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mawofthemagnetar · 4 months

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Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?”

Jevin waved a hand.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!”

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished.

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre.

He tapped it, and vanished.

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together.

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family.

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall.

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!”

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing.

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!”

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered.

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged.

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged.

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids.

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

#magnetar writes #Jevin Fic #Iskall fic #I've had this thing in my documents for about half a year and I finally polished it up #I hope you enjoy

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 9 months

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Would Rift like to go on a hike with me and my dog? 👉👈

-🍨

Yes, of course, I'm sure he'd love to go on a hike with you and your dog, ice cream anon 🥺 Be prepared! He gets excited and distracted easily, so you may need a second leash 😉 This got a little longer than expected, but I hope you like it!

*Rift's eyes light up*

Rift: A hike? Like a hike, hike? Through the woods hike?? Up a mountain hike???

*You nod your head*

Rift: Yes, absolutely! Let's go!

*Rift starts walking away towards the door, and you stop him*

*You explain that you can't just "leave" for a hike without any preparation*

Rift: Oh...

*Rift thinks for a moment*

Rift: So, what do we need?

*You explain some key components: a backpack, water, snacks, bandaids, etc.*

*Rift scratches his chin*

Rift: Snacks, huh? I can have Drip make us some sandwiches.

*You smile and say that'll be perfect*

Rift: I know Chance has some bandaids we can stea- borrow. Gloss has a bag of trail mix stashed somewhere for more snackage. You know, the kind with candy in it? I can grab the extra canteens from Tungsts room, and I know Brett has a sweet backpack.

*You raise your eyebrow and ask if it's okay for him to "borrow" all of these things from his brothers*

*Rift waves his hand dismissively*

Rift: Nah, I borrow their stuff all the time! They won't miss it.

*You shrug your shoulders and say okay*

*Rift asks Drip to make the two of you some sandwiches, and he obliges*

*Drip also packs the two of you some other snacks, because he knows the sandwiches will not be enough*

*Rift then grabs all the things he mentioned before and stuffs it all in the bag he "borrowed" from Brett*

Rift: Are we ready now?

*You shake your head and mention one more thing, you're dog*

*Rift's eyes grow wide, and his mouth opens at the cute animal in front of him. He bends down to give it some soft pets*

Rift: It's adorable! Is it coming with us?

*You nod your head*

Rift: This is going to be so much fun! Let's go!

*Rift waves goodbye to Drip, and Drip tells you both to be safe*

*You bring him to the start of the path at the base of the small mountain and tell him that you have to follow the markers for the trail or you could get lost*

*Rift nods his head in acknowledgement*

*You then explain that when you reach a certain point, you'll have to turn around to go back before it gets too dark*

*Rift nods his head again, eager to start*

*You head up the trail and point out all sorts of things along the way*

*Rift notices something move and walks off the trail towards it*

Rift: What's this?

*You laugh and say it's a frog*

Rift: A frog?

*You get a little closer to it and it hops*

Rift: DID YOU SEE THAT

*You giggle*

*The frog starts hopping away*

Rift: Hey, wait! Come back!

*Rift starts chasing after the hopping frog*

*You try to get him to come back so you don't stray too far from the trail, but he really wants that frog*

*Rift calls back to you*

Rift: Don't worry! I won't get lost!

< later that evening >

Tungst: Has anyone seen Rift?

*Brett, Gloss, and Chance shrug their shoulders*

Chance: Does anyone know where that box of bandaids went? I swear it was here this morning.

*Tungst, Brett, and Gloss shrug their shoulders*

Gloss: Alright, which one of you took my trail mix? I was saving that for a special occasion.

*Tungst, Brett, and Chance shrug their shoulders*

Brett: How many times do I have to tell you kriffing idiots to stop touching my stuff?!

*Tungst, Gloss, and Chance exchange startled glances*

Brett: WHO THE KRIFF TOOK MY BAG

*Tungst, Gloss, and Chance shake their heads*

Brett: Well, it didn't grow legs and walk away.

Tungst: Well, that's odd... All of our canteens are missing.

*Tungst narrows his eyes and wonders what's really going on with all of their missing stuff*

*Drip walks in with dinner*

Drip: Ready to eat?

Brett: IT WAS YOU

*Drip is taken aback and confused as he sets the food down*

Drip: What was me?!

Brett: Where's all our stuff?

*Drip is even more confused*

Drip: I don't know...

Brett: Don't lie to me.

Drip: Why would I lie to you?

*Brett narrows his eyes*

Brett: I know it was you, you little kriffing–

*Tungst interjects while waving his hands*

Tungst: Woah, woah, woah, hold on a minute. I think we're forgetting that there's still another member of this squad that's not accounted for. So before we make accusations, we should–

*The door bursts open, and you, your dog, and Rift stumble in covered in mud, leaves, and bandaids, with Brett's backpack slung lazily over his shoulder as the water canteens clink into each other*

*There's a collective sigh from the group*

Tungst, Brett, Drip, Gloss, Chance: Rift...

*Rift smiles brightly and opens his hand*

Rift: I got a frog!

#tbbb converses #oc: rift #oc: tungst #oc: brett #oc: drip #oc: gloss #oc: chance #phoenix squad #clone oc

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ladyfogg · 3 years

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Let Me Comfort You

Fic Summary: After leaving your first date to chase a lead, Colin loses the chance to question their informant. Frustrated and feeling useless, Colin returns to your place hoping for some comfort. And you’re more than happy to provide it. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Rough Sex, Oral (F receiving), Angst, Light Dom!Colin

Colin is in relatively good spirits when he gets to the meeting place. Your kisses are still on his mind and he hopes whatever work that needs to get done will happen quickly so he can get back to you.

As he pulls into a parking spot outside a local club, Mare climbs into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” she says. “Thanks for meeting me.” Her eyes take in his jacket and tie. “Did I interrupt something…again?”

“First date,” Colin admits.

Mare gives him a soft smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. She understands.”

Mare nods, turning her attention to the club. “Found out that one of our informants hasn’t been checking in. He’s said to frequent this club.”

“Let’s hope he still does.” Colin puts the car in park but doesn’t turn it off, letting the heat run. The temperature has dropped significantly and all he can think about is your warm bed and body waiting for him.

Time slowly ticks by and while numerous people come and go, Mare doesn’t react so Colin assumes the informant hasn’t been seen. By now he knows Mare well enough to try not to push conversation, so they sit in silence. To his surprise, his partner is the one to speak next.

“How did the date go?” Mare asks.

He’s surprised by her interest and excited to talk about you. “A little rocky in the beginning. We were both nervous. But, after that…” He smiles, remembering how stunning you looked sitting across from him in the restaurant. “Um, yeah, after that, things went well.”

“You gonna see her again?”

Hopefully right after this if it doesn’t go too late…

Colin nods. “Definitely.”

Mare nods along with him. He can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking and how she feels about him getting closer to you. It’s strange to think these things, to want some kind of validation from your boss. But Mare has the energy about her and Colin is a people pleaser.

“You two really like each other,” Mare notes.

He smiles, though her words do sting a little. “Should I be insulted that you sound surprised?”

Mare smirks as she shrugs. “You can if you want to be. I didn’t mean it as an insult or anything. I’ve just never seen my girl take a liking to someone so fast.”

Colin feels his cheeks redden and he smiles. “That’s nice to hear.”

Mare looks him over, studying him like she does a piece of evidence or a suspect. “You two will be good together.”

Colin opens his mouth to thank her, but her expression hardens and she motions towards the club.

“That’s him!” she says, nodding towards the guy headed their way.

Colin barely has a chance to look at the informant before Mare is getting out of the car. The second the man sees her he turns around and books it.

“Shit!” Mare exclaims giving chase.

Colin swears and jumps out of the car himself. He takes off running after them, doing his best to catch up. The freezing night air steals his breath away but he pushes through it, weaving between cars. The informant does the same, trying to trip them up. Colin dodges around the cars on his left in an attempt to swing around and cut him off.

He’s gaining in the man but suddenly, the informant turns unexpectedly then barrels right into Colin, sending him flying back into a car. The next thing he knows, he’s on the ground, his palm on fire from scraping against the asphalt in his attempt to catch himself.

“Zabel?!”

“I’m fine! Keep going!” He barely gets the words out after having the wind knocked out of him.

He hears Mare’s footsteps run past as he takes a moment to catch his breath. By the time he pushes himself to his feet, Mare is coming his way, looking annoyed.

“Lost him,” she sighs heavily.

Colin feels the bile rise in his throat and anger courses through his veins. “Fuck! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Zabel.”

“But I had him!”

“Don’t beat yourself about it. If anything, I’m the one to blame. He ran when he recognized me.”

Her words don’t make Colin feel better. His already shaky confidence is shattered. Resting against the parked car, he yanks his tie off, using it to wrap his injured hand.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Colin says, terser than he means to. “So, what should we do now?”

“I’ll call it in. Let them know that he was spotted. At least this means he’s in the area. If they don’t find him on the streets, they’ll get him at his place. Someone will pick him up.”

“Should we do a quick drive around?”

“Nah. It’s late. You should head home.”

Mare walks with him to his car. Colin’s knee is killing him and his pants are covered in mud. What had started as such a great evening went downhill fast.

“Go home and get some rest,” Mare says as he eases himself into his car. “I’ll let you know when he’s picked up.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Colin sits in his car for a moment, watching Mare get into her SUV. A small part of him wants to just go home and wallow in his self-pity. But a larger, more vocal side tells him to go to your place. Picking up his phone, he pauses for a second of contemplation before shooting you a quick text to see if you’re still awake.

Awake and waiting ;) comes your response only seconds later.

He’s twitchy and fidgety the entire drive, his throbbing hand just reminding him of his latest failure. It seems like every time he’s finally going to prove himself, he only manages to prove himself wrong.

When he pulls up to your apartment, he doesn’t hesitate getting out of the car. This time the cold barely registers.

You’ve left the door unlocked so he lets himself in, making sure to lock it behind him. The warmth of your place makes him feel a tiny bit better. He calls your name when you don’t come to greet him.

“In here, Detective Zabel.”

Colin’s heart nearly stops when he walks into your room to find you lounging on your bed in the sexiest panties and bra he’s ever seen. The only source of light is the dimmed lamp on your nightstand. It’s just enough to cast everything in a warm yellow glow.

The second you see his muddy pants and his tie wrapped around his hand, you sit up, face etched with concern.

“What happened?” you ask, getting off the bed.

Colin looks down at his hand. “Oh, you know, doing big shot detective work.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Here, sit down. I think I have a first aid kit stashed somewhere around here.”

You gently lead him to the bed, having him sit before you rummage around your room. Colin kicks out of his shoes as he carefully takes off his coat and suit jacket. His body is already sore and he knows tomorrow he’s going to be in a lot of pain.

When you come back to his side, you gently take his hand in yours. He watches you delicately unwind the tie before examining the scrape on his palm. It doesn’t look as bad as he thought it was. You grab a wipe from your kit and clean out his wound.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Colin debates not saying anything, but one look in your eyes makes him sigh. “I let an informant get away.”

“I’m sure you didn’t let them get away.”

“No, I guess not,” Colin concedes, seeing your point. “But I didn’t stop him or catch him like I was supposed to.”

You fall silent as you finish cleaning his palm and put a Band-Aid on it. “Well,” you say in a quiet tone. “You tried and that’s all that matters. You guys will get him next time.”

Colin stares at you, eyes raking down your body, just casually sitting there in the underwear you planned to seduce him with. It sparked the fire inside his already antsy body. He cups your cheek and pulls you into a kiss. It’s harsher, with more tongue and teeth than he usually uses yet feels appropriate considering the storm of emotions inside of him.

Your mouth falls open in surprise and he takes advantage, licking deep inside as he crushes you against his chest.

There’s so much he knows he can’t do. So much of his job that he knows he’s not qualified for. He’s reminded of it every fucking day.

But this. You. Making you feel good. He knows that he can do. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt truly sure of himself.

Your hands come up to his shoulders and you push him back to break the kiss. “Colin, baby…”

You’re, breathless and hearing his name in that tone only fuels his lust.

“Please,” he whispers against your lips as he draws you closer. “Please, I just need…” He can’t finish his thought.

You study him for a moment, before running your hand through his hair, peppering him with kisses. “What do you need, baby?” you ask. “How can I help?”

Dominance washes over him and he gets his voice back. “Lay down on the bed.”

As you do as he says, he stands up and strips. Despite the heat of your room, he still feels chilled to the bone. All he can think about is getting his hands on you and making you moan. Planning ahead, he drops his wallet on the nightstand so the condoms will be just within reach when he needs them.

Naked, Colin kneels on the bed, eyes raking up and down your frame as he leans over you. He swoops down for a kiss, losing himself in the taste of your lips while his hand cups your breast, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

You gasp and shudder. “Your hands are freezing!”

“Then let me warm them up.”

He tugs the flimsy material down so your breast is exposed, fondling it just as roughly as he had a moment before. The heat of your skin sears into his palm and you gasp again, writhing underneath him until the temperatures balance out.

Colin doesn’t stop kissing you, drunk on your lips just as he has been every single time they touch his. You bury one hand in his hair and the other falls to his hip, urging him on with a gentle squeeze. His thumb rubs circles around your nipple before he breaks your kiss so he can take the bud in his mouth.

You bow your back when he does, pressing your breasts into his face even more. Colin moans, lavishing your nipple with constant attention until he decides the other has been ignored for far too long.

Both your hands cradle his head now, keeping him pressed against your chest until he decides he needs to taste more. He needs your legs over his shoulders and your thighs clamped over his ears. He needs you moaning his name as he makes you come undone.

Your panties are yanked down without much preamble or ceremony. As nice as they are, they only serve as an obstacle between Colin and what he wants. He’s rough when he throws your legs over his shoulders before tugging you down the bed towards him. With a strangled moan, he buries himself between your thighs.

God, you’re already wet. He tastes your arousal with a thorough swipe of his tongue, relishing in the notion that he’s the one who made you like this. He’s the one who has you moaning and squirming underneath him. Emboldened by your reaction, Colin sucks on your clit, grunting as you squeeze his head with your thighs. He can sense you clenching at nothing, feel your hips attempt to jerk upward for more friction. But he pins them down, doesn’t do what you’re silently begging for.

Instead, he keeps doing what he’s doing, alternating between sucking and flicking with his tongue. He’s just as warm as you are now, beads of sweat trickling down his neck and making your legs slip on his shoulders. He only holds you tighter.

When he finally eases two fingers into you, he receives a harsh hair pull for his efforts. It makes him grin, his cock pressing eagerly against the bed. He’s not ready yet, doesn’t want to stop pleasuring you for even a moment because it’s the surest of himself he’s been in years.

This time when you come, he feels your body clench around his fingers. He lets your pelvis rocks against his face and he loses all train of thought other than the feeling of you coming all around him.

The second you relax, he sits up, gasping for air and taking in the gorgeous sight of you, bra tucked under your breasts and legs spread wide.

He reaches for a condom before you even have a chance to catch your breath. You see him roll it on and wiggle out of your bra, tossing it somewhere off to the side.

Colin grabs your legs, wrapping them around his waist before pushing into you with one smooth thrust.

You throw your head back with a gasp, “Colin!”

With his hands on either side of your hips, he fucks into you. His eyes never leave your face, taking in every expression. The way your eyebrows knit together when you shut your eyes or how your teeth dig into your bottom lip…it’s intoxicating.

Your hands cling onto his arms, tugging as though you’re trying to pull him closer. He doesn’t follow through, not yet. He wants to keep watching.

You open your bleary eyes and he loses himself in them.

How did he get so fucking lucky to have someone like you look at him this way? To see him for who he is? Even though you don’t know. You don’t know what he did. If you did, he doubts you’d look at him the way you are now.

He kisses you harshly, pressing his body against yours and, grinding himself into your heat.

It’s his turn to moan your name, his lips unable to leave yours for more than a second.

“You feel so good,” he moans. “I love the way you squeeze me. It’s like you’ll never let go.”

One of your hands buries into his hair while the other reaches blindly for his hand. When you find it, you twine your fingers with his and he presses your joined hands to the bed.

His mouth seeks your throat and moves down until he finds your breasts again. harsh kisses turn to him sucking on the flesh, desperate to leave his mark on you.

He comes not long after, throwing his head back with a guttural moan. You twitch and spasm underneath him, coming again but he’s too lost in his own pleasure to notice until he collapses on top of you and feels the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Colin can’t help but hold you close, even though your bodies are pressing so tight makes it hard to catch his breath.

You stroke his cheek, looking at him with concern. “Tonight really got to you, didn’t it?” you pant.

Colin nods, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’m sorry. So sorry for—”

“Don’t apologize.” You take his face between your hands and force him to look at you. “You have nothing to apologize for. That was actually really hot.”

Colin gives a breathless laugh before pulling you into another kiss. This time he’s gentler, carefully easing out of you so he can slide onto the bed. His movements allow you to finally take a deep breath and you slowly exhale. With shaking hands, Colin rids himself of the condom. He’s not one to be so rough and he’s worried he’s overstepped. But then you curl against his side, your arm thrown over his chest and your face buried in his neck.

“Hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere,” you say through a yawn.

Colin yawns himself, running a hand through his hair before tucking it behind his head. His other arm pulls you in close.

“Why? There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He can feel your smile against his skin before you place a gentle peck on his throat. “Get some sleep, babe. We can talk more about it tomorrow if you want, okay?”

“I’d like that.”

You fall asleep almost instantly, but Colin stays awake, gently running his hand up and down your arm. Even after fantastic sex and being in your arms, he only feels marginally better. That little anxious voice in his head won’t quiet down and it takes a long time before he’s able to fall asleep.

