#I got such a bad headache rn it feels like i just got shot in the hea- wait /FLUNG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charnelhouse · 2 years ago

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Hello Charnie ♡ i am dying on my period rn and it got me thinking. that part in no promises where ghost is sitting next to red and she starts crying from her hangover despite having suffered worse bodily injuries kinda reminded me of myself. I've gotten some pretty decent injuries and usually didn't cry. But my period cramps? Lord help me. They will absolutely bring me to the floor crying and whimpering, I don't know what it is about them. But it made me want to write a lil soft simon thing (him and red aren't together yet but I'm tying in golden net and how ghost can always sense when red is in pain)(ghost is in a bad mood for no given reason)(this is so very long im sorry):

It's late as ghost walks down the halls of the barracks. Everyone is already asleep in their small rooms, the only noise is the rasp of his boots and the slight buzz of the florescent lights above. Simon walks quickly, heavily. He wants to go to bed, be done with this hellish day that he'd only grown more sick of as it went on. He tries to curb his agitation, settle his mind if he wants to even have a shot at sleeping.

Sleeping never comes easy for him.

He sighs deep, tries to roll out his muscles as he walks. He tries to curb his sour mood, put a stop to his tension, but his mind swirls with his aggravations, each trying to take center stage in his mind, whooshing around, on the verge of giving him a goddamn headache and—

Suddenly he feels a pull in his chest, in his tummy. His mind abruptly goes quiet. He realizes he's approaching Red's door. Red. Red. He hasn't seen Red all day. He and Price got sent out early, early even for the military, and they hadn't been back till now. He hasn't seen Red all day. The pull gets stronger, he walks faster. Had she been sent out today? Did she return with any injuries? He doesn't like the sensation in his body.

He's now square at her door. His hand twitches at his side, he doesn't want to risk waking her up, but... he hasn't seen her all day. If he could just lay eyes on her, look at her and see she's alright, that'd satisfy him.

He turns the knob and her door opens, and even though it's given him access to what he wanted, now he wants to scold her. Why is your door unlocked? You can't get too comfortable, red, always lock your door. Because it's dangerous and stupid—

His annoyance dissolves instantly when he does finally lay eyes on her. Her little bedside lamp is on, she's all curled in on herself, brows furrowed, fists all balled up. He knows that form, she's hurt, he knew it. She didn't even hear him enter, only opening her eyes and looking towards him once she hears the door shut behind him.

He sees her eyes. There's exhaustion and tears in them. His stomach drops. It must be bad if she's crying, Foxy's a trooper, she doesn't cry.

"Oh, hi Lieutenant." Her voice sounds weak, unfilled. "How was your guys mission today?"

"Are you hurt?" Disregarding her question, he strides over to her.

She starts to rise and prop herself up, trying to discreetly wipe her face and eyes as she does. "Umm.. no. I mean, not really. I'm fine." She gives him a weak smile.

"You look hurt, Red. What's wrong?" He can't believe she's really trying to lie to him when it's so clear something is hurting her.

"It's nothing! I'm fine, it's nothing—"

There's more hushed arguing over her obviously false statements. She finally gives it up to him: alright Lt alright. I'm just on my period, that's all, I'm fine. I'm just.. hurting a little from it.

It takes him by surprise. Her period? Cramping has her like this..? Granted, he's a man, what would he know, but... the girl had taken bullets, been sliced open, beaten and bruised. And sure, he had seen her eyes water, anybody's would, but she didn't cry. How bad must these cramps be?

Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "Yeah, that's all. But I can't sleep. This off-brand Advil is not working," she chuckles to herself, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I'd kill for a heating pad."

He quirks his brows. "A heating pad?" He asks lamely.

"Mhm," she gives him a little nod, gestures to her back and hips, "the heat, it feels nice. It helps."

