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oonajaeadira · 3 years ago

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I’ll Never Fall In Love Again: Scene 5: You May Now Kiss the Bride

Fandom: The Bubble

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: none. A little rusty wordcraft after some time away.

A/N: This one’s a bit longer, stuffed with a bunch of half memories and a swirl of rushed, weighty moments. I could have split this one in two but didn’t really want to. It should be a whirlwind, and for that, I do not apologize.

The intimacy coordinator doesn’t seem to know that you and Dieter were–are–married. Not interested. No assumptions. Two actors, professional agenda, plain as that. She’s just here to do her job, and there will be no nonsense, there are boundaries, there must be consent.

“Twice, Gerard,” she chides from under her austere, German haircut, opting for Dieter’s character name, not bothering to use his real one. “No more. It is once, twice, break. Noses to the right, no tongue.”

“How about teeth?” He is trying so so hard to keep the twinkle out of his eye and the IC glares him down. He returns a self-defacing grin, meant to charm, to be submissive. “I don’t think he would invade her mouth, but I don’t think he wants to let her go, either. I mean, look at her.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

“Justine,” she barks at you, similarly foregoing your actual name, and you jump. “You consent to this?”

“Suuuuuuure.”

“Fine. We add that in. Please add it to the notes.” She doesn’t even look over at her assistant, just places the order and moves in to point to areas on your body. “Hands can go here, here, here, and here. That is your canvas. Do not paint outside the lines. Now kiss.”

It’s hard enough to naturally execute a staged kiss with a stern woman ordering you into it. Let alone in a rehearsal room full of PAs and pop lights. Let alone with Dieter fucking Bravo and all the baggage that entails, both bitter and sweet.

But still. You’ve shared staged intimacy with him before. And muscle memory kicks in. His huge hands cupping your jaw should make your shoulders want to jump in reflexive defense. Instead, your body remembers–this posture, this gesture, this warm breath on your face, these eyes yearning after your lips–and instantly melts into its safety.

You almost forgot how his mustache tickles.

You almost forgot how he grips, his fingers fighting against his desperation, trying so hard not to bruise.

But the gentle pull of his teeth at your bottom lip, that’s new.

For him. That was always your move.

He’s gone back to the sandalwood shampoo. That’s nice. You almost forget where you are--

“Ach. No. Clumsy. Remember your light. Your nose gets in the way, Gerard. Try again.”

You hope the step back from your scene partner isn’t too fast.

Or too slow.

________

“I got a little over-zealous.” Dieter shuffled through the french doors of a large-ish bedroom, the walls covered in a riot of figures, studies in the shape of Dali’s slender women, half finished, heads like bouquets, door knobs, something slightly penile�� “Was gonna repaint it, but thought you might wanna pick your own color. Home it up however you want.” The ice clinked in his whiskey glass as he spun toward the floor-to-ceiling blinds to push them open, revealing a nice little balcony looking up over Dixie Valley toward the scrubby hills. He tilted his head back for a second to let his sunglasses shield him from the sun that poured through, an annoyed hiss sucking through his teeth betraying a possible hangover. “Got a new mattress coming. You don’t wanna sleep on the one that was here.”

A shameless grin as he winked a red eye over his Ray Bans at you.

Morgan was right. His house was large enough. No mansion, for sure, but a sizeable place for two people; it’s far too big for one. Must have picked it for the tax write-off. You’d certainly have enough privacy.

His bedroom was on another floor–four in all, built into the hillside–and two different living room lounge areas on separate floors. You could go days without seeing each other without much effort.

“Are you sure you want me to paint over them?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I haven’t been back in here since the acid trip that birthed these. Just like, 36 hours of fucking around and a shit ton of macaroni balls.”

He painted all of this, in all this detail, in a day? And what the hell is a macaroni ball?

“Well, then, if you really don’t mind, I guess I might get someone in here this week to get it done. I’d like to get out of my condo lease before another month comes due…”

He choked slightly on a sip of whiskey and cut the air with a splayed hand.“Wait. You’re giving up your lease?”

“Well…yeah. It doesn’t make sense to pay for something I’m not living in. I mean–”

“Don’t do that. I got it.”

You blinked. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve got it’?”

“I can cover your rent. You shouldn’t…give up your own place.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence. “I…thought I was going to live here, satisfy the requirements, keep up appearances–”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” the ice clinked again as he swung his free hand forward to find your shoulder, not sure if it was to steady himself or you. “You’re welcome to make it your home. Really. Go fucking bonkers. I just thought you’d want to keep a space that was yours. To retreat to.”

Twisting to look out through the bedroom doors into the wide open second floor living room lounge and then back again, you cocked an eyebrow. “I think I have more room here, D.”

“I mean, a space that doesn’t have,” he gestured sloppily around his head and then out toward the walls, “my aura saturating it. Like, a space that doesn’t have my ass smeared all over it.”

He didn’t laugh with you, but allowed the time to let yours pass. “I don’t mind that as long as you don’t mind me rubbing my…aura ass or…ass aura all over your house.”

That, though, yanked a half-smile out of him. “Not at all. Your ass aura is a welcome addition.”

“Good.” Dieter was a big weirdo, but his heart was in the right place. This was going to be more pleasant than you’d anticipated. A warm little breeze ruffled the curtains as you whispered a humble thanks.

“Cool. Great. Hey, mmm–” downing his whiskey and walking out of the room to the tv area of the lounge, “you wanna smoke and watch some porn?”

Ah yes. That aforementioned “aura.”

“Um, no? But…I wouldn’t mind getting high and watching Xanadu….”

That won you an eager, unchecked grin.

“Amazing.”

_________________

It started off one night by asking him to help you navigate the complicated system of streaming services and on-demand channels he had set up through an expensive all-in-one portal. He found the movie you were jonesing for and you ended up on the lounge couch with his feet in your lap while you both ugly wept over the ending of Wit.

After that, the next few weeks was an almost every-other-nightly ritual of him wandering down to the lounge, asking sheepishly if he could join you, and then a combo of one of you sprawled on the couch, the other on the floor or being lap support for feet, one of you stoned (usually him), stuffing your face with popcorn, late nights chewing over cinema history (or Dieter’s Hollywood conquest history) and player’s choice for passing out there or in your own beds.

Dieter ended up being the roommate you always wanted, one that made you realize how quiet and lonely your single-bedroom apartment had really been. Sure, he stumbled into your area more often than he’d promised, but he was always welcome. Sure, he left a wake of spilled wine and soggy popcorn and kitkat wrappers and greasy pizza boxes on the coffee table, but he also was on good terms with his cleaning lady who was able to somehow leave the place immaculate every morning, even if he was sprawled out snoring atop the mess. In and out before you woke, you had a suspicion that she was some kind of magical house brownie with eternal patience and goodwill. Every evening you shuffled off to your room leaving Dieter in a pile of bathrobe and paraphernalia, you wondered if you should drop her an offering of cookies and milk. Or, like, a crisp $100 bill.

He spent a weekend here or there off somewhere for a photo shoot or pickups for the movie he shot right before Fall of Timon that was set to come out during awards season…Hunger…something? Strike? Yes. Hunger Strike. And you, you navigated your way through a few meetings with an immigration agent and set about filling out some preliminary paperwork. Morgan helped, mostly by pulling some industry strings to pull your life sentence with Dieter down from the requisite three years.

A week to the day before the wedding, you realized how unreal it all seemed. Shouldn’t you be stressed? Planning? What were you forgetting? Everything was being taken off your plate by a high-profile wedding planner you never actually saw, so it was actually a routine day when Uri Malani’s assistant showed up at the house with a rack of a half dozen dresses out of which to choose from the designer’s upcoming line.

Weddings for actors are never the stressful affairs that they are for many people. Actors spend much of their professional lives in the spotlight, they have a plethora of opening nights on stage or wardrobed awards nights or show up twenty feet high on a big silver screen. A wedding is just another day on stage. Nothing has to be perfect because they’ve learned that anything can be improvised and still be amazing.

So the tailor session for your wedding dress was much like an at-home costume fitting; this was, after all, quite literally, just one more role to play. Except that the dress was worth $8000 and sponsored by Malani’s design house. It wouldn’t be yours to keep, but then, what would you do with a dress you’d never wear again….

….a dress that was really only a costume…for a fake-ish wedding….that you agreed to in order to further your career...not like it was for love or anything...not like it was...

“Hey. You okay?”

Dieter had come home while you were stood on top of a tailor’s box in the downstairs living room, a beautiful white silk creation cascading over your shoulders and piling in gleaming yardage around your feet. He’d taken up a seat on the far end of the room, knocked over something decorative on an end table when he propped up his feet to better support his sketch pad, using you as his personal model. “Like a fucking Venus in her seashell,” he mumbled, assessing all the white fabric.

The tailor had run out to his car to find a packet of buttons for this particular dress, leaving you to stare at yourself in the traveling full-length mirror.

Pretty. Simple. Innocent maybe. The perfect little sweetheart to tame the Hollywood beast. The reflection had replaced you with a …bride. And some deep crypt in your heart opened up. And some errant thought you once thought was dead came ambling out, attacking when you least expected it.

There in the mirror was a bride who was you and you were a bride and that bride was sobbing and beyond it should have been a Dieter kicked back in an armchair but instead there was a sketch pad laying ruffled and bent on the floor where it was dropped and your friend striding across the room wide-eyed and fingers twitching and looking about as scared as you felt–

“Hey. Hey Babycakes. Hey. What the fuck is happening here.” Suddenly he was before you, his hands wandering through the air around your elbows, stuck in two gears at once, oscillating between wanting to clutch and yet keeping a forced, respectful bubble; a man that wasn’t practiced in the art of comfort and knew it.

“I just,” you put up your hands, trying to calm him in return, a signal that he need not be so worried. “I just…I don’t know…sorry. This is all just happening so fast and it shouldn’t be a big deal but…”

Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that until exactly that moment.

“I just realized that I won’t just ever have a wedding. The wedding, you know? That…my husband–my future husband–will never just be my husband. He’ll never just be the most special person in my life…like, he’ll always be my second husband as far as everyone’s concerned. And that wedding’s gonna have to either just be simple and take a back seat to this one or it’s going to have to be bigger and better in every way and I won’t be able to enjoy it…maybe…I don’t know….”

“Hey.”

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until his hand folded around yours to find it a still, warm place to be. And when you looked up to the mirror again, there was a bride, puffy-faced, standing aloft on her short pedestal in an artsy Sherman Oaks living room above her slovenly groom in a stretched-out t-shirt whose thumb was worrying her knuckles and who was gazing up at her in a heartfelt study of concern and fear.

“Cakes. We don’t have to do this.”

His voice had the same effect as turning the heat down on a simmering pot and you felt your heart returning to manageable speed as you squeezed his fingers in your own.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It just hit me hard and fast. I’ll get over it. I mean, it’s just a dream, right? There’s no saying I’ll even marry anyone else. I’m so picky and focused on my career so…” But when you met his eyes, you saw that his pot was still threatening to simmer over. “Really. It’s okay, D. Just promise me we’ll have fun, okay?”

Letting go of the breath he’d been holding, his face settled into a slovenly, relaxed smile, relieved to have an assignment. “Yeah. I can promise that.” His eyes shot wide. “Oh shit. Vows. We have to do that shit don’t we.”

You laughed, lifted his hand to kiss his thumb as the tailor came back into the room. “Yeah, we do. Just don’t promise anything you can’t deliver, Bravo.”

“You wouldn’t believe what I can deliver, missus.”

________________

Nobody could ever say Dieter Bravo wasn’t an amazing actor.

“Listen. I may have got my ass kicked off a few sets when I was just starting out, but I can say that I’ve never broken a contract. I sign my name onto something? I commit.”

A perfectly sunny day. A beautiful ocean-view trellis. A veil made of silk orchids spilling over your hair. Your parents watching from the front row, flown in specially for the day.

Dieter didn’t believe in holding hands during the vows. But apparently he did believe in hugging you tightly against him and very openly weeping. “I can’t believe you said yes to me. Babe. You’re just…you’re the perfect wife for me. You came into my life and it’s been fun, you know? I promise you, we’re gonna have fun.”

It was sweet, really. You knew he wasn’t only putting on a good show, living up to the weirdness that people expected from his eccentric, chaotic persona, but it was also evident that he was actually allowing himself to feel this, to give into the fantasy of being a husband for someone he cared about.

And, of course, you knew he was doing this for you. Living these vows in real time. Because the harder you giggled against him in front of the ocean and everyone you loved, overcome by the ridiculousness of it all, the harder he sobbed, his voice all but cutting out completely, just an absolute mess.

He stumbled forward a little, stepping on your toes, but it hardly mattered. To match his white groomswear–a beautiful white jacket and vest over black trousers–he’d opted for white crocs. That way, he said, he wouldn’t hurt you when he fumbled the first dance. And you were actually touched that he’d festooned them with the jibbitz you’d bought him that day at the Farmer’s Market. It made you grin like an idiot on your march down the aisle. And if you ever got nervous enough to drop your gaze, there they were, a reminder that this was all just too silly, that you were both in on your own private joke.

As much as he’d assured you that you didn’t have to adopt this crazy scheme, it surprised you that Dieter actually took it as seriously as he did. Not the fake marriage thing, but the whole…formal wedding part. You knew him well enough. This was not his style. If Bravo was going to seriously marry anyone it would probably include nudity and psychotropics.

But at least he was making sure you were both having a good time at everyone else’s expense. As long as he wasn’t high. That’s all you asked of him on the day. Just for him to be coherent enough so you wouldn’t be left alone in all of this. And you were relatively sure he was going to keep his word on that.

“You’re so talented smart and and pretty and I’m fucking lucky I met you. You like all the same pizza toppings I do and I’m so happy you’re the last person I see before I fall asleep. I know what I’ve got. I’m not giving this up. I’m gonna take care of you,” he pulled his expression together into a mask of fearful determination. “And I’m gonna be who you need me to be.”

Damn, he was Sell. Ing. It.

Your eyebrows shot up as he went in for an early kiss, smashing his lips into yours, his fingers digging into your back, the combination of his vows’ forceful sincerity and the desperate eagerness of the kiss sending you both stumbling.

After that, it was a balancing act between your mouth and your heart, one of them delivering the vows you’d prepared–the promises to treat him gently and be a good partner, some quote by Emily Dickinson about the wildness of the sea and the beating of your heart–while the other worked to quiet all the fire alarms that his words had set off in you.

It was just a show. Just another show, that’s all. You would let the emotions guide your actions in a truthful way, but in the end, the curtain always comes down and you get to take your bows and dump your flowers in your dressing room and then go out and get a drink.

“And I promise you, Dieter Bravo, that you will enjoy every damn moment of having me around.”

And he laughed through his watery eyes and you kissed him back, giving his bottom lip a good-natured nip as you let him go, the wedding guests exploding in applause as the officiant made the final declaration and nobody but you heard Dieter when he whispered, “Yes ma’am.”

Now that? That was a five-star performance.

________________

Most of the reception was spent apart from one another. You both quickly realized that whenever you stood in one place together, silver and glass rang out, demanding satisfaction and wouldn’t stop its incessant din until your lips met. You planned for one or two kisses during the ceremony, probably one after the dreaded first dance, but you’d both forgotten about the abhorrent clinking tradition. And it wouldn’t do to look like you were avoiding it.

Dieter wasn’t the best kisser–kissing probably not being his focus when he was intimate with people–but he was warm and gentle in a way you hadn’t expected, his lips were big and soft and his nose got in the way. It got easier and more natural every time, but it was still a struggle to make sure it looked as if every one was your thousandth, and not your third.

By the time he was swaying against you, his lips finding your temple during the first dance, he had nailed the role. “How are you holding up, missus?”

“It’s going fine. My parents are happy. They liked your last film and I told them about how nice you were to me during Timon. I mean, they also think you’re a bit of a clown with a flat ass, but they’ll come around.”

“Bold of them to assume. The jacket covers my ass. Mostly.”

“YouTube. The Venice Beach incident. The reason I’m here, remember?”

“Well, shit.” His cheek pressed into your forehead, seeking support.

And you lent it, winding your arms further around him, urging him to lean in. A subtle shift in his sway, a slowing, a softening as you rubbed comfort into his back. “How are you doing?”

“Fucking exhausted.”

“Those crocs letting you down?”

“I meant emotionally. This is a lot of work. Even a union day’s only ten hours long.”

“Just think how well you’ll sleep tonight.”

“Shit. That reminds me,” he sighed, exasperated. “Planner booked us the suite here. The bed’s a California king, but I’ll take the couch if you want.”

“Should be fine. Do you snore in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Do you fart in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

And, like thousands of newlyweds before you, you chuckled softly into each others’ shoulders, your wedding guests most likely imagining a much different conversation.

The last verse of the first dance began–a cover of an old love tune neither of you had chosen but everyone had immediately started sighing over–and you let words go, simply fueling each other through the last big duet of the performance.

Your head fell naturally to his shoulder, and his chin held you there as you both just rode out the time.

The sun was setting. The fairy lights taking over.

His shoulder….ample, supportive.

Sandalwood….

And the last verse of the first dance ended–a long final note that both of you allowed to resonate between you as everyone applauded in adoration–and you stepped back to find each other’s eyes, then, according to the script, each other’s lips…

…but then neither of you let go.

In fact, both of you held on just a little harder.

There was a flash, a moment where the spell was working on you, that maybe you wanted it to be real. A flicker of heat and the need to be consumed by him. As your body received the kiss that was meant to satisfy expectations but was fulfilling other surprising deficiencies, its chemicals fired to match the action, and as his fingers twisted the silk of your dress, they wrung a tiny whine from you–

–signaling an end to the effect as he broke away.

Or so you thought.

But then…his eyes…his pupils blown wide, his dark eyes darker with–

“Dieter, are you–”

“Hey, do you wanna have–”

“--are you…high?”

You could almost feel the ramp of his heart as you caught him in the headlights. Those wide pupils darting back and forth between your own. A moment gone on too long that you took for guilt over misbehavior but would later recognize as fear of rejection.

Until he deployed his defense mechanism and let the dumbest, sloppiest smile slide across his face to serve as both an admission and an apology. And you growled through a gritted smile.

“Really, dude? At our staged wedding? My family’s here!”

He laughed and gave you a squeeze, nearly lifting you off the ground. “Told you. Fun. D’you wanna hit?”

“No, you fucking dork. Just…don’t let my parents find out. They’re really weird about that stuff and you already have a track record.”

