones that are stuck at home waiting for them to finish the battle and hopefully come home safe.” You lean into Pepper’s shoulder and nod- hammer meet nail.

“How do you deal with all of this? You’ve put up with him for so long? I’ve been dealing with him for a little over a month and I’m sick of feeling so angry at him every time he goes back on a promise.”

“I love him. Which is an awful reason to put up with it all, but at the same time I was there when he was originally kidnapped and I can’t put up with the idea of going through that again and not be waiting for him at the end of everything. We’ve been through so much and I know at the end of the day, he’s the person I want to be with at the end of it all. He’s impulsive and at times crazy, but he also is loving and wonderful.” Pepper places a kiss in your hair. “I’ll tell you a secret.” You peer up at her waiting to hear what she has to say. “I think you love him too.”

“That’s not much of a secret.”

“But that’s why you feel so angry every time he goes back on his word. Because you love him and you want him to be here when he’s not. He’s trying. It may not feel like it, but he is. He’ll figure out the way he’s supposed to do things eventually. He just might need a shove in the right direction first.”

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fan fic #Tony Stark #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter!you #Pepper Potts #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #happy hogan #peter parker imagine #becoming a stark?#imanativeofswlondondahling

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write-it-good-imagines · 4 years

Text

Mine - Jackson Wang

So, @aggrocat121 said “If I could request a Jackson writing with your prompts ! and 25, I’m just a sucker for a jealous Jackson scenario!” and you know what I said? Mood hun, tbvh.

~2k words, fluff, if one squints, one can see the angst but honestly I think it’s just cute ok,

Prompts: 1. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

25: “You’re mine. I don’t share.”

Summary: One would think jealousy only leads to dreadful things; and while it is true, it is also undeniable that, once in a blue moon, jealousy gives birth to even greater things.

It was not a date, per se. You did not phrase it like that. It was more of a meeting between two very close friends. Except you could have dialed anyone else’s phone number and request the presence of anyone else to accompany you in an afternoon shopping session. This meant that, with you explicitly calling him to join you and, subsequently, to spend quality time with you, it was more than just a meeting between two close friends. So Jackson settled for a date; in his mind anyway.

Jackson fantasized about confessing his feelings for you in an incalculable number of ways, his fictional plans leading to the same happy conclusion. Nevertheless, there’s a common saying that, although applicable, Jackson loathed: ‘it was never the right time’. And it truly never was. Not because he was unsure of his feelings, or because he didn’t suspect there was something on your part too, but because he discovered he was too much of a coward to take the reins.

And now he was stuck waiting for you to finish your conversation with an affable man who kept on repeatedly touching your upper arm as he grinned a tad too excessively at your words.

Jackson checked his watch and observed an excruciating five minutes had passed since he had met you outside your favorite shopping center and the only words you bothered to throw his way were a mere request to wait for a little bit, the rest of them undeniably flowing the stranger’s way. And boy, was he getting mad.

After your interminable conversation finally met its end, the man luckily went his way, refraining himself from doing an audacious thing such as hugging you, and Jackson let out a heavy sigh. You turned your body to him and were surprised you weren’t greeted with the usual bear hug and blinding smile.

“Seunie, hello! Sorry about that, it was one of my co-workers.”

Jackson could figure as much. “Yeah, don’t mind. Shall we go?”

You blinked at the coldness of his words. Jackson started walking ahead, neglecting the usual pace he settled for when the two of you would walk together. You lifted a brow but chose to say nothing. He would ordinarily speak his mind on his own whenever something bugged him so you opted to wait for him to find his words.

However, it was a lie to say you were not intimidated by his icy silhouette.

“Thanks for coming. I know you must be busy with everything but I really need to buy some new jeans and office trousers. And we both know you’re more stylish than I am.”

Jackson glanced at you briefly and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. The brown trench coat you wore over a simple white shirt, tugged in the flared jeans and the low-heeled ankle boots were forming a look that Jackson planned on commenting about. Of course, you were beautiful regardless of the clothes you wore but that was positively his favorite look on you. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No need to get all modest now, Wang.” You chuckled and entered the first store for a quick scan. Jackson extended his arm to take your handbag so you could better look around. He kept a small distance from you, fiddling with his phone, giving minimal response to any of the questions you asked.

At first, you thought that he genuinely did not like anything that you showed him so you simply shrugged your shoulders and went on your way to the next store. It was the same irritating process in the next couple of stores you walked in. You’d show him an article of clothing, often picking ones that you truly liked, and he’d either nod his head or say you should buy it if you liked it. Jackson was slowly but surely stepping on your every nerve. If you wanted to randomly purchase something just for the sake of it, you would have sent your brother.

His attitude was peculiar in itself. He had an annoying glimmer in his eyes and a pouty expression that you had never seen on him when he just wanted an ounce of attention. During all those memorable times you spent with Jackson, both good and bad, you fell for every antic he’d do, from jutting out his lower lip in a silent cry for hugs to the serene smile he only offered you when you were around him. It was, still, a bit far-fetched since he was friendly with every breathing creature. This time, his indifference toward you was a harrowing prospect.

As you were browsing through Zara, your eyes fell on some beautiful jeans that you were determined to try on, with or without Jackson’s help.

“Are you coming?” you asked shortly and walked to the fitting rooms without waiting for an actual response. Jackson followed you silently and folded your coat over his forearm, seating himself on an outer chair. It wasn’t long before he noticed the curtain opening.

You were checking for the fitting when you called him over. “Jackson.”

Jackson stood up and walked over to you, almost chocking on thin air at the sight. He had shamelessly examined your curves before, occasionally informing you even, yet your ass looked splendid in that particular pair of jeans. He remembered he was upset, though, and he had to act accordingly.

“These are okay.”

You could feel your eyes rolling out of their respective orbits. You pulled the curtain to change back into your clothes and stormed out by Jackson when you were done to pay for the jeans. You offered a small smile to the employee and offered your credit card; scarcely had you reacted when Jackson took the shopping bag in his hand and walked on ahead with that, along with your coat and handbag. That was the last straw.

“Okay, I am done receiving the silent treatment.” You declared and settled yourself by his side. “Can you please tell me what is going on with you?”

Jackson peeked at you, then turned his face forward. “Nothing.”

“Jackson Wang, I am going to ask this only once before I turn around and go home. What is going on?”

Jackson closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “How long have you known that guy?”

So that was the problem.

You scoffed in amusement. “Who, my colleague? Dang, Jackson, we’ve been working since I joined the company. If I think about it now, he is my senior by a year.”

Jackson did not find what he was looking for in your answer. The air in his lungs evacuated all at once in an excessive sigh. You did not know what to do with that side of Jackson’s. Well, one could always presume, but you didn’t know if he was simply dramatic for the sake of it, or was genuinely bothered. You looked up at him, a small smile plastered on your lips.

“Jackson, we are only friends—“

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Jackson mirrored your confused expression, although his was sprinkled with a mixture of fear and uneasiness. Your eyes were visibly widened.

“What?”

“I was referring to my colleague, Jackson.”

He clicked his tongue. “Oh.”

You opened your mouth a couple of times, trying to form a coherent sentence, but failed each time. Out of all the things Jackson could have said, his last sentence astonished you. Or more accurately, it shook you down to your core. There was no turning back.