---

Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @xmaximoffic @marshmallow--3 @stellarbound @kais-messiahbaby @margaretboothsear @slightlyvicked @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @liandav @billyhxrgrove @TheOriginalDoll87 @tatesimper @sanni333 @spider-starry

#colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #detective colin zabel #love exists #evan peters

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Comfort Zone

Chibs Telford x F!Reader

Request from Anon: Can I have some Chibs? I don’t care how you do it, but I want me some Chibs. But just a happy ending, yo girl loves happy endings ❤️

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Two fics in one day because today has been rough and writing is my number one coping mechanism haha. This is my first time writing for Chibs! Writing the accent was new so please extend a little extra grace there lol. Sorry if it’s clunky at all in that regard. But have a nice little dose of fluffy feelings with our Filip xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @adela-topaz-caelon @garbinge @chibsytelford @mijop @everyhowlmarksthedead (If you want to be tagged in future fics don’t hesitate to let me know!)

Chibs was making his way back towards his dorm when he heard someone scuffling around inside. He sighed—the day had been long enough, the last thing he wanted to do was go toe-to-toe with whoever was rummaging through all of his things.

He pulled his gun out from his kutte as he pushed his door open, “Ye got about ten seconds to get the fuck out before I—” he stopped short when he saw you standing by his dresser.

You chuckled, motioning for him to finish his sentence, “Before you what? C’mon, I’m invested in this now.”

Despite his exhaustion he had to chuckle. He shook his head slightly, “Nevermind. What’re you doin’ here, lass? Haven’t you got a home of yer own?”

You laughed as you walked up to him, “Yea but you’re not there.”

The two of you were standing close enough to touch, to hold each other, but you didn’t. It was the same song and dance the two of you had been doing for weeks, now. There was no denying that there was chemistry between the two of you. You’d never made any attempt to hide the fact that you were attracted to him, and he wasn’t exactly a person you would describe as subtle. But despite all of that, neither of you had ever really pushed things to the next level. You couldn’t speak for what was going on inside Chibs’ head, but you knew that he wasn’t someone that you could afford to lose. If playing this game in limbo with him was how you got to have him, then so be it.

“What’s goin’ on, love?” he ran his hand back through his hair.

The smile faded away slightly from your face, “I…I’ve just had a really rough day. And honestly? All I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with.”

He laughed, not at your exhaustion or distress, but at the plain and simple honesty of your statement. He’d never been someone who was good at saying no to you. He reached out and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Alright then. Sounds like I can help with both those things,” he pulled away and stepped back towards the door, “Let me go grab a bottle.”

You chuckled, “You really expect me to believe that you don’t have at least one stashed in here somewhere?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Course I do. But if yer looking for a full bottle, you won’t find that here.”

He disappeared out the door and you couldn’t help but to laugh quietly to yourself. You sat down on his bed, curling your toes into the worn-out throw rug that was on the floor beside his bed. Your hands smoothed out the blanket next to you while you waited. You’d popped into his dorm countless times to talk to him. He’d even let you crash a few times if you got too drunk to drive home after a party, not that he would ever share the bed with you. It was the first time the two of you were really sharing the space together this way.

A few minutes later he reappeared in the doorway. He walked in, shaking his head slightly as he shut and locked the door behind himself. You looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You okay?”

He nodded, “They’re afraid I’m gonna drink myself into oblivion in here,” he lifted the fresh bottle of whiskey to prove his point.

You laughed, “Tell them you were at least sharing?”

He shook his head, “You wouldn’t get a moment’s peace if they knew you were in ‘ere.”

You smiled but didn’t say anything. You knew that he was right, if the guys knew that it was the two of you back here sharing a room and a bottle of whiskey, you’d never hear the end of it. They gave you a hard enough time as it was and nothing had ever even happened between you and Chibs. This might be just enough to make all their heads explode.

He shrugged his kutte off, draping it over the lone chair in his room. He tossed the bottle onto the mattress and you laughed as you picked it up, unscrewing the cap. You were about to press the bottle to your lips when you heard the sound of his belt buckle being undone. You froze, eyes automatically darting over to look at him.

He saw the look on your face and chuckled, “Don’ let me stop you. Drink up.”

You felt your cheeks get hot and you let out a nervous laugh as you took a swig from the bottle. Hopefully it would help to calm your nerves. The other possible side effect was that you were going to lose what little resolve you had left that was keeping you from attempting to climb him like a tree.

He was down to just his t-shirt and boxers as he made his way over to the bed. He stopped just before he reached it, taking a moment to really look at you. His brows furrowed for a moment as he looked you up and down.

“You wearing my shirt?”

You bit at your bottom lip, the heat in your face intensifying with every passing moment, “Um. Yea. Wanted something more comfortable. That alright?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Glad yer so comfortable here,” he sat down on the edge of the bed, “G’won, scoot over. Make some room.”

You laughed as you crawled to the far side of the bed, getting yourself underneath the covers as you did. Chibs slid in beside you and held his arm out, gesturing for you to come and tuck yourself up against his side. You did so gladly, reveling in the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, just passing the bottle back and forth to each other. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest and it made all of the stress that you had previously been battling with melt away. Every now and then he would lightly run his fingers up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

While he was still holding onto the bottle, you turned so that you were laying more completely onto his chest, one of your arms slung across his stomach. It earned a chuckle from Chibs, who then used the hand not holding the whiskey to lightly massage your temples.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, love?” he kept his voice quiet.

You sighed, drumming your fingers on his chest as you thought about whether or not you really wanted to get into everything that was bothering you. You didn’t really want to bore him with your work and family drama—you knew that he had enough to worry about with everything that had been going on with the club.

“Just a shitty day,” you looked up at him, “You okay? You usually don’t walk into your dorm swinging your gun around.”

He chuckled before taking another drink from the whiskey bottle. He handed it to you before leaning his head back against the wall behind his bed. “Don’t usually have people goin’ through my shit, either,” he pulled lightly at the sleeve of his shirt that you were wearing, “Thief.”

You laughed, “I guess that’s fair,” you sat upright so that you could take a swig from the bottle, the burn bothering you less and less as the night wore on.

You reached over him so that you could set the bottle on his nightstand. His breath hit your neck as you leaned across him and it almost caused the bottle to slip from your fingers. You tried to keep yourself composed as you leaned back, pulling your legs so that they were tucked up underneath you.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he asked, and you had the feeling that he knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” you asked.

It wasn’t what he had been expecting you to say. He thought about his response for a moment, “Prob’ly because I’d run out of shirts for you to wear.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove, “You know what I mean. Wh-why do we always have to pretend that we like each other less than we really do?”

“You tell me, darlin’,” the expression on his face was soft, knowing, “’Cos I’ve seen you backpedal about a dozen times just tonight.”

You wanted to sink into the mattress, hating how well he could read you, “Do you even like me?”

He couldn’t help his laughter, “Nah, can’t stand ye. That’s why I keep lettin’ you come around.”

You playfully slapped his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He rested his hand over yours, fingers tracing along your knuckles, “Course I like you. But I’m too old for games. I’m not lookin’ to convince anyone into anythin’.”

You mulled his words over for a few moments. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the alcohol, or a mixture of the two that made it so difficult for you to believe what he was telling you. It seemed too easy that he might feel the same way as you.

“So if I kissed you right now, you’d…just…”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling slightly at the edges, “G’won. Find out.”

You were hardly able to believe your own level of confidence as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He instantly leaned into you, lips moving perfectly in sync with yours. You could taste the whiskey off his lips and tongue and it was everything that you imagined it would be. His hand came up and cradled the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could see the smile on Chibs’ face. “See?” his hand slid down to rest on the back of your neck, “Wasn’ so bad, was it?”

“Not bad at all.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Alright then. C’mere,” he reached and shut his bedside lamp off, “you had your drink. Come a little closer so I can give you a proper cuddle fer yer bad day.”

You laughed as he slid down so that he was lying on his side, facing you and waiting for you to do the same thing. You shimmied down farther underneath the covers. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you so that your chest was flush against his. Your hands came to rest lightly on either side of his neck, thumbs tracing idly along his jawline. Every few minutes he’d lean in and kiss you—on the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead. He never tried to drag it out. You found yourself settling into him, your legs involuntarily tangling themselves up with his.

“Goodnight,” you mumbled sleepily against his chest.

You felt his chest vibrate with quiet laughter. He pressed a kiss to the edge of your forehead, “Goodnight, love.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #chibs telford #filip telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford x you #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs telford fanfic #chibs telford fluff #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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neoheros · 4 years

Text

how would haikyuu boys handle falling in love feat. kuroo + akaashi + tsukishima !!

kuroo tetsuro

being in a relationship with him is just a pretty chill experience tbh

i feel like kuroo wouldn’t really date anyone he’s not close to on a comfortable level

people be like: omfg he looks like a player tho

he’s literally not ???? like y’all telling me this man doesn’t look like the idea of having to interact with people he doesn’t know repulses him ? bye

he’s not ignorant, he just isn’t the type to get out there unless necessary yk?

he’s got a good friend group and he’s totally satisfied with that !!!!!!

so when he was 100% sure that he saw you as somebody he’d want to be more than friends with he was just like :0

kuroo at 5:37 am, thinking of that one time you handed him a bottle of water first: oh— oh shit

he doesn’t act on it first though because y’all have been friends for so long and what if you don’t like him back ???

he didn’t wanna ruin the thing he had with you because you were literally the only one who tolerated him sending tiktoks at 4 am in the morning

kuroo: omfg have you seen this one yet

you: bro it’s almost 5 am are you on crack

but eventually he got tired of just staring at you and admiring you from afar and having to make up some excuse when you catch him cause he just really likes looking at you :(

you: bro stop staring at me

kuroo: no, your face bothers me

you: due to personal reasons i will make you pass away ❤️

so one day he just decides to shoot his shot yk?

if you reject him that’s fine, he’ll just have to send numerous tiktoks to wash away the awkwardness afterwards

like he’ll be upset about it because holy crap he flat out adores you at this point but he’s also got a sense of boundaries and will totally respect your decision

BUT !!!! when you told him you liked him too he just 🥺👉👈

this man had the goofiest grin on his face for weeks on end and his heart is all over the place because all the things he imagined in his head to do with you is finally gonna come true !!!

don’t be fooled though !! nothing will change from your friendship !!! you’re still both really chill with each other except now y’all can hug and kiss and !!!!!

kuroo: don’t i look kinda good in this picture though

you: not really, let me take a better one

kuroo: stop taking me out of frame

in retrospect, it’s really fun to be in a relationship like the one you two have because there’s not much things to disagree on and the dynamic you both have just go so well !!!

there’s also not a lot of new things to do or be uncomfortable about because y’all have already done everything as best friends !!!!!!! it’s 🥺

you, seeing kuroo staring at you: what’re you looking at me for

kuroo, unnerved: you’re so pretty

you, caught off guard: it’s my time to pass away now i see 😌

you two joke around a lot but that doesn’t mean you two take whatever you say to heart

somewhere along the line, this made kuroo a bit worried on how you took his intentions though

he knew you were cool with messing with him but sometimes he wonders if what he says ever gets to you

so one night while the two of you are eating frozen yogurt in his car, you in his hoodie and just straight up vibing to the tiktoks that played as background music

he looks up, spoon in his mouth, “you know that i love you, right?”

“you’re so cheesy,” you tell him, laughing while you scroll up to the next video on the fyp

he leans back in his seat, eyeing you under the single yellow light of the car

you, barely looking up from your phone: i love you too though

akaashi keiji

being in a relationship with akaashi is quite literally the most gratifying thing

he’s 97% of your wise decision making and you’re very much thankful for that

when he first met you he honestly didn’t know what to think

his first impression of you? an indecisive impulsive mess

his second impression of you? a very cute indecisive impulsive mess

there’s not a single doubt that he was crushing on you H A R D

he doesn’t pay attention to it though because he knew how crushes often worked and most of the time they didn’t really work out

but the more he looked at you or stared at you from afar with a silly grin that he doesn’t even realize, everyone around him notices just how silent you make him

leave it up to the fukurodani volleyball club to be the best matchmakers in the world

so one night while akaashi was chilling in bed he gets a text from bokuto telling him about an impromptu team hang out sesh

akaashi: it’s 7 pm ..?

you, in the group chat: theres never a wrong time for milk tea !!!!!

when you sent that everyone else in the chat was just so frickin ecstatic because now that you’ve confirmed you were going, it’s obvious that akaashi was now too

he arrived like 2 minutes early from the designated time and the way it wasn’t at all shocking when no one else arrived except for you

akaashi: well they totally bailed :/

you: hey at least now we have a list of people to take revenge on when the purge strikes

it’s okay though because the two of you make most of the night anyways !!

you never thought sitting outside of a 7/11 at 7 pm on a friday could be fun but as you sat there with boba tea and a ramen cup with one of your closest friends next to you, you were just !!!! so frickin soft

akaashi on the other hand didn’t feel anything but utter nervousness the whole time

it was so cold under the night sky and you were so close to him, he’s praying that you take the redness on his cheeks from the weather and not from the rapid racing of his heart

bokuto texting him: bro i swear to god if you’re not taking this chance to shoot your shot i’m >:(

he’s so nervous because it actually was an ideal time to tell you how much he liked you

plus he’s pretty sure that you were eventually gonna notice just how often he glanced at you whenever you came to their practices or in general

so he’s like fine then !!! he’s gonna do this tonight and if you reject him then he’s just gonna have to deal !!!!

akaashi, anxious: hey i really li—

you, cutting him off: i like you a lot and i’m pretty sure bokuto did this on purpose because he knows and i’m sorry if it wasted your time !!!!

akaashi, less anxious: oh

HE !! DOES NOT HESITATE !!! TO REASSURE YOU !!

he just smiles softly and tucks your hand in his and tells you he’d like to walk you home that night

after that something just changed between the two of you

suddenly he’s walking you home everyday with little forehead kisses before he leaves

going grocery shopping with him when you run out of food at home because he’s the only one who knows about your secret snack stash

akaashi: you don’t need that much yakult

you: ? don’t be alarmed but i think we just found the reason of our first fight

whenever you go out with him to shop for anything at all, he always has to be the person in front when you walk because he’s the one pushing the cart with his left hand while his right is tightly interlocked with yours

you just stray behind him, pointing out all the things you’d like and he’s the one who decides if it’s worth to buy because you’re absolutely sure that you’d be dead broke if you were left alone

akaashi: this hoodie looks cute, do you wanna try it out

you, recalling the four sweatshirts you haven’t returned to him: nah i have enough

sometimes you’d get in the cart whenever the grocery store you’re in is mega big and he’s just gonna have the most unbothered face as people eye him because he’s pushing a fucking cart with a person in it

you’d get worried though thinking that you’re too heavy for him to push around so you insist to get off but he just doesn’t let you because you were so cute and 😤

akaashi is just so frickin soft when it comes to you like most of the time when someone idly mentions your name a smile immediately comes up to his face and he doesn’t even realize it

he also almost always wake up to numerous snaps of you at 3 in the morning just doing the most random things

he goes through them with such a silly grin and has to fight the urge to screenshot all of them cause u were so FRICKEN cute

akaashi, looking at a photo of you with tears down your face from 4 am: that’s my baby 👉👈

everyone around y’all are just on the fence about the two of you dating since neither of you really cleared what was going on ???

you were scared to call him your boyfriend because there was never really a discussion about it and you didn’t want to come off as assuming

but one afternoon right before he left when he dropped you off at your house, he just stopped and looked at you and you were so confused

akaashi, taking off his sweatshirt and giving it to you: the news said it gets cold tonight

you, on the verge of tears: oh 🥺

tsukishima kei

he’s a salty little shit who complains 24/7 and that’s about as canon as it gets

BUT but !!! if there’s anything tsukishima is good at and i mean anything !!! it’s being observant and keen on the people around him !!! ESP TO YOU !!!

at first you were always just kinda there ?

like he noticed your presence cause you shared classes with him and you were also at his practices a lot cause you and kiyoko would walk home together

so he knew of you but didn’t really know know you, yk?

but then one day yamaguchi came to him introducing you because apparently he’s the only one left on the team who hasn’t met you and it may or may not be because you were low key scared of him

it’s all good though cause once you two shook hands and talked he became more open to actually including you in his life

you guys made out to be good friends considering that you balanced out his snarky attitude with your even worse comebacks

like they weren’t really all that clever but it’s annoying enough to get him to shut up when you want him to

everyone on the team was super surprised at the fact that you were able to talk to tsukishima like that but also they were like: “please don’t ever stop???”

so you became from someone he barely realized was there to always looking for you first when he enters a room

yamaguchi: you know some people would call that having a crush 😗

and he’s all confused cause he knew that the possibility of him getting through high school without having a crush was very slim but jesus christ a crush on YOU??

tsukki, internally: god has favorites and it is not me 💔

but when he gets over the idea that it’s completely revolting to like you like that he realizes something click and suddenly it wasn’t an annoying idea to see you romantically

so in full tsukishima style he asks you out and was pretty surprised when you said yes but you weren’t cause he wasn’t even mildly subtle at hiding his intentions

you: does this mean you won’t be mean to me anymore 🥺

tsukki: no but that’s a nice try ❤️

even when the two of you started dating, he didn’t really want anything to change cause he liked the dynamic he had with you

he was very relieved that you weren’t easily offended and you didn’t really get on his nerves a lot

you guys were hot heads but you also respected each other 🥺

something you quickly became accustomed to after dating though is being codependent when it came to sleeping

you’re usually always over at each other’s houses and his mom is totally over the moon at the fact that his son found someone like you

so every afternoon after school you two are at either houses and just chilling and vibing because school do be very tiring tho

most of the time naps happen and even if it is super hot outside and you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, you just can’t get comfortable unless you’re touching him yk?

tsukishima’s probably the same since he really likes it when his leg is over yours or when his arm is touching your arm

you, under a blanket against tsukki’s back in extremely warm weather: it’s hot

tsukki, sweating: yeah

you: so anyways

he didn’t even realize how much he’s used to you being there when he falls asleep that at night when he actually needs to rest and you’re not anywhere near him he just can’t ???

tsukishima, snapping you a picture of him with tired eyes at 2 in the morning: you ruined my life

you, just as tired, quickly replying: uno reverse card bitch

so it’s 2 am and neither of you can fall asleep and it’s just an entire frenzy of tiring yourselves out

the two of you end up facetiming and just talking endlessly about random thoughts and perspectives on people

his voice is 100% groggy and every 2 minutes he’s yawning but he really likes it when he’s talking to you because it’s always better when it’s you in the mix

he’s telling you all about how he thinks dinosaurs are super cool and fantastic that when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep he’s just like 🥺

he stares at the screen for a while, suddenly regretting that he wasn’t there to make sure you were comfortable

he’s got the softest smile on and he doesn’t even care that he’s staring at you while you’re asleep cause you just looked so peaceful and warm and sweet

tsukki: that’s my baby 🥺

he feels another yawn come up and he ends the call, hoping that the tone won’t wake you up when he does

at this point he’s also on the verge of falling asleep and he’s very glad that he talked to you because you always knew how to get him out of things like this

tsukki, texting you: thanks for falling asleep on me SNAKE

tsukki: love you, gn <3

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Cookies (part 2)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst.