It was half chiding and half resigned amusement. The man was a disaster and everyone loved him in spite of it, you were no exception. He was zero good judgment and a fine example of a charming but hapless mess. But you knew he was good for his word, knew he wouldn’t embarrass you. And that was–you reminded yourself lovingly towards him–about the best you could expect out of Dieter Bravo.

________

“Roll. Action.”

It’s the mark of a good director, scheduling an intimacy shoot on the first day, especially if you need your actors to have a newness, an electricity, that little spark of desperation and awkwardness that makes the chemistry bubble.

But that certainty changes when the actors have history.

It’s the mark of a genius director to take two actors with history and throw them opposite each other when the characters themselves are fighting against their own past.

“I still love you, Justine.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah?” You hit your mark, tilt your chin at him in challenge. “Prove it.”

In his everyday persona, Dieter is an agent of chaos and an absolute menace. But to his credit, he takes his job seriously, a consummate professional. His hands go here, here, and here, and they avoid there, there, and there, just as the intimacy coordinator instructed. He kisses once, twice. No more.

He’s added a few subtle ingredients–a press of foreheads, a shared breath, a thumb across your cheekbone. And a hum of satisfaction.

But he forgot the nibble. It’s not necessary, and he originally added it just to dig at you.

And of course he knew that something deep in you would notice--and secretly resent--the omission.

The little shit.

The IC isn’t on set for filming.

Fuck it.

You put your hands there. You kiss him a third time. You give him a little nip.

And he smiles into the kiss. And does not let go.

A whistle comes from the DP. “Good take. Let’s do another for safety.”

Annie’s voice floats in contentedly from the darkness in the direction of the run monitor. “Let’s do a few. Dieter, don’t hold back. He needs to show her how he really feels. This is his one chance to make her love him again.”

There’s no will in you to pull away from him so fast, this time content to stay in your light while the shift is reset. But you manage to give him a look, a half-hearted reprimand–

Dieter….

He counters with a cocked eyebrow.

Hey. Fun, remember?

And Dieter, still holding on, never having looked away, calls back to the director, “Can do.”

______

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#i'll never fall in love again #the bubble fanfic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #the bubble

213 notes · View notes

thal-chandra · 4 years ago

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SMP Actors AU, some chaos that happened on the set. (You will find more of this AU on the #SMP actors au tag on this blog, this AU was originally on my main but I changed for here because why not, it's my art blog after all, and imagining those things is art no I won't take criticism.)

There is a contest between Eret and Ranboo about who will be the tallest with the boots. Eret is lucky they can walk in things like those platforms and not Ranboo.

In one of the takes of Dream confronting Techno about Tommy being in his house, Techno forgot his text and started just thanking random people and claiming it's the voices names. It doesn't make sense in universe because it's only weird things that sounds more like usernames than real names.

(more under the cut)

Quackity tries to make believe to George there's no real script. It never worked but he keeps trying. He will make George believe.

There's a lot of picture of Puffy and Niki next to Eret wearing her 7inch boots just because the height difference is so fucking big it's ridiculous.

Ranboo was a fan of the first season and was really happy to be able to play in the second.

Nobody knows how to justify why everyone is dressed so differently in the show so the most accepted theory is just that mode is not really something that exist in universe and things were created at random.

Dream only wears the mask when filming, otherwise it's too hot to always wear it. That doesn't mean he shows his face to the public as he always has a mask on his mouth and nose in interviews and events.

If there is not at least one hug on set per day, it's weird. May it be the clingy duo, the dream team... There's always at least one hug per day.

The misFERN are often on each other's selfies on social media. Fundy once posted a picture of Ranboo with half his face painted and his hair pushed back by a headband, Ranboo reposted by showing Fundy without the mask to make a fox face and only the ears.

Friend was just a joke at first, because one day Wilbur came on set with a little blue sheep plushie when Schlatt was here with a blue sweater on. They joked a bit together and since a picture posted on Instagram, Friend is a bit of the non-canon favorite of the fandom.

The writers just shot tired glares at Wilbur when he said Ghostbur is dating Friend. A "Not surprised, just disappointed" kinda look.

You will see people being held over others shoulders like a potato sac. They don't know where that came from, probably from Dream and George when the latter once again fell asleep and Dream had to put him in a couch.

So many people asked if Puffy and Niki really are together outside of filming. They never answer. They like to keep the mystery. Nobody on the crew will tell either even if they know.

"I have a pickaxe and I'll put it through your teeth", as well as a lot of other Techno lines are improvised on the spot.

"Welcome home theseus" was trending for so fucking long (longer than IRL), nobody expected it. They knew the fandom liked the sentence but still. Wow.

Tommy is impossible during makeup. He is so used to only have a little because his character is very simple in apparence, when he was in exile with the bags, cuts and other signs of destress, it took so long to get him to stay in place.

You will ear Techno and Dream argue about mythology (and Percy Jackson). It's just a normal thing to happen. And Techno still tries to say that Dream is the only nerd of the two.

Techno is unrecognizable outside costume. When he has a pink wing and a cape ? Oh yea, that's Technoblade. When he's with his normal brown hair and in casual outfit ? That's some pretty tall dude, okay.

Phil is so small next to the other three SBI, he had to be with heels and even a small stool to be up to Wilbur's face during the button scene.

Bad's completely blind when acting because he can't have his glasses on his character, and the contacts aren't made to help him see. It's here so his eyes are completely white. He ran into so many things...

When Eret said he uses all pronouns, you can see everyone switch around he, she, they and other neopronouns. It's a small thing but it's always making her smile a bit.

The "homeless Dream" running gag is just because Dream spends more time at George's or Sapnap's place than his own. People were wondering if the three were just living together at first. (Now they're considering it)

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lsholland · 4 years ago

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London Lights (pt. 1) - Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (1st person)

Genre: Party!Tom

Warnings: swearing; alcohol; nothing much but I don’t recommend -18 to read.

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: Hey guys! That’s my first story on this blog. I hope you’ll like it. I’m not native so there may be a few mistakes. I’m trying a new genre of fiction. It’s my first Tom Holland fiction. It’ll be a series of 2-3 chapters. If you want to be part of the master list for Tom please like this post and message me.

Synopsis: Quarantine has been tough. I’ve lost my boyfriend, and I’m feeling lonely. Clubs and restaurants are open again, but I feel like it’ll never be like it used to. My friends have been pushing me to install Tinder and go on dates. Well, tonight, I’m going on a date. I don’t really want to but I’m going to try and have fun for once. Just a few drinks and I’ll go home. What else could happen?

PS. You can read the story on Wattpad.

What am I doing here? I think to myself.

I matched with this guy on this famous dating app . . . And now I'm supposed to meet him here, at this bar. But I don't want to. I'm just hoping he won't show up so I can escape from this shit-place.

I've been seated at the table for a good 5 minutes. The waitress cleans up the table next to mine and asks if I'm ready to order.

No, I want to leave.

I quickly glance at the drinks menu.

"Ehm . . . A pour over Irish coffee, please."

She nods and leaves. I don't even know what I just ordered. I hope it tastes good. Hopefully it'll make me drunk enough not to remember this awful date.

It hasn't even started yet.

I'm sweating.

"Hey there" says a husky voice right behind me.

I turn around and see my date. His name is Jordan. He's good-looking and I bet he's intelligent, but I don't have this feeling with him. I don't know why I accepted to go on a date in the first place. It's awkward.

"Hey!" I grin.

"Have you ordered something already?" he asks, touching his short, clean beard. "I'm thirsty!"

He looks nice.

The waitress hands me my third drink. They help the clock tick a little faster.

He's been talking about his job, his passions. He loves football and practises daily. He has 2 sisters and lives in Camberwell.

Cute.

For a moment, I feel sad for him. He drove all the way to this East London bar, put effort trying to look nice and being cool . . . and yet, he doesn't know it but he has no chance to get lucky tonight. Not with me.

I shouldn't be sorry.

But I am.

I glance around looking for something that might be a little more entertaining than him. I realise I've avoided eye contact since he arrived. I finally glimpse at him. He has beautiful hazel eyes.

Still not enough.

I quickly check my phone. It's getting late. I don't know how to end this.

"Look," I slightly bend over the table. "I'm so sorry but I don't feel like it tonight"

"I noticed." He smirked. "Kinda awkward, innit?"

I chuckle. I am so embarrassed.

"It's okay, though." He added. "I'm just trying to meet new people. I broke up with my ex-girlfriend a few weeks ago. My mates told me I should try these apps."

Okay, now I feel worse than ever. He's been so nice with me and that's how I treat him. I grab my drink and gulp it down.

I shouldn't have done this.

"Let's go dance. I owe you one." I say as I grab his hand and walk towards the dancing area. It becomes difficult to keep my head straight.

I'm drunk, I must admit.

I'm going to regret it, my sober-self shouts in my head.

I don't care is what I reply.

The dancing area is not crowded, but there are already a few people. Most of them are girls.

Girls . . . I wish my friends were not so busy all the time. I would've come to this bar with them instead of wasting my time with strangers.

I start dancing. I stare at him. He looks amused.

A group of guys join the dancefloor and all the girls on my right start screaming. It's so high pitched I cringe.

"What the fuck guys?" I shout, trying to focus on the music.

"Woah, that's Spider-Man!" says my date. He grabs my chin and makes me look in his direction.

No way, I think. It's actually him.

I know he lives in the area, but I've never met him before. It's always weird to see movie stars in real life. They look so much more attractive.

He is so much more attractive.

I try not to be a drunk fangirl and shyly wave to him. He doesn't notice.

"You wanna go and take a picture with him?" my date asks.

"Oh, no, no!" I answer. I'm blushing. "I don't even know what I'd tell him."

He laughs.

The worst thing that could happen is to annoy him during a night out. He needs privacy and I must respect it.

But it's so difficult.

I can't stop staring at him. I don't even control it. Being drunk doesn't help.

"D'you want a beer?" I ask my date whose name I completely forgot.

He nods.

I weave my way through the crowd. I can't believe there are so many people on the dancefloor. The area is so busy since the Spider-Man actor walked in.

Even the bar area is crowded.

I let my body rest against a barstool but quickly lose balance and almost fall on the dirty floor. The flickering lights are making me feel dizzy. I grip the counter and get up. I peer around to make sure nobody saw me.

He did.

I dust off my dress trying to save the dignity I have left.

"Want something?" someone asks behind me. I turn around, it's the barman.

"Two pints of Guinness, please."

I glance back at the same spot, but he's gone. It must've been a dream. I'm so drunk I can't trust everything I think I see.

I'm grabbing both my drinks and look around trying to find my date, but there are too many people. I take a sip of my beer and hold the other one above my head.

Someone hits my arm.

Oh no.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry!" yells the drunk blond girl.

I look at my dress. It's soaking wet. I politely smile at her. "It's okay," I mouth.

What a mess. I glance at the lavatory door. I need to go and save my dress.

"You haven't been lucky here."

I turn around to find out who's talking to me.

It's him. Tom Holland. Talking to me.

"What?" is all I manage to say.

"Do you need a hand?" he politely asks.

I blush so much it's noticeable in the dark.

I'm choking. I'm panicking.

I give him my two beers and walk towards the lavatory. I'm surely starstruck. And drunk. This isn't a good mix.

Once in the room, I grab a handful of tissues and try to soak up my dress. I groan. Did I expect to make that beer mark disappear? Yes. Did it work? Of course not.

I watch my face in the mirror.

I look like shit, I think.

A door slams shut. Two young girls just walked in.

"OH, MY G—THAT'S TOM HOLLAND!" shouts one. They are both panting.

I roll my eyes.

Oh . . . I've given him my beers. What about my date?

"Shit!" I hiss.

I violently open the door and frown my eyebrows as the lights blind me.

He's just here gazing at me. Two beers in his hands. One of them is half empty, the rest being displayed on my dress.

"I'm so sorry!" I say embarrassed as ever.

He smirks. "No worries." He hands me the full glass of beer.

I give him a questioning look as I grab it. What about the other one? Oh, right—He's drinking it.

"What's your na—"

I stop him.

"I know who you are." I peer down. "I'm sorry I didn't wanna disturb you" I say as I'm walking away.

This time I'm smart enough to avoid the crowd on my way out.

"That's rude to leave without saying goodbye!" Tom shouts from a distance.

I turn around and stare at him. He's got a soft smile; he doesn't look drunk at all. I wave him goodbye.

Now, he's approaching me.

"I meant to your boyfriend" he nods in the direction of my date who was dancing with a group of other people.

"He's not my—" is all I can say before he chuckles.

"I figured."

"How?" I clench my jaw. I'm hypnotised by his hand running through his hair. And his smile. And his lips.

"I can barely hear you," he points at a booth in the corner of the room "maybe we could sit there" he suggests.

My mouth softens into a smile.

It's difficult to walk with Tom Holland. Every couple of seconds he's stopped by fans requesting a picture. And he accepts every time.

I'd never be so patient.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It must be so annoying sometimes." I tell him as I sit on the booth.

"When they're nice and ask me, it's cool." He chooses to sit next to me. I can feel his arm touching mine. My heart is racing. He uses his other arm to hold his chin; he looks at me with so much intensity. Sometimes peering down my lips.

His face is so close, but he keeps talking. I can feel his breath on my skin. I'm going to burst into flames. "But when they're taking pictures without asking first, that's delicate."

I nod. I can't really listen to what he's talking about. I'm trying not to lose control.

"So, what's your name?"

He smiles when I tell him. "Why did you leave your date alone?" he asks.

I'm so nervous I stutter. I can't find my words. "I . . . I wasn't in the mood. He knows it. I shouldn't have come here."

"I'm happy you came." He says looking me in the eyes.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you flirting with me?"

He barks out a laugh and breaks the eye contact. He rests his head on the wall behind us.

He isn't as confident as I thought he'd be. I don't know what's up with him, but I enjoy it.

I suddenly remember he's a movie star. He's always being watched. I glance at the crowd and see flashing lights. They're taking pictures of us.

I'm getting dizzier.

I don't want to see my face on a dumb article talking about Tom Holland's mysterious partner. I don't even know him.

"This is stupid" I mumble.

Tom is intrigued. He hasn't got a clue what I'm talking about. He hasn't even noticed the fans stalking him.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go" I abruptly say as I stand up. "Have a good night."

I grab my phone and leave the venue. I'm upset because I really wish I could've met him in a different context. I open my Uber app: there's no driver available.

Shit.

How's that even possible on a Friday night? In London?

I refresh the app, but it doesn't work. I guess I'll have to walk home.

A part of me wants to go back in this bar and spend time with Tom. He's sweet and I'm sure we would've had so much fun together. I glance through the window trying to see his face one last time, but I can't find him.

"What are you looking for?"

I cringe.

"Oh, sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

It's him. It's Tom.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Going home too. The fun of the party is leaving . . ." he sighs. I smile back at him. I'm embarrassed.

I stand in front of him, none of us say a word. It's awkward. I'm getting anxious and walk away. I'm so overwhelmed.

He grabs my shoulder. "Wait, are you walking home?"

"Yeah, it's okay don't worry." I smile.

"I can drive you home."

"Sorry, but you've been drinking. I won't let you drive me." I curtly say.

He grins. He looks at one of his mates and nods.

"No way I'm letting you walk home alone," he sighs "besides, you're drunk."

"Come with me then" I instantly reply without thinking.

He nods.

What?

He's coming with me. My heart is racing. I won't survive a 30-minute drunk walk with him.

Not with his beautiful glossy eyes staring at me.

Not with my burning desire to kiss him.

#tom holland #London lights fic #Tom Holland one shot #tom holland fiction #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland x reader

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dandelionflower · 5 years ago

Text

(Some salt fic september)

Francois DuPont was an artistic school. With talented students varying from designers, to journalists, to DJs, to comic artists and writers. The art room of the school was always the busiest, the loudest, and the favorite room of the school.

So it would make sense for the school to have a yearly showcase. It was called a talent show once upon a time, but eventually the staff and students agreed that ‘talent show’ didn’t suit the talents the students were bringing to the table. Thus, the Francois DuPont showcase was born.

Students worked for months on their piece for the showcase. More than fifty percent of the works in the art room were pieces for the showcase.

It wasn’t mandatory by any means, but most students with a talent in the arts would participate. But with almost all the students participating and some having more than one piece to showcase, the show usually lasted a few days.

Lila, of course, didn’t know any of that so when asked if she was participating in the showcase in a few months, she grinned and said “Of course!”

Alya lit up. “Great! It’s going to be my first showcase too, and I want someone who knows what I’m going through. C’mon, we have to sign up.” And she dragged her into the halls.

Alya immediately wrote her name underneath the ‘verbal’ column, putting a ‘journalism’ next to it.

Lila surveyed the options. The easiest thing to fake would probably be photography, so she marked her name under ‘media’ and wrote a ‘photography’ next to it.

“Ooh, photography? What do you take pictures of? Because I know Mari’s been looking for a partner to take pictures of her designs with her.”

Lila bit back a grimace. “Thanks, but I prefer to take pictures of...” Art? Buildings? “Nature. I find that taking pictures of people is narcissistic as a society.”

“Aren’t you a model?” A judgmental voice came from behind her.

“I- well-“ She stuttered.

“It’s completely different, Felix! Lila doesn’t think her photo shoots are art worthy, she’s just doing it as a job.” Alya snapped, throwing an arm out to almost shield Lila from the chill radiating from Felix’s entire person.

“Very well.” Felix stepped around the two and signed his name in perfect cursive beneath Lila’s name and walked away without another word.

“That guy gives me the creeps.” Alix remarked as she scratched her name under the ‘performance’ column, then the ‘piece of art that cannot be moved’ section.

“And he’s doing photography too! Don’t worry Lila, there’s no way he’s better than you.” Alya grabbed her arm reassuringly and began walking with her back to class.

“Yeah, right...” Lila held in a wince as she found her way back to her seat.

Surely photography can’t be that hard.

—

It was that hard.

Lila had waited one week before the showcase to start taking pictures on her phone. She walked to the park and snapped a few pictures, called it a day, and went home.

They were terrible. Blurry, ugly, terrible.

The next thing she tried was looking up stock images and photoshopping the watermark off.

She was awful at photoshop.

Finally, she resorted to her escape plan.

“Sorry, Alya. But I completely forgot that I’m volunteering at the elementary school all day on the day of the showcase, and I can’t just cancel on them. I’m so sorry.”