He looks over her again. Her body looks tired. Her sheets and blankets are all tussled about her bed. He wonders how long she's been trying to get comfortable, alleviate the pain. Heating pad. Heat. It feels nice. It helps. He doesn't think they have that on the base. He hates that this pain is keeping her up, she needs to sleep. He moves to her before thinking.

"Here— lay on your stomach for a minute." She gives him a questioning look. "Just do it, Red."

He's at the side of her bed, putting one knee up on it. "Here." Hesitantly, carefully, he splays his palms over her lower back and hips. She tenses slightly at the contact, but then the warmth of his palms seeps through her sleeping shirt, melting onto the skin underneath. She relaxes and sinks, lets out a little moan that he tries so very hard not to fixate on and amplify in his mind.

"Oh my god. Ghost that feels so nice," she breathes out.

He smiles, just a little, under his mask. He's always run hot, much to his own discomfort, but right now it's useful. He's making her feel better. Something is ballooning in his chest.

After a minute, she speaks. "It would feel nice if your hands were right on my skin." She must of realized what she said because she quickly tries to backtrack, "But you don't have to, I was just- it'd just-"

She's so naive. She's got no clue. He'd never deny her anything.

He pushes her shirt up to the middle of her back. Her pretty skin, her battle scars, exposed to him. He's never seen this part of her and she looks like art, sculpted and beautiful. Figures.

He sets his hands back down on her, on to her bare skin. She's warm and so fucking soft. She's so small under him, his large hands on her body. His breath hitches. He tells his brain to knock it off, this is about making Red feel better. That's the mission right now.

She shifts under him trying get his hands where she wants them. He lets her, sinking them in when she finds the spot. He rubs little circles into her with his thumbs.

"There you go, love. Relax." Love. Christ, how did she get him like this?

"Thank you Simon," she says quietly, gratefully. She takes in a deep breath, her body relaxes further. She's got her eyes closed, her lashes rest on the curve of her cheek. Her trust of him is so genuine, different than the usual trust you need in the military. It's the dead of night and she trusts him, Simon Riley, enough to be in her room with his hands on her skin. She's vulnerable, and she trusts him that much. It squeezes at his heart. Ah, that's how.

For a few minutes, he sits with her. Letting his hands drown her muscles and bones with heat. Pressing the rough pads of his fingers into her, gently squeezing her. Occasionally rubbing over the expanse of skin.

"That better Foxy?" No answer. "Foxy?"

He shifts so he can see her face. No tears. No twisted muscles. Good. Her eyes are still closed and she looks peaceful. Breathing steadily.

"You fallin' asleep on me, kid?" He knows he's not getting an answer.

He pulls his hands away from her skin, his body hating the loss of her. He wants to touch her. Hold her. Press his face and lips into her. It pains him to leave her.

But he smooths her shirt back down, covering her from the cold of the room. He pulls the sheets and blankets over her, tucking her in.

He moves up to her nightstand to turn off the light. Her face is half buried in her pillow, knocked out. He smiles at her, he's glad she's not like him, he's glad she can get to sleep easily.

"Goodnight, Red." His hand moves with its own will, pushing her hair off the side of her face that's not buried.

He allows himself to touch her face, just for a moment. The backs of his fingers moving across her cheek. He presses his palm to her, thumb stroking the delicate skin under her eye, a featherlight touch he didn't know he was capable of.

Oh how he ached for her.

He flicks off her light, moving quietly along the tile floor. He casts one more look at her from the doorway and closes the door. Making sure to lock it behind him.

His mind is calm, body no longer carrying its tension, only the sensation of Red's skin under his hands remaining.

Red is asleep, a feeling of accomplishment warmly washes over him. And for the first time all night, Simon thinks he'll be able to sleep.

Omgggg I could die!!! This was absolute perfection. I desperately have needed some ghost inspo to finish mausoleum and this has done it

The below was so on point. Beyond 141, Red would never trust anyone because of how vulnerable she is in a male dominated profession. Love!!!