“Wait a second, are you acting like a brat right now because you are jealous?” you mumbled, your eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t believe it.”

Jackson scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I am going to give you a moment to reconsider your answer.”

Jackson turned his body completely to you, moving all the articles to one hand so he could gesture his argument freely. “I don’t like it. How come a random guy out in the street gets to be all mushy-mushy with you?”

You chuckled and folded your arms over his chest. His face was priceless at that moment. “A random guy? I just told you he’s my senior!”

“Oh, so in this modern age all seniors get to run their filthy hands up and down your arm, thinking it comes as a motivational bonus?”

You felt your blood beginning to boil. You were not happy with the mixed signals he was giving you so faithfully, confidently traversing back and forth between platonic friendship and romantic interest, and yet you did not run to him to rub them in his face. “What’s it to you, Jackson? How come you’re suddenly interested in who gets to run their hand up and down my body?”

“You’re mine. I don’t share.”

You would have actually felt the heart skipping a beat in your ribcage had it not been for the veil of anger clouding your senses. You would have also realized you developed a weak spot for that assertive side of Jackson. Especially now as it was exclusively yours. “Oh? Since when?”

He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “Since now.”

Jackson lost no time in cupping your cheek with his free hand and crashing his lips against yours. The air hitched in your throat as he pressed the lingering and otherwise addicting kiss to your lips. You froze in your spot, all the awareness exiting your body at once. He pulled back, his earnest eyes piercing through your soul. You could not remember a single moment when Jackson was that serious.

“I like you, hell, I like you so much that I simply don’t know what to do with myself in your presence. I don’t think there is anyone in this galaxy who adores another person as much as I adore you. You see all these people around here?” Jackson stopped succinctly to gesture to the crowded corridors of the mall.

“Jackson, I don’t know what--”

“I know you must think I am exaggerating, or that I am crazy, or that I am a mess and God knows I truly am a mess, but trust me when I say there’s no one alive who can take care of you the way I can. I am horrified to lay a single finger on your beautiful skin, so who are they to think they even deserve such a blessing?”

There was no tremble in his voice, no hesitation in his eyes, not any snippet of insecurity in the words he spoke. To say you were petrified was an understatement. At least your blazing cheeks hinted you were alive.

“That and your ass looks majestic in those new jeans.”

Jackson lowered his hand to pat your ass playfully. He then straightened his body and cleared his throat, still studying your features carefully. A sly smirk was sketched on his lips as soon as he noticed your bright complexion and turned happily to skip away.

“Hey, Wang Jackson!” he heard you calling out his name and snickered to himself, wiggling his fingers at you. You were in a conspicuous state of denial as you dashed over to him. “Did you just brazenly flirt with me?”

Jackson intertwined his fingers with yours effortlessly. “Have been for the past century, but thanks for noticing.”

“No, no.” you shook your head and your now tangled hands. “Did you just confess to me?”

Jackson opted to wink at you, taking advantage of your perplexed stance. Out of all the countless scenarios he outlined in his mind, he had to admit that, with a little bit of outside help, that was probably the best existing way to break it to you. With much-desired success, too.

“So what if I did? You have yet to give me an answer.”

You had had enough of his smug expression. Without letting go of his hand, you pulled him by the collar with your other one and returned the favor by attaching your lips to his in a heartbeat. He smiled into the kiss and you figured he got the message. That was until he slid his hand out of yours and into the back pocket of your jeans and gave your butt a light squeeze.

“What are you doing right now?” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I have to assert dominance.”

You burst out in laughter and decided to play along. You also stuffed your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “What an eloquent way to say you just needed and excuse to grab my ass in public.”

Jackson let out one of his irresistible laughs and leaned over to you to peck your cheek. It was more comfortable than he thought it would be, walking like that. “Don’t act like you’re any better, Y/n.”

#got7 #got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 jackson #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang #fluff #someone stop me from fantasizing about this man pls #i've had enough of my heart shattering for one day #got7 request

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herohotline · 4 years

Note

bing bong! hewwo! would like to request for a prohero!deku meeting with his ex lover who he left to pursue his dream of becoming the #1 hero and finding out that she has a child that was actually his. everything else is up to your creative mind! hope it's not too much, thank you! 💜❣️

A/N: i love these kinds of requests!! im a sucker for kids and pregnancy requests, especially ones with reunions. Thank you for indulging me

Reader has a slight Teleportation quirk as well; it’s noted once or twice in the story.

(You’ll get why this gif was perfect to use when you read the story lmao)

Word Count: 2,300+

No Longer a Coward (Izuku/You)

There’s a lot of aspects to becoming a hero that Izuku hadn’t realized- none of his classes really warned him about how his privacy was practically zero to none, a two hundred pound weight of stress followed him by the ankles every day, and that a love life was practically impossible.

Izuku wasn’t exactly yearning for a partner, but he wouldn’t lie- he missed it. He doesn’t casually date, either, so finding someone was harder than usual even if he wasn’t a hero. Once upon a time, he met you- a wonderful person who made him feel warm and happy and made him laugh. But the timing wasn’t right, the stress was unbearable, and he couldn’t commit- so things ended between the two of you after dating for around a year and a half.

The pro-hero still thought about you even though he hadn’t seen you for over three years. Of course, Izuku was heart-broken by your decision to move away after your break up, but he could understand. It didn’t make it easier, suddenly being torn away from a person he still genuinely cared for, but he understood.

Maybe one day you’ll come back, Izuku thinks. Maybe you’ll come back and both of you can be friends again, maybe even something more. The past few years have taught Izuku a lot, and he thinks that maybe he’s past his self-doubt and immaturity- maybe next time, if you’d want to, he can actually take care of you.

But this is just a lot of maybes and what if’s. What the hero should do is call your number and actually initiate a conversation.

He’s fought a lot of villains, he’s had several close calls with death, but he can’t pick up the phone and call you… Izuku scoffs.

Even after all this time, he’s still a coward, isn’t he?

— *** —

You think about calling Izuku a lot, but you can never manage to do it. Truly, you feel like scum- an awful coward.

You never meant to hide this from him- you didn’t figure out you were pregnant until after your big move, and at that point, you were still heartbroken. Just thinking about seeing Izuku made your eyes well up, so you convinced yourself that once you gave birth you’d find the courage to tell him everything.

Three years have passed.

Your daughter is a healthy ball of energy, her hair just like his in color and obnoxious wavy ends. Her eyes sparkle just like his, too. You won’t lie- the fact that she resembles her father so much stings sometimes. But it doesn’t hurt as much as knowing that you’re forcing her to have a life with only one parent.

She should have a father- she deserves it. She doesn’t deserve your cowardly behavior, so after a lot of thought and an impulsive streak, you pack up to go on a day trip back to Musutafu.

Yui, your daughter, doesn’t know why you’re going to the big city, but she’s very excited. She’s only three, but her passion is strong and she can’t wait to meet all the big pro-heroes!

Just like her dad.

You hold Yui’s hand as you walk through the familiar city, pointing out anything that might interest her (which is basically everything). You plan on staying in Musutafu for a few days, so meeting up with Izuku wasn’t planned just yet. Instead, you want to make some good memories with your daughter before her life changes before her very eyes.