“Girl, it’s no problem! Marinette told me that the showcase is going to go on for four days. We’ll just reschedule your slot. It’s no problem at all.”

“Great.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “See you then.”

...crap.

She had only one plan now.

And it was risky.

—

Lila walked into class on Monday, prepared for her showcase.

She explained to Alya that when she explained what was going on to the leader of her organization, they gave her a rain check.

“I’m just so thankful.” She brushed away a tear. “I really wanted to make sure I could see everyone’s talents.”

“That’s so sweet!” Rose cooed. “I can’t wait to see your pictures either!”

“I just hope they correctly portray the beauty of my subject...” Lila pressed a hand to her chest in modesty.

“Students, I need all of the media students to come to the art classroom with your flash drives and cameras.” Miss Bustier put her phone down and smiled. “And anyone who paired with a media student for their talent please also join the students in the art room.”

Lila stood and gave everyone a hug. “Wish me luck!”

She noticed Sabrina stand as well and accept a half hearted hug from Chloe and a nod of support from Max. Juleka stood too and hugged Rose tight.

“Bye Alya! Wish me luck.” Marinette appeared from seemingly nowhere and hugged Alya tight. “And don’t be worried about your presentation. We’ll find some time to rehearse before tomorrow.”

“Thanks girl. Look after Lila for me? She’s just as new as I am.”

Marinette’s eyes darkened for just a second, but she quickly broke into a grin. “No problem. And don’t be worried, Lila. I’m sure your photos are just unimaginable.”

“Thanks Marinette. That’s just so sweet of you.” They linked arms and waltzed out of the room.

The moment they were out of eye shot of any of their classmates, they stepped aside.

“You don’t even have pictures, do you?” Marinette growled.

“What do you mean Marinette? Of course I have pictures.” She smirked. Or at least, I will in just a minute.

—

The art room was bustling and chaotic. Perfect for a camera or flash drive to go missing.

Marinette was bombarded by a group of kids from Felix’s class.

“Ready to see the product of our hard work?” A girl with two dark buns on the top of her head asked.

“I hope so.” She gave them a bashful smile.

Lila stopped paying attention. She had a goal in mind.

Her eyes landed on an expensive looking camera sitting on a desk at the side of the room. A sitting duck.

With a side glance for witnesses, Lila walked right by the camera and slipped the memory card right out and into her awaiting palm.

With her goal met, she sat primly in her chair, waiting for them to be called to the stage.

“Alright, photographers, models, actors, directors!” The art teacher stood. “Let’s go!”

Lila skipped up to him, a look of concern on her face. “Sir?”

“Yes Lila?”

“My camera broke on my way here and all I have left of it is my memory card; is there still a way for me to present my photos?”

“Of course there is. Don’t you worry a bit.”

“Perfect!” She grinned.

Once backstage, each student needed to give the teacher their SD cards or cameras and wait to be called onstage to describe their works to the audience.

Lila spared a quick glance towards the onlookers. Talent scouts of every kind were sitting in plush, reserved seats, notebooks and pens at the ready.

She was the first one up, the first one they would see and, unless she used all of her charisma and improvising skill, the first one they would forget.

“...and now, Lila Rossi with her photography!”

Lila strutted out to the greetings of applause.

“Hello, and let me just say I am so honored to be here today, especially considering that a year ago I wasn’t expected to be able to walk to school every day. Photography was really the only thing that got me through the day.”

A murmur of pity rippled through the crowd.

“Pictures like this one.” She pressed the clicker and a picture appeared on the screen behind her.

A picture of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, mid-twirl in a beautiful hand-made dress.

Lila heard Alya gasp.

“I wanted to show simultaneously the mundanity of walking and the undeniable splendor of it. My dear friend Marinette had some designs she was willing to model for me to help achieve my goal. Marinette, come on out!” She held a hand out, daring Marinette to come out from where she was waiting to go next along with her other friends.

Felix stood behind her with a look of horror and disgust on his face; and a particularly fancy camera hanging around his neck. A very familiar camera.

“No? Okay then.” She turned back to the crowd. “She’ll be out with a different group; Mari doesn’t want me to have to share the spotlight, isn’t she sweet?”

The crowd applauded and Lila continued making up technical terms and thought processes for each photo, all of which were of Marinette in different designs.

“Thank you.” She bowed deep before walking off the stage.

Now to hold her breath and hope that Marinette, Felix and all their friends were too chicken to call her out onstage.

—

“Now, with their short film; ‘solving love,’ please welcome Bridgette Cheng, Claude Lambert, Mercury Bernard, Allegra Harthorn, Felix Culpa, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hey everybody!” A boy with brown hair and a blue striped shirt grabbed the mic and shouted. “How are we doing today?”

A scattered amount of applause.

“Nice! I’m Claude, and this is Bridgette.”

The girl with the buns waved.

“We were the main idea folks for this video; but the idea only came after the filming.”

Bridgette grabbed the mic. “We asked out friends if we could film them, and then a few weeks ago, we reviewed the film and noticed something... interesting.”

“Allegra here,” a girl with a long blonde braid waved, “did the music and Mercury,” a boy with dark glasses and a green beret, “did the narration. You’ll be seeing more of them soon. My cousin Mari,” Marinette waved, “and Felix are the main subjects of the film. You would have seen more of them, but for some reason Felix’s memory card went missing.”

Lila swallowed, this wasn’t great. The seeds of dissent were planted and now she had to risk either spinning another fake story or hoping that it all went well.

It’s not like they had any proof though; she should be fine.

“Anyway, here’s ‘Solving Love.’”

They all stepped to the side and the video began with a smooth piano.

“Love.” The screen showed couples going up to Andre’s and sharing ice cream. “The answer to everything. To ourselves, to the meaning of life, to the questions we cannot ask.”

“But how? How do we get from complete strangers, to people so close they are the same person?” The video changed to a showing of Marinette and Felix shaking hands, both with sardonic smirks. “People rarely get to see the entire process of when people fall in love; there are always pieces missing, hidden moments only for the people in question to recall. Love is left for the investigator to discover for themselves, when the time is right.”

“But maybe,” it showed Marinette talking animatedly, as Felix yawns beside her, “maybe one day, we’ll be lucky enough to see most of the picture.” Felix’s eyes droop and his head falls to rest atop Marinette’s, in the beginnings of a nap. Marinette flushes red.

The rest of the video shows the stages of Marinette and Felix’s relationship, from sarcastic rivals, to peers, to friends, to partners. The narrator described different relationships and how love is a constant through all of them.

The video showed Marinette dancing, twirling in a brilliant dress as Felix kneels and snaps pictures. “Ah, but is this all of it?” They lean down for a swift kiss. The image pauses there. “The full picture? Or is it only a snapshot,” the screen lights up white, “a minor clue, to solving love?”

The auditorium was quiet for what seemed like minutes. Then, the room burst into uproarious applause; a standing ovation.

Lila growled as she turned to sulk and maybe get her makeup so she could fake an injury and get some pity points to heal her bruised ego.

She ran face first into the grey suit of Mr. Damocles.

“Oh, hello sir.” She beamed. “Is there a problem?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes Miss Rossi, there is. Did you take those pictures of Miss Dupain-Cheng? Because that video tells a different story.”

“Yes sir, I swear it.”

“You swear it, huh? Well you best come with me to the office. Miss Dupain-Cheng and her friends will join us when they’re done.”

“What?”

“Miss Rossi, you are accused of stealing Mr Culpa and Miss Dupain-Cheng’s creative work. We will be calling your mother to discuss this.”

Back on stage the crowd of students and talent agents alike had taken to shouting questions to the group of students.

#ml salt #lila salt #felinette #ml felix #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #quantic kids #ml claude #ml allegra #ml mercury #ml bridgette #ml alya

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

Text

To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that.

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer.

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise.

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen.

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends.

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise!

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up.

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her.

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him.

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage.

It was a good thing that he was early—about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over.

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan.

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks.

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future.

Wrong again.

Because a month later, Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum.

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other.

——

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided.

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over.

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead.

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.)

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise.

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy.

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day.

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her.

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face.

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place.

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire.

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers.

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’.

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam.

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise.

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend.

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop.

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of.

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head.

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left.

____

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest.

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug.

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms?

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him?

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds.

___

Let me know what you thought!

____

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taetaespeaches · 5 years ago

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“I thought you left.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff; light smut word count: 1.8K

a/n: well, here is the start of the angst. It’s not like super angsty yet, but it’s introducing it. This includes multiple different points of time, but it takes place after “Why would you have the condoms clear across the room from the bed?” Also, this is inspired by Taylor Swift’s “august” from her album, folklore. WE’RE GETTING INTO THE FOLKLORE FICS AGAIN!! Thanks for reading, lovelies, I hope you all enjoy :))

THE morning after your first time with Yoongi was easy and comfortable. You woke up facing him, his body curled adorably toward you, one of his arms resting underneath your neck, your hand positioned on his hip. You could tell from the sun shining through your window that it was late morning.

Gently, you traced your fingertip along his jaw, dragging it over his cheeks, and when he squeezed his eyes tighter together letting out a groan, you poked his cheek with a giggle.

“Morning, Min,” you whispered, his eyes slowly fluttering open at the sound of your voice. It took him a moment to focus on you but when he came into consciousness, a gummy grin overtook his face.

“Morning, Kid,” he spoke gently, his voice husky with slumber. “Sleep ok?”

You nodded, leaning toward him to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. He happily kissed you back, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you closer to him. Some light kissing and wandering hands led to another round, just as sweet and sensual as the previous night.

When you rolled on top of him, taking over as the main actor in the session, Yoongi’s hands gripped your hips tightly, small moans slipping out of his lips as he appreciated the move of your hips atop him. “Fuck, you’re unbelievable,” he breathed out, you giggling in response as you continued to grind down. He chuckled in disbelief before the laughing faded into another moan.

After you both finished, you rested on top of him, his hands drawing designs and writing out words on your lower back. He lounged around a while after, helping you cook a quaint breakfast for the both of you.

On his way out, he hugged you close and kissed your temple before telling you, “I’ll see you soon, Kid.”

You kissed him and mumbled against his lips, “I’ll be waiting.”

That was three weeks ago.

Since then, you’d seen each other three times, each time in his car in the parking lot behind the mall. There were two other dates that he had canceled out on, which hurt, especially considering you had been canceling plans or not making them at all with friends in hopes he’d call you to meet up, but it was all forgiven every time he’d reschedule.

During your dates, he’d put a movie on, and you’d watch a little, kiss a little more, cuddle a lot, and talk throughout. The second time, a particularly late date, Yoongi cut it short due to you both taking turns dozing off. Last night, the third parking lot date, ended in you inviting him back to your place.

The truth was, things felt different between you and Yoongi. As if you were holding onto something that might not be there. The first month of knowing Yoongi felt so promising. You both tried to prioritize each other, even if you only saw one another once every two weeks. But ever since that morning he left after your first time together, his texts and calls were less frequent and lacked consistency. You feared you were in that place in a relationship where you were deciding on whether to commit or to part ways. Was Yoongi pulling away?

With some convincing, saying he needed to get back to the dorm to pack for a quick work trip to Japan, Yoongi agreed to come to your place. Upon arrival, you split a bottle of wine and listened to music, talking about work, and a little about your families. You were sitting on the kitchen counter, Yoongi leaning on the counter next to you, supporting himself with his forearms as he occasionally traced patterns on your leg.

Finishing off his glass, and therefore the bottle, he leaned toward you, placing a kiss to the inside of your elbow. Standing up straighter and stepping closer to you, he continued kissing up your bicep, to your shoulder, and eventually your neck.

Slotting himself between the V of your legs, his hands found the sides of your face as he kissed you deeply. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him considering the shift in his behavior toward you since your first time being intimate, but you craved him. You yearned for the affection he gave you while twisted in bed sheets. And perhaps you were living for the hope of a life together, outside of parking lot dates once a week.

You didn’t even make it to the bed, using the condom you placed in your bag before you left to see Yoongi in his car. Yoongi bent you over the counter before you ended up on the floor, you on top as he leaned back against the refrigerator door. After having caught your breath, both of you in fits of giggles, you stumbled to the bedroom, leaving your clothing on the kitchen tiles, crashing on the mattress.

A hangover was already settling in as soon as you opened your eyes to the sun shining through your window. Feeling next to you to find the body of the man you were definitely falling for, you found an empty bed. Did he leave? Despite the dull pain in your head, you quickly crawled out of the blankets, wrapping yourself up in the bed sheets, and hurried through the apartment in search of Yoongi.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you found the apartment empty, his clothing gone, yours neatly folded and sitting on the counter next to the coffee pot. Though there had been a noticeable change in Yoongi’s attention, you didn’t expect him to leave without a word. But then again, maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.

Scanning your surroundings, you noticed the coffee pot had a fresh brew inside of it, still on. You didn’t think anything of it, going to grab a mug, until you saw a sticky note from the desk in your bedroom stuck to the top of the coffee maker.

Meet me on the deck, sleepy head.

Forgetting about the hot dark liquid, you hurried to your back deck, relief flooding your body when you saw Yoongi sitting on one of your patio chairs, leaning forward as he scrolled through his phone. Before opening the door, you watched him for a moment, the sun beating down on his hoodie-adorned back, your mind reminding you of how smooth and toned his back was when he was shirtless, walking around your bedroom naked. How it felt to hold onto his back as he moved in and out of you. Suddenly, you found yourself wanting to trace your name onto it, reminding him of your presence if he ever forgot.

Sliding the door open, he looked up instantly, his chin shivering from the cool air, his eyes wide before they softened, a small smile greeting you. “Morning, Kid.”

“I thought you left,” you said, stepping outside, tugging the sheet closer to you in response to the chilly outdoors.

His eyebrows pulled together as he shook his head, placing the phone on the table. “I wouldn’t do that.” He observed you for a moment before gesturing with a nod of his head for you to come to him. You easily walked over to him, standing above him as he looked up at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes. His hand found the back of your legs, tugging on you until you willingly sat in his lap. The small trembles of his shivers vibrated against your body.

“Why are you out here if you’re so cold?” You asked, Yoongi chuckling lightly against your arm.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered. “I’m just thinking.”

Placing a kiss to your temple, you leaned into the touch, almost embarrassingly eager to feel his affection. His skin was cold against yours, but you didn’t mind.

“I’ll be gone for five days,” he told you.

“Will you text?” You asked, smiling at the feeling of Yoongi’s lips curving up as they were still resting on the side of your face.

“I’ll even call,” he assured you in a whisper before leaving a peck to your hairline. “Did you get coffee?” You shook your head and he sighed. “I make coffee and you don’t even drink it,” he complained through a pout, you looking up to admire the position of his adorable lips.

Leaning forward, you grabbed his mug off the table. “What are you talking about? I’m drinking it now,” you smirked as you took a sip, only to be met with a scoff before his mouth formed into a gummy smile.

You took another drink as Yoongi’s arm wrapped tighter around you, holding you firmly against him. “You make leaving on these trips hard, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” you responded, Yoongi scoffing with a smile.

“No, don’t say sorry. It’s not a bad thing,” he told you thoughtfully. You watched as his mind wandered through his hectic thoughts, sure he had a lot on his mind by the way his face scrunched up a bit. “Did you really think I would just leave after last night?” He asked, his eyes straight ahead, the steam coming from the mug of coffee obstructing your view of his face just slightly.

“I didn’t know,” you admitted. Without a word, he simply nodded, taking the mug from your hands to take a drink of his own before placing it back into your palms.

“It’s cold, let’s get inside.”

Six days. Two texts.

The first day, Yoongi texted to tell you they were departing from the airport. You received the second text when they landed. A simple, “Made it safe.”

The remaining five days went by without a word, despite your good morning texts and “Missing you” texts. No calls. Just silence. If it all went according to schedule, he should be back at the dorm by now.

The disappointment overtook your emotions and you could no longer try to think of excuses for his distance. Memories drowned out all thoughts that weren’t of Yoongi. The sweet possibilities of your first meeting. Your nerves and excitement at your first date at the diner. The unplanned second date at the café and his need to see you. His first appearance at your apartment, and how he seemed to belong there. The thoughtfulness of your fourth date in the parking lot behind the mall. Finding yourselves tangled up in bedsheets on your fifth date, with so much ease and comfort. And then, the way things seemed to fade out, changing from colors only he made you see to a dull grey, all hope dissolving.

At the start, wanting was enough. Hope was enough. What once felt like you’d found the one, now felt like it was slipping away like that last bottle of wine you drank together. Looking back on the past two months, you realized, you weren’t losing him. He was never yours to lose.

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emilycollins00 · 4 years ago

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hello! i've recently stumbled across your works and i really love your characterization and writing uwu if it's not too much, is it okay for me to request for a scenario where some actors accidentally found out that their director is actually good dancer? like maybe somebody was watching tv and 'hey doesn't that backup dancer look familiar?' ((you can decide on whoever finds out about it and you can also choose to use izumi's name or just write mc)) AAAA thank you very much! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡

Thank you, dear! 💕 I feel so happy when I read I you guys like it. Sometimes it gets difficult to not fall into OOC!

I opted to choose Izumi, mainly because I don’t think I’ve written anything with her even though I love her so much! As for the actors, well, couldn’t decided wich one so everyone is making an appearance.

Hope you like it! 💕

The dorm discovering Izumi’s dancing skills

“Tenma, hurryyyyy”

“Yeah, yeah... Uh? Hey, who didn’t wash their dishes this morning, it stinks!” the summer leader complained outloud, leaving the kitchen with Misumi with the last chopsticks and glasses to place on the lounge.

Tsuzuru entered and looked at the sink, frowning. Indeed, it smelled awful. He walked towards the couches to get the culprit.

“Itaru-san, don’t ask me why, but I know whatever that was in that plate was yours. Please clean it right now”

“Oh shit, my shield fell”

The man in question was laying next to Kazunari and Banri, all of them most likely playing a battle game, judging by the way they were staring intensely at their phones.

“Itaru-san!”

“Yes, yes, one minute…”

“Dang, Itaroon! You can’t pull something like that to win, I don’t have any more resources!”

Omi put a hand on Tsuzuru’s shoulder when he saw the scriptwriter was about to start scolding them “It’s okay Tsuzuru, we have enough plates. Itaru-san can clean later so dinner doesn’t get cold”

At that moment Juza, Taichi, Muku and Sakuya arrived.