Her trust of him is so genuine, different than the usual trust you need in the military. It's the dead of night and she trusts him, Simon Riley, enough to be in her room with his hands on her skin. She's vulnerable, and she trusts him that much. It squeezes at his heart. Ah, that's how.

#inbox #ghost x red fox

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matt-erialgirl · 3 years ago

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How would Matt take care of you when your migraines hit? Sounds like it’s a common occurrence for you babeyy 😞 feel better soon

Awe babes thank you so much ♥️ it’s a shitty but common occurrence indeed. can’t not say that 50% of the times i get them, it’s because im not taking good care of myself so babies PLEASE care for yourselves, your well-being and your bodies ✨

Before I get into this, I’m letting you know rn im basing this off my own experience with migraines. And hey, if you dont get them, I’m so happy for you God bless. If you get them, come cry with me.

Migraines are different for everyone (symptoms, severity, how long they last) but mine make me extremely sensitive to light and sound. Everything is just ten times brighter and ten times louder and the actual headache sits on half my forehead, that same side’s ear, jaw and that whole side of my skull. It can hang around for as long as 48 hours. Turning this into a cute little drabble or whatever because cute

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Every tick sounded louder than the last, each one thudding in your ears with an echo that felt like it was vibrating inside your skull. You laid there, body curled up on the leather sofa, head tucked under a throw pillow to avoid the purple lights pouring into Matt’s living room as your head continued to pound to the sound of the clock; in sync.

You wanted to get up and rip it off the wall but that meant having to pull your head out from the dark and open your eyes; both thoughts sounded absurd to you in your mind. So, you stayed put, squeezing your eyes shut, willing the sounds and lights to fade away.

What felt like hours later, you heard Matt enter the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him only to hear you groan in pain at how loud the slam sounded in your ears.

Matt’s head tilted to follow the sound you made, quickly figuring out that something was wrong. He could hear your heart pounding, your breathing was ragged, your nails scratching against the fabric on his pillows.

”baby?” He whispered gently, piecing his observations together, throwing everything down by the door and discarding his suit jacket on the opposite sofa.

“another migraine?” he breathed as he bent down at his knees to be level with you, his palm gently resting against your back while your head remained under the pillow.

”it’s so bad,” you breathed, barely a whisper, but he heard you. He swiftly got up to his feet, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt to roll the sleeves up to his elbows. He made his way to the kitchen, filling a tall glass with water and finding your migraine medication before bringing it all back to you.

He felt bad having to rouse you from your hideout, knowing exactly how terrible you would feel the second the dark was ripped away from you. “try to get up and take this please,” he said gently, keeping his voice down, “I know you probably haven’t.”

Your head pounded harder as you started to move, pushing the pillow off your head and pulling your head out of the corner of the sofa. A small whimper fell from your lips as a searing pain shot through the side of your head, your eyes struggling to open up.

“it’s so bright,” you huffed, squinting to see Matt’s outstretched hands and taking the tablet and glass from him, “thank you, Matty.”

”I’ll be right back,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before he started flitting around his apartment. You watched him through a crack in your eyes, a small smile making its way to your lips as you realised what he was doing.

Matt switched off every light in sight, the clicking if the switches loud in your ears as he moved quickly between them. Next, he placed a roll of thick cloth tape on the coffee table before he made his way into the bedroom, coming back with three folded blankets.

You watched in silent gratitude as Matt taped the blankets to his large windows, making a note in the back of your mind of the need of actual curtains, even if the windows don‘t bother him.

Without a second thought, he made his way over to the clock on the wall by the bedroom and pulled it down, putting an end to its incessant ticking and relieving it of its batteries. A sigh of relief tumbled out of your lips at the absence of sound. Your head falling back against the sofa, eyes shut.

”what else do you need, baby?” Matt asked gently, coming up to you from behind the sofa and placing his palm gently against your cheek.