You take her everywhere you can. A fancy ice cream parlor, a hero museum, a huge children’s park. Yui is beaming, smiling ear to ear the entire time.

Everything has gone relatively well, which you’re pleasantly surprised at. At least, it was going well-

Until you run into pro-hero Shoto. Or, as you know him- Todoroki.

Yui is the one that spots him, her whole body practically vibrating as she points at him eagerly. He’s exiting a grocery, two plastic bags in his hands.

“Mommy, mommy it’s Shoto!”

At the sound of his name, you watch in silent horror as Todoroki’s head turns and spots the two of you. He sees the little girl first, his brows furrowing, and then he looks up at you-

You’d call yourself lucky to ever see such an animated expression on his face, but unfortunately for you, it’s kind of bad news.

“You’re right, it’s the hero Shoto! Would you like to say hi?” You enunciate the ‘hero’ part, hoping that your old friend will take the hint. He slowly approaches you both, still looking quite confused, but he switches it off so he can greet your daughter properly.

“Hello, little miss,” Todoroki smiles, reaching a hand out. She happily shakes it.

“I see you on TV!”

“You do? That’s very cool.”

“Yeah! You kick butt.”

He actually laughs, a quiet and soft laugh, and you’re glad that he’s not offended by her blunt behavior. It’s that moment his phone rings and he excuses himself with an apology, looking at the screen.

“Well, since Shoto’s busy, we should probably leave, honey,” God get me out of here.

“You don’t have to go, you know who it is,” he looks up at you with an upright eyebrow, showing you the screen. “It’s pro-hero Deku.”

Your face pales. “Todoroki, don’t-“

“Wow, really?!” Yui shouts, getting several looks from passerby’s. The icy-hot user smiles again as he accepts the call.

“Hey, Deku. Guess who I’m talking to.”

You finally let go of Yui’s hand, lunging forward to grasp Todoroki’s wrist. You look at him desperately, whispering. “Please don’t. I’m here so I can tell him. Don’t make it happen like this, Shoto.”

“…An old friend. I’ll put them on.”

He hands you the phone with a tired look in his eye. “Then make it happen,” he wordlessly mouths to you before heading over to your daughter to give you at least an inkling of privacy.

God, when did Todoroki turn into such a meddlemaker?

“-llo? Hello? Shoto, this is weird,” you finally lift the phone to your ear. Your heart skips several times at the sound of his voice- oh God, this is happening.

“Hi, Izuku,” you bite your lip hard. There’s silence on the other end before you hear a rumbling sound and an ‘oof!’ Did he just fall?

“___?” He asks.

“…Yeah, it’s me. I’m, um… visiting the city and I kind of ran into Todoroki. He just shoved the phone in my hands.”

“Sounds like him,” Izuku sighs and you laugh.

“Not to me! He’s changed a lot.” There’s another silence as you shift your feet anxiously. “Well… okay, listen. I’m actually here in Musutafu because I really need to talk to you about something. Could- do you have time to meet up with me tomorrow?”

“Oh. Uh- well- yeah, of course. What’s… what do you need to talk about?”

Good to know that his voice still goes high pitched when he’s nervous. You smile without thinking about it, watching Shoto pick up Yui and point towards something or other.

“I can’t tell you over the phone. Could we meet at the park, the one next to your old house that you went to as a kid?” You had been meaning to show Yui that area.

“Alright, that’s great! And, um… I’m really glad you’re back, ___.” You hear him sigh on the other end. “I’ll see you then. I hope you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Izuku. I’ll see you tomorrow- and I’ll give you back to Shoto now since you called him in the first place.” You barely hear what Izuku says, the phone already away from your face as you walk towards Shoto. You gesture for him to take it with a mildly unimpressed look on your face.

Yeah, his stunt might have worked, but it was still a dick move.

“Okay, I have to go now,” Shoto lets your daughter down and pats her head. “Thank you for telling me about so many animals.”

“You’re welcome!” Yui puffs out her chest, quickly walking back to you and taking your hand. You smile down at her- but freeze up again when you hear Shoto.

“Who was that? Oh…” As if it wasn’t a big deal, he throws you a thumbs up. “A kid wanted to get an autograph.” Nice.

The two of you silently wave, walking in your separate directions. Yui talks animatedly about her time with Shoto while you were on the phone, but you can’t do anything more than nod and smile along.

This is it, you think. I’m going to tell him. He’s going to know. It’s all that’s on your mind as you check in the hotel you reserved a room for and unpack your clothes.

My life is about to drastically change.

—

You let Yui play on the swings and jungle gym as you wait for Izuku to arrive. Your foot anxiously taps on the concrete as you sit on a nearby bench, your fingers scratching at your wrists and teeth tugging your lip. You’re a few steps away from being a complete wreck- it doesn’t help that you couldn’t sleep at all last night.

How does one go about this? Hey, Izuku, it’s been three years since our break up and hey, have you ever wanted kids? Well, surprise!

You deflate in your seat. Yeah, right. As if you could be blunt like that.

At least the park is mildly empty- you’re a little worried about meeting the top hero in a public setting, especially when you’re having him meet his daughter. Uh-oh. Your face pales- what if someone saw? What if news got out?

Suddenly you realize that this may have not been a great idea.

But apparently, you’re stuck with your bad decisions- right as you’re about to call Izuku to change plans, you hear your name from behind you. You immediately stand up, looking back and meeting eyes with the man you haven’t seen face to face in so long.

“Izuku,” you try not to smile- really- but you can’t help it. He’s just as handsome as he is on TV, but actually standing near him you can see all the tiny details that a camera just can’t bring to life.

The happiness in his eyes is something you can’t replace. He smiles back, taking the few steps he needs to meet you and bring you into an embrace.

“___,” Izuku sighs, “I’m so glad to see you.”

You hug him back, your hands gripping his shirt. You half expected him to wear his Hero Suit since it’s all you’ve seen him in recently because of the news- you’re glad he didn’t. In your opinion, Izuku looks much better wearing casual clothes.

“I’m glad to see you too, Izuku,” you break the hug and sit back down on the bench, urging him to sit beside you. More than anything, you’d like to take your time and get to know him again, but you know that your daughter will only be distracted by the park for so long. “Okay, so, I just… need to tell you this right away. Rip off the bandaid, you know?” Your hands return to your lap, anxiously wringing as you look at him. “But I- I want you to know that… I didn’t mean to hide anything from you. I would never hide something from you on purpose.”

“What?” Izuku’s face falls as his eyebrows furrow. “What- what did you hide?” He really didn’t know where this was headed.

You take a big breath. Guilt and anxiety rushes to you in waves but you try to push it back. You need to do this. “Listen, Izuku, I… when I left-“

“Mommy!”

Your daughter’s scream cuts you off and your head snaps toward the sound, eyes wide. You want to curse- you knew your daughter liked to climb things, but the swing set? How did she do that?

It doesn’t matter- she’s falling, that’s what matters. You quickly use your quirk and teleport to the swings, swiftly catching Yui before she fell on the bark chips. “Yui!” You place her down on the ground. “What did I tell you about climbing things? You can’t always rely on me to catch you- you could get hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She’s obviously upset and you’re a sucker- you take her into your arms again and kiss her head.