“Ah, Omi-san! After Tenma-kun and Misumi-san finish the table will be set” the cheerily the spring leader informed approaching them.

“At least we get things done quickly, having so many people at Mankai” Tsuzuru smiled tired but gratefully at the four of them “…although it would be quicker if others offered to help from time to time” he looked at the gaming group and a certain pair watching TV.

“Tsuzuru, this program is too important to sip!”

“You mean to skip? Also, I truly don’t think so. That’s one old program you’re watching” he looked around resting his hands on his hips. No one had moved an inch “That indirect was also to the rest of you, you know”

“Noted”

“Aha”

“So you want me to set the table instead of trying to come up for ideas with customes? Fine by me”

Misumi and Tenma entered before an argument could take place “Table’s set. Someone should call Masumi, Sakyo-san and the winter troupe. They were in the practice room with director, right?”

As if by pure summoning, the last spring member arrived, taking off his headphones “…I’m here”

“We are here too!” Tsumugi waved as the rest of the winter troupe entered talking to each other. Their play schedule had been decided and they had had a run through while Izumi and Sakyo discussed the final details for the performance.

“Okay then everyone, time to dig in!”

…………………………..

Everyone sat on their chairs and started moving plates around and refilling glasses with drinks. It wasn’t often, due to the difference in schedules, but some nights the whole dorm got together and opted to eat at the same time. It was a bit of a mess but in the end, everyone had fun.

Citron was still watching silently the TV when he paused it, concerned. Getting up, he headed to the dinner table as everyone ate and talked “Director?”

Izumi looked up, stopping herself from grabbing the delicious tonkatsu in front of her “You called, Citron? Ah, leave the TV and sit, come on. Omi’s food will get cold!” she motioned the chair that was empty.

He did as told, but kept his eyes locked on her “Director I must ask you an important question”

“Uh… ok?”

He nodded as his chopsticks grabbed some rice “Are you maybe a twist?”

Everyone turned to him, confused, but not surprised. The young woman found herself blinking in confusion too “…Twist?”

Masumi nodded in agreement “You can twist my heart anytime you want”

No one even tried to contradict the young boy, still trying to decipher Citron’s meaning.

“I don’t think Citron means twist”

“…Twix”

“Yeah Hyodo sure, Citron meant Twix. I swear your brain is a fucking sugar cube”

“You are sweet like a twix to me, director”

“Ugh, someone tell the Psycho Stalker off”

“Y-yuki-kun!”

“Citron, I don’t think your phrasing is right” Tsumugi laughed as he saw everyone starting to debate.

The foreigner crossed his arms, deep his thought “Mmm… this word is meant to be a clone… of another person! Is it close enough, Tsumugi?”

“C-clone?!” Taichi looked up from his seat, eyes wide open “Director has a clone?!”

“Guys, come on...”

“Mhm… I might be wrong, but maybe Citron meant if our dear director has a twin?”

Citron gasped “Twin, yes! Azuma’s wisdom is as always precise!”

The winter member received the compliment from the blond with a soft laugh as the rest frowned. Sakuya raised his hand from the other side of the table “U-Um! Why do you say that, Citron-san?”

“You have sisters?” Tasuku raised his eyebrows at Izumi.

“Of course not! I’m an only child”

“But that cannot be. I saw you with my two very eyes!”

“Me?”

He nodded seriously, getting up from the chair and turning on the TV again “I will demonstrate now, the director’s clone!”

Izumi sighed. Why couldn’t they have a normal night? Just for once. It was weekday for christ’s sake. The sudden gasps and exclamations brought her back to reality.

“It really looks like Izumi-san!”

“She looks younger though, is it really her?”

“Waaah, director you are moving so beautifully!”

“Wait, seriously?”

Izumi got up and approached the TV screen, concerned for the amount of attention it was getting “Come on, how can I-“

“That is you, isn’t it?” Sakyo pointed the TV with his head.

As everyone came to the realization that it was indeed Izumi. the woman in question stood there, watching her younger self.

“Oh, you meant that!” she sat on the arm of the couch, forgetting dinner and the fact that everybody was still trying to make sense of it. Their director? In TV? “It’s not been that long but... ” she laughed “Might be the one and only time I made it for a play in a performance, come to think of it!”

Kazunari, who was at that point recording the whole situation, turned his phone towards her in awe “I am beyond SHOCK, director! What play? How come we didn’t know you danced so well? Any declarations?”

She pushed the phone away from her, laughing “I did my studies and entered in the dancing club from my university for a change of peace”

“But this amazing choreography? The moves? Not to mention you are totes on TV!”

She looked back at the TV and a smiled appeared. Competing in friendly dancing competitions had been nice at the time “That program shows musicals, right? My university dancing club just happened to want to enter the competition and we decided to do a mute dancing play trying to tell a story without speaking. Forgot it had been recorded then”

Everyone stopped talking and looked at each other.

“…Oh”

“That’s right”

“Director had another life before Mankai…”

“Feels weird to think about it”

Izumi blinked confused. Of course, she had tried to make a life outside of acting! It had been rough, but she had had to come to terms with herself that she had to move on, at the time.

“Ey, ey, director let’s dance too!” Misumi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the courtyard. She found herself stumbling to keep up.

“W-whoah, Misumi-kun, we haven’t finished eating!”

He laughed releasing her as he tried to copy what they all had watched “That looked fun! What other dances did you do?”

Izumi laughed at his excitment.

“Well, there was nothing specific…?” she listed a few songs on the top of her head. The rest of the dorm gathered around the frames of the courtyard, watching curiously.

“I also want to see director’s dancing!”

“Anyone has a phone?”

“On it~”

“Enough! Why are you…” Sakyo came out too, ready to start scolding when one of the songs mentioned before started playing and saw Izumi’s bright face.

It was as if some kind of adrenaline had been injected into her, enough to make her body start moving along the music, not a single movement being wasted.

It had been a while.

………………………………

“Oh my, such a stunning view… the turning of grand jetes! If this moment was to be engraved…”

Hisoka frowned next to him “Arisu… you’re too loud. Can’t enjoy it”

“Director… is really good!” Sakuya was practically beaming as he watched Izumi moving around “She looks like a fairy!”

No one there disagreed. Her movements flowed, taking away the breath of every person in that familiar audience. Izumi had never been able to act well, but somehow her dancing expressed more than she could in a play.

Omi smiled at the view and crossed his arms “A pity I left the camera in my room” he looked at his left and saw how Sakyo looked at her.

The blond’s eyes followed her figure entranced, not moving an inch.

A few minutes later, Izumi stopped, breathing heavily after song. She looked up, greeted by a big amount of applause. Were those claps for her? Her cheeks grew hot. She didn’t remember last time she got an applause and smiled bashfully.

“Fufu that was wonderful, Izumi-san”

“Epic. I think I just fell in love all over again, director! Gonna need to post the clip on my instablam!”

“Not bad. I guess currian has another thing she’s good at, uh”

“Well, if we ever have a dancing play, now we know who to ask for notes, isn’t that right, Tsuzuru?”

Taichi gasped in excitement looking at the scriptwriter “Oh man, I definitely want to do a dancing play now, girls would love it!”

Of course, as theatre fanatics as they were, the conversation headed into their future performances.

“Maybe like a musical?”

“But dancing as you act is…”

“I want to do a triangle dance in our play!”

Izumi laughed, gaining everyone’s attention “Okay, okay, this is enough. Let’s go back and finish dinner. Can’t believe you all tricked me to dance in front of you, geez” she still felt her breath uneven from the workout.

“But you did look beautiful out there, director” Tsumugi smiled as he pushed a complaining Taichi and entranced Masumi inside.

Tasuku sighed as he watched everyone returning to their normal behaviors “Well, I guess we must thank you are more an acting addict than a dancer” he sent a small smile to Izumi, placing a hand on her shoulder and going inside to help the adults tame the youngest.

Izumi was about to follow when she heard Sakyo’s voice from behind “You danced well”

“Ah, Sakyo-san, thanks”

He dropped his eyes momentarily before looking at everyone going back to finish dinner inside “…Think you will miss it? Dancing like that”

Izumi lifted her head up and closed her eyes, enjoying the night’s breeze. She had set it aside for so long she hadn’t really been able to think about it.

Dancing to her was like turning back the clock, returning to a previous life that might have been good. However, she had always felt something was missing.

She smiled tenderly. Just thinking about everyone at the dorm made her heart go warm.

“It’s become a good memory to keep”

She tore her gaze away from the night sky to smile at him, assuring him that she was being honest to those words just said.

True. She had loved dancing, but theatre? Ah.

That was her life.

_________________________________________________________

I enjoyed it a lot, hopefully, you guys did too. Have a wonderful day! 💕

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abloomntime · 4 years ago

Text

A Bloom In Time Ch24 Accidential New Star

(I had to look up the prices and what the bill document said to get this right.)

Dead Bird Studios.

The place where for YEARS had been the birthplace of creativity and actors on the big screen. And now she was standing right in front of it. The others didn't look so fazed at the big building considering they had been there multiple times before but that didn't stop her from staring up in fascination at it all. It. WAS. HUGE!! WAY bigger than those tall buildings back on the moon. A giant logo sign of a black bird skull and film real decorated the outside on the big front there with the giant words under it reading DEAD BIRD STUDIOS. A parking lot stood between them and the entrance and they were already walking across it towards the entrance. To the far left of them, they could all see a bunch more of those cars parked into the rectangular spaced, not that Poppy was paying attention as they marched across in the hot sun beating down on them all. Poppy would be lying if she wasn't impressed, as she subconciously walked after the small group still walking, the shadow of the building fell over her and she involuntarily sighed feeling the harsh rays of the sun gone for a moment. Still following along after them up to the double doors of the building. The grown lady flinched when they opened on their own as soon as Cookie got near it and mumbled grumpily to herself about forgetting her purse and having to walk all the way back here on her day off of all things helping out and how it was so rude of her to make them all take this detour. Not that anyone minded as the children excitedly ran in past them inside. Poppy glanced wearily at the doors for a moment while passing, jumping a foot forward when it closed by themselves, blue eyes glanced between it and Cookie for a moment before following after the mumbling cat. The long hallway was pretty dark with a black carpet with bird skull patterns with lots of white squares lights barely lighting up the place. With a whoosh noise the doors up ahead opened on their own accord and the three children ran on through and into what looked like a well lit room. As they continued to persue the children down the rest of the hall she thought she heard some squeals of delight but she wasn't too sure yet. When she finally approuched the double pair of doors, they opened again with a whoosh for Cookie and Poppy flinched again...Before blinking and sticking her head into the lit room. A giant white Television set(computor) was sat on the counter which was the first thing she saw, and shiny marble floors reflected the bright lights above. There was a tired looking bird manning the counter as he calmly watched everything around him. Next to him was some kind of giant piece of heavy looking machinery, and as Poppy finally stepped in, she gawked at the sight of GIANT glass cases on either side of the room with shiny copies of trouphies safely sat inside with names of old movie directors of years past. But those only held her attention for a moment, above the trophies on either side were giant framed posters. On the right with a few penguins gathered was a strange looking instrument in disco lights, a ...slime monster??, and some penguin in an astronaut suit. To the right was a more western style of two seperate birds holding guns and a random cactus. Two doors were on either side and two signs by them each saying FILMING IN PROGRESS.

"DARLING!! You're back so soon?," A loud voice boomed out and Poppy yelped dropping her bags of clothing on the floor.

Who the voice belongs to was another moon penguin...But this one looked TOTALLY different from any other penguin she's seen before. He wore a ridiculous outfit with weirder shoes on his feet making him taller than the other penguins by a few inches, and he actually had hair and yellow eye brows styled up into some kind of weirder haircut, and last but certainly not least a giant pair of all black shaped sunglasses over his eyes. His beak was curled up in a smile as he approuched from the small crowd of three girls tailing after him as Cookie walked over to him.

"I wasn't expecting my best best network star to return so soon," he happily addressed her earning him a few embarrassed chuckles.

"Not exactly planned. I uh...Forgot my purse on set again and needed to run in and grab it. Can't exactly feed a bunch of hungry children without it now can I? H-How's the movie auditions so far?"

The penguin sighed and reached a flipper up to his forehead. "Easier said than done. There's the part of the wicked family who still need spaces filled in place, and the handsome prince, not to mention that I still have no one to play the concerned father and we only have a few months to put this together! I can't describe how much pressure I'm feeling..But I have a good feeling that this year will be in our favor for sure!"

Cookie smiled brightly. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find the perfect people to fill those roles soon. You always manage to pull off a wonderful display."

"*sigh* I sure hope so, Dear. I'd hate to have nothing to present for my efforts." His gaze turned up once he noticed movement by the doors as Poppy reached back down to pick her bags back up. "And I see you brought a new friend!" Poppy paused as she was approuched by the eccentric looking fella. "Why HELLO there, Darling! I don't believe we've met!"

"Uh..." Poppy had to blink to actually make sure she was seeing who she was actually seeing before shaking her head and standing up, giving a politely smile. "Howdy! I don't think we've met actually."

The penguin chuckled and shook his head. "We didn't and I never forget a pretty face, Darling. And who might you be?"

"I'm those two's temporarily babysitter," she answered pointed at two of the three children huddled by his side. "Until I can get back on mah feet that is. Kinda starting from scratch after a crazy wake up call."

"Well, it's an honor to meet you Darling." His whole being radiated positivity and his voice despite being loud was very welcoming, making Poppy smile brightly, "I take it this is your first time at a studio?"

She smiled a bit shyly. "I-Is it that obvious? hehe" She reached up to rub the back of her neck. "Uh...Y-Yeah. Do you work here?"

At this the penguin and Cookie shared a chuckle before he spoke. "Well, I should hope so. Or else my name isn't DJ Grooves."

Grooves?....DJ Grooves? As in THE Mr. Grooves Cookie had spoken about before? OH! He must've been the director she spot about earlier, that would've explained the way he dressed. This guy was a walking fat cat with deep pockets, but he looked rather friendly and cheerful to her. And not to brag, but she did have a good judge of character usually.

"OH! So YOU'RE this Mr. Grooves I've heard so much about."

He chuckled. "So you heard a lot about me? I'm flattered, Darling. Really I am-" He was interrupted when a rumble sounded out and Poppy grabbed at her stomach embarrased. "...Oh my, my, my. Hungry are we?"

"I haven't eaten since breakfast and we've been running around all day."

"Well, then I better get back there and find that darned thing." Cookie turned to Mr. Grooves with a smile. "Ya'll don't mind if I just run to the back real quick like and grab it do you?"

"Not at all, Darling. Be my guest." Cookie smiled and without another word turned and ran off towards the door on the fair right of the room. The giant thing creaked open and closed behind her as she disappeared into the area behind it. Poppy watched her go behind sighing and stretching out her back from the now uncomfortable weight of the heavy used farm equipment on her, but her attention went back to Mr. Grooves when he pointed towards the counter and spoke again. "Darling, if you want you can just place these bags right on over there with the other random things we brought in today. You look redder than an apple on the sun."

She nodded yes reaching up a hand to wipe at her face. "I feel like a baked apple too. ...Ya sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Darling. Not at all. Why don't you go do that and I'll have one of my assistants bring you out a glass."

"Well, if you're really sure."

She smiled and lugged her way over to the counter by the crate and weird machine thing. Placing the bags down by the crate, she shimmied the golf club bag of farming tools off her shoulders and into her hands, leaning them all carefully against the big ol' machine thing next to them. Sighing that her back didn't have weight on it anymore she stretched it out making her back pop. A few giggles made her look back over towards the small group of girls around the penguin. Bow was still pouting looking down at the clothes in disgust but looked up when the penguin adjusted the sunhat on her head, she looked up at him and Mr. Grooves said something to her. Poppy couldn't hear exactly what he said but it put a smile on Bow's face and he patted her head with a flipper. A smile returning to her face at the cute scene in front of her. A small creaking noise came from her left, and Poppy didn't notice the expensive camera starting to lean from the weight of her tools.

BAM!!

A loud bang filled the room but strangely enough, barely anyone flinched or looked up from it. As if used to hearing large booming noises in the studio. The only ones who reacted was Mr. Grooves, the girls, and Poppy. Poppy all but jumped out of her skin backing against the counter and whirling towards the source of the sound, the girls seemed to flinch, and Mr. Grooves only casually looked over towards the left side of the studio. There the other giant pair of double doors had been kicked open and slammed into the walls, a moment later a very angry......Yellow owl?? Stomped out and behind him followed some regular Express Owls holding various items or just following. .....Wat? Poppy had to blink as the small whatever he was stomped over near to where she was standing and starting barking demands all of a sudden.

"You three grab the bloody camera and make sure ye pecknecks keep a tight grip on it! I nae need me raw footage damaged in anyway!" His head turned as he barked orders to the owls who jumped and nodded at their bosses demands. "Good! Can't count on you all to do anything without me tellin' ye to cannae?"

Well THAT was rude. Poppy frowned at the rude little whatever he was and still didn't notice the large machine next to her lean over even more. Neither Poppy, the owls, or whoever this small yellow guy was(who was still yelling at the poor owls through all of this might I add) noticed the heavy duty camera leaning over or the glamerous penguin waltz on over towards him with a smile until they all reacted at his voice. The owls stopping, the yellow bird thing freezing for a few seconds, his fist shaking and slowly closing into fists, and his head snapping to peer over his shoulder, and Poppy looking over blinking.

"Conductor, Darling. You mustn't be so loud. It disturbs the peace and scares potential clients away," Mr. Grooves calmly spoke to this person. "You know I'm still expecting others to answer my casting calls."

Wait. Didn't Cookie also mention a Conductor? Huh. So this must be him. Not gonna lie, not a good first impression to her if she said so herself. Conductor huffed and turned his whole body turned to completely face the calm moon penguin now.

"Tis NAE of your business ye no good puffy haired peckneck!!," Conductor shouted while pointing a hand at Mr. Grooves. He was loud enough to make Poppy wince. "Why don't ye badger off and leave me to my worrrrrk!!"

"Darling, I would love nothing MORE than to leave you alone undisturbed," Mr. Grooves insisted calmly holding up his flippers, "All I ask is that you don't make such a ruckus in the lobby so my interviewers don't get scared off."

"HA!! Ye still going on 'bout that nonsense! Like anyone would rrrreally want to be in some techno sore to the eyes picture like yours!"