Javi and Reader continue to get to know each other.

Tags: Mention of blood, super vague description of wound care. Additional TW for Javi: the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known.

Word Count: 3,484

A/N: I was NOT expecting the amount of enthusiasm I got for the first chapter, but I’m so grateful for it!! I struggled a little bit with this chapter because it was the only one I didn’t have a solid plan for lol, but here it is because I’m impatient to share (and also tired of looking at it). I promise the next few will be better ;)

Masterlist

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The next evening, you give yourself a stern pep talk before going to knock on Javier’s door. Javi, you remind yourself. You’re here to check on his leg, assuming he needs you to.

The door swings open much more readily than it had the night before, and Javier appears, an expectant half-smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Neighbor,” he drawls. Despite the new air of informality about him, his eyes hold a familiar suggestion that makes your heart sink a little. Back to his customary flirting, then.

“Hi, Javier,” you say, more coolly than you had originally planned. “I came over to see if you wanted me to check on your leg. I just kind of assumed that you would have the right supplies and stuff when I was giving you instructions last night, but if you don’t I can give you some, change the bandage for you. The first few days of healing are the most critical,�� you explain, willing yourself to cut off your own rambling.

He examines your face for a second, the ready welcome fading. “Why do I get the feeling this check-up is more for you than for me?” He hitches an amused eyebrow back up, stepping back to let you in.

Over the threshold you cross your arms. “I don’t know, did you want your secret stab wound to get infected?”

He puts his hand on his hips with the beginning of a disbelieving frown. “It wasn’t a stab,” he grumbles defensively, with all the dignity of a petulant child.

You roll your eyes at his assertive posturing. “I know. I examined it.” Javier doesn’t move, though it couldn’t be comfortable maintaining such a wide-legged stance in those tight jeans. Your lips twitch the slightest bit as you take in your normally composed neighbor, his conflicted moue suggesting he’s been thrown off.

Taking pity on him, you borrow a page from his communication manual, nodding to a chair. “Come on. Pants off,” you deadpan, letting just a hint of your amusement show.

His expression starts out relieved, then cycles through several emotions in the space of the next second (albeit extremely subtly). He seems to freeze momentarily. “Uh, if you’ll just excuse me for one second, I’ll have these off for you in no time.” He winks, which would be charming if it weren’t Javier and he didn’t look like he had forgotten something important, and hastily strides toward the bedrooms.

Mystified, you look around, curious about the man despite his unpredictable demeanor. The apartment looks comfortably lived-in, yet there’s a distinct lack of personal effects, creating an odd contrast. There’s an empty takeout container by the sink, but you aren’t fooled by that- very occasionally, you’ve smelled amazing things coming from this kitchen. You wonder what sparks his culinary inspiration.

A throat clears behind you and you jump. You hadn’t heard Javi return, but there he stands by the dining room table, the fly of his jeans already gaping. He quirks a brow at you. “See anything interesting?” he asks, tipping his head to indicate the apartment. Apparently at ease, he begins to remove his jeans, and you avert your gaze, a flush creeping up your neck.

What? You saw people in all states of nudity every day at the hospital; why should you be flustered now? Annoyed, you busy yourself sorting through supplies while he sits down,

though not before he pulls out a chair for you.

Just like the previous night, he waits until you’re almost finished working to speak. “How did you know I was in pain last night? I didn’t think I made much noise.” His eyes are narrowed, like it’s something that’s been bothering him.

You reflect on your answer before giving it. “You...moved like you were in pain. Slowly, shuffling. And...you made a noise once you closed the door. I heard it, you know, through the wall.” You admit the last part with your eyes down, focusing on adhering tape to his skin.

“Through the wall, huh.” Something in Javier’s husky voice makes you glance up. He looks contemplative, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. He angles his head down toward you. “What else do you hear through the wall?”

You’ve walked into a trap of your own making. Those daring insinuations are back in his eyes, but you can’t escape to your apartment in the middle of changing a bandage. So you answer truthfully: “I hear you cook sometimes. Smell you cook sometimes,” you correct yourself brightly. “What do you make that always smells so good, Javier?” You meet his gaze with deliberate innocence, although you would genuinely like to know.

His expression shutters, and he leans back in the chair again. “Food,” he mutters. “Stuff I learned a long time ago.”

An unexpectedly real answer; you quash the intense curiosity it provokes. Not wanting to pry too much, too soon, you just snicker in response. “Food, huh? I think I’ve heard of that.” His attention snaps back to you, but you just let him brood as you finish with his leg.

This time when you stand, you linger over your supplies, leaving some out for him and explaining things to watch out for. “I’ll come by again tomorrow night, but it should be fine as long as you don’t aggravate it,” you conclude.

“Well, non-aggravating is my middle name.” Javier gives you a winning smile, one that probably would have passed the muster of anyone who hadn’t heard the mocking edge in his voice.

A laugh sputters out of you. “Is that so? I’ll be sure to tell Connie next time I’m over there.”

Something like fascination sparks in his eyes, a hunger he can’t hide propelling him to lean forward. “Oh? You two ladies talk about me?”

Your lips purse as your mind races through suitable responses. “Well, I had to get the dirt on my mysterious neighbor from somewhere,” you say lightly. Because it sure wasn’t coming from him. Yet the longer you spent in his company, the more you found you wanted to know.

“Hm.” A huff is his only response. His shoulders relax against the chair back as he returns to regarding you wordlessly, but in a distinctly more agreeable way.

You suppress a smile as you pick up your bag. “Well. Goodnight, Javi.”

Almost a week after your last checkup, Javier grinds his cigarette butt into the ground and flicks a last glance at your window. He and Steve had arrived home at the same time, so he’d stalled with the excuse of a smoke outside, knowing that if he entered his own apartment, he’d lose his nerve. Gritting his teeth, he limps up the stairs and to your door. He knocks.

The noise of the tv cuts off, and a moment later, you open the door. You blink in surprise. “Javi! What are you doing here?” Concern clouds your face as you take in his rumpled appearance.

The words lodge in his throat. “I, uh. I need your help,” he admits, dragging his gaze up from the floor. “Banged my leg at work today. Think I opened it up again...thought I should let you take a look at it.” He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction if you found out he hadn’t.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately step back to let him in. “Of course! Please, here-” You offer your arm, but Javier has enough pride this time to make it to your dining room table without help. When he looks up you’ve vanished, dashed off to your stash of medical supplies, he assumes.

He takes the opportunity to look around. Your place is cute, homey-feeling, because of course it is. He notes, however, that most of the decoration has been locally bought, and curiosity needles at him. Nothing more personal to bring with you? He gets a fleeting glimpse of the bottle of wine on the coffee table before you return.

“...sorry about that, I don’t know why I stashed this away so well when I knew you might need it again.” Your setup is a familiar scene by now. You keep glancing over at his blood-stained bandage, frowning worriedly, and he wonders how you can be so damn caring when it’s clear he’s interrupted your evening.

He makes a sound of disgust. “Nah, this was a stupid accident,” he says, annoyed all over again. “Normal, routine chase after some narco, but I slid against a wall that had some shit sticking out of it at just the wrong spot.”

Your eyes leap to his in shock, and too late he remembers that Connie gave you the ‘janitorial services’ line. You don’t ask though, pressing your lips together and determinedly refocusing on peeling off the bandage, and Javi can’t help but feel a twinge of respect.

Well, someone in the building would tell you sooner or later. “I’m an agent of the DEA,” he says, monitoring your reaction. “Since you were about to ask.”

You straighten indignantly. “I was not!” you protest, before you see the lazy gleam in his eye and realize he’s joking. You roll your eyes reproachfully, but the press of your lips now looks amused. “I just thought there was probably a reason Connie didn’t tell me.” Javier winces as you gently prod at his injury.

“Well, what’s one more secret between neighbors?” He winks conspiratorially at you. Just like the last time, however, it gets minimal reaction, and it confounds and intrigues him in equal measure. Women usually respond to his efforts. Even if there’s no real intention, he likes seeing them get a little flustered, likes the feeling of having influence, control. And women don’t seem to mind.

But you...you resisted. Javier doesn’t know why, but you don’t react to his usual charm in the ways he’d come to expect. He’s sure you don’t dislike him- but he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing to make you like him, either. There was something...enticing about it.

The familiar feeling of your fingers smoothing tape along his thigh brings him back to the present. He tries not pay too much attention to it, knowing that it would be extremely asshole timing to pop a boner.

“Well, you should be all set. Again.” You look sympathetic, not resentful, and Javier nods, suddenly feeling awkward. How could he possibly make up all of this up to you?

“Just- try to be careful, okay? You don’t have to hurt yourself as an excuse to hang out with me.” Out of nowhere you’re teasing him, with a line to rival some of his worst. His eyebrows raise, and he chuckles as he dips his head.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gets to his feet. “...Thank you,” he says gruffly, hoping he’s conveying even a tiny amount of how much he means it. “Enjoy your evening.” He doesn’t let himself look back as he heads for the door.

Steve and Connie have invited you to a movie night. Or at least, Connie has. You assume the invite comes from both of them, even if a movie night doesn’t seem like something Steve would initiate.

“Javi will be there too,” Connie had informed you nonchalantly, but she watched intently for your reaction.

You hadn’t even blinked. “Great!” you said easily- until you realized the opportunity this presented and beamed. “What should I make?”

Which is how you end up standing outside her door, one floor up, holding a plate of cookies. You were glad now that you decided to make them today and not yesterday- finishing them barely 20 minutes ago had effectively given you no time to tailspin about what to wear or how you were supposed to act around Javi. Or rather, Javi and Steve and Connie, since although you and Javi had a secret, it was not what they’d imagine it to be.

Connie answers the door, and that’s definitely not a twinge of disappointment you feel, because why would Javier have answered the door of someone else’s house?

“Hey, come in!” Connie gushes. She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully at the plate in your hands. “What are those, and what are you drinking with them?”

Her easy familiarity grounds you. “Whatever you’ve got,” you reply, some of your nerves settling. Your friend leads you to the kitchen, where Steve and Javi stand continuing some conversation at the bar counter.

“The party has arrived, boys!” She announces. “I told you all that smell was for us.” She winks at you, a bottle already in hand to pour you a drink.

“Welcome, welcome,” Steve greets in his easygoing way, gesturing with his beer to encompass the apartment as a whole.

You smile in thanks, your eyes flitting briefly to Javier. He hasn’t said anything yet, but there’s a loose relaxation to him you haven’t seen before, a softness playing on his lips as he absorbs the scene. It’s similar, you realize, to the moment when he complimented your lemon cake, the first time you felt like you were meeting the real him.

This observation only takes a heartbeat to sink in. Tucking it away to examine later, you shyly lift the plate and set it in the middle of everyone. “She‘s right,” you confirm, peeling off the plastic wrap. “Peanut butter cookies.” The next few seconds are spent in an expectant semi-quiet as everyone takes a cookie and savors the first bite.

“Mmm,” someone sighs, and the dam breaks. A flurry of compliments all around, new threads of conversation bursting forth. You absorb it gratefully, relieved at their enthusiastic response and happy to have been able to contribute. You try not to react to Javier’s eyes on you.

The ice broken, you all chat and drink around the bar for a bit, before Connie declares that it’s movie time, leading everyone to the living room. Before following them, Javier grabs the plate of cookies. “We’ll just take these with us,” he says decisively, and you take it as a compliment.

It’s the first time he’s addressed you directly since you arrived, and there’s a knowing glint in his eye. “By all means,” you respond pleasantly, meeting his gaze. Taking your tenuous first step in sharing the establishment of a public-facing persona to your relationship (such that it is).

In your delay, Connie and Steve appear to have gotten into a hissed discussion, standing between the couch and the loveseat. Connie whirls around as you and Javi approach, fixing a smile to her face. She waves you over to the smaller sofa. “Come on, we get to snuggle up on the loveseat, so the big men have more room to spread out.” She aims a cool faux-glare at her husband, but a glimmer of real frustration prevents it from being believably fake.

Steve sends Javi a long-suffering, apologetic look. “Sounds cozy,” you chirp, mediating before anyone else can say anything. “So what are we watching?”

At this, Steve’s face lights up with a grin that almost makes you wary. He takes great delight in announcing the selection, some military action flick with “enough drama and hunky actors to keep the ladies entertained as well,” apparently.

“A true classic.” Javier nods sagely from his sprawled seat on the couch, his smirking grin suggesting that it was not at all true. Steve kneels to put the tape in, and as he and Javi continue to snigger over it, Javi shoots a self-conscious glance in your direction, his posture shifting.

Connie sighs. “They’ve done a few of these now. I should warn you that it’s less about watching the movie than it is about bonding over making fun of it,” she confides.

You keep the two men in the corner of your vision as you turn to reply to your friend, feeling warm with gratitude at being included. “That’s okay,” you assure her. “It’s a good bonding activity.”

Connie smiles, but seems distracted. She lowers her voice to speak again. “I should also tell you that they make fun of it because they know how government/military stuff really works. From their job at the embassy.” She seems unsure if she should say any more.

“Oh!” You realize that Connie has no way of knowing about your conversations with Javi. “I know. I mean, Javier told me. What they do.”

Connie looks amazed. “Javier told you? When?” Her voice drops to just above a whisper.

“Recently,” you hedge. “I was, um, helping him with something, and it slipped out.” No point in getting him in trouble.

Connie looks ready to burst, but before she can say anything the tv blares, and Steve pointedly declares that it’s starting.

You settle in for the mock-fest, and sure enough, the men don’t disappoint. It’s hard to follow what’s actually going on through their exasperated groaning, but you don’t mind. Their back-and-forth is just as entertaining, and you even manage to join in occasionally during the medical scenes.

Throughout it all, you surreptitiously watch Javier. His opening up is a slow-building thing, like he can’t decide how much of himself to reveal. He steals frequent glances at you, as if trying to judge what you’re thinking of him in this new context. But he can’t pretend to be his usual lascivious self in front of Steve and Connie, and all at once he seems to decide to just be, and damned if you don’t like it.

You don’t let on that you’ve been paying such attention, only teasing and acting like you normally would around friends. But you can’t help but respond to the way Javi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles; to the hard-won sound of his laugh, sending pleasant tingles down your spine. With other things for him to focus on besides you, you’re able to observe him more freely, noticing things you hadn’t before.

When the movie finally ends, you and Javier stand to leave, managing to only after Connie extracts ironclad promises from the both of you to do this again. The tentative banter you’d fallen into in the apartment carries you down the stairs; it felt rather like you were still creating the steps to a dance in which you weren’t quite sure if you were competitors or partners.

He walks you to your door. “It’s like eight steps down the hall, Javier.” It’s sweet, despite your objection.

“A lot can happen in eight steps,” he counters, undeterred.

At the door, he murmurs your name. You look at him in surprise when he takes your hand, even as your body sings from the warmth of his attention. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you for all your help yet.” He brings your hand to his mouth and presses his lips to your skin. Softly, lingering. “Properly, that is.” In his hooded eyes is a brazen offer.

His mustache brushes more softly than you would have thought, and your mind immediately leaps to imagine what it would feel like against your mouth. Heat flares within you at the thought, but you pull your hand free and step back from him. You can see his thoughts slow, reorganize at your retreat.

“You don’t have to thank me with sex, Javier.” It would be lying to say you hadn’t considered this possibility; you place each word with care, knowing that any future relationship you might have with Javier would depend on his response to this conversation. “I didn’t help you as an excuse to sleep with you.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in sex with him, exactly. The truth was...you didn’t want to be done with him yet. You wanted to learn more about him, uncover all the little things that made him him behind the gruff armor. But if you agreed to be seduced by him tonight, it would send the opposite message. That all he had been to you was a debt that was now paid.

Javier looks befuddled, the furrow in his brow deepening as his listens. Your next words come out sounding more practiced. “If that’s all you want from me then fine, but...friendship is good too, you know? Friends are a thing people have.” Your gaze drops briefly, a flicker of embarrassment overtaking you. But you’re determined to make him understand that this isn’t a blanket rejection.

His expression turns frustratingly inscrutable as he digests this. “Right.” Slowly he nods, shifting away from your door.

“Just- think about what I said, Javi. Okay?” No pity in your voice, only a soft, steady plea.

Javier continues to nod as he backs away. “Sure,” he replies, step by step, toward his own home. “Buenas noches, Vecina.” Good night, Neighbor.

In a twisted reversal of your usual roles, you watch him walk the length of the hall. A contemplative saunter, hands sliding into his pockets to retrieve a cigarette.

You can only hope you said the right thing.

---

A/N: In the first scene, Javi left the room to go put on underwear lmao.

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

Moonshot

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton Blurb: Was it too much for Logan to ask to have just one date not revolve around sports talk? Fic Type: Soulmate AU Overall Fic Warnings: None Taglist in Reblog

The polite smile Logan had been wearing for the past two hours slipped off his face as soon as he turned his back to the black camero waiting on the sidewalk.

Every time.

It took all his self-will to unlock his door and move inside without slamming said door shut on that--that--

He gritted his teeth, glaring at his stupid soulmark of a baseball with blue stitching on the back of his hand. “I despise you,” He whispered. Had despised it since the mark had appeared on his thirteenth birthday.

Logan shoved his fist under his arm, stalking away from the door.