“Just be careful, honey.” You carefully pick her up, holding her by her bottom as you stand. “I have someone I want you to meet, okay? Will you be a good girl for me?”

Yui looks confused, but she nods and you smile at her in reassurance. You walk back to the bench where Izuku was now standing at- his eyes wide in disbelief as he stared down at your daughter.

His daughter.

“Yui, this is Izuku. He’s, um…” You hesitate- do you tell her the truth? Does he even want to be a part of her life?

Izuku picks up from where you left off. “I’m- I’m your dad.” He looks up at you before quickly looking back to Yui, holding a hand out for her to grab. “Is… that okay?” You hide your face in your daughter’s chest with a silent laugh, tearing up quietly. You feel her tiny body move and watch as her little fingers grab Izuku’s own.

“You’re daddy?” Yui looks back up to you, still holding Izuku’s hand. “Is he?”

“Yes, Yui,” you sniff and readjust her in your arms, trying to wiggle a hand free so you can wipe some of your tears. She leans forward to whisper in your ear and you grin happily as you nod. “Yeah, okay. Izuku, would you…” you step a little closer to him. “Would you want to give her a hug?”

“YEAH,” Izuku bursts, frantically nodding his head and reaching out to wrap his arms around Yui who wiggles from your arms to his. You take a step back as you look at them. It’s so weird, honestly, seeing this perfect picture of Izuku sobbing with your daughter wrapped around him, looking so, so happy- it’s a picture that you only imagined up until now.

And now it’s finally real, and you feel like you can breathe.

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crackedoutgiraffe · 4 years

Text

The Stars in Your Eyes

THIS IS PART 2 OF TO THE MOON AND BACK

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2 Part 2: Chapter 3

A/N: I’m thinking of starting a one-shot “series” based off of songs, send me a message with any songs you want to see! Also, Entropy...

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

Word Count: 4,703

1/13/2016

“Spencer?” A woman approached the table Reid was sitting at.

The way Spencer’s face changed when he saw made you uneasy, “Cat?

“Hi!” for a hitwoman she seemed weirdly approachable.

“Hi,” the monitor set-up in the kitchen for you showed your husband standing across from a beautiful young woman.

“Hi,” she gave him a warm smile.

“Hello. Hi. Hi. Nice to finally,” you saw her go in to give him a hug and he pulled away. “Oh--sorry, I have a-- a germ thing. Oh. I'm kind of weird with hu-hugs.”

“Sorry,” she didn’t mean it. “Can I sit down?”

“Yes, please,” he gestured to the seat across from him. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sit down.”

“First time doing this?” she smiled.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I mean, yeah.”

“Yeah, I--I still get nervous, too,” she was trying her best to be friendly. “Really, it wasn't until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like.”

“Hence the,” he pointed at the red rose in front of her. You were tapping your foot and biting your nails at the sight of your husband on a ‘date’ with another woman.

“I know,” she giggled. “And then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last-minute.”

“Not a problem at all,” he had his beautiful smile on his face.

“And now I need to change and put something nice on for this place, 'cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian,” Reid had a confused look on his face. “You know who that is, do you?”

“No, oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian, He got O.J. Simpson off. You--you don't look like his daughters,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, no, I was making a joke about them,” she seemed to be annoyed.

“No, it was good,” he smiled. “It was a good joke.”

“No, it wasn't,” she giggled.

“It was funny.”

“Can we start over?” she asked. “Hi, I'm Cat.”

“Hi,” he stumbled over his words. “I'm Spencer.”

“It really is nice to meet you, in person, finally,” she shrugged. “It's nice to meet you. Tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you really have 3 Ph.D.s?”

“Yes. Um, I--yeah, I do, I have 3 Ph.D.s.”

“What was your favorite book that you read last year?” she asked.

“Um, honestly, I've never read a book I didn't love,” Reid sheepishly responded.

“Tell me about your wife,” she leaned forward.

“If you don't mind, I'd, uh, I'd rather not talk about her,” he cleared his throat.

“Might as well get it out in the open, right?” she seemed to let out a small laugh. “That's why we're here. How long have you been married?”

“4 years,” in reality you and Reid had only been married for 7 months.

Cat paused,“when is she due to give birth?”

“Uh…” Reid’s voice got quiet. “A couple of-- a couple of months. Should we talk about price now, or…”

“Slow down, tiger,” she cut him off. “What exactly are we negotiating here?”

“You know,” he looked around.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“To have her killed,” the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Reid would never say such a thing about you.

“Let me see your ring,” her voice sounded much more chipper. Reid did as she asked and gave her his hand. He insisted on buying a new ring, insisting he didn't want her anywhere near you. “You know what that is? A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way?”

He nodded, “I feel that way all the time.” It was unsettling seeing him talk so poorly of you.

“Take it off,” she commanded.

“Why?” he smiled.

“As a sign of your commitment,” she seemed so proud of herself. “To me.” You watched as he took off his ring and placed it in her hand.

“If she sticks to the pattern, she'll take him to a secondary location and kill him,” you heard JJ’s voice over your com.

“We're not gonna let it get that far,” Rossi was sitting at a table and JJ was at the bar. “Hotch, do you have a visual?”

Just hacked in,” Garcia’s voice made you a lot calmer than before.

“All right,” Hotch said, “we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?” you saw Reid look at the camera. “All right, all agents stand by. Dr. Reid will give the green light. Don't move until we have it. Y/N are you there?”

“Yes, sir,” the hustle and bustle of the kitsch made it harder for you to hear but you managed.

“Remember you do not engage unless absolutely necessary,” he reminded you of the deal you made the week prior.

“I know,” you smirked.

“24-karat?” She asked. Reid nodded. “24k times... 4 years means this ring should be dinged and nicked. But the sucker is brand-new. You're not married.” You could hear the sound of a gun cocking. Reid was tapping his finger on his hand. You realized he was trying to say something in morse code. You got a pen and napkin from a waitress to write it down, ‘she doesn’t know about you.’

“What was that? Was that what I think it was?” you could hear how flustered Garcia was.

“Everybody hold,” Hotch commanded.

“Why are we here, Spencer?” Cat asked.

“We're here because you belong to a network of 4 hitmen who've been operating in the shadows of the Internet,” Reid calmly explained. “You're known as Miss .45. My team and I have been hunting for months, and I knew that if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible.”

“Your team being the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI?” she paused. “You guys are good. You're the only ones that got close to us. But we got kind of close to you, too, didn't we? Hi, Penelope. Do you know why I'm so good at my job?”

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse.”

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” she leaned closer to him. “No, it's because I think through every potential outcome and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine. Where's your head, Spencer? What are you thinking about?” You watched as she moved closer to him.

“I was thinking about entropy,” she was feeling him up. “It's the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe. To put it another way--”

She pulled his gun from his belt, “there's your gun.”

“Good evening,” the waiter approached the table.

“Hi, uh, you know what?” she smiled. “We've been having so much fun getting to know one another, we'll let you know when we're ready, ok? Thank you.” The waiter left and she returned to torturing your husband. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

“JJ, stand down,” Hotch commanded.

JJ stodd from her seat at the bar and headed for the kitchen. “Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat shouted as JJ walked past.