"Well that's not true at all. I have a gentlemen coming in tomorrow to see for the part of the Father in my little play. "

"HA!! The third one in a row? By this rate, ye won't be able to show ye face at the Award Ceremony for judging!" He smiled this time and crossed his arms.

"Now, now. There's still lots of time. And I'm going for something far more simple this year. A little change of style but still fabulous if I do say so myself."

"HMPH!! Well I say ye are full of birdseed if you think you have an inch of chance as usually! Another second place trophy would be more fitted! AHAHAHA!!"

Poppy could feel herself frowning at his words. Well that was really uncalled fore especially since Mr. Grooves wasn't being rude at all back or making a big scene like Conductor was. CREAAAAAAAAAAKKKK!! Hey...What was that creaking sound? Or was her ears ringing from the earlier screaming.

"Ye should give up now and save ye some trouble! With me raw footage it's surrrre to be in me favor."

CRREEEEEEEEEEEEE-

A giant creaking sound echoed out in a black blur as the giant camera leaned over and tipped. Owls hooted in fear as they scrambled out of the way as all eyes looked over and it seemed time slowed down as it went down, down, down- .....With a loud crash glass and pieces of metal shattered and flew everywhere. On instinct everyone close enough held up their arms and looked away from the shatter, but it was too late. Time slowed down as the camera shattered beyond repair and lots of metal clangs and sounds followed the disaster until it all finally settled piece by piece in front of them all on the floor. Destroyed camera and farming tools splayed on top of it. Everyone stood in shock staring down at the absolutely DESTROYED piece of machinery but that wasn't the last of it. A few sparks from the top of the camera shot out .....and then just a tiny spark of flame appeared. Well that tiny flame was enough to send some panic througout everyone there as owls sqawked and gasped back at the sight of the small flame which slowly started to grow causing everone else to get mildly panicked.

"SOME DARLIN' GET A FIRE EXSTINGISHER!!," Mr. Grooves yelled one flipper going up behind him to push back the small group of children behind him.

"STAND BACK!!"

In a fury of feather and blur, a white streak of foam shot out from some random direction and slammed into the flames, successfully putting out the flames with a sizzling sound by none other than the receptionist. The bird who was behind the counter wasn't finished yet as he continued to spray the camera and part of her tools down until it was all white like snow had piled on it and he stopped. Everyone remained in their tense pose for a long while staring at the camera...before some sighed in relief as did Poppy. Well that was certainly a surprise wasn't it? ...But not a very pleasant one by SOMEONE'S standards.

"MY MOVIE!!," Conductor cried recieving all eyes on his as his hands reached up to grab those feathery parts of his head staring dead at the camera in horror. "ALL ME HARD WORKED RRRRRRAW FOOTAGE IS GONE!!! .....AH!! YOU!!" His horror quickly shifted to anger when he snapped towards the fightened owls with an accusing tone. "YOU NO GOOD......FEATHER BRAINED....PPPPPPPEEEEECCKKNNEEEEEECKSSSS!! I TOLD YE TO BE CAREFULL!! NOW LOOK AT WHAT YE DONE TA ME HARRRD WORK!! WAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A BLOODY SHATTERED MESS MADE BY BUBBLING BAFOONS?!"

The owls all froze at their bosses torment as Grooves turned around to ask the little girls if they were alright and Poppy stared. Watching as Conductor continued to shout as he blamed the poor owls for the mess....Blue eyes blinked down to the farming tools laid upon the floor. HER mess. The one she made-

Red eyes and shadows stared at her frightened form as a voice hissed. "Take her to the room and lock her away. ...I can't to look at her for as my prince had done. Perhaps locking away her forever will teach her a lesson about gazing into another man's eyes who belong TO ME!!"

"STOP!! JUST STOP IT WAS MY FAULT!!!"

Blue eyes snapped open at the yell. The yell that made everyone freeze and look at the red head who looked just as shocked and surprised as everyone else at her sudden outburst, but the Conductor wasn't yelling at the owls anymore. Despite him not having eyes, she could still tell he was staring right at her along with everyone else around her in more stunned silence as nobody spole.

".......Wot?"

"So YOU'RE the one responsible for this?," the tallest bird from the counter spoke putting down the fire extingisher and crossed his arms with a frown making Poppy flinch.

Poppy stared at him for a moment but seeing one poor worried looking owl behind him, made her frown before taking a deep inhale...and nodding towards the receptionist without hesitation. "That's right! One hundred peckin' percent!" She boldly pointed to the half foam covered tools by now. "Those are mah tools and it's mah fault the giant whatcha-ma-callit thing fell over 'n broke! Not anyone else's! So don't be yelling at anyone!"

The receptionist stood there for a moment staring at her before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pen and piece of paper. "Are you willing to pay for the damages? If you chose to claim the damages that is."

She nodded again without hesitation. "I am!"

"Alright." The paper had the same bird skull logo and Dead Bird Studios in bold red words. "Where do you live, Ma'am?"

"Uh...."

"With us!," Hattie piped up.

"Alright." Under the words 'Billing Details' he wrote Red Head Human Woman and the adress Spaceship in the sky 1 6829 this planet, Invoice #: (insert random Owl Express Numbers), Invoice Date: Today, and Currency: Pons. After studying it for a bit he looked back down to the damaged thing with a hum. "Let's see. There was film so that counts under 'Distruping Studio Recordings' which comes to one hundred thousand pons." He wrote under the words 'You Will Be Billed For' as he spoke and looked at the damages caused. "One count of 'Penguin Harrassment' which is five hundred pons. Five cases of 'Owl Harrassment' for two thousand five hundred pons. 'Destruction of Property' oh definately for three thousand. And 'Tresspassing' for seven thousand."

Poppy could only stand there and let her eyes grow and widen in shock at the claims and how much pons this guy claimed she owed for such lunacy. ".......Tresspassing and harassment!? Of what kind?! I wasn't tresspassin' if I was invited in here!! And I wasn't harassing anyone!!''

"Ma'am. I'm only doing my job handling paperwork, and our insurance doesn't cover humans. The moment you stepped on property you became a liability and responisble for paying for any destruction you caused," he explained calmly as if he did this every day. He wrote one other thing down on the paper before holding it out for her. "You owe us one hundred thirteen thousand pons plus tax and another seven hundred fifty for the expensive high defintion camera to be replaced."

Poppy could only stare and not move at the paper held out to her with wide eyes and an open jaw like there was another cursed statue in front of her. After a moment, the recptionist carefully and calmly put the large bill in her hand and she finally reacted to the movement. with anger and a scowl. "WHY IS THIS SO EXPENSIVE!? I couldn't afford this even if I suddenly turned into solid gold like that roach did!!"

"Like I said, Ma'am. I'm only doing my job. If you like I could call the local court house of law, the lawyers there can assure you the paperwork and damages are all legal."

"Well I still can't PAY for it!.....What if I work off the debt instead? I'm a hard worker I promise."

"Well.....it wouldn't be the first time someone worked it off. But you'll have to speak with the two big bosses about it, not me I'm afraid."

"And they would be?"

"ME!!" She jumped and nearly dropped the paper when the Conductor scowled up at her with anger. "That was MY movie ye destrrrroyed with yer no good foolishness! If ye are gonna work it away ye better be ready to receive some hard work thrown at ye from meself!!''

".......No."

Silence. You could hear a pin drop as everyone in the studio of hearing range completely stopped what they were doing and turned their attention towards the scene before them with wide eyes. Completely shocked into silence as they all stared at the human alike. Penguins, Express Owls, the two children, and even both the directors seemed to be shocked into the dumb silence as they all gawked at the frowning red haired lady staring at the Conductor. THE CONDUCTOR!! NO ONE BUT DJ GROOVES HAD EVER SAID NO TO THE CONDUCTOR BEFORE!! (except Hattie that one time in the basement but we don't talk about that not that anyone outside of the little girl, and a few of her friends knew) But now it seemed everyone was too shocked seeing a new person say no to the famously hot headed owl. One owl staring completely let the script she was holding fall from her hands and land scattered at her feet as everyone watched jaws dropped. Eventually Confuctor was the one to break the awkward silence by what else, his famous yeling. "WOT!?," he shouted and stared at her. "An' why not?! Ye are the one who cost me mah raw footage! That was ten days of haarrrrrrd work I ain't nah gettin' back, Las!" The red head crossed her arms and didn't change her expression. "I know and I am terribly sorry I caused you so much trouble in that department. But I refuse to work with someone so rude and treats the employee's who's workin' hard trying to help him by calling them useless! Obviously you're a terrible boss who treats anyone helping him with no respect, and I would feel terrible! Being in one of your movies knowing that, Sir." The girls exchange silent shocked glances behind Poppy as she turned her head towards the damaged camera. "....If it's the material that I damaged I would gladly pay in anyway I can. But only on the basis you apologise to those you've wronged, Mr. Conductor. But don't you go thinkin' I'll do anything before I know I'll be treated with respect!" Conductor's. Jaw. DROPPED!! Obviously not used to anyone other than that ridiculous long time rival of his speaking to HIM. HIM!!! In such a brass and demanding manner and it took a moment for him to even process what she just said but in a moment his temper flared up in a moment's notice as those feathery appendages on his head wriggled and he pointed at the penguin director as the other fist clenched into a fist as he demanded. Mr. Grooves blinking surprised at the sudden action "Bu-Bu-Bu-BUT WHAT COULD BE SOOOO SPECIAL ABOUT 'EM DOWN RIGHT EYE SORE OF A SO CALLED MOVIE!? YE GARBAGE NEVER COULD GET OFF YE GROUND IF DJ GRRRRRROOOOVES HAD ALL ETERNITY AND BECAME PRRRRRRESIDENT OF YE BOX OFFICE!!" "That's not true! I actually saw one of his movies myself." "YE DID WOT!?" "You ...did?," Grooves shifted his funny glasses wearing face up towards her just as confused as the angry owl man. Poppy nodded. "Yes. I. Did. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't think it was that bad. In fact, it was really interesting. Maybe not the 'best' by bird standards, but by human standards the story was really easy to understand for someone who honestly doesn't really know a whole darn lot 'bout these fancy lights, or high tech stuff, or..." She waved a hand off shrugging. "Or whatever ratings are. And a struggling career was relatable for someone who's been struggling with a lot happening." Conductor was sputtering and made some kind of funny bird sqawking noise before some of the feathers around his collar ruffled up in rage and he jabbed a thumb at himself. "WELL MAH MOVIES ARE NOTHIN' TO SHY FROM EITHER, LASSIE!! RRRRESPECTIVELY THAT AYE AM THE ONE TO MAKE IT ON TOP ALL YE TIME!!" Her face frowned again as she looked down at the older bird with a harsher scowl. "MY respect, SIR, is earned. Not GIVEN! And so far you've done absolutely NOTHING to earn it! Yelling like a baby who didn't get their candy and throwing a fit is not the way to do that! You just come off to me as a spoiled old man who doesn't know the word no even existed!" "WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT THE BLOODY PECKNECK ANYWAYS!?," He demanded fuming. "If you can't respect him as your rival then the least you could do is respect him as another person in your profession. As far as I've seen he's been nothin' but polite and kind to everyone and considering he's not in mah face yellin' like a baby bird for his mama is somethin' I respect." With a huff of that sass Snatcher would've loved to see she closed her eyes, and turned her head away with her nose stuck up. "I will start RESPECTING you as an adult when you ACT like one and apologize and decide to stop throwing a tantrum and embarrassing yourself! Because the truth be told I think YOU'RE the only peckneck in this studio." More silence settled around the entire place as Conductor dropped his jaw and the only sound that came out of him was something that sounded like 'A-Ah...ah..ah ah ah.....' in a stuttery way. Hattie's eyes were wide and Bow's hands had come to cover her mouth in a dramatic way. If Snatcher was there, Hattie would have no doubt he would've started laughing loudly at the look on the old bird's face. In fact, she could almost hear it now. A deep rumbling chuckle-....But wait. Snatcher's voice wasn't deep? It was high and raspy. Then who was-... A cold flipper patted Poppy on the back making her hum and look next to her to find the afro wearing penguin chuckling...before laughing a deep but loud laugh that filled the room with an almost joyful mood. That seemed to snap the Conductor from his trance and glared in the laughing penguin's direction. After a moment, Mr. Grooves stopped and turned his gaze up to Poppy with a smile. "Darling! I never could've said that any better than how you did!" He patted her back again. "You know. I like you already, Darling. My little stars usually have great taste in character and I see they didn't spare any expense in making another darling friend. What did you say your name was again?" ......She blinked but smiled at the happy moon penguin politely. "Poppy Rose Bloomington. You can call me Poppy, Mr. Grooves." Grooves hummed for a moment looking at her up and down for a moment before turning to the glaring Conductor and the broken camera lying a few feet away in pieces. "Was that footage really that important to you Conductor, Darlin'?" "OF COURSE IT WAS YOU PE-" "There's children here." Conductor's feathery appendeges went back as he growled. "YES! It was half me movie! It cannae be so simply replaced with the secret idea I was goin' for! All the time I spent on it cannae be replaced in time of the award ceremony!" The penguin hummed and brought his other flipper up to rub the bottom of his beak staring at the camera with a thoughtful expression...before looking back up to Poppy. "I'm afraid he's right, Darlin. I've known Conductor long enough to know one thing he never does is lie about his movies, even if he does brag while doing so in such a rude manor." "HMPH!! OF COURSE I DONAE!!" Grooves just rolled his eyes. "Even so, I think we should help him." "YE WOT!?" Conductor glanced surprised at the penguin like he won the trophy all of a sudden. "What kind of nonsense are ye blabbering about now?" Grooves turned to him staring, before tilting his head down wear his sunglass slid down enough to reveal some of his eyes in a deadpanned expression. "Believe it or not, Darling, I don't like unfair advantages." Conductor just stared blankly at him. " But I'm sure my little stars here could help out with anything you may need." Bow lit up with a smile. "Yeah! I'd love to help!" "Don't you have a back up plan like you usually do?" "Of course Ah do! I ain't no dummy." "Well, there you go, Darling." He reached up to push his glasses back into place. "I'm sure you'll put together something spectacular like you always do." "......B-B-But..What are the damages!? Ye camera cost the studio over a thousand pons! I cannae just look past that!," he argued back pointing at the shattered thing. And Grooves hummed again. "I'm afraid you're right about that too. Frankly, these kinds of ones aren't too easily to come across."........In a moment he smiled and looked up to Poppy. "I know! She can work for me as payment for those damages." Poppy blinked with a surprised expression as did most of everyone else but at the thought of Poppy being in a movies both young girls suddenly looked even more excited. Conductor on the other hand- "ABABABABABA!! Hang on a pecking second! THE LASS WORK FOR YE FOR DAMAGING MAH FILM?!" "I-I AM?!," Poppy asked whirling wide eyed to the moon penguin director. "Yes. Cuz quick frankly it might've been your film, but it was on OUR shared expensive studio high definition camera, Darling. She can easily pay off any debt she owes for the camera and your footage by working and her pay going to the repairs and reienbursment for any misguided accidents." The Conductor growled again and went to probably argue some more- "Tick tock, Darling. You don't want to waste anytime fighting when there's a deadline to meet. It looks like you'll be needing to step up your game." "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!! FINE!!" The tiny bird man turned and began stomping away towards the owl's side of the studio. "WHAT ARE ALL YE LOOKING AT!? SOMEONE BRING ME MAH BACK UP SCRIPT!! CHANGE THE SETS TO OUTSIDE SCHEDUALED!! SOMEONE INFORRRRRRM THE OTHER'S WE'RE GOIN' WITH PLAN B THIS YEAR!!! AND SOMEONE GET THAT SMASHED HUNK O' JUNK CLEANED UP!!" The owl's scrambled to grab anything they needed to grab and quickly follow the fuming bird boss as DJ Grooves chuckled and shook is head. "Don't feel too bad about the Conductor, Darling. He's usually all talk and no bite." Hattie giggled. "Yeah! He's a crazy, grumpy grandpa!" Both Grooves and Bow chuckled at Hattie's description of the old bird, but none of them noticed frozen and mildly panicked form. Her?! In a movie?! Where millions of people could see her?! WHAT HAD SHE GOTTEN HERSELF INTO NOW?!

#ABloomInTime #Snatcher #The Florist #Florist #a hat in time florist #a hat in time the florist #A hat in time the florist x snatcher #A hat in time florist x snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #A hat in time snatcher x florist #a hat in time snatcher x the florist #Snatcher x the florist #snatcher x florist #the florist x snatcher #florist x snatcher

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louloubabys1992 · 4 years ago

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Five Favs of 2020

I was tagged by the amazingly talented @mercurial-madhouse to do this and I thank you for it as its been a while since I’ve looked at my fics or any of my work really....so here goes :D

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work.

1-Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die

Fic summary;

''You still want me?'' he asks, voice thick. ''Yes,'' Harry's answer is absolute, almost defiant. ''But my hands are empty,'' Louis shakes his head. ''I've got nothing to offer you.'' ''I don't care about that. Do you see my hands?'' Harry asks before he cups Louis' face. His touch is gentle. He's always gentle when it comes to Louis. ''When I'm not holding you, I feel empty, but like this,'' he presses closer until their faces are inches apart. He caresses the apple of Louis' cheeks and that's when Louis realizes that he's spilled tears and Harry's wiping them. He didn't even notice; too busy looking into Harry's kind, kind, kind alpha eyes. ''I feel like I'm holding the world and I don't feel empty anymore,''

Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him. Not Harry though; stubborn as he is, he doesn't back down, not when it comes to Louis

Note;

Those who read this fic know that this is my first ever abo fic. I wrote this in a time when I thought the world was ending. I had been on lockdown like the rest of us with not much to do and yet all the time in the world to finally do what I’m truly passionate about, which is writing. I don’t know if anyone noticed this but the difference between this fic and my latest one was six months (aside from a 16 chapter fic which I was writing almost simultaneously with ‘’Hang there’’ so for it to get any kudos or comments at all is quite unbelievable to me and I am really proud of the journey it took me on. It was one bumpy but amazing ride.

2-As the snow flies

Fic Summary:

’'I can’t sleep without you anymore. Got used to you.’’ Harry is always like that, so transparent with his feelings, so abundant with his love. He cuddles Niall the most, always stares up at Zayn like he’s something cool and out of this world, always attentively serious with Liam and always helping Leona out in the kitchen. He’s not so different from the shy, timid boy he’d first met, still stands pigeon toed when he’s waiting for Louis and the lads to go home after school, still stands with his shoulders all hunched but then he sees Louis and suddenly he’s taller, brighter, smile and dimples on full display.