Every time.

No matter how many times he told people what type of people he was interested in dating, in having as a soulmate, his wants and needs all seemed to drain out of their fluff-filled scheming heads as soon as they saw the stupid baseball on his hand.

Because the baseball obviously had to mean that his soulmate would be a jock.

After all, your soulmate’s mark would pair with yours when you touched for the first time. Appearing on your skin to complete each other and show that you were finally whole. A key to its lock, a lightning bolt to a cloud, a pen to paper, or in Logan’s case an individual with a bat or mitt would match with him and his infernal baseball.

It didn’t matter that Logan hated sports.

It didn’t matter that a soulmark didn’t always indicate a ‘type’ of person to be on the lookout for.

It didn’t matter that he’d figured out by his senior year of highschool that the sports type wasn’t his type at all.

No. As soon as someone saw the baseball, any thought or consideration to the type of person Logan was actually interested in flew right out the figurative door.

Time and time again it was the same old story. The same type of guy. The same droll dates filled with endless sports talk before the dreaded moment when his date would reach out and touch him to see if their soulmarks would appear on each other’s skin...only to have nothing happen.

He was sick of it.

Logan threw open the door to his bedroom and grabbed the overflowing duffle bag of baseball gag gifts he'd been given for practically every occasion for the last eight years and ducked outside onto his balcony.

The balcony overlooking the darkened practice baseball fields because where else should Logan end up after the student housing administrator noticed the baseball on his hand? It was fate.

Logan dropped the bag with a thunk, grabbing the first ball his fingers touched and squared up like a pitcher on the mound.

It wasn't like he wasn't familiar with the position. His parents had fully subscribed to the idea of Logan’s soulmate being into sports and had forced him to play the game throughout all of high school in the hopes that he would meet his other half there.

Just because his parents’ soulmarks of a shovel and a pickax had matched with their shared interest and subsequent careers in Archaeology didn’t mean his mark would be the same.

Letting out a breath, Logan focused all his frustration and anger into the ball before sending it flying out into the middle of the field, not even waiting for it to land before he grabbed another.

He hated it.

Hated this.

Baseball this.

Sports that.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

Well he was practicing now!

Logan’s lips drew back in a silent snarl as he threw ball after ball after ball like one of those stupid pitching machines.

Just once. He would like to go on a date that didn’t involve any sports talk whatsoever. A date where Logan could talk about his interest in marine biology, in space, in his attempts to write a murder mystery--yes the character that dies a violent death was a baseball player, so sue him. He had to vent his bitterness about his mark somewhere--but a date. A real actual date that had--had--

“AHHHHH!!!!!!!” Logan screamed, flinging the last baseball in his stash out into the darkness before he slumped over the railing burying his head in his arms, ignoring how his glasses dug into the bridge of his nose.

It was pointless.

He’d have to move to Antarctica to escape the never ending line of sport related dates and it would just be his luck that the penguins would end up gaining sentience while he was studying their migratory behavior and their first sentence would be to ask him his opinion on the likelihood of the Marlins making it to the World Series this year.

“You know--”

Logan jerked his head up at the unfamiliar voice coming from below and despite his misgivings for further human interaction tonight, peered over the railing to see a guy wearing the exact same type of frames as him standing in the light cast from the balcony below Logan’s apartment, with a bat in hand.

Great. A player. His luck was definitely not in tonight.

The figure offered a wide smile, holding up one of Logan’s balls. “Until I heard you scream, kiddo, I’d begun to think it was the sky raining baseballs down on my head.” He gestured to the darkened field. “Made for quite the interesting practice for sure, not knowing where the next one would show up.”

Kiddo? They had to be of similar age! Logan exhaled, pushing his glasses back up as he straightened. He could hold it together long enough to apologize to the guy at least.

“Apologies...I didn’t think anyone was out there--” Hopefully he hadn’t hit him. Logan had been throwing the balls quite forcefully. He cleared his throat. “Why were you playing in the dark?”

The boy shrugged, tapping the bat against his shoe. “Moon’s bright enough to see. It’s nice to just...not have anyone watching you practice, you know?”

“No.” But perhaps that was because Logan had only practiced when forced to.

“Oh well,” The boy bounced the ball in his hand. “I’m not much of a catcher, but--” He threw the ball up in the air and with a swing of his bat, sent it flying straight into Logan’s hands. “I can return your balls to you this way if you want--”

He’d very much rather go burn them all in a dumpster. Logan turned the ball over in his fingers, the leather surface warm from being in the batter’s hand. “Or?”

“Or?” The boy glanced to the field, chewing on his bottom lip. “Or...uhmm...well you can come down and help me? Or I can gather them all and bring them up to you!” He said flashing Logan another smile. “I just need like a garbage bag or something to put them all in?”

Ha. Logan’s lips twitched. No way was he inviting a stranger up here. Which meant--He exhaled, dropping the baseball back down to the boy’s feet. “You can keep some if you want. I’d rather not have the reminder.”

Unfortunately, Logan had known that he couldn’t just...leave them all there for someone else to find and take. Not when most of them had his name on them. Which meant, even without this guy’s interference, he’d have to go gather all the balls back up anyways.

A pity. It had been good while it lasted, to think he’d never have to see them again.

The boy laughed, throwing the bat over his shoulders. “Ah, kiddo, you and me both.”

Logan blinked. “Both?” He echoed, leaning on the railing.

“Not exactly fond of the sport myself. But yah know.” He raised the back of his hand to Logan, a blue and black baseball mitt shining in stark relief on his skin under the light from the balcony below. “Soulmarks right?”

Instinctively Logan moved to cover his own mark. “Right.” He whispered, not quite believing what he was hearing. Someone else...hated--no perhaps that was too strong of a word--didn’t like their soulmark?

He’d thought he was the only one.

Logan cleared his throat. “You don’t--?”

“Nah.” The boy shook his head, running his hand down the bat. “Like I said. I’m not much of a catcher. Broken my glasses more times than I can count because people see the mitt and assume if they throw something at me I’ll be able to catch it.”

Logan winced. And he’d thought he’d had it rough. “I’m...sorry.”

“Meh.” The boy waved his hand dismissively. “I’m used to it.” He cleared his throat, nudging the baseball with his shoe. “Anyways--I--uh still need a bag or something for--”

Right. The baseballs. The whole reason why they were having this conversation in the first place. Logan exhaled, grabbing the now empty duffle bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder. “One moment, I’ll be right down.”

“Oh, you don’t--you can just toss--”

Like he would make anyone clean up his own mess when he was quite capable himself. Logan grabbed the railing and swung himself over, pausing long enough to gauge the distance to the ground nine feet below him before he jumped, landing lightly on his feet. He raised an eyebrow at the batter’s flabbergasted expression as he straightened. “What?”

The guy blinked, mouth open. “I--uh--” He cleared his throat, ducking his head as he fidgeted with his glasses. “That was really cool.” He mumbled. “Like from a spy movie.”

Logan scoffed, ignoring how he could feel his cheeks warming. “It was the quickest way down to you.” He said, scooping up the first baseball and shoving it into his bag before he strode off towards the darkened field. The sooner he gathered them all up, the quicker he could return to sulking in his room.

A faint “Right,” sounded behind him before the other guy caught up, fidgeting with the baseball bat.

“I’m Patton by the way.” He said after a moment, shooting Logan a smile, his glasses reflecting in the moonlight.

Introductions. Bah. He’d much rather have preferred remaining complete strangers. “Logan.”

“Logan.” Patton repeated softly. “Do you go by Lo?”

Lo? Logan frowned, ignoring how--how warm he felt now after hearing Patton say his name. He cleared his throat, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder. Why would anyone want to shorten his name any further? “No?”

“Oh.” Patton moved ahead of him to open the chain link gate in the fence. “Well I Lo-key think your name is really cool, Logan!” He said, gesturing him inside with his bat.

Low-key? “Ah...your name is...nice too...Patton.” He said awkwardly, pausing just inside the fence to let him shut the gate. “I haven’t heard it before.” Well he had, just not as a name. People patented inventions all the time afterall.

“Thanks!” Patton bounded past him like an excited puppy, already heading for the cluster of baseballs shining under the moonlight. “My parents were trying to play off of the--uh--” He tilted his head, chewing on his lower lip as he dropped the first handful of balls into Logan’s bag. “That one philosophy from that one guy...Arisomething? Pathos, Ethos, Logos--hey!” He pointed the bat to Logan, bouncing on his toes. “You’d be a really good representation for Logos with your name Logan! But yah. I’m named after Pathos?”

Huh. That was...different. He was pretty sure his Dad had named him after some stupid superhero or something. Logan shook his head, stooping down to grab his own couple of baseballs from the field. “So you have two siblings then?”

“Ah...no, actually.” Patton half jogged over to drop a handful of baseballs into the duffle. He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Mom got cancer--she’s okay! But she...she couldn’t have kids anymore after everything.”

“...Oh.”

“Yah...what about you? Any siblings?”

Logan exhaled, making a mental note to move faster in collecting his baseballs. Small talk. How had he gotten himself into small talk? Though he supposed he should be grateful it wasn’t sports talk. Few of his dates ever asked about his family beyond what teams they supported. Not that this was a date. But still. “Twin sisters, younger.”

Patton nodded. “Nice! Mom mentioned once if she had had a daughter she would have named her Athena...keeping with Ethos I guess? Is it nice to have younger sisters? I know the movie tropes make them annoying…”

Logan snorted, shaking his head as he bent down to grab another ball. “They’ve mellowed out the past couple of years...well beyond being hellbent on finding me my soulmate while they travel with my parents.” He hunched his shoulders. At least tonight’s date hadn’t been their fault. “They’ve become rather infatuated with the idea of true love after spending the summer in France.”

Patton chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like my best friend, Roman. He’s spent the past couple of summers traveling around Europe hoping to meet his soulmate in one of those old castles. I’m not sure why he’s convinced they’re gonna be over there. Baseball isn’t as popular over there as it is here in the States.”

Logan pulled up short, blinking. “Your friend Roman has a baseball mark too?”

“Hmm? Oh yah! Well, not of a baseball, his is a bat though Roman’s quite set on the fact that it’s a club, you know the weapon? Which maybe that’s why he keeps haring off to Europe, but there’s a few of us that have met up here on campus with baseball related marks---”

“And none of you are soulmates to each other?” Sure, it shouldn’t be surprising. Hadn’t he gone on dozens of dates with people who had related marks but didn’t match up?

Patton ducked his head, tapping the tip of his bat against his shoe. “Well...ummm….we don’t...know? It’s not a thing?”

“Not a thing.” Logan repeated, faintly. How could it not be a thing?! It seemed like his whole life had revolved around the concept of matching up ever since his mark first formed. It was the first thing people looked at when he talked to them, people hardly wanted to interact with him unless they thought their marks could match up and Patton was saying-- “You haven’t tried to match with any of them?”

Patton shrugged, turning to grab another baseball, rolling it back and forth in his palm as he fidgeted. “Like...I--I could...I want to, but most of us don’t like our marks, I think Remus may be the only one? His is this neon green foam finger that he’s super proud of. It’s just...we all just want to be friends first.” He said, stressing the word. “If we match then we’ll match when the time is right, but we just...we all wanted a safe space to be ourselves in college and not have to worry about soulmarks on top of classes and finals and such.”

“Oh.” Logan lowered his duffle bag to the ground. “That sounds...nice.” He brushed the mark on his wrist. To not have to worry about being a potential soulmate to the person he was talking to. To not have to have every conversation revolve around the sport.

Patton nodded, his face in shadow as he placed the last baseball into Logan’s bag. “It is.” He looked up, the light from the moon catching on his glasses, as he pushed them back up his nose. “You ah...we’re all meeting up tomorrow at noon for lunch at that new Bubba Gump Cafe just off campus...if you want to come...check it out? Meet everyone?”

A safe place. To just be himself. To talk to people and not worry about if any of them matched. “I--” Logan took a steadying breath, giving Patton a small smile. “If you don’t mind me...tagging along...I’d really like that.”

#Moonshot #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Soulmate AU #Logan #Patton #Logic #Morality #September Soulmates

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

> I’m doomed > paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll. > help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End.

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared.

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest.

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth?

It’ll be fine.

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air.

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does.

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot.

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge.

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?”

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter.

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory.

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle.

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?”

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease.

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face.

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts.

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body.

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl.

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned.

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.”

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room.

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious.

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture.

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue.

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream.

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back.

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing.

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye. Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

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keepthyfaithandthylight · 3 years

Text

Reincarnation au part 4?

The week went by slowly but surely, and soon enough it was Friday night. Most everyone had gone out partying, including Georges who seemed to talk about only that the entire day.

“You’re not going out?” Max asked, watching his roommate dry his hair with a towel. Always how their conversations started in the evening.

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it. I’d rather just stay in honestly.” He answered, hair now wrapped in said towel.

“I see. Well I picked up some microwave food, which I know is not the healthiest option, but it’s something. If you want some, of course.” Max suggested.

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ll take some.” Antoine replied, focusing more of his attention on other things. Max nodded to himself, before sliding off of his bed and making his way over to his stash of food.

“You know, I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could go and find like.. a shelf or something. I know you have an entire bag of stuff under your bed that you haven’t gone through, some extra storage might be helpful.” He suggested, already putting the food in the microwave.

“Sure, I guess.” Came the hesitant response.

Maybe that’s a bad idea. We’ll see tomorrow.

“Alright, well I hope you like ramen.” Max commented, with a chuckle.

“Of course, it’s a staple of college life isn’t it.” Antoine replied. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing the cup of noodles from Max before sitting back on his bed. Max grabbed his own cup of ramen before settling on his own bed.

In the end they ended up turning on some cheap knockoff Netflix horror movie which managed to last until 10:30.

***

For once the entire week, Max was not woken by the strange remix of Chop Suey, but instead the sun shining directly in his face. Drowsily making his usual cup of coffee, he sat for a moment in thought.

“I knew you were up the moment I smelled coffee.” Came an amused voice from somewhere. Max jumped, nearly spilling his coffee, before glancing to his side.

“Oh, it’s just you. Sorry, forgot where I was for a moment.” He said, airily, and Antoine snickered very briefly.

“I noticed.” He said, with a carefully raised brow. “So, IKEA?” Max slowly lowered his cup of coffee at that.

“Why specifically IKEA..?” He asked, and a glint of mischief briefly flashed in Antoine’s eyes.

“Because,” he began, “have you ever tried to assemble a piece of furniture from ikea..?” He asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, it never goes well.” Max responded, with confusion.

“Exactly. But not this time, because at least I’m not putting it together on my own.” His roommate said, digging around and pulling out a t-shirt. “So, finish your coffee and get ready, we’re leaving right after.” Max raised an eyebrow as his eyes went wide.

“Not if I’m the one driving we’re not?” He replied.

“You’re not, I am.” Max groaned, before downing his coffee as quickly as he could, rushing around to get ready. As he stood brushing his teeth, he noticed the shadows under his eyes getting darker, or at least, darker than they were one week ago. Pushing the thought aside, he refocused on getting ready.

“Please tell me you obey traffic laws..” he began, emerging from the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t have passed the test if I didn’t.” Answered Antoine, walking out the door and into the hall, Max sighing tiredly before following after him. The air, at least, was slightly cooler outside to Max’s relief.

Ah, finally fall is coming soon. What a relief.

Max fell quiet before getting in the car, putting the seatbelt on and making sure it was extra tight.

“So you’re telling me you lived in this car for who knows how long..?” He asked, nervously.

“Uh.. yeah. That would be correct. Not like I didn’t clean it out when I got here, calm down.” Replied Antoine, who was more focused on actually starting the car.

“No, no, I have no doubt that you did. I’m just saying it’s.. kind of small. And you had a lot of stuff plus yourself-“ Max continued, weighing his points invisibly in his hands.

“Oh. Yeah, that wasn’t really enjoyable. It wasn’t all bad though, I could just turn on music and look out at the stars through the sunroof. That was the best part honestly. Everything else was shit, and don’t get me wrong I love this car but it is not ideal to have to live out of.” Antoine replied again, already focused on driving.

I won’t press the issue further, it had to be a pretty personal reason. No one just immediately goes to living out of their car after graduating.

The highway signs passed like sand in an hour glass, and soon enough they found themselves wandering through an ikea.

“How about these?” Max asked, pointing to some small shelves. “They’re small but I think they’d be able to hold quite a bit, plus there’s multiple.” He continued.

“Yeah, those could probably work.” Antoine replied, and without a second thought he was grabbing the box. Max stared wide eyed for a moment, before nodding and following him once more.

Once the shelves were actually bought, they traversed the large parking lot all the way back to Antoine’s car, putting the shelves in the trunk and making their way back. Max could tell he was in for a long day.

Once they were sat back in their dorm, with the materials scattered about the floor, Max made himself another cup of coffee.

“Do we have a screwdriver?” Antoine asked, from his spot on the floor, nose deep in the instructions.

“I don’t think so.” Max answered, apologetically.

“Maybe Georges has one, could you go ask him? I really hate to ask him of all people but..” his roommate trailed off, and Max nodded.

And so then Max was marching off towards Georges’ dorm, knocking on the door before he had any time to protest.

“What the fuck do you- Maximilien..?” Georges asked, clearly hung over.

“Hi yes-“

“Who’s at the door?” A woman’s groggy voice asked from somewhere in the room, Max immediately went expressionless.

Of course.

“Just some guy from my art history class, don’t worry about it!” Georges called back in response, before turning back to Max. “Anyway, how can I help you.” The latter cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I was wondering if you have a screwdriver I could borrow.” He asked, and Georges thought for a moment.

“Actually, I think I do, give me a sec.” he said, briefly retreating back into his room, before returning and slapping a screwdriver in Max’s hand. “There you go, man.”

“Thanks.” Max said simply, and made his way back.

***

“I have our screwdriver.” Max said, passing it to Antoine, before grabbing his beloved coffee.

How would I manage to have made it this far without caffeine.