“If she learns how many agents we have outside, she'll start shooting,” Hotch said. “Dave, get ready to take her out. Reid, do not let her get up from the table.”

“All right, you're in charge,” given his current position Reid was abnormally calm. “Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you.”

“Anything I want?” she smirked.

“Anything you want.”

“Like a million dollars in unmarked bills, maybe a plane to Aruba?”

“Is that what you want?” Reid kept a straight face never letting his emotions get the better of him.

“And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door. Is that the plan?”

“That's the plan,” he smiled.

You watched as JJ came over to your place in the kitchen, “Did you have fun?” you giggled.

“It was entertaining to say the least,” she smiled.

“Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you,” Cat smiled. “You like games?”

“I do.”

“Do you win?”

“I always win,” the way he said that made you uneasy, it was very aggressive.

“Give it to me,” she demanded. Reid followed and handed his phone to her. “Ok, here's my game. You have 30 minutes to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know. Because I've spent the past 10 years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?”

“I do.”

“That was true,” Cat smiled. “You're getting this. Now, here's how we'll know who wins at the end of 30 minutes. If you win, you'll drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?”

He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, “considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you're going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here.”

“Game on,” you watched as she smiled at the thought of shooting him point-blank in the face.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“How you found me, of course,” she pressed start on the timer. “A professional learns from her mistakes.”

“We got our big break in the case at the end of last year,” Reid started. “I didn't learn how big until I came back from some time off.”

“Why'd you take time off?” she smirked.

He hadn’t told you much about why he didn’t go to work for three months. All you really knew was that he was visiting his mom in Vegas a lot. He would go to Vegas for two months and then come home for a few days. Every night he would call you and tell you he loved you.

“Stop,” Cat interrupted Reid’s story.

“What?” Reid seemed confused.

“You didn't tell me why you took time off.”

“It's not relevant,” he deflected.

“That's not the game,” she frowned. “The game is you answer every question I ask. Is it a secret?”

“No,” he smiled.

“Is it dirty?” she seemed happy at the thought of it being something dirty.

Reid furrowed his brow, “no.”

“Then tell me,” she whined.

“It's not important to your story.”

“Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in?” she asked

Reid looked down at his phone, “Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “No. Ok, so you were saying you showed up for work that morning and…”

“We learned that someone unexpected decided to talk,” he continued.

“And who would that be?”

“Brian Cochran from the NSA,” Reid explained. “He had used one of your colleagues to target a DEA agent. The prison put him in solitary confinement where he ended up having a breakdown. He didn’t know names, only areas of expertise. We learned about the bomber, the sniper, the chemist, and the most dangerous of all…”

“Me,” she interrupted.

He nodded, “yes.”

“Wow, that was really impressive,” she was mocking him. “Yeah, the way you just made all those brilliant deductions with all that information that was just handed to you on a silver platter. Quick question--are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this, what I'm about to say-- is profiling. The reason you took time off from work was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart.”

“No,” you really hoped he wasn’t trying to get away from you.

“The death of a parent, then,” she guessed.

“No,” Reid shook his head.

“Ah, hello, I'm getting close. It's mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick. Oh, you're mad at me, aren't you?” she seemed to be frowning.

“Not even a little bit,” he smiled.

“Yes, you are, I can tell.”

He leaned closer to her, “no offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at.”

“So you figured out what the 4 of us did, and then what?” she sighed.

“We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you.”

“You found the Snowman, didn't you?”

Reid smiled, “we did. We also learned that one of you had kidnapped him and were holding him against his will. Hotch had received something very important that helped us find him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm confused. What just happened there?” she interrupted, again.

“When we arrested Cochran, we found a flash drive, one that gave us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet, one we didn't even know existed,” he explained. “Garcia used it to find the website that Snowman set up for all of you. Once we had the website, we had geography, specifically, the safe house you were keeping him in. So we waited until the shift change when we knew we could take two of you down at once. When we raided the house both of them killed themselves.”

“Well, well, well, you took the chemist and the sniper out of commission, huh?” she smirked.

“Did you know?” Reid asked

“I knew something was off,” she leaned back. “They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your... Mother? Is it your mom? It's gotta be your mom. Why'd you take time off from the FBI?”

“I'm not gonna tell you.”

“Spencer,” she was much more serious this time, “why did you take time off from the FBI?”

“You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but I'm still not gonna tell you.”

“Then you're cheating, and I don't like cheaters.”

“Just tell her,” you muttered to yourself. If she was this angry about something so simple you didn’t want to see what she was going to do.

“You don't get everything you want just because you're pointing a gun at me under a table. You're not the first killer to point a gun at me. You're not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.”

“You're really gonna take this all the way, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” he smirked.

“So am I.”

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered. You and JJ watched on the monitor as Rossi stood from his seat and start walking toward their table. Cat made her way closer to Spencer.

“Look at my face. Does it look like I'm bluffing?” Reid didn’t even have a smile on his face.

“I know you're not bluffing,” Cat reached out to grab his tie and started to twist it. “I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something.” All you could hear was static.

“She muffled the mic,” Garcia said. “We lost audio.” You all waited in silence for Spencer’s mic to come back on. The only thing keeping you sane was the live video.

“Rossi, stand down,” you let out a long sigh at the sound of his voice. “Please.” Rossi did as he asked and started for the kitchen.

“Welcome to the locker room,” you giggled.

He looked at you with no expression, “I hate the locker room.”

“My mom has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, and so I went to the treatment center to help her,” Reid explained.

“That's it?” Was she actually disappointed with his answer?

“That's it.”

“You just risked your life over mommy's pills?” Cat asked.

“It's the truth,” he smiled.

“It's part of the truth,” she moved back to her original position across from Spencer. “You're holding something back. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna penalize you by adding 10 minutes. And keep in mind that the only reason you're not dead right now is because I did learn something important.”

“Oh, really?” he mocked. “What's that?”

“Your back up,” she looked around the restaurant. “I flushed them out. It's just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” Tara said.

“So when we left off, the score was you had two of our guys and the Snowman. You must have thought you were home free.”

“No, Reid shook his head. “If anything, the case was harder. We needed to find a way to get to either you or the bomber, we chose you. But first, we had to get the data that we needed from the Snowman. From that, we could start to build a profile that would lead us to you. When we knew what we were looking for, the pattern was obvious. You only killed men who were looking to have their pregnant wives killed. You took their money and then killed the men who hired you. This led me to volunteer to be your next victim. If I could get you here to meet me and things went awry, you would be more likely to reason with someone who was closer to your age. My wife and boss both shot down my idea but eventually, we all decided this was best…”

“Hold on a second,” she leaned forward in her seat. “I thought you weren’t married.”

“8 months tomorrow,” he was lying. You two got married 7 months ago to the day.

Cat’s face lit up, “is she listening in?”

“She doesn’t work for the bureau,” another lie that you weren’t opposed to.

“If she were pregnant would you actually want her dead?” she whispered.

Reid leaned forward to meet her, “never in my wildest dreams.” You let out a long sigh of relief which led JJ to give you a hug.

You watched as Cat rolled her eyes, “back to the story.”

He shrugged, “it was a pretty good plan too.”

“You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning.”

“Some of your moves were pretty obvious.”

“Such as?”