He’s so beautiful.

-Or the fic in which Louis and Harry are foster kids who get separated long before they could even understand what loving each other means. They were so young and since then, circumstances had made Louis tough, had forced him to harden up. What happens when he and Harry meet again?

Notes:

Probably the easiest fic I’ve ever written because the idea had been swirling in my head for years, I just never had the time to sit down and put pen on paper (or letters on a word document hahah). It’s not for the faint of heart, I know, but I’ve always wanted to write it and flush it out of my system and when I did finally start writing it, it wasn’t as hard as writing my other fics. Like, I knew how it would end, I knew what scenes I had to cut out, what fit, what did not fit and I have to say, even though the outcome is not the way I had imagined it at first but it is everything it was meant to be in the end :D

3-The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart

Written for the @bottomlouisficfest

Fic summary:

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with. Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada. Yeah...

Notes;

During my time of self isolation while the world tore itself apart, I busied myself with writing and watching k-drama series to distract from being anxious and swept by it all. It did wonders for me, occupying my time like that as I have always loved writing and this year, I found a new love for korean actors and their dramas and I have to say, their stories have such amazing plot lines. This fic is heavily inspired by one k-drama series called ‘’its okay not to be okay’’ starring Kim Soo Hyun and Seo Yea-ji (I hope I got the names spelled right). Please do watch it if you haven’t already :D

4-The Importance of being Earnest

part of the @1000feelingsfics

fic summary;

Harry cannot help but pay extra attention to Louis' order, even if it is just a warm cup of tea with a dash of milk and no sugar. He also makes sure that the Danish Louis asks for is warm and fresh from the oven and not the one in the display, even if it means delaying Louis a bit when he fetches said Danish from the kitchen. It's all worth it when Louis smiles his crinkly smile at him before he rushes off to work.

Man, he's hot, he cannot help but think.

Or Harry is a barista who's been harboring a crush on Louis for months. Little does he know that Louis actually likes him back.

Note:

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before but this fic was included in a podcast which has never happened to me before and I am so so so happy and proud that my fic got that type of attention (or any attention at all hahahaha) so like, it is quite special to me and honestly, a lot of the fics written for the @1000feelingsfics challenge are really, truly incredible

5-Bed of Nails

fic summary;

Louis has been keeping a secret for a very long time. The boys don’t know because he doesn’t tell them, not because he doesn’t want to but because he doesn’t think they need to know or be bothered by his troubled past. When they find out, they look at Louis differently. But Harry doesn’t. No, he loves Louis and will do anything in his power for his love to find its way through the cracks.

Or the one where Louis has a troubled past that catches up to him and Harry does his best to save him from it.

Notes:

This is my longest fic ever, not just in chapter count but in time (it took me actual years to finish it, whew, what a journey). A lot of things happened while writing this fic but one event that stands out among the rest; I lost my younger brother back in 2016. He was only 23 years old. I started writing this fic in 2015 and finished it January 2020. Losing George crippled me both mentally and emotionally. I had no power, no inspiration and definitely no will to do anything but try and seem okay for the sake of my grieving parents. I bottled it all up to try and seem strong in front of them and in return, I forgot about anything else, including my passions and my hobbies. It took me a herculean effort to finish this fic and I mostly did it because writing to me, is like an itch. I can stop writing sure but every once in a while, that itch that nags at you like an incessant person knocking, begging you to just open up the door on the swirl of words blasting your brain in the middle of the night, begging you to just do something, doesn’t ever completely go away. So, I didn’t ignore it and decided to finish it, no matter how long it took. The itch to write went away after that and a sense of calm and accomplishment took over instead. I miss George till this day. Nothing will ever turn off that feeling but writing to me, in any form, whether in my journal or fics or whatever, does have the power to push me through the day.

And there goes; my 2020 fics. I want to tag a lot of people but I think most people I know here already did it but if you see this or read this, take that as your cue to do it too. We all need some self love in this world and self love is what we deserve.

Happy new year everybody :D

#fics #larry fics

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rachel-rebellio · 5 years ago

Text

Autumn is the Best Time of Year

part 1

It was a crisp autumn, November 3rd to be precise, and y/n was trying to distract herself from her post-Halloween depression the best way she knew how. She was tired of the typical Southern California sun and fires, so she decided to get in her car and drive up to Big Bear so she could see the autumn colours she had grown to love so much. She took in the sights as she slowly drove ‘round the lake with the windows down, letting the fresh mountain air hit her face and fill her lungs. She pulled into the Big Bear Village to bum through some of her favourite shops and get a bite to eat at a local restaurant.

As she was wandering through town, she came across an art gallery that hadn’t been open on her previous trips. Being a lover of art, y/n quickly wiped the wet leaves off her boots and fixed her beanie to better sit on her head. It was a small gallery, but it was showcasing multiple local artists from all over Big Bear City. The pieces were all beautifully done, but one in particular caught y/n’s eye. It was an oil painting of the lake surround by autumn foliage with the sun gleaming off the water. She had seen that sight plenty of times, but this artist brought a whole new perspective to it.

Y/n stood admiring the painting for several minutes when someone bumped into her. She quickly turned around saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Was I in your way?” just as this stranger also turned around saying, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there, are you okay?” Y/n was taken aback by handsome stranger when their eyes met. She was just as tall as he was, but it still felt like she had to look up to make eye contact. He made her feel small in the best way.

“Hey, have we met before?” Y/n asked.

“I don’t think so. I would’ve remembered a face as beautiful as yours.” He said, causing y/n to break eye contact so she could look down and try to hide her cheeks flushing red. Y/n looked up after a couple moments and said, “Well, my name is y/n. It’s nice to meet you-“

“…Ma-Matthew. My name is Matthew.” He said, stumbling over his words through a chuckle to fill the silence where y/n trailed off.

“I love that name. So, are you a big fan of the arts Matthew?”

“Yeah! I’m actually a little bit of an artist myself! I published a book that I wrote and illustrated about a green monster named Rumple Buttercup.”

“Whoa, really? That’s so cool!”

“What about you? Are you a big art fan?”

“I love it! I’m a black and grey portrait artist, myself. I love drawing people.”

“I bet you’re amazing. I’d love to see your work sometime!”

“I definitely have room for improvement, but I’m a lot better than I was when I started a few years back. I’m totally self-taught; so it’s been a bit of a slow process.” Y/n said, trying not to sound too self-deprecating right away.

“So, what caught your eye about this piece?” Matthew asked y/n in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

“Well, I’ve been up here so many times. I like to come up here and enjoy the colours of my favourite season every early November to try and help my post-Halloween depression. I’m not ready for Christmas quite yet and Halloween is my favourite holiday, so I need some time between. But, I don’t know. This painting just captured a scene I’ve personally seen so many times, but in a brand new light; and their colour theory? Are you kidding me? So good! Autumn is my favourite season, so it’s not too often that I find something that allows me to see it in a new light and through a different lens. I’m so sorry, I’m just rambling at this point. What about you? Do you like it?” Y/n asked, blushing and nervously playing with her hair as she looked over and saw Matthew paying full attention to every word she was saying.

“I haven’t been here many times, but I love their use of colour and the blending of the oil paints. Oil always gives it that nice gleam and blend to the colours.” Matthew said with a smile, physically pointing out the things he was talking about. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his hands were as they gestured about and pointed to specific details as he talked. She could have listened to him talk passionately about anything for hours on end without ever getting tired of hearing his voice. Suddenly, Matthew turned to y/n, who was watching him closely even after he finished talking, and said, “I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get some coffee or cider with me? I saw a little coffee shop just down the street.”

Y/n tried to hide her excitement and answered as calmly as she could, “I would love that. I could always go for some hot apple cider.” Matthew walked with y/n out of the gallery, holding the door open for her on their way out. She couldn’t fathom what was happening; guys never paid attention to her, let alone a guy who looked like this. His brown, curly hair was just long enough to curl over his forehead and ears, barely touching his neck. His glasses framed his face so well and were large enough that you could see his brown eyes that crinkled nearly closed whenever he smiled his smile that was so warm and inviting. On the way to the coffee shop, they made small talk about some of their favourite artists.

They walked up to the counter to order heir drinks but when y/n pulled out her wallet to pay for her own, Matthew placed his hand on hers and said, “Hey now, getting cider was my idea, I got you covered.”

Y/n smirked at him and said, “Fine. But the next one’s on me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Matthew said with a quiet smirk right back at her as she, in that moment, wondered if there would even be a next time. Once they got their drinks, they went outside and saw that the fireplace had been lit, so they decided to sit on one of the benches next to it to enjoy their drinks and talk. It was now around 5p.m. and the sun had started to set so the autumn leaves looked even more beautiful in the olden light. Matthew and y/n were sipping their respective drinks and talking about how they celebrated Halloween after finding out that it was both of their favourite holidays. He went as Vincent Price and y/n was convinced she would never beat that costume, as Vincent Price was easily one of her favourite actors of all time. Y/n was about to finally admit what her costume was when Matthew quickly scooped up some of the leaves and dumped them on y/n’s head.

Y/n gasped, set down her apple cider, and said, “Ohhh, you’re on. I declare war!” as she scooped up an even bigger pile of leaves to throw at him. The two of them threw leaves at each other until Matthew wrapped y/n up in a one-armed hug, pinning her against him so he could take off her beanie off and continue dropping leaves on her head until she yielded. Laughing, y/n tapped Matthew’s arm saying, “Okay! Fine! I yield! Have Mercy!” which caused Matthew to also laugh until he fell to the side, still holding onto y/n. While lying on the ground, he looked to her and said, “Well that was fun hon! I always appreciate a woman who can hold her own in a leaf fight.”

Y/n shook her head at him before grabbing one last handful of leaves to throw at him and then stood to her feet yelling, “Victory is mine!”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?! Fine, you win this time.” Matthew said, standing to his feet and raising his hands in defeat which caused them to both start laughing as they picked leaves out of each other’s hair.

“I really didn’t think this weather through.” Y/n stated, starting to shiver. “I had such a one track mind about coming up here that I was stupid and forgot a jacket… and this flannel really isn’t doing the job. Mind if we step into the shop across the street so I can get a jacket?”

“Here, you can wear mine, if you don’t mind the possibility of it clashing with your flannel.”

“Not at all, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Maybe you could hold my hand to keep me warm.” Matthew remarked, trying his best to be smooth; although it may have come across as more awkward than savvy.

“Now there’s a nifty idea huh?”

“I try.” Matthew said with a chuckle in his voice. Y/n accepted the offer to wear his jacket and when she put it on, she noticed three things.

1. It was still warm from him wearing it.

2. It smelled amazing.

3. There was a single ping pong ball in the left pocket.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you have a ping pong ball in your pocket for?” Y/n asked, pulling the ball from the pocket.

“Oh, so one thing you don’t know about me is that I’m actually a magician. Here, I’ll show you a trick!” Matthew practically yelled in excitement.

Y/n handed him the ping pong ball and Matthew knelt down in front of her saying, “Okay, now watch closely.”

Y/n did as she was told and watched as Matthew’s hands showed her the ping pong ball and encased it. He held his hand out to her and said, “Okay, now blow on it.”

Confused, but eager, Y/n blew on the small white ball. Matthew made a weird noise and said, “My turn now.” and blew on it before making yet another weird noise. Y/n started laughing, but kept watching closely as Matthew opened his hands to reveal the ping pong ball had disappeared.

“Whoa! That’s so cool! Where is it?” Y/n gasped through her smile, wanting to know how it was done.

“Check the pocket again.”

“What- wait… HOW?” Y/n exclaimed as she pulled the small ball back out of the jacket pocket.

“Nope! Nu-uh. A true magician never reveals his secrets.” Matthew explained with a smirk on his face and his arms folded.

“What about an amateur magician? Can he reveal his secrets?” Y/n asked, smirking right back at him. Matthew looked shocked at her response before dramatically pretending to be deeply hurt by her calling him an amateur.

“I’m sorry! I had to! Forgive me?” Y/n asked, giving Matthew her best please face.

“I guess.” Matthew said, pouting. “But you’re going to have to make it up to me for that remark little miss.”

Y/n asked hesitantly, but also very excitedly, “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

#Autumn is the Best Time of Year #aitbtoy #matthew gray gubler #fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #my fic #my writing #fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #mgg fic #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #please don't let this flop

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unforth · 5 years ago

Note

So I have no idea what The Untamed is, but I keep seeing it show up on my dash. So I kinda want to check it out. Can you tell me if there's actual queer representation in it? Or is it more of a destiel kind of situation right now? (Love your fanfic btw)

ALRIGHT ANON I hope you’re ready to listen to me go the fuck off cause I’m so gonna because I fucking love this show!

Right off the bat, to answer the “is it more of a destiel kind of situation” the answer is absolutely fucking not, nor will it ever be, because The Untamed is 50 episodes long and complete, so where it is now is where it will always be. And where it is now...okay, so The Untamed is based on a novel called Modao Zushi (variously translated but the most commonly accepted is “Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation”). MDZS exists in five different versions - the original novel (complete), an animation (in progress), a comic (in progress), a radio drama (...actually I have no idea if it’s done...) and The Untamed (the live action TV show).

What it is...it’s originally a Chinese BL danmei (a novel, in this case published serially on a subscription website) by an author who writes under the pseudonym Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. It’s xianxia, which is a genre of Chinese fantasy inspired by Chinese mythology, religion, martial arts, and all kinds of other stuff...as a Westerner coming in with no experience, it’s been a LOT to learn the genre tropes and I’m still getting the hang of it, but you don’t need to know anything to appreciate the show - I didn’t, and nor did many of my friends, and we’ve all loved it. It has a wonderful ensemble cast (...okay, well, full disclosure, it has a wonderful male ensemble cast, the women in the novel leave something to be desired, they’re much better fleshed out in The Untamed but I could still wish for more in that regard...) with tons of side shipping potential...like, my favorite character isn’t even one of the two in the main ship, and I’d honestly be hard pressed to even name a top five because I love them all so much, and there’s a side ship I love almost as much as the main ship, and is also so close to canon as makes no difference, at least imo. The plot is pretty well fleshed out (or at least the points that are nonsensical are surprisingly easy to ignore...if you’ve seen Jupiter Ascending it had some of the same feel in that regard, like “parts of this writing are a trash fire but I’m enjoying the overall effect so much that I don’t even care any more”). The sets and the costumes are absolutely fucking gorgeous and if the CGI for some of the monsters made me want to weep it was so bad...well, I was a fan of Hercules the Legendary Journeys in the 90s so I’m prepared to forgive a lot to watch hot guys kick some ass, and speaking of the hot guys...

The main ship is composed of this guy, Wei Wuxian...

He is a quintessential disaster bi and I love him and would die for him. The novel is told primarily from his PoV and even The Untamed tends to focus more on his angle than others.

His other half is this guy, Lan Wangji...

(okay the glasses are NOT canon but how am I supposed to resist that line??). He is rule-following, law-abiding, and I totally didn’t get him at first and now I adore him.

This is full enemies to lovers in the best possible way.

From a Destiel PoV, I basically write Wei Wuxian the same way I write Dean, and I basically write Lan Wangji the same way I write Castiel, and people tell me pretty often that they love my characterizations so...the personality parallels, they are strong.

Their ship is most commonly called WangXian. Are they canon? In the novel, yes. They are canon. They are literally married. They have actual explicit sex that you can read in all its glorious detail (actually I shouldn’t talk it up that much I didn’t personally enjoy the canon sex all that much but that’s a totally different topic). They are the most canon of canon, no holds barred, mano-a-mano, god I wish they’d use lube, I can tell you who canonically tops and bottoms and what their main kinks are, and they are so in love and there are ridiculous declarations at the worst possible moments and there’s a wedding...it’s canon.

Now, China has some pretty crazy censorship laws that include making it an arrestable, punishable offense to make the queer explicit in the TV show. Thus, there is no explicit moment where, in The Untamed, they say, “yes we are a couple and we are in love.” However, the following things are canon:

-they are soulmates (link to gif set by @ohsesuns - the source for these two gifs, I hope you can forgive me just embedding them but someone asked me for a guide and I think just linking might not get the point across/require too much expectation of people clicking through...)

-they have their own theme song...which is called the portmanteau of their ship name (link to gif set by @wangxiians, with two used for demonstration purposes...again, my apologies for embedding them like this, I’ll pull them if you’d prefer) And mind you, in this scene, Lan Wangji just sang their song out loud while a montage played of important moments in their relationship with each other it is the gayest most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

-THIS IS LITERALLY HOW THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER

-neither has a female love interest or any other romantic subplot or any kind of “fake out” and this is the way Lan Wangji looks every time Wei Wuxian is like, “you’re never gonna get a girlfriend with that attitude” (labeled as by someone named mabomanji on a website called tenor that I’ve never used before...)

-DID I MENTION THIS IS HOW THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER

-oh and they have a son...sort of...close enough...okay it’s way more complicated than that but whatevs I don’t want to spoil all the fun...

-OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION THE HANDFASTING? Lan Wangji constantly lets Wei Wuxian touch the “sacred headband that only family members and loved ones can touch” and at one point to protect Wei Wuxian he wraps it around each of their wrists (source for this screen cap is a set on twitter by krayziewes)

I’m sure at least three people will look at this and be like HOW DID YOU LEAVE OUT THIS OTHER THING and all three things they name will be DIFFERENT because the show is just that fucking gay.

So you ask me, is it like Destiel?

With Supernatural, with Destiel, the show writers, producers, everyone, strings us along, giving us just enough to think we’ve got a chance. The only risk they face in making it canon would be a drop in rating and alienation of some of the fanbase and yet they refuse to do it. I do not believe and have never believed that Destiel will be canon, and my reaction is constant disappointment, because seriously, what would it cost them to show it? Absolutely fucking nothing, especially now that it’s ending now, but they won’t. (okay, that’s just my opinion, I guess the last few episodes will show...but I at least have zero hope.)