“See?! I told you this time would be better!” Antoine exclaimed suddenly, with triumph clear in his voice. In front of him sat a set of surprisingly logical shelves.

“Nice, now to just put them in the wall.” Max responded, smiling tiredly. It had taken the entire morning and most of the afternoon, the sun was close to setting.

Who knew it took this long to put shelves together? Actually, it’s most likely because they’re from ikea.

Then his phone buzzed.

Camille:

Hey dude, Lucile told me to tell you she said hello.

Anyway, we have a date set. The wedding is going to be March 3rd.

Max smiled at his phone before typing out his response.

‘Alright, I’ll put it in my calendar. Thank you for letting me know.’

He put his phone back down, before passing Antoine a nail that sat on the floor.

“That might be helpful.” He said, with a warm smile.

“Oh, thanks.” His roommate replied, taking the nail from him.

Max couldn’t really be much help with actually getting the shelves up on the wall, so he simply stared out the window and drank his coffee. His third cup.

It was surprisingly quiet that evening, everyone was either away for the weekend, or staying inside.

Somehow, he missed the sound of rustling around in the bag, and only just now registered the sound of what he thought was sniffling. He turned away from the window, face wrought with worry.

“Are you.. ok..?” He asked, and Antoine nearly jumped, before coughing, the cough obviously being fake.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine I just.. dust. In my nose.” He responded, completely avoiding turning around to face Max. “You know what, I’m going to shower before I go through the bag.” Max watched still as his roommate made a beeline for the bathroom.

Alright, that's troubling.

Max wasn’t going to just go snooping around in his roommates stuff, he figured that if Antoine wanted to talk he would.

The evening was spent ignoring the issue, eating more Chinese food, and watching movies.

The moon shone in brightly through the single window that they were lucky enough to have, as Max sat on his bed. Beside him, he heard the sound of a sigh and the bag being dragged out from under the bed, it’s contents being carefully piled together.

“That’s a big difference from how you treated the other bags,” Max commented, with a raised brow, his tone as light as he could manage.

“Well yeah, the contents are fragile.” Antoine answered, laughing dryly. “They’re pictures.”

“I see,” Max added, nodding sagely. There was a pause.

“Did you.. want to see them or something..?” His roommate asked, and he stared back intrigued. “I don’t really mind, you know.” With that he slid off of his bed, sitting on his roommates when the latter moved a bit to give him room.

In a pile, there sat photos. Photos that Max felt wrong for looking at.

“Who is that?” He asked, pointing to the other person in the picture. It was a girl, and she was smiling rather brightly.

“Right… that’s my ex.” Antoine answered. “And the reason I was living out of my car.” Max fell silent.

“Are you.. are you sure you want me looking at these..?” He asked, and the other shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter honestly. They’re from a time that at this point is long gone.” Antoine answered. “Oh, this one’s funny. That was at the end of one of the school years, I can’t remember which, she and I and a bunch of our friends all just.. kind of.. spontaneously went camping. May or may not have stolen a car, that’s also the first time we decide to use fake ID’s, it was.. very illegal. But it was fun. Just don’t tell the cops.” He said, holding a picture with a group of teenagers in the middle of the woods by a lake in swim suits. Two familiar faces stood out. “He actually ended up getting stuck in a tree. No idea how he got up in said tree but once he did he could not get back down.” The pair laughed a bit. Picture after picture, Max felt like he was almost intruding. “Oh, that was graduation, oh and this one is when we ended up getting an apartment, and.. that was last Christmas.”

“You guys seemed very happy,” Max commented absently.

“Yeah, I guess we were.” Antoine answered, silence fell once more and before Max could even speak, his question was answered. “But, her parents absolutely hated me. Why I have no idea, but.. because we ended up getting the apartment together I had nowhere to stay so I ended up just living out of my car. In case you were wondering.” There was a pause. “Not her fault, really, but.. honestly she was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She was funny, too, and always so supportive. There’s no other person like her in the world.” Antoine rambled, voice clearly strained.

“You miss her, I can tell.” Max commented, brows knitted together. His heart hurt.

“Maybe I do, but it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.” Antoine answered.

“What was her name?”

“Thérèse.”

#frev but make it a poorly written reincarnation au.#frev #french revolution #claws out for the main 5 #that’s right everyone we’re bringing this back

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miracle-maricat · 3 years

Text

Miraculous : The Reveal : a Phone Call Away

Marinette ran up the stairs wiping her tears after she heard the bad news. She was moving to Shanghai! Even though she had an amazing adventure with Fei and Cat noir, moving to Shanghai would mean she can’t be ladybug anymore!

“Tikki, I don't know what to do! I can’t be ladybug and the guardian from Shanghai! It’s all too much. I can't take it anymore!” She sobs. *Ring Ring* “Oh Alya is calling.” Marinette says as she wipes her tears.

“Hey Girl, I heard the news. I’m coming over right now stay there!” *beep* Alya hung up the phone.

Meanwhile in the Agrete Estate…..

“Father Please! I don’t want to go to boarding school! I have friends! If i go there I will only be with a bunch of rich snobs!” Adrien pleaded.

“I have made my decision. You leave in a few weeks.” Gabriel told him sternly. After the door closed Plagg came out and started panicking!

“This is bad, you can’t leave. Who will feed me my Camembert!” Plagg cried as Adrien looked at him with an annoyed face. “But the truth is that I will miss you 100 times more than Camembert. You're the best Cat Noir I’ve ever had. Plagg said and hugged Adrien.

“Woah Plagg I’ve never seen this side of you before! It’s so not you!” Adrien explained happily. “We should get going, It’s almost time for patrol with M’lady!”

Back to Marinette’s……..

“What do I do Alya? This is way too much to handle. And if-if-if I move there I’ll have to take Cat noir’s miraculous because I can’t leave him to protect Hawkmoth alone. I can’t even leave you! You still need training! An-“ Marinette get cutt of by Alya.

“Relax, Girl you’ll figure it out! You hid your secret identity from me for a long time. And I’m a reporter! You fought Shadowmoth hundreds of times you beat him even when it all seemed lost.”

“I don’t know how I did it! I was alone! I couldn't tell anyone about how much pressure I was under! And now Master Fu has lost his memory! I just can’t take it anymore!”

“Marinette, listen to me. You might not realize it but you did have someone to talk to, Chat noir. He knows you the best. And he’s cute too!”

“You don't mean that '' giggled Marinette “But you’re right he was there for me all this time, I just never took the time to see underneath his silliness, that reminds me I was supposed to get him a gift for his birthday! I have just the thing. “Marinette ran to her secret stash of gifts for Adrien and pulled out a black and green wrapped book. Marinette transformed and swung here yo-yo to the secret spot where she and Cat noir meet before every Patrol.

“M’lady you made it!” Cat noir exclaimed

“Of course! How could I miss your birthday patrol, Kitty!” Ladybug said as she started into his green eyes. “Have they alway been that shade of green?” She thought as she felt herself start to blush.

“What’s in the box? A tiny bed for Plagg? Or maybe it’s a book?” He said curiously.

“Actually you’re right, Kitty. It’s a memory book. I got pictures of our best moments and put them inside.” She said as she hoped he would like it.

“…” Chat noir was silent

“ You don't like it do you.” Ladybug said sadly.

“No, I Love it! It’s so amazing! But why are there empty pages?”he questioned.

“ Those are for new memories. For the future!” Ladybug said as she remembered she had to tell him the bad news.

“ M’lady there is something I need to tell you. I can’t be Cat noir anymore.” Cat noir said as he started sobbing.

“Cat noir? I-I-I can’t be ladybug either.” She sobbed. “My parents decided to move out of Paris and I can't do anything about it.”

“Why does this have to happen to me? M'lady I’m so unlucky, you don’t even know how hard my life is! And now I have to give it all up! And for what! So my Father Can be Happy!” Cat noir sobbed even louder.

“Cat Noir I- I don't know what to say. I-I” Ladybug got cut off by her alarm and said “ I‘m sorry Cat noir, See you tomorrow, same time?”

“Same time” he sighed and wiped his tears.

The next day the both got ready for School having to tell everyone that they are leaving. Right before Marinette entered the school she tripped on a rock.

“ Woah! You Better watch where you’re going!” Adrien said as he helped Marinette up.

“DUPAN-CHANG! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY ADRIKINS!” Chloe screamed loudly across the school.

“Hey Chloe. I’ve had enough of you picking on me! All you do is hurt everyone! But I’m not going to yell and tell you off.” Marinette said “I believe that you have an amazing person inside of you. All you have to do is let her out.” Marinette said as she tried to hold in her tears from the news she still had to tell. “Hey you guys, I’ve got bad news. I’m moving to Shanghai!”

*Gasp* Everyone was shocked.

“Oh no” said Rose “Marinette you're the best Marinette ever! You can’t go!”

“What!” Exclaimed Adrien “I have to move too!”

“ How is that possible!” Marinette thought “Me, Cat noir, AND Adrien are all moving! That’s crazy” After school marinette went home to get some packing done with Alya. They packed and talked. They also tried some new power up recipes. Then Alya accidently released the kwami’s, but them got them all back. Around 9 Alya went home and Marinette went to bed. When Marinette fell asleep Plagg came inside.

“Tikki, what are we going to do! This can’t be happening. Paris will be destroyed! And it won’t be my fault this time!” Plagg ranted

“Plagg! Calm down! Marinette will figure something out.” Tikki explained.

“Bye Tikki!” Plagg yelled.

“Bye Plagg!” Tikki yelled back.

In the morning at Adrien’s house…

“Isn’t that weird Plagg? M’lady and Marinette are both moving.” Asked Adrien.

“Nah this is all rotten cheese. Marinette can’t possibly be Ladybug! She’s Multi-mouse remember?” Plagg answered as he ate his cheese.

“You’re right.” Sighed adrien “I guess i have to continue packing.”

“Adrien, these are your last weeks in Paris, enjoy them! And they’re you last weeks with me” play said as he started tearing up.

“Plagg, come here! I want to give you a hug!” Adrien said as he started to chase Plagg around the room.

“YOU WILL NEVER GET ME ALIVE!” Exclaimed Plagg.

Later that day…..

“Plagg, Claws out!” Adrien quietly whispered the transformation words as he went to fight Mr.Pigeon. Again.

“Hello M’lady! Looks like we got ourselves a Fur-miliar friend!” Cat Noir exclaimed as he got into his battle pose.

“I’m Glad you’re here kitty!” Ladybug replied. “You know what to do!” Soon they defeated the villain and captured its akuma.

“M’lady Great Job out there! I would’ve never guessed that he would give the akumatized object to one of the pigeons! You deserve an ap-paw-se(applause)!” Chat noir emphasized.

“Thanks Cat noir! You too! We would’ve lost if it wasn't for your idea to scare the pigeons.” Exclaimed ladybug. *BEEP BEEP BEEP* “I better get going! I can't show you my identity. Bug out!”

“WHEEEEEE” Cat noir exclaimed as he swung through Paris. He landed inside his bathroom and de-transformed. “Plagg, why does it smell like your cheese inside my shower?”

“Well I had to age my cheese somewhere! In my defense it said to put it in a glass container!” Plagg Blabbed. Adrien sighed and went to shower. Then he had a thought. “It sure is weird that marinette and ladybug are both moving! I mean they are pretty similar. No but Marinette is clumsy. BUT! No, that can’t be true.”

“Adrien you have a photo shoot in 30 minutes! You have 10 minutes to get ready!” Nathalie Told him. Adrien nodded and got ready. He drove to his photo shoot and saw Marinette hide on her balcony.

“Why would Marinette need to hi-” Adrien was cut off by a red flash. Then Ladybug flew off Marinette's balcony! “OMG OMG OMG MARINETTE IS LADYBUG! I CAN”T TELL HER THAT THEN SHE WON’T BE ABLE TO FIGHT! Oh but I really want to tell her now because Marinette is already so amazing. And her being ladybug is 100 times more amazing! Wait if she transformed that means there is an akuma attack!” Thought adrien. “Ahh there is an akuma attack! He exclaimed and ran to transform. “At least it's not Mr.Pigeon!” Chat noir chuckled as ladybug gave him a new look. “I’ve never seen that look before mar-Ladybug” Cat noir stuttered. “Oh shoot. I almost called her Marinette”

“Uh-um what look!?” Ladybug quickly responded. They quickly found a way to defeat the villain and its sentimonster. They said their goodbyes and went opposite ways. “Cat noir? Wait i-”

“Claws in” Adrien said as ran out of the ally.

“B-b-bwahhhhhhhhh… ADRIEN AGRESTE, MY ADRIEN AGREST, IS MY PARTNER. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I loved and hated Adrien or cat noir! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO CALL HIM ANYMORE!” Marinette panicked. “Tikki…..”she whined.

“Marinette, it was time you knew. You are the Guardian after all!” Tikki replied.

They kept the secret from each other for almost a month. Adrien packed for larding School. While Marinette slowly packed her room. Everyone was slowly saying their goodbyes. Until one day…

“I’m leaving tomorrow M’lady! I can’t keep my miraculous anymore if I’m leaving for America!” Cat noir confessed!

“Cat noir! Don’t say that! We’ll figure it out!” Ladybug pleaded.

“Plagg, I renounce you.” Cat noir said as he teared up. “I’m sorry Marinette..”

“M-marinette…You know!? Adrein I know too..” Ladybug Cried.

Meanwhile…..

“I knew they were solemates since that time Alex got akumatized.” Luka said as he held up his ship flag. Marinette detransformed And ran up to him crying.

“I’m so glad it you, Cat noir” She said crying.

“Marinette? Me too! I mean you're amazing both way! Marinette is amazing. Ladybug is amazing. And you’re both! Like that's Pawsome!”

“Hehehehe” Marinette giggled “But what is going to happen now? I’m moving to Shanghai, and you……”

“Well? I’ll only be a phone call away. Besides that? I want to ask you something.” Adrein said happily

“And what is that, Kitty?” Marinette flirted

“Will you be my girlfriend, M’lady?” Cat noir asked eagerly

“ Will I? Of course I will! Now I need to tell Alya! She will never believe me.” Marinette exclaimed.

At school….

“OH MY GOD! GIRLS IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!” Alya yelled. “Marinette! WHAT IS THIS! WHAT IS GOING ON! Did you actually…You know.. tell him.”

“ I told him everything! EVERYTHING And I mean EVERYTHING” Marinette said.

“YOU DID NOT, I swear girl, if you did …..”Alya continued.

“ He’s my soulmate. HE’S CAT NOIR!!” Marinette whispered.

“…. WHATTTTTTTT” Alya screamed. “GIrl you need to fill me in tonight! We're gonna have a girls night!”

“Shall we get to class, M'lady!” Said Adrien

“We shall! Kitty!” Marinette said. Marinette couldn’t believe she had finally found her kitty. Adrien was beyond excited that he found his love. Later that night at Marinette house. “ Alya I think it’s time.” Marinette said reluctantly.

“You don’t mean..” Alya started

“I do! If I’m not going to be ladybug anymore then it’s time they know.” Marinette confidently walked down the stairs and sat her parents down at the table. “ Mom, Dad I have something important to tell you. Actually 2 things. Well the first is that I have a boyfriend!” She said excitedly.

“Omg Marinette! Who is it!” Her parents blurted out.

“ It’s Adrien Agreste, actually!” Marinette said super fast.

“…WERE SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” Her mom said as she teared up.

“My daughter! The girlfriend of a supermodel” her dad said as he was crying.

“But there is one more thing…I’m Ladybug.” She confessed.

“Wait… Hold on, you are ladybug!? That’s why you're always missing your classes and late all the time! You’re saving Paris! I’m so proud-” Sabine exclaimed before Tom interrupted her.

“My daughter is the girlfriend of a model AND is a superhero! She can’t get any better than that!” Tom told her.

“Actually.. I can’t be Ladybug if I live in Shanghai. I don’t know what to to. It’s all so hard! You have no idea how hard it was lying to you all the time! And all for nothing!” Marinette broke down in front of her parents.

“Marinette, sweetie, You are not alone anymore. Even if we move, Paris will be safe. ShadowMoth might attack one or twice but when he realizes that you're not here he will stop.” Sabine comforted her. Marinette still had to move, but she was more sure of herself.

At the Agreste Estate….

“I finally feel complete. I found my true love! My father might not know any of this but I can do anything without him. Tomorrow I have to leave, but at least I’ll have Marinette.” Adrien sighed. Nathalie came in and told him goodbye and that his bodyguard would take him to the train station tomorrow morning. He nodded and went to bed.

The next morning at the Train Station….

“Bye Adrien! I’ll miss ya Dude!” Nino said and gave him a fist bump.

“Goodbye Adrien. Hope I will see YOU soon.*Wink” Alya smirked

“Bye!” Rose said.

“Yeah.. bye adrien..” mumbled juleka.

“Bye Adrien!” Said the rest of his friends Unanimously.

“Wait….Where’s Marinette?” Adrien questioned as he looked for her.

“Mgh” His bodyguard grunted singling for him it was time to go.Before Adrein stopped onto the train Marinette came running to him.

“Marinette! You made it! I thought you didn’t wanna come!” Adrien exclaimed!

“Adrien Agreste. Here is the Miraculous of the Black Cat. It grants you the power of destruction. You will use it for the greater good.” Marinette smiled and handed him the ring. He grinned so much everyone was confused.

“What’s that? Ooh, is it a special couples thing!” Rose asked.

“Yeah what is it! Everyone asked. They looked at each other and knew it was time.

*Cue Miraculous instrumental theme song*

“Tikki! Spots On!” Marinette exclaimed while Adrien said “Plagg! Claws out!” They decided it was time the world knew because if they knew each other’s identities they could protect one another. Sooner or later Marinette went off to live in Shanghai. But like Adrien said “I’ll always be a phone call away.”