”blindfold,” you told him quietly, slowly turning your head to the side and pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of his palm, “it’s in the-“

”bedside table drawer,“ he finished with a nod, gently rubbing his thumb across your temple before pulling away to retrieve the black silk scarf you used specifically for this.

He knew it was because no matter how hard you squeezed your eyes shut, it still felt like you could see and it wasn’t dark enough. But part of him also knew you found relief in the fabric squeezing your temples and pushing against your eyes.

He sat down next to you, scarf in hand, his heart aching at the mere thought of you in pain. He reached out and felt for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze so you’d get up for him tie the silk around your eyes.

You sat up, eyes closed and facing him. “Okay,” you breathed before Matt pulled the silk up to your eyes. As he brought it around to the back of your head, you leaned forward, placing your forehead against his shoulder so the knot was easier for him to tie.

”Tighter, please,“ you whispered against his shoulder.

Matt obliged, pulling the fabric a little tighter around your head, a sigh falling from your lips as he tied it there.

”Thank you,” you smiled, reveling in the darkness you now found yourself in, the pressure around your head heavenly against the pain.

Matt smiled and pulled you close, slotting you into his side, your legs draped over his thighs and your head in the crook of his neck. His hand went up to run through your hair to lull you to sleep, while the other traced patterns onto your thigh. Slowly, you started to calm down, your breathing getting slower and deeper as you started to drift off, Matt not once leaving your side.

#Fuck guys i actually wrote something #Heidi writes now??#Matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #Heidi things

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isthisthingeven0n · 5 years ago

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volunteering at its finest : s.r

spencer ‘volunteers’ to babysit henry whilst you and the girls have a needed girls night, except the night lasts a lot longer than any of you anticipated (2.2k)

* also i have an etsy shop where i sell some criminal minds tote bags and prints. if you wanna check it out i’ll leave the link here (i’ve also got a labour day sale happening rn til the 8th!) *

“Please do not tell me you’ve forgotten about girls night that I’ve had in my calendar for the last five weeks?” Penelope focuses on JJ through the monitor who slowly lowers her phone before glancing over to you.

“I, I didn’t forget,” JJ starts, causing both you and Emily to hold your laughs as she tries to ease her way out.

“You don’t sound so sure, J.” You comment, quickly feeling a rolled-up newspaper swatting your arm as you head towards the jet.

“It’s not that I forgot, it’s just the first time Will has been away in months and it just slipped my mind.” JJ tries to reason as you board the jet before you sit down opposite her and Emily, awaiting the wrath of Penelope Garcia once you return to base.

“What slipped your mind?” Spencer pitches in as he sits down beside you, a bright smile crossing his lips as you lean against him. “Hey,” He mutters to you, and JJ glances to Emily, still shocked that the pair of you owned up to your feelings six months ago after pining over one another for two years.

Patting Spencer’s arm lightly, you shrug it off. “Just girls night tonight.” You begin to explain, noticing Spencer furrowing his eyebrows together. “What?”

“I thought we were going to watch the Doctor Who marathon tonight?” He questions quietly, watching as a look of guilt consumes your expression.

“That was this today?” You weakly ask back as Spencer simply nods. “Oh, Spence,” You mutter, but Emily kindly butts in to save your ass once again.

“What if you watched it at JJ’s,” Emily begins, and you focus on her with a raised brow. “babysitting Henry?”

JJ scoffs lightly. “Spence, you’ve never babysat on your own before.” She looks over to the Godfather of her son, one of her best friends who could talk his way out of most things, but babysitting is another level.

“What? I could easily do it.” Spencer states proudly, forcing himself to sit taller in his seat as Rossi glances over, lowering the case file from his view. “I’ve watched Home Alone with Y/n, I know exactly what not to do. And I’ve read sixteen books on parenting.” He quickly adds, and Emily quips an eyebrow to you.

“I didn’t know that.” You mutter under your breath, just as JJ laughs playfully at Spencer’s antics.