With The Untamed...with Wangxian...literally everyone involved in The Untamed risked being disappeared by the Chinese government and actual imprisonment to make the show as gay as humanly possible without quiiiiiiiiiiite crossing the line into explicit queerness. Behind the scenes footage makes it clear that the entire cast and production crew have read the novel. The crew jokingly refers to Wei Wuxian as Lan Wangji’s wife (yeah, sorry, there’s some splashes of misogyny especially in the novel) and the looks on any of the actors’ faces when they’re interviewed and asked about (female) love interests are honestly fucking priceless...but no one can say it out loud, no one can make it explicit in the purest sense, because they risk their livelihoods, their families, their futures, their lives, if they say in reply to that interviewer, “um are you a fucking moron didn’t you realize there WAS a romance in the show and it was between two men?” But everyone with a half a brain knows. It’s not subtle. It’s not a secret. My straight cis male friend who is watching keeps screaming at me about how gay it is and he’s only on like episode 10.

Would I kill for a canon kiss or an actual traditional love declaration?

Yes, of course, I’d love that.

But do I think WangXian isn’t canon in The Untamed just because it isn’t shown in those most simplistic terms?

Oh my god it is so canon WangXian are husbands and they are in love and they live for each other and it’s amazing and I adore theeeeeeeeeeeem.

Wangxian. Are. Canon.

#unforth rambles #the untamed #wangxian #i don't even know how to tag this #i hope you're prepared for my love letter to canon anon #because I seriously could not love these two more #Anonymous

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mere-mortifer · 5 years ago

Photo

Valentine’s Day Exchange 🎈 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who took part in the exchange! Some works are still being updated, and others will be posted in the next few days, but I didn’t want to post this too long after Valentine’s day itself.

❧ Ships:

Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

Richie Tozier/Mike Hanlon

Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris

Stanely Uris/Bill Denbrough

Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom

Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris/Richie Tozier

🎈 Ao3 collection 🎈 | Links and summaries after the cut!

Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

❧ by @illwriteyouatragedy

1. cherry cordial | E | 1/1 He’s staring down hard at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through Facebook without reading anything, when someone bumps into him. Whoever it is grabs the pole, their hands brushing against each other’s. Right in his ear, the guy says, “Fucking shit, you’re hot.” Eddie’s head jerks up, startled, and he meets the bright blue eyes of a man at least eight inches taller than him. The guy’s got a pink knit cap tugged down over his head and a spill of curls falling down from it, his glasses fogging up in the warmth of the train car. “What?” Eddie demands.

2. dark chocolate strawberries | T | 1/1 The way Eddie's looking at Stan— Richie’s been on the receiving end of enough of Eddie’s playfully-mad looks to know this isn’t one of them. His heart starts pounding again. He has to be overthinking things. There’s no fucking way he’s not. After all this time, how could he not be, since— Well. Then again, what the fuck does he have to lose? Maybe it’s the boxed wine talking, or the fact that his ability to keep in his own secret is hanging on by a fucking thread, or the way Eddie truly seems pissed that other people are kissing Richie like this, but— Regardless. Regardless, Richie wants to keep testing this theory.

❧ We reconnected by @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie | T | 1/1 Eddie had unexpectedly arranged a date for valentine's day with a guy who he had met online just to get over his nemesis, Richie. Richie owns a tattoo parlour right by Eddie's innocent flower shop but with Richie's loud music, Eddie is at a constant battle to keep his customers in the shop rather them leaving.

No matter how obnoxious and frustrating Richie is, Eddie can't help but wonder if the boy he knew before high school is still in there. Especially when he loses a fight with his store gate and Richie patches him up. If only Eddie could love his online friend as much as he loves Richie.

❧ You Don’t Even Like Boys by @tinyangryeddie | E | 1/1 The sign for the event looks significantly different than the invitation. “A Valentine’s dance?” Eddie squeaks at him, grinding his rolly suitcase to a halt. Sure enough, a loopy red cursive “after-auction Valentine’s Day dance” accompanies the ridiculous imagery. Richie wants to laugh - or maybe cry - it’s hard to tell the difference with Eddie staring at him like he personally assigned the theme and bought the tacky heart-shaped balloons to pile into the lobby. “I didn’t… know,” is all Richie can come up with.

❧ One for the money, two for the show by @mere-mortifer-writing | E | 1/3 Richie's not sure if he's about to get punched or something more pleasant, and as he's placing a bet with himself on which option is more likely, the stranger surges up to close the distance between them, and suddenly they're kissing. Or: Richie is a famous actor, and Eddie a college student who has never hear of him before. When they get papped arguing in public about a bad parking job, the media spins to story to make Richie seem like an homophobic asshole-nevermind that Eddie and him were already making out minutes after the photos were taken. There's one obvious way to clear Richie's name: pretend that Eddie and him had been dating all along.

❧ Sweet Like Sugar Venom by @sippingonsouthernrains | M | 1/1 Being Eddie’s sugar baby was nice. Being Richie’s was fun. Being both? Fucking exhausting. Or, the thrilling tale of one Stanley Uris acting as the human-embodiment of an eye roll as Richie and Eddie claim to compete for his affections. Of course, Stan recognizes that they’re only competing for each other’s affections, and it takes about two minutes for him to get completely tired of being in the middle of it.

❧ It’s not gay if you’re practicing to kiss girls! by @space-is-out-there | G | 1/1 Richie gets the losers invited to one of the biggest parties of the year! They’re prepared for booze, music, and lots of spin the bottle. The only issue? Eddie and Richie have never kissed anyone before and wouldn’t know where to start! Haha... unless 😳

❧ little pieces of nothing that fall by @spunknbite | E | 1/1 Eddie shook his head, lips quirking upwards in a confused half-smile that Richie was immediately drawn to. “You seem stupid familiar,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t think we know each other,” Richie replied, then added, like the moron he was, “I’d remember you.” This guy wasn’t the sort you forgot. Or, the one where it's 1998 and Richie sits down at the bar next to an asshole with a Palm Pilot.

❧ He loves me, he loves me not by Sirius_1910 | T | 1/1 With Valentine's Day coming and the Losers getting together to celebrate at the clubhouse, two boys try speaking feelings, but forget how messy they are on a daily basis.

❧ Red washcloths and Bloody knuckles. by @toziersspaghettihead | T | 3/3 This shit should’ve been easy, y’know? You pretend to date your best friend so everyone else thinks you have found your soulmate. Richie had been praying for years that he would find the person made specifically for him. However at seventeen and he had yet to have his soulmark- It was concerning, He was starting to think that.. Maybe, Well maybe he was just one of the unlucky few that never found their other half. So the plan came along easily, One day- He was sprawled out on his bed, His best friend. It was late August and he was fucking melting in the heat, Eddie had his legs on top of Richie’s just laid out trying to cool off, With a Comic held above his face. Richie wasn’t as easily distracted that day, He was lost in thought, His music blaring- He prefered loud obnoxious songs any day compared to silence. Yet, His thoughts were running rampant. “Eds, Do you think I’ll ever find my soulmate?” The question had Eddie seizing. “Yeah, Obviously..Everyone has them.” He dropped his comic down onto the bed and sat himself up.

❧ simple words by @birightsrichie | T | 1/1 Eddie had spent his entire life dreading meeting his soulmate. Mainly because the first thing said soulmate was going to say to him was, "Do you come here often?" and Eddie did not want to spend his life with the type of person that would say something like that. He figured they would be extremely annoying and cheesy and probably a bit of an asshole, too.

❧ Bolt by Satanders | T | 1/1 It's their first Valentine's day together and Eddie wants to surprise Richie, but Richie is not easily romanceable...

❧ Fake It ‘Till You Make It by Jojosugay | G | 1/1 Richie takes Eddie to his managers valentine's day party pretending to be married.

❧ Welcome to the losers club by jack05writes | T | 1/1 Since bill had quit as the bassist of the losers club, he desperately needed replacing... Enter eddie kaspbrak.

❧ the townhouse by uhohcanteen | E | 1/1 richie snaps out of it faster than pennywise had anticipated. now, as richie rolls them both out of the way and start running away, they have got a lot ahead of them, including a night to remember.

❧ Just Another Coffee Shop AU by @stardust-writer | T | 1/1 “You’re just jealous,” his friend Beverly would say. “You wish your lonely ass had someone to make out with today, but you’re stuck with me, a strictly platonic best friend.” “Correction, I was stuck with you,” Eddie says, holding up a finger. “Now that you’re dating Ben, I am, as you put it, a lonely ass.” Beverly laughs and then pulls him along, trying to appease her friend. And it’s not like she was wrong, Eddie just didn’t like to admit she was right. Because she tended to get smug when she was right and that was almost all the time. He already had to put up with it on a daily basis, he would rather it didn’t double on this godforsaken holiday. Or: It's Valentine's Day and Eddie is single.

❧ Illegal Moves by @northwindscookie | T | 1/1 Pizza plus beer plus our two favorite gay dumbasses equals a recipe for a Reddie's Valentine's Day.

Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom

❧ butterflies and storms and ooey-gooey feelings by @lo-v-ers | T | 1/1 Ben Hanscom is the human definition of sunshine weaved into a warm heart and a generous soul and everything good that a person could possibly be. They met in their English 101 class freshman year, and they just clicked, and Bill has never felt as understood as he did when Ben looked him in the eyes and smiled and nodded and spoke with wisdom that an eighteen year old shouldn’t have. (Ben looks at Bill and sees the stars, glimmering and beautiful and breathtaking. He looks when Bill isn’t looking and he smiles and feels his heart flutter with joy and something else, but Bill doesn’t know that.) (At least, he doesn’t know it yet.)

Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier

❧ head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by @queermccoy | G | 1/1 “There’s a situation,” he tells Eddie, who is sitting at his desk surrounded by textbooks and yellow legal pads filled with drawings of complex chemical and Matchbox 20 lyrics. “What is it?” Eddie asks, dropping his pen and turning in his rickety chair. There’s an edge of panic in his tone, like he isn’t there yet but could be in no time at all. “Mike Hanlon asked me to go see a movie!” Richie practically yells, hands in the air. He’s still huffing and puffing from running through campus and up the stairs. “So?” Eddie blinks, “We see movies with Mikey all the time. How is that a situation?” “Because he asked me to go out on Valentine’s Day!” Richie says and falls on his bed dramatically.

Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

❧ making out is hard to do by winkyjinki | T | 1/1 With Valentine's Day coming up, Stanley Uris faces his biggest challenge since defeating an evil clown: getting his first kiss.

❧ The Truth Is That I Think I've Had Enough by @reddie4thesinbin | E | 1/1 For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was fully planning on taking advantage of it. He invited Richie on a camping trip, just wanting one night where he could pretend, but Richie had different plans.

❧ Moon Secrets by @the-ben-handsome | T | 1/1 When it gets to be a certain hour of the night is when everything gets all weird; truth or dare reveals secrets shared under the moonlight.

Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris

❧ The Bluejay In The Corner by @adore-affection | T | 1/? He couldn’t keep it in any longer, but he couldn’t just tell someone, it was too dangerous. When he got up to his room he pulled out a thick page of blue stationery and began to write.

❧ Reasons Why I Want To Fuck My Student's Brother by @aleckisverygay | Not rated | 4/4 When Richie and Stanley find themselves hard-pressed for money, they decide to go job hunting in order to afford their bills and keep from being thrown onto the street in the middle of January. Little does Stanley know, a tutoring job quickly turns to something more when he meets Bill Denbrough, his student’s charming brother. Shenanigans ensue, Stanley has a sexual awakening and Georgie is hell-bent on hooking his brother up with the cute tutor.

Who knew a story about rampant libidos could be so emotionally fulfilling and have, like, meaning?

Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris

❧ Happiness and Love Revolve Around You by CoolestLemon | M | 1/1 A cute little peek into Mike and Stan's relationship, especially as they try to buy their dream home.

Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

❧ Our Man-At-Arms by SevlinRipley | T | 1/1 Beverly is often the one to pull the trigger.

#reddie #stenbrough #hanbrough #stozier #it #reddie rec list #it rec list #it chapter one #it chapter two #reddie fanfic #stenbrough fanfic #hanbrough fanfic #stozier fanfic

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brianandthemays · 5 years ago

Text

Paper Rings (Ben Hardy x reader)

Hello!!! First of all: Thank you to @queen-irl-af for beta reading and helping me out!! Love ya! Second! I used the song Paper Rings by Taylor Swift as the main inspiration so give it a listen

Third: There will be a second part coming out soonish!!!!!

and as always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG, SEND AN ASK, COMMENT, AND LIKE! YOU’RE YOUR FEEDBACK MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!

Warnings: There is slight smut so 18+ only, please. If I find out you’re underage I will have to block you! Also fluff, angst, and fluff. It’s kinda cute

Word Count: 5.8K

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The house was foggy with smoke. When your friend invited you to this party you didn’t realize that people would basically just be smoking weed the whole time. Now you were stuck sitting in the corner with a drink in your hand, watching as your friend, and ride, climb high enough to cloud nine. You swiped out your phone and groaned when you realized it was dead. Taking the final sip of your drink you stood to pour yourself another one. You grabbed a drink and started to pour when you glanced outside. There was a guy out there, smoking what looked like a cigarette and just looking up at the sky. You grabbed your drink and walked towards him. When you opened the door, he glanced back at you nodding in acknowledgment. You shot him a smile and wrapped your arms around yourself, it was colder than you’d thought I’d be.

“Cold in’nit,” he commented, bringing his cigarette to his mouth.

“Yeah.” You shivered and glanced up at the sky. “Moon looks nice.”

He shrugged and blew out some smoke. You gave him a sideways glance before walking over to one of the patio chairs to sit down. The smoke from his cigarette was nauseating but not as bad as the pungent smell of the weed inside. You took a moment to take him in. Up close you could tell he was quite attractive. His eyes were a unique color of green and he had blonde hair with a few curls in it. You could tell he was fit under his clothes and you felt drawn to him.

“Not your scene?” he asked, nodding inside. You glanced up at him, breaking out of your observation.

You shook your head. “Smoking anything usually makes me sick.”

“Go home,” he suggested.

“My ride is high as a kite right now,” you explained with a chuckle. “So, I guess I’m stuck here.” He put out his cigarette and threw it in the trashcan outside. “What about you?”

“My vice is cigarettes. I’ll get high every now and then but not nearly as often,” he replied. “I’m Ben Jones by the way.”

You looked up at him; he was holding out his hand to you, so you took it. “(Y/N).”

His hand was slightly calloused and brushed your hand the right way, sending a shock down your arm. You swallowed thickly looked at his emerald eyes. He let go and cleared his throat.

“I’m friends with Rog,” he explained. “My flatmate first year.”

“Cheryl’s my friend,” you offered. “I think she’s got a thing for Rog.”

“Is she the chick with blonde highlights?” he questioned looking through the glass door.

You furrowed your eyebrows standing up to stand next to him. There in Roger’s lap was Cheryl practically eating his face off. His hand was on her breast as they swallowed each other and you groaned, officially coming to terms with your fate.

“That’s her,” you conceded, putting your face in your hands. He laughed and brought a hand to your shoulder in comfort. The shock was back, sending electricity down your back. You looked over at him, a smile on your lips and a lip between your teeth. He licked his lips and smirked at you. Boy, the smirk was really doing something to you. He turned towards you, shortening the distance between the two o fup.

“You live far?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face.Your heart was pounding as you shook your head, staring up at him through your eyelashes and he continued. “Maybe I can take you home.”

You raised an eyebrow and he copied, as if challenging you to resist him. Of course, how could you say no to the magnetic pull that was taking force on you?

“Please,” you answered, your own playful smirk on your face. “Take me home.”

His smirk turned into a smile and he reached won to grab your hand. You gasped and almost spilt your drink as he tugged you inside.

“Slow down!” you shouted, trying not to laugh.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, coming to a stop.

You gulped down the rest of your drink and threw your cup onto the counter. “Okay, let’s go.”

The two of you run out of the house to his car. The second you shut your door you reach over and grab his shirt bringing him to your lips. He brought his hand to the back of your head, roughly smashing you further into him. You bit his bottom lip and pulled back slightly.

“Take me home.”

The second you got to his house, he had you against the wall. His lips touching every inch of exposed skin. Every kiss left fire in it’s wake and you felt like you would burn down. He pulled back enough to pull your shirt over your head but then immediately latched his lips back to your throat. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, letting it fall down your arms to the floor.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” He sighed, pulling back to look at you. You felt so adored under his gaze; the way he looked at you was so adoring it made your breath catch in your throat.

He brought his lips down to your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let a moan out of your mouth tangling your fingers in his hair. You found you hips bucking forward, looking for some kind of friction. Ben slotted a leg between yours allowing you to grind against his thigh as he suckled on your breast. He moved his lips right above your nipples and suck a mark into your skin, causing you to whimper. He pressed one more kiss to it before moving up to kiss your lips again.

“Please just fuck me,” you groaned against his lips.

He smirked and pulled you away from the wall. “That can be arranged.”

The rest of the night was a blur of pleasure. But the whole time, it felt so different from your other hookups. He was so loving and delicate. Every step of the way making sure you were okay and comfortable. When it was done, he made sure to clean up and take care of you before collapsing next to you. You laid awake starring at the ceiling, breathless. Who was this guy? Ben… Ben who? You needed to get up and charge your phone so you could get out of here.

You glanced over at the man next to you satisfied that he was truly asleep before getting up and wandering around the room. Next to his bed you found and out lit with a plug in it and plugged your phone in. He mumbled in his sleep on the bed but didn’t stir as you waited for your phone to turn back on. Eventually, it lit up in the dark and you glanced over at Ben to make sure he didn’t wake up. So far you were in the clear. Once your phone loaded up, you went to google maps to see how far your house was. It wasn’t far, the lyft wouldn’t be too much.

The closest lyft was 10 minutes away, so you had some time. Now, who was this guy? He said his name was Ben… but Ben what? You looked over at him to make sure he was still passed out before crawling to look at his wallet. Broke, not that you were going to take his money. There was his ID. Ben Jones. Ben Jones was the name of the incredibly attractive man snoring loudly on the bed next to you.

Then your phone dinged, letting you know your lyft was close. You felt kinda bad, but you couldn’t stay there. Instead, you wrote a note. Grabbing a pen from his kitchen you scribbled a note on a piece of paper.

Thanks for the great night, maybe see you around.

X (Y/N)

The next morning, you woke up with a headache. You groaned and looked over at the clock; it was noon. You furrowed your eyebrows and put a hand to your forehead. Then in through the door came Cheryl.

“Where the fuck were you last night?” she screeched, glaring at you.

“Shut up! Shut up!” you grumbled at her, your head pounding.

She came over to the side of the bed and sat down.

“You ditched me!” she continued loudly. You rolled over and put your pillow on your head to block her out. “Where did you go?”