#miraculous ladybug #the reveal #first fanfic #fanfic

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lookingthroughmirrors · 3 years

Text

I’m Not A Serial Killer - Chapter 1

Alex Centric - Willex & Jukebox

His dad was never there to cheer him on, his Mum was never there to wipe away the tears. There’s always been something about him that was just never enough, he was never enough. Not for the perfect family, not for their image, not for anyone it seemed.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be perfect’

Everything had been going downhill since the second he woke up. It spiraled until he wound up barely coherent in an alley that looked like it had walked straight out of a horror movie. He doesn’t remember much except for the yelling, and the pain. HOMELESS seems to flash like a neon sign above his head, maybe luck is why Julie chose to walk home through there but he’s not about to jinx the only good that came from the day.

AO3 Link

~~~~~~~ Chapter 1 ~~~~~~~~~~

Julie kicks a pebble and watches as it rolls along the pavement, the sun shining down harshly causing a bead of sweat to roll down her face. Normally she’d be in school but with the heat wave it was decided to have school break early so there isn’t a risk of heat stroke. Julie’s dad is stuck at a shoot and was unable to cancel when she called him to make sure he knew she wasn't skipping. Adorning sunglasses she strolls happily down the street despite the heat. Not paying attention she rams straight into somebody hitting the deck with a solid thud. “Shit, wait-er sorry?” the person she collided with rambles slightly frantic.

Looking up she met with a boy her own age grasping a helmet in one hand and an old, slightly dingy looking skateboard in the other. Dropping the helmet he extends his hand out and she takes it with an appreciative smile hoping she doesn’t look too pissed. His wrist is adorned with multiple cord bracelets complementing his darker skin tone, hair as long as her own cascading down his back as he effortlessly pulls her back up onto her feet. “Thanks um-” “Willie, I’m Willie” he introduces with a charming smile “Julie” “Sorry for running into you” he mutters sheepishly through a mischief filled lopsided grin.

“Don’t worry about it-shit, Flynn is going to kill me” she breaks off into a grumble forgetting about the guy that just flattened her scrambling to pick up the trashed sunnies. “Oh for fucks sake” she grumbles looking at the cracked lenses, one side of the frame snapped in half, a chuckle breaks through her mutterings and she whips round with a piercing glare. “Hate to break it to you but you can’t make me melt” the asshole continues to chuckle at her misfortune “ See ya Sunglasses” he calls cheerful getting the bird flipped in his direction, his laugh echoing as he skates off down the streets.

“Chivalry isn’t dead my ass” she grumbles, turning down an empty street only a few minutes away from her house, stopping short when a groan sounds in the desolate open street. A shriek escapes her mouth as she stumbles upon a boy her age looking half dead blood and dirt caking his body. He flinches at the sound but that doesn’t stop her from slowly approaching him, his eyes flickering open his gaze following her movements nervously. “Are you okay?” he lets a low groan at her words, clutching his rib tightly and she puts her hands out infront of her as she gets closer. “Will you let me help you?” Julie holds her breath realizing it after a few seconds pass and he gives her a jerky nod. Sliding an arm under his Julie helps him up, barely stumbling along as she tries to support most of his weight. It takes 10 minutes for her to stumble and limp to her house, knees nearly buckling under the other teens weight. Julie glances at the barely conscious teen with a huff “Here’s to hoping you’re not a serial killer” she mumble managing to get them inside the studio ignoring the wave of emotions that crash over her deciding to focus on the injured guy slumped over her lounge.

Since mystery boy is decidedly not going anywhere she deems it safe to leave him for a minute to track down the first-aid kit stashed somewhere. The only sound is Julie’s quietly muttered curses and the groaning from the injured boy every few seconds. Finally digging it up, it’s pretty trashy looking, washed out paint and a thick layer of dust making up the cover. Putting the case down and checking that he’s not dead she goes to get a bowl of water and a face towel. Coming back into the room she barely manages to skid to the side, nearly sending the bowl flying , as mystery boy barrels past emptying his stomach contents into the bin.

‘Mental note, get new bin for the studio’

“What is it with people and body slamming today?” she mutters with a roll of her eyes before her expression softens once again as she turns to the boy, arms hugging the bin close to his chest as dry heaves sounding in utterly pathetic. placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, he still flinches but not as bad as before. “ L-lu-” the boys mumbles his hands shaking, “ R-reg-” filing the names away for later she bites her lip staring helplessly as he gets more frantic mumbling unintelligibly. Making a split second decision she drags her fingers through his hair and the tenseness seems to melt away.

She’s not sure how long they end up sitting there in the silence, tension melting away from the boy as more time passes. As the golden hue of the afternoon light starts to shine through the window the beaten up teen starts to become coherent, eye’s not as unfocused and cloudy as before. He never quite passed out, almost vomiting every time he seemed to relax but he wasn’t really aware either.

His eyes flutter open and Julie only has a split second to register his eyes widening in panic before she stumbles backwards and the other teen darts to the other side of the studio eyes scanning the room frantically. “Hey, it’s okay” Julie says and the guys eyes dart to her still wringing his hands together nervously “I found you in an alleyway looking pretty beat up, I only brought you here to patch you up” while still radiating nervous energy he seems to calm down slightly at her words while still extremely wary, eyeing her suspiciously “How do I know you are telling the truth” without missing a beat she responds “How do I know you aren’t a serial killer?” eyeing her warily for a couple more seconds he finally lets his shoulders sag slowly walking towards her.

“Thanks” he stutters out “I mean-um for uh h-helping me and-and not leaving me in that alley” he rambles out through one breath bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “It’s okay, I’m Julie” she tries to give him what she hopes is a comforting smile, he returns it with a faint smile “Oh uh, I’m-I’m Alex” Julie puts her hand out and he grasps it with his much larger one, shaking it gently.

“Um d-do you want me to leave?” Alex's voice squeaks at the end of his sentence, looking like he wants to do anything but leave and her mind flashes to what he looked like when she found him and she can’t find it in herself to make him leave when he obviously isn’t in a good spot. “Nah, we can chill out here if you want to, we can watch T.V?” he looks at her incredulously, obviously not believing her.

“Seriously it’s fine, as long as you don’t want to leave you don’t have to” she gives him a kind smile flopping down onto the lounge flicking the T.V on, Alex, albeit hesitantly, follows her lead sitting on the other end of the lounge. About 30 minutes pass of them mindlessly watching T.V before he speaks up, face littered in prominent bruises “You’re oddly cool with a random person at your house” he comments looking at her in slight amusement and she replies with a smirk “Well I figure if you planned to do anything to me you would’ve done it by now” he huffs out a laugh, stopping short with a grimace of pain Julie wincing in sympathy “I don’t think your ribs are broken, I tried to check but i’m not the best with this stuff so i’m not sure but i think it’s only bad bruised” Alex nods and they both turn back to the T.V talking back and forth.

“Julie!” her dad’s voice echoes Alex freezing panic, sitting up ramrod straight as Julie flounders “In the studio!” she calls back shrugging at Alex’s glare. Her Dad freeze’s when he sees that she isn’t alone, his gaze melting to concern when he sees Alex’s state, Julie immediately shooting up beelining towards her dad “Dad please don’t be mad, Alex and I are partners for a school project and I told him we could work here. When I was walking home I found him like this and helped him get here, I think he could be seriously hurt and I didn’t know what to do, please don’t send him away” Ray makes a shushing motion, placing his hands on Julie’s shoulder “Calm down mija, I’m not mad. Alex? That’s your name?” that jolts Alex making him jump up from the lounge that he’d previously been trying to sink into “Um. yes s-sir. Alex Mercer”

“Call me Ray. Why don’t you come in for dinner, you look like you could use some food, we can discuss everything afterwards, assuming you don’t have to go home?” his words end in a question and Alex ducks his head, scuffing his shoe against the floor “Yeah, uh, my parents aren’t exactly happy. They told me not to come back, they’ve never really cared, I guess” Ray looks absolutely heartbroken while Julie can’t stop herself from linking his fingers with hers.

“Come on, dinner’s getting cold. Let’s just eat first and talk everything over later” Ray nods towards the house, leaving Julie and Alex to scramble after him towards the house. Alex grips her wrist, tugging slightly to get her attention “Why’d you lie?” he asks and she looks at him with a raised eyebrow “You think he’d let some random person I just met stay in our house?” Alex rubs his neck sheepishly “Yeah, good point. If it helps I have actually seen you around at school before, I’m in year 10” Julie smiles at that, she thought she recognized something about him “I’m in year 10 too, at least we know it wasn’t a full on lie, only a white lie” Alex seems to relax at the idea of outright lying to someone opening their home to him “Thanks, I mean uh, again, yeah uh, thanks again” he stumbles on his words Julie laughs as they continue into her house.

Dinner passes incident free with everyone getting to know Alex, Carlos barely took a second to breath while asking Alex question after question. Carlos heads off to play some ghost hunter video game that he hasn’t stopped talking about while Ray moves the conversation to the lounge. “Okay” he claps his hands together in front of him sitting on the coffee table as Alex and Julie take a spot on the lounge, Julie hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. “Now mijo, I’m not going to send you away but the spare bedroom isn’t set up so I was thinking you could use the pull out couch in the studio until we work out everything. You are going to need to talk to your parents, I don’t know you well enough to say anything about it but you will need to talk to them, I won’t push as it’s not my place but you get it. Both of you have school tomorrow so don’t stay up too long, Julie you can only help set everything up out there before coming inside, both in rooms by 11, no later. Now I’ll leave you to watch a movie or something. I promise we will work everything out” with that Ray shakes Alex’s hand and placing a kiss on Julie’s head before going to his office to finish up some photo edits from a recent shoot.

“That went better than I thought” Julie mumbles and is immediately swooped up into a massive bear hug blonde hair flying in her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you” he mumbles repeatedly into her hair, she doesn’t say anything letting him hug her tightly. “Sorry, ‘bout that” he mumbles pulling back sheepishly “I get it, today’s been all over the place” Julie reassures, she knows his emotional outbursts are just from whatever happened to him that’s ended with him having to sleep in the garage of a girl he’s never met before, not exactly what you would call normal.

An embarrassed blush taints his cheeks, though Julie just gives him a smile and flicks on ‘ Ghostbusters’. Slowly they build up a conversation and in the end the movie is forgotten as the two are immersed in a debate of whose better ‘ lady Gaga’ or ‘Ariana Grande’, Ray could barely make out what they were saying with how fast they’re talking. He watches from the kitchen, he stuck his head out to check and his brain nearly short circuited when he heard the music discussion. Since his wife’s passing 2 years ago Julie never touched the piano and would never even mention anything to do with music, she would just shut down. Now there she was sitting and talking about music, a bright smile on her face with the bruised and beaten looking blonde teen.

Speaking of the blonde haired teen, Alex seemed more carefree too like he’s in his element talking about music. It’s the first time he’s seen Julie look so genuinely happy in so long then surely the kid can’t be too bad. Despite his beat up, border lining on homeless appearance he can’t imagine the kid was out getting into fights or a laundry list of other things he could be doing. It’s nice to see that light return to Julie’s eyes, sparked with happiness.

#alex jatp #alive phantoms #alex x willie #alex mercer #julie and the phantoms #julie x luke #julie molina #reggie julie and the phantoms #reggie jatp #alex julie and the phantoms #willie jatp #willex fic #willex #Julie and Luke #julie and the himbos #Julie and willie #Julie and Flynn

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Because We Got High.

Relationship: Billy & Reader Warnings: Drug use (it’s just weed) & language. Words: 1,820 Tags: Fluff & humor.

Billy's been driving around for the last twenty minutes, music blaring and smoking cigarette after cigarette as he looks for Max. She was meant to be at one of her friends' houses, but the little shits apparently jumped from house to house without telling anyone. Everyone was meant to be at the Wheeler's- and boy was that fun having to see Karen Wheeler answer the door side-by-side with her husband, squirming and with pleading eyes to not utter a word of their previous flirtations- but the kids weren't there. So Billy drove to the Byers', and again no luck.

The Sinclair household only had one mouthy little girl that Billy briefly found amusing, and it was she who directed him to the Henderson's.

"Just walk right in," the little girl Erica had told him. "My brother and his friends will most likely ignore the doorbell and Ms. Henderson likes to chase her evening pills with alcohol."

"For being a kid, you know an awful lot about what Ms. Henderson does at night."

"I'm thirteen, you mullet wearing bastard." She had sassed him- actually sassed him before slamming the door in his face and all Billy could do was laugh about it.

The kid had fire and he liked it. It was rather refreshing.

Then having gotten back in his car, he memorized the directions to the Henderson household that Erica had given him and drove.

Pulling up outside the Henderson house, Billy stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray before cutting the engine and climbing out. The lights are all on inside, so he wastes no time stomping up to the front door and ringing the bell.

No answer.

He tries the door knob and it's locked.

"For fucks sake," Billy grumbles, growing agitated.

He then decides to pound on the door with a closed fist, but again there's no answer. There's a TV blaring somewhere inside, but he rather not start peeking through windows and risk the neighbors calling the cops on him. Instead he stomps around to the back of the house and is intent on pounding on the back door, yelling until someone answers him. But the moment he steps foot in the backyard, a strong familiar scent hits him full force and he stumbles to a stop before looking for the source.

Dusty and all his little friends had decided to come over and you knew there'd be no peace in order for you to watch a couple of movies as you had planned. They'd all congregated into Dustin's room which was just right next to yours and immediately they were a loud mess. So after making sure your mother was nice and tuckered out downstairs in front of the TV, you went back into your room and into your closet.

At the very top, very back of your closet was your secret stash of weed that was only smoked in emergency situations. And this? This was an emergency of boredom that you needed to quell right away.

So after making sure you had everything in your box, you tuck it under your arm and go back downstairs to exit the back door. In your backyard is the only thing left that reminds everyone of your fathers presence before he split- a large treehouse in the sturdiest tree that Dustin and his friends usually chilled out in when they weren't inside.

There's an actual staircase that wraps around the tree and you climb them all the way up to the house itself. Then plopping down in one of the bean bags, you set the box in your lap, open it up, and smile as you stare down at its contents.

After rolling a blunt and lighting up, you take a deep drag and let the smoke settle in your lungs before blowing it out. Drag after drag, your body starts to loosen up and you quickly find yourself sprawled on the floor of the treehouse.

You have more than enough weed for another blunt and you lazily start to roll another one.

Before you can light up, however, a voice stalls you.

"You do know the entire back yard smells like weed, right? You looking to be busted?"

Rolling over, you belly crawl to the door and look down. Standing in your backyard, looking far too handsome for his own good, is none other than Billy Hargrove. "You gonna be a narc, Hargrove?"

He walks over to the bottom of the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. We don't have classes together, but you made an impression on all the little sheep at school. Name's Y/N. I'm Dustin's sister."

"Hmm." He glances at the house once more. "So can I just walk in and grab Max or..?"

"They got a D&D session going on, so good luck, man."

Billy huffs and turns around, stomping up to the back door and entering your house. You watch, lighting up your second blunt of the night and wait. A handful of minutes pass before Billy exits alone, looking a little more agitated than he had moments before.

Chuckling softly, you hold out the blunt so he can see the embers burning bright in the night. "Need a little relaxation while you wait? Come on up, Hargrove. I don't bite." Billy sighs but makes his way towards the stairs nonetheless. Laughing as he ducks to enter through the door, you roll onto your back and hold out the blunt towards him. "Welcome to Stoners Anonymous. I'm Y/N and I'll be your host this evening."

Billy's agitation is quickly wiped away and a smile takes place of his scowl. He takes the offered blunt and holds it to his lips, taking a long drag as he lets his head fall back and eyes close in pure bliss. Blowing out the smoke, he then takes a seat. "That's good. Who's your dealer?"

"A good customer never reveals her sources until at least the third smoking party."

"Whatever you say." He takes another hit, letting his gaze wander around the spacious treehouse. "You know, a good host usually has snacks for when the munchies hit."

On cue, your stomach rumbles and Billy chuckles as you groan. Cursing quietly, you sit up and crawl over to a stack of crates that act as a stand of cubbies. Pulling out a walkie talkie, you turn it on and hold down the button. "Calling all nerds. Calling all nerds. Take a break from D&D and bring me some noms. Over."

Billy grins, passing the blunt back to you. You take a drag as the walkie in hand crackles to life. "Are you high? Over." Someone giggles before it cuts out.

"As a kite. Now bring me some noms. Enough for two. Over."

"Two? How much did you smoke?!"

"Don't question me, Dusty, or I'm telling mom what really happened to Mews."

The walkie goes quiet, so Billy asks, "Mews?"

"Mhm," You distractedly nod. "Mom's cat that she fucking adored more than her own kids. My idiot brother brought home something feral and it ate Mews. We had to tell her, her beloved cat ran away."

"That's wild."

"Alright. What do you want? Over."

You first pump victoriously. "Pizza rolls."

Billy's nose wrinkles. "Screw that. You got cash? We'll drive and pick up burgers."

Your eyes widen as you beam at him. "You're my new favorite person! Here. Finish it," you tell him while passing the blunt back to him. "I'll go get some cash and shoes, and meet you out front."

Tossing the walkie aside, you watch as Billy picks it up to speak into it. "Cancel the rolls. Y/N and I are driving for food instead."

"Billy?!"

He smirks. "Hello, Maxine. Since you and your nerds are taking forever, I'm taking Y/N for food."

A bunch of rambling comes over the walkie and he clicks it off, tossing it on one of the bean bags. Then with the blunt between his lips, he exits the treehouse and saunters down the stairs.

By the time Billy makes it around front, you're standing rather impatiently in the middle of the sidewalk. All the kids are on the front stoop, glancing between you and him.

"So you two are friends?" Dustin asks. "Since when? You don't socialize, Y/N."

"Whatever. We officially met tonight. Shared a blunt and now we're the best of friends!"

"The best," he leers, coming up beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

All the boys grimace.

"I don't like it." Dustin grumbles.

"Too bad. I didn't like Mike when he first came around."

"Hey!"

"No offense, Wheeler," you quickly amend. "And now look. I adore all you fuckin' gremlins, but that's about to change if you don't let me leave and get a burger."

"Fine!"

"Fine! Let's go, Hargrove."

Billy flicks the remainder of the blunt to the ground, smirking as he turns and leads you to his car. You readily open the passenger door and climb on in, waving at your brother and his friends who suspiciously keep watch of Billy. After settling in and Billy settling in as well, his engine roars to life and you laugh as AC/DC immediately blares at you.

He peels out in front of your house and you hang your right arm out the window to feel the wind rushing against it.

"Come on, Billy. Show me what your baby's got."

Glancing at you, Billy slowly smirks. He turns down one of the back roads, pressing harder on the gas and picking up speed. You laugh, leaning your head towards the opened window and letting your hair whip every which way. "Whoooo!" You scream.

As you settle back into your seat, your bright eyes land on Billy as he splits his attention between you and the road. "Where the hell have you been since I've been in Hawkins, Henderson?"

You waggle your eyebrows. "If you'd stop bullying Harrington, hot shot, you'd find me napping somewhere in the room."

He huffs. "Don't tell me you're fond of boy wonder?"

"Eh. Steve's decent." Billy scoffs. "No, I'm serious. If you boys would get over your egos or whatever shit is keeping you from actually being cool with each other, you'd see Steve is a hell of a lot more tolerable than Tommy. Because seriously, gross. You can do a lot better than Tommy, my dude."

"You talk a lot. I'm honestly surprised I've never met you before."

"Mhm. I think I'm possibly one of the last remaining females who hasn't taken you for a ride."

"Just name the time and place, sweetheart, and we'll rectify that."