“Just let the kid babysit, he clearly wants to.” Rossi pitches in, and Spencer smiles brightly at Rossi’s reassurance.

“Think of girls night.” Emily chuckles, and JJ looks over to you with concern before focusing back to Spencer, nodding to the proposition. “It’ll only be a couple of hours.” Emily quickly adds, and Spencer grins brightly.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Spencer nudges your side as JJ shakes her head, wondering what she’s about to let lose.

***

“I still can’t get over the fact Spence offered,” Penelope states as she brings over your drinks to the table, placing them down as you eye Emily who shrugs her shoulders.

“Spencer is a good guy like that,” Emily snickers, and you nudge her playfully before sipping your drink.

As you swallow, you can’t help but cough and widen your eyes to Penelope who happily downs her cocktail. “Shit, Pen, what is in this? Battery acid?” You remark, sniffing it as JJ sips hers, quickly having the same reaction.

“No,” Penelope shakes her head as a scoff leaves her lips. “but it is called ‘Poison Ivy.’”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued as Emily downs the last of her previous drink, slamming the glass down before heading back to the bar. “Anyone want another one? I saw there’s a deal on certain drinks.” Emily calls out, not giving any of you a chance to answer before she disappears to the bar.

“God, if Spencer was here he’d happily list off some facts about the DC character Poison Ivy.” You sigh, wondering how he’s managing with little Henry.

“I’m sure he’s doing fine, Y/n.” Penelope reaches out, and you nod. “How’re you holding up Jayj?”

Turning your head, you see JJ finishing off the remainder of your drink as she places it next to her empty glass.

“What?” JJ slurs, lifting her head up as her eyes cloud over.

“Yeah, I think JJ has past worried and is in denial.” You mutter to Penelope who wisely nods in agreement.

Emily quickly returns with more drinks which JJ gladly accepts. “So, Y/n,” Emily rests her elbows on the table, focusing directly on you as you swallow the lump in your throat. “when are you going to tell us about the good Doctor huh?” She jokes and you laugh lightly, taking one of the four shots.

Placing the empty shot glass down, you wince as the burn descends down your throat. “Maybe after four more of these,” You cough, and Emily signals to the bartender to bring a few more rounds.

“Come on, we gotta get into the taxi,” Penelope tries her best to take charge as you help JJ to her feet along with Emily who is as much help as Spencer with his gun.

“Pen, can you take Emily? I’ll help JJ.” Despite still being drunk, you can focus on Penelope long enough to see only two of her as she nods and a blur of colour crosses your vision.

JJ’s head hits your shoulder, and you hear her hum. “Y/n?” JJ slurs and you hold her head up as you reach the exit to the bar, seeing the taxi feet away.

“It’s okay, J, the taxi isn’t far.” You rub her arm as she shakes her head and quickly darts out of your arms and hauls her body against a wall as she vomits violently.

“God, least I’m not that bad.” Emily laughs, unaware of who is being sick until JJ lifts herself back up, swaying back into your direction as she wipes her face. “Oh, hey JJ.” Emily waves as JJ groans loudly before climbing into the taxi after you.

“Where to ladies?” The driver speaks up as the doors are finally closed, and Penelope fastens her seatbelt in beside the driver.

You completely zone out as Penelope gives the driver her address, and miss the ringing of your phone. Little do you know, that missed call would become the first of many throughout the rest of the night - not that you’d know until sunrise.

“Thank you, Craig!” Penelope waves the driver off as you laugh hysterically with Emily about something Spencer once did during a date he organised.

“He just, he was so sweet, but got it so wrong,” You wipe your eyes as tears fall whilst Penelope helps JJ up the stairs as you and Emily trail behind. “I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I had no interest in seeing Twilight, only Robert Pattinson.” You sigh, remembering how excited he was to take you to the cinema to see something not only in English but current.