Then it came back to you. Going outside, leaving with that guy, oh my god. Ben. Ben Jones. The amazingly attractive man you had sex with last night. You sat up and looked over at Cheryl.

“What?”

“What do you know about Ben Jones?” you asked hesitantly.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

“You didn’t…” she gasped. You buried your face in your hands and she squealed causing you to cringe again. “Ben Jones? As in rugby playing actor Ben Jones?” You reached over and grabbed your phone, ow at 100%, you opened Instagram. “I almost got with Roger, but he forgot my name. Called me Charlotte or something.”

She kept talking but you tuned her out, looking up “Ben Jones” on Instagram. He popped up quickly, pictures of him playing rugby and ads for shows he was in littered his feed. He was, without a doubt, quite attractive. But there was also something childish in his eyes. A goofy look in his smile. You found yourself smiling to yourself.

“Are you even listening to me?” Cheryl humphed. You mumbled an apology before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“We’re out of milk!” you called back to her. Really you just had to get out of the house. You had to get some fresh air and call Joe.

“If you’re going to the store, can you get some cheese too? I need to make my quiche!”

You headed out into the London air. The first thing you did was call Joe. Joe had been your friend since you were little. Your best friend to be exact.

“Joe!” you shouted when he answered.

“Dear God, don’t shout into the phone,” he retorted. “What’s going on?”

You told him everything. The party and everything that happened after. The intimate moments with Ben that were delicate and careful. The way his touch sent flames down your spine. Finding out he was a rugby player and, most importantly, how his stupid goofy smile wouldn’t leave your mind.

“Damn, you’ve been in London for one semester and you’re already fitting in!” he commented.

“Shut up, totally not the right thing to be focusing on right now!” you hissed. “The problem is I left this morning and now I don’t have any way to find him.”

“Did you—”

“Yes, I stalked him on the internet,” you interrupted. “He’s a certified hottie.”

“Well chica, maybe message him,” Joe suggested.

You cringed, walking into the supermarket. “Not exactly subtle, Joe.”

Joe scoffed over the phone and you made your way to the cheese aisle. Cheryl’s cheese choices were very specific and had to be a certain brand or she’d make you go back, and that was not your ideal day.

“Are you going for subtly?” he asked.

You grunted, grabbing the cheese you know she likes before heading to the dairy section. As you turned the corner, and froze, turning right back into the aisle.

“Joe, omigod, he’s right there,” you growled into the phone. “what do I do?”

Joe laughed loudly and you frowned. “Okay, don’t worry, just don’t give him a cold shoulder, that’ll make your situation even worse. Maybe say something, did he see you?”

You peaked around the corner again and he was still looking at some bottles of wine. Lord, his eyes were almost as green as the wine bottles. You pulled back into the aisle, smiling at an elderly woman as she walked back.

“I don’t think so,” you told him.

“Okay here’s what you’re gonna do,” Joe started. “You’re gonna walk up to him and casually tell him that you want him to wreck you every night for the rest of your life.”

“JOE!” you whisper shouted.

“Am I wrong?” he defended. “Now go and call me back later.”

Then he hung up and you cursed under your breath. Then you sucked a large breath and walk out of the aisle. You approached him and he looked up. His eyes flashed with recognition, and a smirk started to come over his lips. Flashes of the night before hitting you hard. His lips on your chest, on your stomach, on your thighs, on your... oh lord. And you panicked. And instead of walking towards him, you walked right past him, feeling his eyes follow you past him. You mentally slapped your forehead and turned around, but he was gone.

“Fuck.”

You didn’t see him again for a few weeks, maybe a month when Cheryl invited you to another party. You were hesitant to go, not wanting a repeat of last time but she wore you down. And again you found yourself standing by yourself in a corner. You took out your phone and you swore it was déjà vu. Your damn phone was almost dead, again.

“You need a charger?” a deep voice behind offered. You turned and saw him, and those deep eyes. You nodded, suddenly finding your voice gone. “Ah, so you do remember me.”

You scrunched your mouth into a smile. “Ben… right.”

“That’s right, (Y/N),” he chuckled. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your back. “Thought you might’ve been too drunk to remember.”

You frowned, that was rude. “I had only had one drink,” You defended.

“Oh, was that rude?” He raised his eyebrows, a playful look in his eyes. “I was confused because I saw you in the supermarket, the next day. And you gave me a cold shoulder.”

Fuck. He had you on a line and you took the bait. He held out a charger to you and you took it, deliberately brushing your fingers against his, trying not to show the effect he was having on you. You turned from him and started searching for a plug.

“Nothing to say to that?” he prompted, hoping to reel you in.

“What can I say?” you returned over your shoulder. “Sorry I hurt your feelings.”

He let out a huff of air, smiling at you. Two could play at this game. The only question was who would cave first. But who knew if he’d been thinking about you like you’d been thinking about him? All you could do was hope and pray you didn’t make a fool out of yourself again. You finally found a plug and got your phone charging before turning back to Ben, who had been following you around.

“What brings you back out to the party?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

You smiled coyly at him. “Something in air, I guess. And you?”

“Call it intuition,” he replied, a smirk pasted on his face.

God you wanted him. You wanted to feel the same passion you had last time. You wanted to feel his hands roam your body, sending flames spiraling around your body. That couldn’t have been the same feeling you had every time you hooked up with someone. But you couldn’t let it be that easy no matter how much you wanted it. And you could feel his want too, it was practically radiating off of him. But the longer you made him wait, the better it would feel.

“Wow, great minds… huh,” you quipped.

“Suppose so,” he answered.

There was silence between you. An eye game. His eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips and your body. Yours stayed put on his eyes, watching him as he looked you over. God you wanted him. His lips were so perfect and you wanted to feel them all over your body.

“So, do you want to…” He motioned with his hand towards the door. You had him right where you wanted him, and you knew what you had to do, no matter how much your body was telling you to do the opposite.

“Actually, no… I don’t think so,” you replied simply.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I promised Cheryl that I wouldn’t leave this time,” you explained, the smirk not leaving your face.

“I see… I see…” He raised his hands in submission. And though you could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, there was a hint of disappointment behind his eyes. That made you hesitant but you couldn’t go back now. “Well, I guess I’ll head out then, see you around?”

“Maybe,” you lipped, smiling at him.

“I like maybe…” His green eyes flickered with playfulness, the disappointment leaving slightly. “But let me tell you, I will see you again.”

And with that he was gone, and the second he was, you took a breath for the first time in, what felt like, an hour. It took everything you had not to let him have you again, but you made it. You hoped that he would keep up on his promise and you would see him soon, but you didn’t see him for another month.

You were studying for winter finals at the library. It had been a frustrating study session. You’d been in there all afternoon and still couldn’t wrap your head around the subject. Across from you the chair pulled out and someone sat down. At first you didn’t pay much attention to them but then they slide a muffin and a steamy drink across the table to you. You looked up and it was Ben. Your eyes widened and he smirked.

“Hi,” you greeted, giving him a small wave.

“Hey, love, how are you?” he asked, looking down at your book then up at you.

You frowned, pushing the book away. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile before leaning back in his chair. You were more than surprised to see him there. It realized you went to the same school as him, but you’d never run into him before. And he’d spent his money on you. You pulled the drink and muffin towards yourself.

“It’s hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin,” he told you. “Chocolate always helps me relax so I thought—”

“No, Ben it’s great, thank you so much,” you replied genuinely.

“I also heard orgasms help with stress.”

You almost spit out your sip of hot chocolate, getting some drops of your drinks on your notes. You sputtered, trying to think of a reply, desperately cleaning your notes up. But when you looked back up at him he was laughing heartily at you.

“I’m joking, love,” he chuckled. “Mainly… unless you want to…”

“Not at the moment,” you growled, a hint of amusement making its way into your voice. “But ask me tomorrow.”

He smiled, his stupid dorky smile when he got something he wanted. He leaned on his forearms, bringing himself closer to you. You continued to look at him as you brought the hot chocolate back to your mouth. You slowly bring your book back to yourself trying to subtly go back to studying.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just be here,” he told you, motioning for you to continue studying.

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly confused as to why he would just want to sit there and watch you study but he looked perfectly happy. So, you continued studying; picking at your muffin and flipping through the pages. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense and you realized, Ben’s presence was calming. He just sat there scrolling on his phone, looking up at you every now and then. But still, he was like a white noise, keeping you focused. Eventually, you felt content with your studying and closed your book.

“So, what can I do to pay you back for the sustenance?” you asked, grabbing you back to pull out your purse.

“Be my date.” He answered almost immediately. “To Roger’s party this weekend I mean.” Your mouth dropped and you found yourself at a loss for words. “I mean, please? I feel like we always end up together anyway.”

You found yourself in a staring contest with him. You couldn’t deny the want you felt whenever you were around him. It felt like a magnet pulling you towards him and you wanted to be on his arm the whole night. Laughing with him, drinking with him, falling asleep on his arm. So, what was the harm? He was asking you.

“Okay.”

The day of the party came a lot quicker than you expected. Your finals were over, your bags were packed and all you had left was this party. Not that you weren’t excited to go, you always loved a party and now you had Ben as your so-called ‘date’, so what could go wrong. You just wore some jeans and a nice sweater you had. Ben was at your apartment at 7 ready to take you to Roger’s house.

“Wow, you look great,” he complimented you. You felt your cheeks heat up and you turned around to avoid letting him see. “Will Cheryl be there?”

“No, she’s already headed home for the winter. Left last night,” you informed him. This left the house empty in the case that something may happen with you and Ben. You planned this, and Cheryl was ecstatic.

“Oh, so house is empty?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Ah.”

Silence. Then he held out his hand to you and you took it. He held you close as you walked through the London night. It was freezing. Snow covered the ground from an earlier flurry and the roads were barren save for ice. Ben was bundled up nicely while you found your sweater failing you, causing you to shiver in the cold.

“Oh, love,” he chuckled, pulling his jacket off his shoulders to drape over your shoulders. You thanked him softly, pulling the jacket closer around yourself. It smelt good. Like warmth with an undertone of cigarettes. It smelt like him.

Not much later you arrived at Roger’s house. Ben dragged you inside, waving and high fiving people along the way, but keeping his hand in yours the whole time. Eventually, you found your way to a free couch where Ben dropped you off.

“You want a drink?” he asked, standing in front of you.

“Sure,” you replied. He smiled at you and walked off to find you a drink. You felt happy. It was weird to think that a guy you hooked up with once a few months ago was now playing a game of cat and mouse with you. But you were ready to be done playing. And maybe tonight you’d be lucky.

A few other kids from school came and sat around you, smiling politely. You returned the smile and shifting to find a comfortable position.

“So, you’re here with Ben?” one of them asked. It was one of the boys. You just nodded. “He’s dope.”

“What’s your name?” a girl to your left asked.

“(Y/N),” you told her. She seemed nice enough, but you still wished Ben were nearby.

“Oh, you’re Cheryl’s roommate, right?” she exclaimed

You nodded again. “Yeah!”

Then Ben returned, carrying two drinks. He hoped over the couch, sliding his arm around you as he sat down.

“Hey Rach! How are you,” he asked politely, handing you your drink. You moved into his side more and you didn’t see it, but that made him smile.

“I’m good! Stephen and I were just introducing yourself to your date.” She gave you a look, moving her shoulder in a cheeky fashion.

“Is Kelvin here?” Ben asked.

She shook her head no, letting Stephen answer. “He still has a final tomorrow morning.”

“Sucks to suck I guess,” Ben joked, causing them to laugh. You smiled, watching their interaction. He was so natural with other people. Everyone felt at ease around him and you could understand why. Rachel and Stephen took their leave of you, leaving you and Ben sitting on the couch together. He looked down at you as you looked around the party.

“You look lost, love,” he told you.

“Sorry, I’ve just never been in the thick of a party before,” you admitted. “I’m usually with Cheryl and she usually abandons me, and I end up—”

“In the backyard with a stranger?” he finished; his eyes playful.

“Exactly,” you answered.

He laughed, reverberating in his chest and you could feel it. You let a blush come over your face as he took a sip of his drink. He hummed, letting you know he had something he wanted to say.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Like, other than come to parties, study and go to the supermarket, I don’t really know anything about you,” he pointed out.

“Oh, uh… I mean I’m a Journalism major with a minor in Film and Art,” you told him. “I’m from the States… New York actually. That’s where my friend Joe lives…” He nodded for you to continue. “Um… I grew up in Albany, which is the capital of New York. But my family moved to the city after my brother moved out?

“How old is your brother?” he asked.

“25 now. He’s an Engineer. Runs some engineering firm in Philadelphia,” you explained. “He’s very smart. Smarter than I am.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Ben interrupted.

“It’s just the truth.” You shrugged. “It’s fine. But I had to get away from my parents. Who have no trouble telling me how much better he is than me.” You blushed again. “Sorry, that was too much info.”

“No, it wasn’t, you can keep telling me everything,” Ben encouraged.

You looked at him, no hint of insincerity. And you did want to tell him everything. But just as you were, Roger rushed into the room.

“EVERYONE IN THE POOL!” he shouted before racing outside.

“He’s joking, right? Its freezing outside,” you cried. But as you were talking, Ben pulled you up and started dragging you outside. “No! BEN NO!

He laughed and let go walking back towards the pool. “Let go, love. Let’s live a little tonight!”

And with that, he slipped off his sweater, and you struggled not to let your eyes bug out. He tucked his feet into a cannonball landing with a splash. You watched with wide eyes as he reemerged, shouting at the cold, but motioned for you to join him. You turned away, closing your eyes, silently battling yourself. But then you turned back around and saw him again. Him and his silly smile and his green eyes. And you couldn’t help yourself. Off you ran. And with a great jump, you splashed in after him. As soon as you hit the cold, you felt your whole body freeze up. Your clothes clung to your body and you felt the warmth leaving you.

You breached the surface, gasping for breath. “Oh my God!” You shouted, looking for something to grab onto; to provide warmth.

“Love, love, calm down, c’mere.” Ben’s voice washed over you and you found yourself grabbing onto him. He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest. His chest wasn’t much warmer, but you still felt yourself heating up. More people came crashing into the pool, but you found yourself unable to see them. Just Ben and his eyes. He put his chin on top of your head, holding you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“This isn’t safe,” you chattered, your teeth shaking. Ben just laughed and reached down to grab your legs, carrying you to the side of the pool. He sat you down on the top step resting his hands on either side of your hips.

“I’ll let you borrow my sweater,” he told you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you. You shivered, your whole body shaking. “Oh, love, you’re turning blue.”

You glared at him, moving to rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, allowing you to focus on something other than the cold. He pulled you back slightly and grabbed your hand, starting to leave the pool.

“Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” he murmured, pulling you up and out of the water. He picked up his sweater and found you a towel, pulling it around your arms.

Once you were dried off, you found yourself in Ben’s white sweater sitting in a hallway across from Ben. He still had a towel around his bare body, his sweater currently being used by yourself.

“Thank you, Ben,” you said, smiling. “Tonight, has been surprisingly fun.”

“Oh, the fun is just beginning,” he teased, poking your toe with his. The music in the main room was dully playing in the background. You blushed, looking down into your lap. “What’s wrong, love?”

You looked up at him, his green eyes shining with concern. And you really couldn’t take it anymore. You crawled towards him on all fours, his eyes widening with surprise, you settled yourself on his thighs, straddling his waist. He hands came to rest on your hips, cocking his head. It was a question and he wanted you to answer first. To let him know this was okay. So, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was different from the frantic, horny kiss that you had in the car the first time you met him. This was slower, more languid than before. His lips moved slowly against yours, one of his hands coming up to push back some of your hair.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning into him more. You moaned when he started to move his lips down your jaw, sucking a mark into the space right behind your ear. You brought your hands up to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a moan from him. You felt your breathing start to pick up and Ben moved his hands under your sweater. You moved your hands down to pull them up to your bra, giving him the permission he needed. But he still pulled back and looked at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he assured. His eyes were blown open and his lips were swollen. But he was still checking on you.

“Yes.”

And he went back in, this time the lust returned. It was heated and full of passion. He pulled your breasts out of your bra, massaging them slowly. You threw your head back, whimpering and panting heavily. Ben latched his lips to your collar, now exposed to him. The feeling of his thumbs brushing over your tits and his fingers digging into the flesh, along with his lips suck and nipping at the most sensitive areas on your neck left you weak. You let yourself go all but limp in his arms, letting him do what he wanted, letting the amazing feelings wash over you.

Soon, you found yourself in the same place you were two months ago. Laying in bed, now your bed, next to Ben. But this time you weren’t hurried to leave. Ben was lying next to you, one hand behind his head the other holding his phone. You were on your side, watching him, eyes furrowed in thought.

“What?” Ben asked, not looking over at you.

“Huh?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Oh, I um…”

“(Y/N).” He put down his phone a looked over at you.

You looked down, tracing your finger in your sheets. “You didn’t…” You sighed, feeling stupid. “You didn’t just ask me to Roger’s party cause you wanted to have sex with me, right?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and turned on his side. “I mean, that was part of it.” And with that you felt your heart breaking a little. Fuck. He didn’t actually like you. He just wanted to fuck you. “But not all of it. Actually, most of it is because I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” Your mouth parted slightly. “Your face, your voice, your laugh, for some reason, you were stuck. And then I saw you the next day and you… ya know.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, covering your face with your hand.

“I’m an idiot, I hope you know that,” you told him, peaking through one of your fingers. “I saw you and wanted to talk to you but I panicked!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s okay, I wasn’t going to let you get away.” He continued. “But I knew I wanted to see you again. And I saw you at that other party. Then I kinda was just looking for sex… but I was hoping you’d stay that time, and I’d make you breakfast and get to know you.” He blushed. “But you had Cheryl, so I knew I had to get you to come with me. As my date, somewhere. “So when Rog told me about this party, I knew I had to take you and the rest is history.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to lay down on his chest.

You snuggled into his side, looping your leg with his. “Well, maybe we can make breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

“You won’t leave me again?” he asked, looking down at you.

You crawled up to him and connected your lips in a soft, heartfelt kiss. When you pulled back, Ben kept his eyes closed, a smile gracing his features.

“Never.”

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Tagging people I think would enjoy/people I’d like to read: @redspecialty @sweet-ladyy @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @leah-halliwell92 @angiefangirlworld-2

#Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy imagine #song fic #Taylor Swift #paper rings

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