"Smooth, Hargrove. Very smooth."

"I try."

"Well try driving faster because I've got a serious case of the munchies and if you don't feed me soon, I'm gonna get cranky."

He chuckles. "Whatever you say, Henderson. Whatever you say."

773 notes · View notes

vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 4 on AO3

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Relationships: (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

________________________

When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time.

Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.

“The fuck? You’re still here?”

Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.

“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy.

“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.

Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”

Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.

“You got breakfast yet?”

Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks.

Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.

“Jason,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise.

A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…

Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tim complains.

Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does.

A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.

When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.

Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really.

“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.

Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”

“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”

“You said you were a paying customer.”

“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”

Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it.

Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.

“Coffee. Black,” he says.

She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.

“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”

“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”

Tim kicks him under the table.

“Little shit,” Jason hisses.

And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.

When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:

“Truce.”

“Nah. You lost.”

Tim stares.

“Admit you lost and I stop.”

“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”

Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.

Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do something. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim.

He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”

“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”

Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”

Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.

“... your other father?”

He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?”

“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”

Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“He’d take you back.”

At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.

“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.

He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off.

Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.

As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.

But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.

The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating.

“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”

Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”

“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”

“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”

“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”

That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face.

Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it.

Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again.

They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim.

The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers.

“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.

“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”

“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.

“Replacement, I swear to God…”

“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”

“Hm.”

“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”

Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”

“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”

“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”

Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.

They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either.

They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again.

Tim didn’t expect to live with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out.

The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.

Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.

That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs.

If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure) the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place.

It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it.

His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.

Someone clears his throat by the door.

Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”

Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:

“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”

Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward.

He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow.

He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement?”

“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are you wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”

Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”

The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.

“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of them finding out I’m back.”

Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”

“Shut it. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”

“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“Inferior to Barbara.”

“Bitch…!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”

Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.

“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”

Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life.

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.

He’s going to hate this.

Tim hates that he enjoys himself.

It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.

After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.

“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.

“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”

Tim shoots up. “I was not! Fuck you!”

Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”

“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”

Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”

Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again.

It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.

Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.

It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.

“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.”

Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”

Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”

“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.”

Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…

“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.

“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”

Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable.

“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again.

Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”

Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”

Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive.

“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”

“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”

It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”

“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”

“How do you-” Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”

Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”

“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”

Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?

“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”

Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.

#jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #batfam #poteto writing #red bros

6 notes · View notes

charlieweasleyxmc · 5 years

Text

Absolutely love this artwork! Credit and link here. Check out “Charliexmc sittin’ in a tree.”

A Friendly Race

It seemed like all of Hogwarts was talking about it, or at least all of Gryffindor House. The fact that Charlie Weasley, the star Seeker was being taken on in a broom race, well, it was a rather unbelievable thing to say. It made it all the more crazy that it was by the Cursed Vault kid.

“I can’t believe you actually announced it in Gryffindor tower, Jae.”

Jae shrugged his shoulders, looking like he was pretending to be sheepish, but wasn’t really. His lip even stuck out in a little bit of a pout.

“Makes for good business,” he said, smiling mischievously as he produced a perfect incantation on the scrap of paper in front of him, sending it flying across the room with Professor Flitwick none the wiser.

“How so?”

The piece of paper settled nicely on Charlie’s desk and (Y/N) blushed, wondering what Jae could have written on it. It couldn’t be anything too embarrassing. Jae didn’t know anything too embarrassing.

Jae’s grin was so suspicious, Professor Flitwick took a long look at them when he turned and it wasn’t till he moved away that Jae replied.

“Bets,” he said, “I could expand my empire beyond smuggling to betting. Quite a lot of money to be made there.”

(Y/N) sighed, but decided not to respond. It would make no difference.

“It’s not going to be like there will be a lot of people there,” she finally said, giving in to her thoughts.

Jae hid a smile behind his hand, but said nothing.

(Y/N) was distracted when Professor Flitwick called the end of the lesson. She reached down to grab her satchel, but was hit in the head by something as she bended over.

She startled, looking up and noticed Charlie Weasley looking guilty.

Sorry, he mouthed. Bad aim.

It’s a good thing you’re not a Chaser, she thought. She shook her head, fighting back her notice of how his hair had fallen over his forehead while he looked at her. And his face. The ministry should make that against wizard law to look that adorable while feeling quilty and trying to look sheepish.

She sighed, grabbing the note and stashing it in her bag.

It was only once she had left the room and was walking in the corridor that she took it out and uncruppled it.

Can I help you get ready for the race tonight? I’ve got a few ideas…

That was in Jae’s large and angry chicken scratch handwriting.

That’s okay bud. I thought I’d get ready with (Y/N).

She’d know Charlie’s tiny scrawl anywhere. The rest of the parchment had been utilized to draw a quick sketch of a Chinese Fireball.

(Y/N) flamed. That little cheat was going to do something to fix the game. She knew it.

She was stomping towards Jae, a few choice words preparing to launch from her mouth when a figure in her peripheral vision caught her eye and she cocked her head just in time for Charlie to reach her side.

Charlie’s answer suddenly struck her unbidden. She blushed. He wanted to get ready with her?

She was opening her mouth to ask him what he’d meant when a chirping voice interrupted them.

“Charlie!”

They both turned their heads see Oliver Wood running towards them. He skidded to a stop at just the right moment in front of Charlie and Charlie reached down to embrace him in a very boyish hug.

When he pulled away, Oliver seemed pleased.

“You’re all right!” Charlie smiled brightly.

“We won the match!” the little second year beamed back.

Charlie sighed, but nodded his head, “we won the match, but we will have to earn a lot more points if we want to win the quidditch cup.”

“Why’d you catch the snitch so early?”

Charlie waved his hand, “we weren’t gonna hold out much longer with the one beater against two. Might as well not get too far behind.”

Oliver started to nod, but his face suddenly darkened. “Charlie…your broom.”

Charlie put a hand on Wood’s considerably shorter shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I was more worried about your recovery.”

(Y/N) stared at Charlie. Of course, he had been more worried about Oliver, but the brave face he put on for the younger quidditch player was startling, considering the devastation she had seen on his face multiple times that week.

Oliver gaped at him, “but…it was…your broom!” he finally finished, flabbergasted.

“It’s just a broom, Wood.”

“Just a broom,” Oliver opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

Charlie shook his head, “goodness, Wood. It’s not like it was a Nimbus.”

Wood seemed to come around at this, nodding to himself, “you’re right. Not a Nimbus. We can work with that. Get you a new broom. And at least you caught the snitch first,” he was already turning away as he was muttering and nodding to himself.

Charlie turned back to (Y/N) after the younger boy walked away.

“I’m going to talk to coach,” he said. “I’m not taking no for an answer this time. They need to have Oliver on Keeper. He’s better at blocking balls than hitting them, and besides, Beaters should be bigger and burlier. A keeper should be quick and agile like Wood. They should be able to switch our keeper with him just fine.”

(Y/N) watched him closely, “what do you mean they?”

He looked at her then and he even tried for a shrugging smile, “I don’t have a broom anymore. They’ll have to put someone else on the team as seeker.”

(Y/N) stared at him, “can’t you just a buy a new broom.”

His head fell, “um…no…mum and da can’t afford it right now…”

Her heart plummeted.

“But don’t worry,” he said, raising his head, “Andre is letting me borrow his broom just this once for the race.”

(Y/N) watched him, “that’s not what I was worried about,” she said sternly.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, “There are plenty of Gryffindors with their own brooms that are decent on them. I couldn’t possibly compete on one of the school brooms.”

(Y/N) put her hands on her hips, “of course, you could. You’d blow them all out of the water…or the air, I guess.”

Charlie smiled a crooked smile at her, “but not you?” he said.

She nodded, “but not me.”

He grinned, “I guess we’ll find out after classes.”

She nodded, her head lowering, “do you maybe…uh… want to get ready together?”

Charlie put his hand to his head, “Oh! I was going to ask you if you wanted to prep after we changed, but I have to finish a detention with Professor McGonagall right before that! See you on the pitch?”

She folded her arms across her chest, “alright, but you’re not using Andre’s broom. That’s not fair. We’ll both use school brooms.”

Charlie smiled with a shrug, moving to begin walking down the corridor.

“You’re not going to argue?” She asked, chasing after him.

He shook his head, “Mum taught me never to argue with a lady.”

(Y/N) walked beside him, mumbling to herself about whether his mother ever taught him not to go falling off his broom or wrestle strange animals that could eat him.

He laughed.

The girl’s changing room was empty, but for (Y/N) and Nymphadora.

(Y/N) huddled against the mild fall weather as she removed her robes and put on clothing fit for flying on a broom.

Tonks peeked out of the tent once she was done, scanning what lay beyond.

She pulled back, a bewildered expression on her face.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, squinting at her.

She shook her head, “you’ll see when we get out there. Are you ready?”

(Y/N) moved to grab the school broom that had been loaned to her. “I guess. I don’t know. I’ve raced Merula so many times on the training grounds, I should be ready, shouldn’t I?”

Tonks smiled, “It’s that you’ve never raced Charlie.”

(Y/N) nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure out-flying the greatest seeker of this decade should be a piece of cake.”

(Y/N) grimaced, “And I thought Merula was scary, what with her having relatives in Azkaban and all. She comes from creepy stalk.”

Tonks stared at her.

“What?” (Y/N) asked.

“I didn’t know you thought I was scary.”

“What?” she stared at Tonks. “Do you have relatives in Azkaban?”

Tonks nodded slowly.

“Oh, Tonks. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Tonks sighed and waved her hand, “nah, it’s alright. Maybe I should spread it around,” she grinned, “I could be much more intimidating. That would make pranking all the more fun.”

(Y/N) gaped.

Tonks shrugged, “Didn’t like them anyway. Well,” she cocked her head, reconsidering, “I did like one.”

(Y/N) stared at her, “What’d they do?”

Her face grew dark, “I don’t want to say it. You’d know the name if I told you, but…I don’t want to darken his name any further. I have a hard time believing it’s even true. My memory of him…he was good, fun even. It’s faint because I was so young at the time, but I think I even liked him a lot.”

“Oh, Tonks,” (Y/N) reached forward to comfort the darkening expression on Tonks’s face, an expression she had never seen before, but before she could, Penny came charging into the tent.

“What’s taking you so long?” she gasped. “We’re waiting for you!”

(Y/N) turned back to Tonks, but the other girl had already flip-flopped back to a grin.

“Better get going, Cursed Girl,” she said.

(Y/N) sighed, but she nodded, putting on a hard expression, “let’s go show that ginger haired…” she stopped, searching for a noun that befit him, “…kid…”

“Nice one,” Tonks murmured.

“…that he has made a grievous error, thinking he can outrace girls, just because he can outrace all the boys.”

Penny giggled, and Tonks chuckled.

“Rousing speech,” Tonks said.

(Y/N) ignored them. Leaving the tent, she stomped towards the quidditch pitch. It amazed her once again that Charlie managed to reserve it for a friendly race. She wondered if he had convinced someone that it was for practice. The archway opened up before her, a clear entrance onto the pitch.

She knew Charlie was on the other side.

“And we’ve got an exciting match for you today! The Curse Breaker is taking on the Unbeatable Seeker in a race no one would dare even imagine!”

Was that Murphy?

A roar sounded and (Y/N)’s stomach dropped out and fled somewhere. She stepped out onto the pitch quickly, gaping up at the crowd.

It wasn’t nearly as packed as a quidditch game, but it was more packed than any practice she had seen. The Gryffindor stands were about half full and the other three stands had at least a quarter of its usual attendees.

She shivered.

“(Y/N) (Y/LN) is on the pitch. I repeat. (Y/N) (Y/LN) is on the pitch!” Murphy’s voice rang out.

The crowd erupted, the sound mind-boggling her.

“And there is Charlie Weasley, looking the regal defender of his title!”

(Y/N) glanced across the field and sure enough, Charlie was strutting onto the field, well as much as the boy ever did strut, which was not at all. He wore regular clothes, not quidditch robes and their effect with his ginger ponytail and broom was very dashing.

She blushed, grateful that no one was close enough to tell.

She strolled across the pitch to meet him.

When she got within range, he gave her what she thought was supposed to be a disarming smile.

Must have learned that from Bill.

Used on anybody, the smile might have gone unnoticed, but used on her, Charlie’s smile would have been effective no matter how disarming it was supposed to be.

She put on a face that she thought looked intimidating, but when he chuckled, she knew that nothing she did now would change the way he saw her. He knew her too well.

Sighing, she mounted her broom, preparing to take off.

“Where’s the starting point?” she asked.

He pointed up to a spot in the air where Andre hovered beside the goal posts on one end of the field. “Andre will start us.”

She nodded, making a point to ignore his second disarming smile. When he opened his mouth to say something, she zipped into the air. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him gaping at her flabbergasted. She grinned.

She made it to Andre and it only took a few more moments for Charlie to reach them.

“Already behind, Weasley,” she smirked.

He actually stuck his tongue at her before he turned his attention to Andre.

“Alright then. The course is simple,” Andre turned his broom slightly to point around the stadiums. “The race will start here. You’ll need to fly through one of these goal posts, then dart outside the stadium to the other side of those stands through that gap there,” he pointed towards a gap between two stands. “You then take one, two, three laps around the stadium, coming back through that gap, and then you start straight,” here he zipped his hand forward, “through one of these three goal posts and towards the end of the field. The first one through the middle goal post on the other end of the field wins. Any questions.”

They glanced at each other, both of them shaking their heads.

“Alright then. Set up,” Andre said, moving his broom out of the way.

(Y/N) maneuvered her broom beside Charlie’s, both of them under twenty feet from the middle goal post. This first test would be to see who could get their broom going faster first and make it through that middle post, the other person would have to slow their broom down in order to let the other through, already putting them behind. She could see the gap in the stands just beyond the posts.

“Ready to lose, Weasley?”

“You wish.”

She smiled, her eyes trained on the posts, raising a fist to tell Andre she was ready. Charlie did the same.

She saw Andre raise a horn above his head in her peripheral vision and wondered briefly if he borrowed it from Madam Hooch, or if Tulip did, and if Madam Hooch knew it was missing.

Blllaaarrrree!!!!

She took off, her muscles attuned to countless quick take offs while illegally racing Merula in the training grounds. She soared, not caring where Charlie was and dashed through the hoop before she even had a chance to worry about him. Realizing, she couldn’t see him beside her as she lunged for the gap between the stands, she grinned.

And then a telltale shock of ginger hair went streaking past her, darting through the gap to make a quick turn and disappear from sight.

She cursed, soaring through the gap herself and tightening her hands on her broom to veer it around and make a quick turn. She knew her turn was slower than Charlie’s had been and she grumbled as she soared after him, seeing him along the curve of the stadium.

Charlie didn’t have time to smile or feel successful. You never did in a game and he focused intently on the gentle curve he pushed his broom into as he streaked past the stands, hearing the roars of the audience even though they were on the wrong side to watch.

Whoever thought this would be an interesting spectator course was wrong. They can only see us when we pass the gaps.

He brushed the thought from his mind, focusing on the distance the stands were from his right.

He had almost made one full lap, taking the last curve around towards the gap when he caught a splash of color in the small gap made between him and the stands on his right and he knew that (Y/N) was using that gap to get past him. He moved his broom to bridge the gap so she would be forced to pull back, but she didn’t. They were neck in neck, their elbows almost brushing.