“Such as showing up armed. Such as changing the venue at the last moment. Can I tell you a little secret?” he smirked. “Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it's over.”

“Except it ain't over, is it?”

“Do you really think I'm just gonna let you walk out of here?”

“You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for 30 minutes?” she asked.

“Because you're stalling.”

“Then you don't know me at all. Did you guys show up here without an escape plan? Or is that what just another girl with daddy issues do? Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and, yes, all men have a gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

“You're not here alone,” Reid’s face turned from a smirk to a panic.

“And my partner?”

“Planted a bomb in the building.”

“We're on the move,” you said as you and JJ headed for the basement. You had some of the staff lead you underneath the building. “Hotch, we've got interconnected c-4 charges down here.”

“How many?”

“There are 6 charges,” JJ sighed. “They're connected to the city's gas line. She could take out the whole block. If we alert anyone, then the panic could set her and the bomb off. SWAT's on the radio with the bomb squad. They say our only chance is to get our hands on that cell phone. If we shut down the trigger, we can remove the charges.”

“Morgan,” Hotch called.

“Go ahead, Hotch,” Morgan was still up in the restaurant.

“Does she have a cell phone with her?” Hotch asked.

“I don't think so. I didn't see her pull one out,” you could barely hear Morgan. “The bomber was setting this up while we were all up here. I think he's holding the stick. We're combing the block. He could be anywhere, though.”

“Where's Lewis?” Hotch asked.

“Are you good if I go back upstairs?” you whispered to JJ who responded with a nod.

“Reid, perimeter agents are pulling back. You have to let her go.” Hotch sighed.

“Well?” you could see Cat becoming increasingly annoyed. “Spencer…”

“You can leave,” he sighed. “But you won't.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Double or nothing,” Reid straightened his back. “You need to sit back down.”

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch seemed angry with him.

“Wow, now you're stalling,” Cat smirked.

“You played your trump card, but I have one, too.”

“Thanks for dinner. I had fun.”

“I found your father,” Cat stopped in her tracks at Reid’s statement.

“No, you didn't.”

“Look at my face. Am I bluffing? I'll tell you where he is. But you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story.”

“No. Tell me now. Or I'll-- detonate the bomb?”

“You're not gonna do that, Cat because then you won't learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, guess what-- so do I.”

“All right. Finish the story.”

“To prepare for this dinner, I had to learn everything about you, starting with your real name,” he started. “We searched through foster care records and found you were the daughter of Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens. He couldn't put 24 hours together sober. And you can probably imagine my surprise when I discovered that he actually lives right here in D.C.”

“Where?”

“It's not that simple. He was in bad shape when I found him.”

“He didn't remember me?”

“The alcoholism shredded his brain. I'm sorry.”

“You're not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don't understand. Wait. Your mother--tell me.”

“Is--is this part of the game?

“No. The game's over.”

“When I looked at her medical chart, it--it didn't make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn't figure out what was making her so angry. So, I, uh, I went to see her. The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. For 3 seconds... She didn't know who I was. I, um, I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night... That she had early onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's,” you could feel your heart break. Why didn’t he tell you?

“Did you test yourself? No, you didn't. You were too scared.”

“I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but, uh, this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her. All I can do is find people that I can help.”

“Is that really why you showed up tonight?” you saw just how annoyed Cat was becoming. “To help me? Do you know how many men have told me that they wanted to help me? How do you think that worked out for them?”

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,” JJ’s panicked voice came through your earpiece. “Hotch, we need to pull back.”

“Hotch, we might have a lead here,” Morgan said calmly. “She hasn't touched anything to arm the bomb.”

“That means the bomber's here, somewhere in the restaurant,” Lewis added.

“All right, if you can take him, do so, but the priority is evacuation,” Hotch reminded.

“I'm not even sure if it is a him,” Lewis continued. “Cat mentioned something about gender bias, so that could apply to the bomber as well.”

“All right, she'd have to be in a position to maintain line of sight on Reid all night,” Morgan asked. “Who do you see?”

“Look for anyone with their phone out,” Hotch added. “That's the detonator. Our woman will give herself away by looking over.”

“I've got her,” Morgan whispered. “Blue dress. By the bar. Y/N can you get her?”

“On it,” you grabbed your blazer and left the kitchen. Hotch had you dress similarly to the manager just in case you needed to be undercover. You walked over to the woman by the bar, “Hello ma’am, how was your dinner tonight?”

“It was good,” spoke quickly and returned her gaze to Cat and Reid.

“Let me know if there is anything else you need,” you reached into your pocket and grabbed your handcuffs. “Time to go,” you grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. Lewis came over to help you.

“Hotch, we're clear,” Lewis said.

“Reid's not,” you did your best to not focus on Reid but that was hard given Hotch’s words.

“Don't! FBI,” Morgan shouted as he pulled out his gun.

“Everybody stay calm, please,” you focused your attention on the civilians.

“We're gonna be smart about this and talk it out. Aren't we, Cat?” Morgan asked.

“That's up to you,” she quipped.

“Get everyone out of here,” Reid demanded.

“Move,” Lewis said. The two of you followed the restaurant patrons out along with the bomber. You shoved her in a police car and went back to the entrance of the building. Taking out your earpiece, you leaned against the wall and let out a loud sigh.

Lewis started to walk toward you, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Will you let me know if Hotch says anything?”

“Of course,” she put a hand on your shoulder and leaned against the wall. Rossi and JJ cae around from the back of the building and waited for the paddywagon to arrive, this was still part of Reid’s plan. “They’re coming out,” Lewis turned to you.

You went to the door and eagerly awaited their arrival. You saw the door open and out came Reid, Morgan, and Cat in handcuffs.

“Wait,” she stopped walking. She looked up and Reid, “ok I’m ready.” The three of them approached an empty paddy wagon. When Morgan and Reid opened the doors, Cat’s face dropped. Reid helped her climb into the van and handcuff her to the seat. You went and stood next to Morgan who put his hand on your shoulder. Reid and Cat were talking but it was inaudible. When they were done Reid climbed out and walked away, you instinctively followed him.

“Reid,” you shouted after him.

He stopped walking and waited for you to catch up with him. You eventually did catch up, and he wrapped you in a hug immediately after, “I love you so much,” you could hear him whisper between his sobs. You held him the entire time crying and walked him back to the restaurant.

“Kid,” Morgan greeted him, “can you drive me home?”

Reid nodded and started to walk toward his car. Morgan took shotgun and you got the back. The drive to Morgan’s house was quiet enough for you to fall asleep. You didn’t wake up until about 30 minutes later. The car had stopped and you heard Reid get out. You watched as he walked down to a swing set and sit on one of the swings. There must have been something about his mother that made him want to come here. You climbed into the passenger seat and fell back asleep. Reid came back and drove back to the apartment. He carried you inside, laid you on the bad, and kissed your forehead before he too laid down and fell asleep.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic

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zigtheeortega · 4 years

Text

as good as gold

✿ pairing: mal x mc

✿ word count: 2971

✿ tags: @roguemal ; @violinet ; @nickyvalentinos ; @adrixnrxines ; @senatorraines

✿ author’s note: okay so this is honestly the weirdest coincidence... i started working on this fic back in early march, and i abandoned it bc it was originally going to be smut, but i just never got around to finishing the actual smut because i wasn’t feeling it, and i wasn’t that confident in the plot. i totally forgot about it, until i read today’s chapter... and i saw parallels between this fic, that i’d abandoned, and the diamond scene/elite skill scene today with mal.

it made me a lot more confident in this because it made me feel like i genuinely understand mal’s character more than i ever thought? (there are parallels between his list of favorite things, stealth, the sneaking around, etc.) anyways, i wrapped it up and thought i’d post it; thank u andrew for writing one of my favorite characters ever and confirming actions and dialogue i thought he’d do ! andrew stans rise. (hope u enjoy pls lmk if u liked it!)