(Y/N) caught a whiff of Weasley soap and a scent that was distinctly Charlie, like juniper and campfire.

The smell reminded her of last winter, when they were just becoming friends. Charlie had wrapped his scarf around her on their way to Hogsmeade and as he had leaned in, she had caught his scent. The scent didn’t leave though he pulled away. It was ever wrapped in his scarf, a scarf she had conveniently forgot to return until the smell had left the knitting a month later.

She instinctively tilted her head to smell his scent better before she realized what she was doing.

She veered, nearly crashing into the stands and had to pull up short. She caught a glimpse of Charlie glancing over his shoulder to check on her before he had disappeared out of sight around the turn.

She made a bloody curse before she picked up speed, dashing after him.

She caught sight of him again well into the second lap. She tried to make up the difference as she cut corners, but he wasn’t getting complacent and he kept his turns ultra-focused.

When the second lap ended and the third began with her still behind him, she knew he wasn’t going to lose his focus, and she needed to do something quick or she would lose.

Gearing up on the turn around the back half of the stands, she cut the corner, pulling around faster than she would have before, but she knocked her knee violently into one of the stands as she did; the wood beam banged against it loudly. She loosed a cry of pain.

Baanngg!!!

The loud thunk startled Charlie and he pulled up short, breaking fast, when he heard the cry of pain to go with it.

He spun his broom around just in time to see (Y/N) soar past him.

She was gaping at him, her head over one shoulder.

He cursed, righted himself, and then sped after her.

(Y/N) wasn’t about to let Charlie win just because he had stopped to check on her. Her chest ebbed with guilt as she didn’t let up her racing, moving so quickly around the last half of the field, that she could even hear the rush of wind past her ears; they had gone numb.

She was getting closer to the gap, she knew, and if she didn’t perform this turn perfectly, Charlie would.

Tightening her grip on her broom as the gap approached, she braked, hard, letting her momentum carry her as she pushed on the broom’s handle, twisting it around wide and hovering in the air for the breathe that it took her to spin around, facing the gap.

I did it! The perfect turn!

Charlie saw (Y/N) turn wide, twisting around in the air in a perfect dance.

But the most beautiful turn in the world couldn’t compete against a reckless turn. He barely braked. Knowing he could do it, he went straight into the turn, the same way he had done only twice before in a crazy maneuver to catch the snitch. With a twist of his head and hands, his broom went with him, falling under (Y/N)’s turn as she did it and darting forward past her.

And through the gap.

She gaped, seeing the flash of ginger fly past her and through the gap in front of her.

She dipped towards it, speeding through as well as she watched Charlie dart through the first middle goal post, streaking towards the end of the field like a loosed arrow.

And through the final middle goal post at the other end while she was still a quarter of a field away.

She flew through the goal post too, Charlie already slowing down as he lowered towards the ground.

She hadn’t noticed, but their audience was on the field already, cheering Charlie as he fell into their arms.

Instead of landing on the ground, she flew up to the (Y/H) stands, landing delicately on the rim and then dismounted, to sit on a bench, standing her broom up beside her.

She settled in, wrapping her arms in the fall weather. It had been sunny that afternoon, but the weather had changed suddenly, growing colder, though still sunny as she watched Charlie’s adoring fans congratulate him.

She sighed, laying back on the bench and huffed to herself.

She was being a sore loser, she knew it.

Putting her arms over her eyes, she listened to the sound of the win and ignored the chill across her skin. She lay there for she didn’t know how long.

“Pouting, are we?”

She removed her arms, squinting up at a boy on a broom above her, though the sun made him difficult to see.

“No,” she protested, her words not even sounding believable to herself.

Charlie smiled, “want a rematch?”

“Right now?”

He nodded.

She sat up, looking down at the ground, but no one had stayed around.

She shook her head.

“Scared, (Y/LN)?” he said, grinning.

She gaped at him and then squinted her eyes in a glare, “you wish.”

He gestured with an arm as if to say, well?

She grinned, jumping onto her broom and soared past him, not really speeding, but just flying. She veered around to see him flying towards her.

He was upside down.

She gaped as he came to a stop in front of her, his ginger ponytail hanging from his head as he looked at her.

She could feel the smile creeping past her defenses.

He grinned before he spun back up onto the broom and darted away.

She darted after him, a laugh bubbling up out of her as she caught up with him.

His laugh burst out of him and they both sped through the air, racing with no real rules or destination, darting through the stadium in an endlessly switching game of cat and mouse.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery charlie #harry potter fanart

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experimentalmadness · 4 years

Text

A Bad Bet

Heyo, back with more Harvey/Jacky one-shots. Y’all have been so nice in sharing and liking these little stories. Thank you! :D If you’re looking for more content with this bonkers OC you can check out her tag here.

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“What is it that you want to do, Jacky?”

She was busy cleaning off the espresso machine before getting started on wiping down the counter. Most of the lights were off except for the ones in the front. She could hear rain coming down from outside, one of those sudden summer downpours. The AC was on high in the bakery and it was a rare Gotham night that actually made her happy to live in this city.

“Break into this whiskey after I count out the till?” she smiled to herself, casting a glance at the one lone customer left in the shop.

Harvey Dent sat at a corner table, surrounded by papers, books, and a laptop. He’d been held up in that position since he’d come in from his office three hours ago. “That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, wagging a pen in her direction.

“You’re using me to procrastinate, Harv,” Jacky countered, ducking down to get at the cabinets below the register.

“C’mon, humor me.”

She grinned at the sound of his voice, even though she couldn’t see him. “I dunno,” she said as she cleaned. “Keeping this place together is about all I can handle.”

“You told me this was always your sister’s dream, and Miri’s clearly better at it.”

“Excuse me?” Jacky popped her head back up, glaring at the smug man across the way. “Who exactly has been making you coffee for the last few hours?”

Oh, the crimes she was capable of committing to get a smile out of that man. He’d been so stressed recently with the DA elections, the move to get Maroni behind bars, the only time she saw him now was when he was using her shop as a work space after hours. And then only because Gilda was already drowning in his paperwork that he left around their apartment, and he knew full well Jacky would ply him with better coffee than whatever he was getting in his office.

“Okay, alright, I’ve thought about going back to school sometimes. Not sure for what, but...nah it’s stupid.” Jacky shook her head waving off Harvey’s renewed enthusiasm at her answer. “When would I have time to do that, anyway?”

It took most of her extra funds just to keep the place running, not to mention Miri’s medical expenses. Something told her Falcone wouldn’t be too keen on funding his hitwoman’s college funds. Even the idea seemed absurd.

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” Harvey’s voice cut through the despairing thoughts rattling around in Jacky’s head. “Take some courses at Gotham U at night if you have to.”

Sure, only doing prime working hours. Jacky rolled her eyes, grateful she had the distance of the counter as Harvey came over. He had that conspiratorial look in his eyes.

“No way,” she said, poking him in the chest “And stop procrastinating so I can close up.”

Harvey pulled out the silver dollar he kept in his pocket. She knew instantly what he was going to do. That little coin flip routine of his was so incredibly cheesy. And charming. He leaned over the counter. “Make a little bet with me, Jacky.”

“Seriously, Harvey, I’m happy with the way things are,” she lied through her teeth as those blue eyes trapped her in place.

“Heads you’ll at least put in an application. Tails, you win and you can stay working in your sister’s place and I’ll never bring this up again. Ready?”

“You’re not getting any more free drinks from me, Harv,” Jacky teased, watching him toss the coin up in the air.

Harvey didn’t even watch the coin, opting instead to give Jacky a wink as he caught it one-handed. He kept his hand closed tightly around the coin as another devious smile stole across his face. “What do you want it to be, Jacky?”

The bell over the door to the shop chimed and Jacky’s good mood vanished as Carmine Falcone flanked by two of his men stepped into the shop. She dropped the rag and immediately straightened up, leaning away from the counter where she had been inches from conspiring with the new would-be DA. “Mr. Falcone, I was just about to close up for the night.”

Taking his cues from Jacky, Harvey also stepped aside. She watched an unnerving illusion steal across Harvey’s face, wiping away any visible markers of her friend. Those bright blue eyes went ice cold. The smile vanished into a thin, hard line. He pocketed the coin, but his hands were still balled into fists.

Falcone did not seem phased in the least. He assessed the other customer in the shop with a cursory glance and a civil nod before reverting his attention back to Jacky. “You’re closed now. Tell your last customer to get out.”

“Of course. Mr. Dent, I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you would—?”

“Like hell,” Harvey snarled.

Oh no, not here, not now. Tension gave Jacky a spine of iron as she stepped around the counter. “Let me just help you gather your things.” Her voice was impossibly even, calm, and devoid of all emotion.

Harvey looked as if he was about to haul off and clock Falcone across the face. Jacky saw every outcome in between those seconds of her moving towards the table. The two men with Falcone would pull out their concealed revolvers and shoot Harvey, multiple times, even though they were good enough to kill him with one bullet. Then she’d be told to clean up the blood, and at this distance she’d be coated in it herself. Or, Harvey would swing, and they’d only kneecap him and she’d watch as he’d be dragged into the car that was no doubt out front. Then she’d be getting in. They’d go to a warehouse on the docks, somewhere secure where Falcone would tell Jacky to kill him. To make an example of him. Jacky could not make her mind imagine the look on Harvey’s face.

Mechanically she swept up the papers, closed the laptop, took the books and shoved as much as she could into his briefcase, all the while watching as Falcone and Harvey stared one another down. “Mr. Dent, if you would?” her teeth were going to break if she had to keep talking to him like this. “I’d hate to damage something valuable,” she held out the case.

A small line of tension released as Harvey took a step towards her, breaking contact with Falcone. He took the briefcase, grabbing her wrist at the same time. “Please,” Jacky whispered as quietly as she could, keeping her face neutral, impassive. She did not know this man, he was just a customer, and if Falcone so much as saw her twitch in recognition they’d both be dead tonight. “Go.”

Harvey’s grip tightened on her arm, his head gave a small shake. “Jacky…”

“Thank you so much for coming,” she pulled out of his grasp and opened the door for him. Every second he hesitated she saw new ways he’d die tonight. He hadn’t even been elected DA yet and every crime family in Gotham knew Harvey Dent. Falcone had been ranting about him for weeks. Even if they both did everything right tonight Falcone could still decide the timing was too perfect. He was alone. And Jacky was right there, and she had her gun under the counter. All Falcone had to do was give the word.

But Harvey was going to walk out of here tonight and she was going to see him alive tomorrow if it was the only decent thing she ever did in her life.

He walked slowly, mechanically towards the door. Murderous intent radiating with every step away from Falcone. In his eyes, she saw the promise of violence and worry, raw and palpable for her. He didn’t know this was only a surprise business meeting. He’d think the worst. On any other night, if it were any other scenario this city had to offer, Jacky would let that tug on already vulnerable heartstrings. The second he was beyond the threshold she slammed the door shut, bolting it. He lingered at the window while Jacky frantically tried to tell him to leave with only her eyes.

“It’s late, Mr. Falcone,” she said, turning back to her boss with a friendly smile. “I can still get you something if you’d like.”

He never came to the shop after hours.

He or his boys would come by during the day and Miri, smart as whip, knew it was in her best interest to keep them happy. She never questioned why Falcone’s men frequented her little bakery. It was Gotham.

“Take a seat, Miss Ripley,” Falcone gestured to her own table as he pulled up a chair.

This wasn’t a business meeting.

Jacky sat down as the two other men took up space on either side of her. She recognized them both, but they wouldn’t make eye contact. Falcone rifled through a briefcase of his own before he pulled out yesterday’s paper and laid it flat on the table. And Jacky felt real fear lock her limbs into place.

The splashy page six spread had a picture in black and white of her and Harvey Dent dancing at Wayne Manor. Jacky had cut a clip of it and stashed it in a shoebox under her bed in her room. She liked the woman in that photo, happy, carefree. She liked how the photographer managed to get the shot where Harvey was laughing at a stupid joke she had told. She liked how Harvey had been right and that getting her name in the Gazette had been leading to a slight bump in customers. It almost looked like a little window into a world where a girl like her belonged with a man like Harvey Dent.

“You’re moving up in the world, Miss Ripley,” Falcone said, reminding her exactly why a girl like her could never belong to a man like Harvey. “You’ve gotten some friends in rather high places.”

“Mr. Falcone, I had to accept that invite...it was good for the shop—”

“What have you been telling that lawyer?”

“Nothing! Jesus, sir, I wouldn’t do that after all you’ve done for me and my family. Look, he comes into the shop. We’re near the courthouse, what can I do? I gotta make nice when I’m helping Miri out.” Somehow Jacky managed to keep her voice calm while her heart hammered through her ribs.

“You see why this makes me nervous?” Falcone sat back, eyeing her with a look of disappointment.

“I do, Mr. Falcone,” she nodded a little too vigorously.

“And then I come in and see him here,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Jacky, what are we going to do about this little problem?”

“Look, you want him gone, boss, I’ll tell him he can’t come back to the shop.”

“I suspect that’s not going to work the way you think, Miss Ripley. Your knight in shining armor is still watching us.”

Jacky forced herself to turn around slowly. Sure enough, there was Harvey, looming in the rain-soaked night under the street lamp. What was the idiot thinking? “You know what that tells me, Ripley? It tells me you and Mr. Dent have a rather cozy relationship. And that’s what troubles me.”

“Mr. Falcone, have I ever done you wrong?” She was betting on a lot here, punching way above her weight.

“No,” he replied, settling back against the chair, folding his hands on his lap.

“Ever had a job go bad? Ever compromised your family?” Jacky turned back to face him, locking eyes with him, feigning something that tasted like bravery. Falcone shook his head to each of her questions. “Then why would I do something so phenomenally stupid now? He’s a customer, Mr. Falcone, nothing more.”

“While we’re keeping score here, Ripley, do me the courtesy of not lying to me.”

“Sir, I’m—”

“He’s not just a customer.”

Jacky’s impassive eyes went wide ever so slightly. It was enough. “...no…” she whispered.

“You’ve been quite friendly for...two years by my count. Now, Mr. Dent wasn’t much of a problem until his recent forays onto the political stage. I could overlook your dealings with a prosecutor because, as you said, your loyalty and work have always been impeccable. You’re a smart girl, Ripley. You know what happens next.”

Jacky sagged in the chair. “Don��t...don’t take it out on the shop, Mr. Falcone. This is Miri’s place, not mine. She’s been nothing but good to you and she doesn’t know...she doesn’t know, Mr. Falcone. Now look, I’ll sit here and take it. I know it’s business. I’ll fix this after, you know I will.”

Falcone stood up from his chair, rapping his knuckles on the wooden tabletop. “You see that’s why I’ve always liked you, Ripley. You have a sense of honor, however small,” he put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll leave the shop as is. Your sister’s a fine woman, none of us want to upset her, do we boys?”

The two men on either side of Jacky shook their heads. Falcone made his way to the door. “Your knight seems to have left you, Miss Ripley,” he remarked as he stared out onto the empty street. “If he comes back I’m afraid we’ll be revisiting upsetting that sister of yours. Good night, Jacqueline.”

***

It wasn’t as bad as she had thought.

The men had only broken one table.

And Jacky guessed they’d only broken two of her ribs. Fair deal.

She sat, slumped, against the wrecked table legs, blood dripping from a cut above her forehead. Her nose was broken. Again. She poked her tongue around her mouth. No missing teeth, at least. All things considered, she’d gotten off easy. She’d have a nasty black eye and a swollen jaw for a few days and the rest of Falcone’s crew would know exactly what happened to her next time they saw her. Lesson well learned.

She was just contemplating getting to her feet and cleaning the place up before Miri could come home when she heard a bang from the back door. It repeated in quick succession as Jacky hauled herself upright, on hand clutching her ribs as she hobbled to the counter for her revolver. This night just didn’t want to end. The banging turned frantic as the door suddenly crashed over, hanging off its hinges, leaning awkwardly against the baking trays stacked up on the sink.

Jacky already had the gun out. If it was Falcone’s men coming back for the actual jump, she’d fire first, beg forgiveness later. If Falcone wanted her dead he ought to have shot her while she was still sitting in the chair expecting a business deal.

She dropped the gun as Harvey Dent came careening into the shop.

He was soaking wet, panting, and looked about as unhinged as the door. Jacky had enough time to back up against the counter as Harvey lunged for her. “You have to get out,” she choked through gritted teeth.

Not even an hour ago she would have killed someone herself to get him to so much as accidentally brush a finger against her. Now he had a whole arm around her shoulders as he pushed her into a chair. “How in deep are you, Jacky?”

“Harvey, get out, go home, I’ve got this under control,” she waved his hand away as he reached out to assess her injuries.

Someone was probably still watching the shop. The lights were all one, the blinds open. Anyone could see right in.

“Falcone’s got most of the businesses in Gotham paying protection, you don’t think I know that? Why didn’t you tell me he’d gotten a hold of this place? Jacky, I can help—”

“Help me by going home and telling Gilda I have to cancel our plans tomorrow,” Jacky grunted. She wasn’t going to be making any outings anytime soon. And she still had to come up with a story before Miri got back from the movies with her friends.

Harvey fumbled for the cell in his pocket. “What are you doing?” Jacky groaned as he put in a call. “I’m not going to a hospital if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Hey Jim,” Harvey said, ignoring her, “Yeah I know it’s late, but I need a squad down on 9th and—”

Jacky surged out the chair, ribs screaming as she knocked the phone out of Harvey’s hands. “Falcone gets even a fucking whiff of cops around my place and you’ll have killed me sure as the gun he gets to off me.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Jacky,” Harvey retrieved the fallen phone, the call having already been ended, thank God. “I’m going to get them off these streets. Falcone, Maroni, I’m taking them all down.”

“Yeah, but not tonight,” Jacky sat back in the chair. She’d heard the speech before, but never with this much bite. She doubted this much anger would play well with voters.

“This is our city and we’re gonna show them exactly what happens when they go after what’s ours.”

Jacky didn’t think the knock she took to her head was that bad, but that did not sound like Harvey’s voice. It was a guttural growl, a nasty little threat that was league’s away from the man who had been teasing her about going back to college. He shook his head, a hand going up to his brow as if he was shocked by what he had admitted.

“Go home, Harvey.”

Those blue eyes were looking to trap her again, make her say things she barely cared to admit to herself. She’d never seen them look that helpless. Harvey had a plan for everything, had to help everyone, always ready with the magical solution making life seem easy. And in a perfect world if she was just a down on her luck working class gal who had made the wrong deal with the wrong guy she’d leap at the chance to have a man like him solve all her problems. But the solution here was that neat little jail cell she knew was coming. Selfishly, she just wanted a few more days where he looked at her like she was someone worth saving.

“I think you should come with me, we’ll call Miri, and you two can stay at Gilda’s and mine’s until—”

“You know what I think?” Her ribs hurt too much to start crying. “I think...maybe it’s better if you don’t come by the shop for a few days.”

“You can’t let that man dictate your life, Jacky,” Harvey took a step towards her as Jacky flinched back in the chair. If he touched her now she’d crack, fall apart like a house of cards and ruin everything.

“It’s not for my life that I’m asking.”

She let that hang between them as Harvey slowly nodded, turning to leave. “I’ll...I’ll, ah, get the door fixed for you.”

Jacky laughed so hard her chest heaved and tears fell down her cheeks. “Harvey?” His face was blurry in her washed out vision. “Just so you know...I really wanted it to be heads.”

#Harvey Dent #Two Face #Jacky Ripley #good old fashioned OC nonsense

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