“Thank Gods they sent us. I’m dying to stretch my legs,” Mal said, tossing the gold coins in the air, the clinking of the metal ringing out against the walls of the abandoned safe house.

They walked towards the entrance, the fresh air hitting them, and their lungs were grateful for the relief. The mildewed stench had been unbearable, but they had to suffer through it. The bounty on their head was enough to turn anyone against them.

Their collective rations weren’t enough to keep them fed. With Tyril being the perpetrator, they agreed it was safe enough for Mal and Zilyana to visit the marketplace, as long as they laid low.

“You’re telling me,” she smiled, inhaling deeply. The scent of the damp, mossy alleyway was incredible in comparison to the moldy smell of their hideout.

She shielded her eyes, squinting at the intense light. They had not seen the sun in days, so the warm blanket was a semblance of hope. She’d rescue Kade soon enough; the warmth on her face proved that all hope wasn’t lost.

They walked in silence, weaving through the alleyways towards the marketplace. Mal stopped abruptly at the end of the alleyway, bracing his forearm against her chest to keep her from going any further.

She caught herself gaping at him as he peeked around the corner a couple of times. His windswept hair framed his face beautifully, curling around his defined jaw, the tips resting neatly against his beard.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk on his face. “Caught you staring.”

She averted her eyes, looking upwards. “Was not.”

“The blush in your cheeks betrays you.”

There was no hiding the violet heat creeping across her face and ears. She’d been drawn to his charismatic nature, his carefree, adventurous attitude one that she envied. He owed nothing to anyone, and he never thought twice about his perception to others.

But underneath the snarky, flirtatious facade, lurked layers of melancholia that she wanted so desperately to uncover.

He cocked his head towards the opening, signaling the coast was clear. “Thought I heard something. We’re safe.”

She scoffed, following closely behind him. “Your definition of safe is ‘not currently being chased’?”

He laughed breathily, and shrugged. “You hit the nail on the head. I’m like a honey trap for trouble.”

The sound of bartering shoppers hit them before the smell of fish and sweat did. “What’s the plan? They might recognize us,” she whispered in his ear, acutely aware of the proximity of their bodies.

She noticed him pocket the gold Tyril had given them for the food. “Mal, what –”

“Just trust me on this, kit. I’ve probably stolen as much food that’s in this marketplace, twice over. I can get us the food and we can keep the loot.” He tried stepping forward, but she grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt.

“Or we could just stick to the original plan and use the gold for our food and go,” she said, tugging him backward.

“As long as we can have a quick escape route, it’ll be seamless,” he said, turning to meet her eye. “Trust me, Zilyana.”

And she did.

The mischievous look in his eye was enough to send her heart into a tailspin, but his mention of her name was what sealed the deal. It was a rarity that Mal traded in her nickname for her real name, so when he used it, she knew he was being honest for once.

She didn’t know what part of her compelled him to take her under his “wing”. Maybe he was tired of being alone. Maybe he was desperately crying out for someone to get to know the real him. Maybe he’d been calling out for so long, and she was the first to answer.

“I trust you, Mal.”

His eyes softened. She knew he hadn’t heard that in a long time. “Follow my lead.”

At the end of the last alleyway, there was a large fabric trade stand, with various cut and uncut fabrics of different colors and materials, finished garments hung from a clothesline.

He tossed a dagger into the wooden scaffolding holding up the stand, startling the old man at the booth. When he stood to inspect it, Mal snagged two black cloaks.

“These cloaks serve as both a disguise and a red herring. If we’re caught, ditch the cloaks as fast as you can. Then we can walk freely without anyone knowing what we looked like in the first place,” he said, slipping his hood on. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”

“And we’re distracting them and snagging their food? Seems cheap,” she said, putting her hood up, annoyed at her ears poking into the fabric.

“You’re distracting them, and there’s a reason old tricks still work, kit.”

----

Zilyana used her natural seduction to trap a few unsuspecting suckers, and Mal snagged the food, storing it on the roof of a taller building, just high enough to not be spotted from other rooftops if they laid down.

“I’ve never had an apple before,” she purred, stroking the vendor’s arm with the tips of her slender fingers. It was a horrible lie, but it was working.

“Y-you haven’t?” he stammered, clearly flustered.

“I’m not from around here,” she smiled, leaning forward, exposing just enough of her collarbone and the top of her breasts to reel him in.

“I don’t normally do this, but this one is on me,” he smiled timidly, handing her a bright red apple. Little did he know, Mal had been snagging item after item from his stand behind his back.

She took it from him, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. “You’re too kind. I owe you.”

He blushed furiously, looking anywhere but her face. “I wouldn’t mind taking you out to my favorite tavern down the road––”

“Oh, I’m leaving town tomorrow,” she pouted, batting her eyes. “I wish we could’ve spent more time together.”

Mal emerged from the alleyway, watching closely. She didn’t know if he was capable of jealousy, but his nonchalance vanished when the vendor asked her on a date.

“I’m closing up shop soon, if you’re willing to wait for me.” He said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks.

“Balmed is that you? Oh my Gods, it’s been so long!” She exclaimed, looking at Mal, who still watched from the shadows.

The vendor turned quickly, noticing no one was there. He looked back at her, then double-taked, scrutinizing his stand of apples. “Hey…”

She sprinted past him, kicking the back of his knees so he crumpled, but it didn’t stop him from yelling, “Thief!” at the top of his lungs.

Mal grabbed her hand, whisking her down the dark alleyway. The sun had dipped just below the buildings, making the alleys a perfect getaway.

They rounded the corner, ready to discard their cloaks, but they spotted guards barreling towards them from both directions.

“What do we do?” She practically cried, gripping his shoulder.

“There’s two of us, and four of them, kit. You do the math,” he smirked, unsheathing his dagger.

“But that makes it sound like we should run–”

He whipped his arm forward, sending a dagger into the nearest guard’s shoulder before decking the other in the jaw.

Zilyana knew that Mal’s sheer dumb luck was part of the reason he was a notable thief. He somehow managed to survive in every situation, like a rodent.

She drew her sword and slashed the guard in front of her in one fluid sweep, kicking the other in the chest, sending him sprawling.

“That was a little too easy,” she trailed off, her senses sparking. She had no control over her elven senses, but they usually came to her when she needed them most, similar to a fight or flight response.

“I think the guards have us cornered but we haven’t met them yet. I can hear footsteps.”

Mal’s eyebrows rose. “We’re completely surrounded?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

“Alright? What are we gonna do?” she asked, hysteria begging to burst through her calm demeanor.

“The rooftop where we stashed the goods isn’t far away. I’d say five buildings or so over. After they pass, we’ll have to jump from roof to roof –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m not even in the right garments to jump right now,” she shook her head, gesturing to her casual dress.

“You’re just gonna have to flash the entirety of Port Parnassus,” he teased, turning to the wall next to him, covered in mossy vines.

He grabbed onto a vine and started climbing, her on his heels. The footsteps were within Mal’s hearing range by the time he got to the rooftop, so he extended an arm for her to grab.

She gripped his forearm, pushing herself off of the wall. It sent her flying into Mal, the momentum too much for the short distance. They fell over, her landing on top of him, chest to chest, their noses nearly touching.

She could see a snarky quip forming on his lips, but it never came. She watched his smug grin dissolve into admiration, his gaze softening as he glanced back and forth from her eyes to mouth. The lingering rays of sunlight struck their rooftop, hitting Mal’s face, transforming his dark brown eyes into a stunning liquid pool of amber, flecks of gold she’d never noticed before reflecting the light.

He reached up, pressing a gloved hand on her face, gently stroking her jaw. She leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes and sighing just low enough for him to hear.

A low growl rumbled through his chest, the vibrations passing through her own. He watched her, transfixed, through half lidded eyes.

“Have you always been this beautiful, kit? Or have I just been too stupid to notice?” He whispered, tenderly gripping her chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

She smiled, holding back a laugh as they heard the guards clamor down an alley nearby. “I don’t know if I’d say you were stupid…”

With his eyes trained on her lips, she leaned down, closing the distance between them, her parted lips meeting his. He could’ve frozen up – he could’ve pushed her away. Instead, he tangled his gloved hand through her hair, deepening the kiss.

He snaked his arm around her waist, his grip firm and commanding. He tasted sweeter than she could’ve imagined, his scent even more intoxicating up close.

He pulled away, searching her features. She couldn’t tell if he was thinking she’d regretted it that fast, but she was determined to ease his mind. Zilyana recognized the walls he put up; they were familiar because they mirrored her own.

“Anything we do from this point on, I won’t regret. Don’t worry,” she whispered, stroking her thumb across his beard.

He looked at her like he was truly seeing her for the first time. Like he was safe with her. Like he wanted her too.

The guards passed through the alleyway next to them, the clanking of their armor drowning out Mal and Zilyana’s labored breaths.

He pulled her close, tucking her underneath his head, his arms circling her protectively until the guards passed.

They stayed in the same position, embracing, until the sun set, making way for the midnight skyline freckled with glimmering stars.

After the street lanterns were lit, and the residents of Parnassus were tucked into bed, they were momentarily safe enough to discard the cloaks and sneak back to the rooftop where their food was stashed.

Once they were on the rooftop, Mal gestured to her to walk towards the edge of the building. She looked out at the edge of the port city, the vast body of water rippling, the waves flicking calmly against the docks, the water reflecting the moonlight.

“I never get tired of views like these,” he sighed, snatching an apple and taking a bite. “I love gold, but I love a pretty view more.”

She eyed him, brows furrowed. “Alright, I love gold more. But scenery is a close second.”

“Mal the Magnificent is getting candid? Color me surprised,” she grinned, watching his expression match her own.

“What can I say? You’ve grown on me, kit.”

And that was all the validation she needed. She was chipping away at his facade brick-by-brick, and one day his defense would crumble.

She’d be the only one to witness the beautiful destruction.

She crossed the distance between them, facing him while he chewed and swallowed his mouthful of apple. Juice dribbled down his beard, and she wanted so badly to taste the sweet flavor of his lips again.

“You’ve grown on me, too,” she said, reaching for his hand with her own, hooking a finger around his. She used the other hand to delicately swipe her thumb across his facial hair, drying his face of apple juice.

He watched her in awe, looking at her as if she were the only being in the world.

“We should probably get back,” she whispered, refusing to break eye contact. “They might be worried.”

“Yeah, they might be worried,” he repeated, still staring at her, squeezing her finger with his own. “But I think it’s better we stay the night.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to miss a second of seeing the moonlight on your skin,” he said, eyes roaming over her face.

Her face heated, breaking eye contact first. She knew the violet tones in her cheeks would betray her calm exterior once again.

“I could look at you for hours…” he trailed off, stepping closer towards her.

Their bodies were barely touching, their faces close enough so that the wind made the tips of his hair tickle her cheek.

He took his leather gloves off, revealing his scarred, calloused hands, likely from the years of training with blades. He cupped her face in his bare palms, the heat from his hands counteracting the chill of the sea breeze.

It was the first time he touched her with his bare hands, and she relished in the contact. It was a feeling of intimacy she hadn’t felt before.

She’d been abandoned by her birth parents and adopted by a human family. When they passed, she felt not only the tremendous loss of her parents, but the longing to be wanted by those who willingly left her before.

She saw so much of herself in Mal. The classic signs of abandonment issues were blatant in his personality. He wouldn’t admit it to her then, but he’d grow comfortable with her and come around. And she’d be there for him.

She watched as he leaned in tentatively. She closed the gap between them, pressing her mouth firmly against his, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He melted in her grip, a low groan coming from his throat at the initial kiss. She parted her lips, begging to taste him again.

She drug her hands around his torso, meeting at his belt buckle, unlatching and untying until they fell to the ground with a clank. She slid her hands underneath the tail of his tunic, pulling upwards. She was met with the firm muscles of his stomach, a soft tuft of hair from his navel to the waist of his pants.

“Zilyana, I…” he breathed, eyes half lidded.

“I want you,” she finished, pulling back just enough so that she could meet his gaze.

His hair had become unruly, whipped by the sea breeze and the momentum from running through the alleys of Parnassus. Loose strands framed his face like vines on a stone wall, begging for her hands to wrangle them.

“You sure you want this? We can pretend like it didn’t happen when we go back,” he said. She detected a twinge of uneasiness in his voice, like he didn’t know what he wanted from her.

“We can work it out later, Mal,” she whispered, running her hands farther up his chest.

He groaned, both because he was trying to maintain responsibility and his body was responding to her touch. “You’re right. Fuck it.”

He kissed her fervently, ripping at the laced-up ribbons on the back of her dress. The air between their bodies crackled, their unbridled sexual tension finally reaching its climactic end.

She tried helping him out of his clothes, but stopped after a few failed attempts. “For a simple guy, you have a complex wardrobe.”

He laughed, the deep bass of his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I can be flashy when I want to be.”

He stripped his tunic off, then his boots, before helping her slide out of her dress. Her undergarments were thin, just thin enough so that he got a glimpse of her naked body underneath.

He rested his hands on her waist, pulling him towards her. She grazed her fingers across his stomach and lower back, lightly touching the dozens of scars. He had a story behind each scar, and she wanted to hear every one.

He eased her onto the stone, gently, like she was as fragile as a priceless heirloom.

“Look at you, Zilyana… so beautiful,” he whispered, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I told you I like a pretty view.”

She searched his eyes, the trace of golden flecks gone with the sunlight, and she smiled internally. She was learning to love gold, too, as greedy as it sounded.

----

#playchoices #blades of light and shadow #mal volari #mal volari x mc #mal x mc #mal the magnificent #mal the rogue #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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