“Spencer means well, I think his big ol’ brain gets in the way sometimes.” Emily comments as you reach Penelope’s apartment, barely having the chance to take it all in before you’re given a wine glass that’s being filled.

“Oh, Pen I can’t.” You whine, feeling a headache already in the works, but Penelope Garcia is not one to take no for an answer- especially on girls night.

“Let me ask you, ladies,” Penelope starts, and now you wish you just kept quiet. “when was our last girls night?”

Penelope watches as you all exchange glances, no one knowing the answer. “Like, a year ago?” Emily guesses, receiving a quick scoff from Penelope.

“Two and a half years ago.” Penelope states. “We’ve had team nights out, but not a girls night.” She adds as Emily collapses onto the sofa whilst maintaining a full glass of wine. “So, I’m making up for lost time,” Penelope lifts her glass up as she looks around at the three of you, just about hanging in there. “to the ladies of the BAU.”

With a cheer, your night carries on with more laughter and embarrassing memories whilst Spencer is having less of an enjoyable evening with his godson.

“Y/n, this is the tenth message I’ve left you after leaving fifteen to JJ, five to Emily and twenty-six to Garcia. You better not have died on me as I’ve rung every hospital in the district and have had Kevin hack Garcia’s phone to find her location.” Spencer sighs as he paces around the living room whilst Henry remains sound asleep in his bed.

Part of Spencer knows he’s being irrational, but it isn’t like you to not even answer a text let alone a phone call. He’s so used to you being on hand whenever- especially with the line of work you both do. So when you don’t answer, he can’t help but allow his mind to spiral into the dark depths of misfortune.

Glancing out of the window, Spencer could tell without looking at a clock it was almost sunrise. Approximately 5:37 in the morning and you along with the others were nowhere to be seen.

With a small sigh, Spencer dials your number once more, only to hear movement outside of JJ’s house and he tenses.

Reaching over into his satchel, Spencer grabs his gun as he hides by the living room door, hearing movement of the front door opening as hushed voices sound throughout the hallway.

“God, he’s going to hate me, isn’t he?” You wince at the thought of Spencer scolding you for not getting back to him after you reviewed the dozens of messages and voicemails when you woke up twenty minutes ago.

JJ wraps her arms around you, bringing you into a hug but also to stabilise herself to stop the room spinning. “Spencer couldn’t possibly hate you, Y/n.” She assures you, seeing Spencer peer his head out from the corner of the living room and lower his gun. “That boy loves you more than you realise.”

Pulling away from JJ’s embrace, you sigh deeply into your hands. “I love him J, I just worry sometimes.” You mutter, unaware of Spencer standing behind you as his heart sinks.

“You should tell him, Y/n.” JJ motions and you tense up, silently swearing before you turn around to face your rather tired looking boyfriend. “I’ll go check on Henry.” JJ mutters, quickly passing you both and heads up the stairs with caution.

“I could never hate you, Y/n.” Spencer starts, “I was just worried about you and your safety.” He explains as he reaches out, resting his hand on your upper arm. “Did you have fun?”

A small laugh leaves your lips as you nod. “Yeah,” You chuckle, focusing on the tired look in his hazel eyes. “I, I love you Spence.” You tell him as you fall into his arms, exhaustion beginning to take over your body as Spencer’s chuckle vibrates against your body.

“I love you too, Y/n. Come on, you need to get some sleep.” Spencer guides you to the living room and you fall down with ease onto the couch. “Did you know the human body requires at least-”

Holding a finger up to Spencer, he pauses. “Spence, as much as I adore you and your facts, they are the last thing I need right now.”

“Alright,” Spencer gives in as he pulls a blanket over you, ignoring the smudged and dried mascara beneath your eyes and the lingering smell of cocktails on your clothing. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He mutters as he wanders out to make some coffee, knowing you’d need it once you woke back up.

“This is hell.” You state as you heavily lean against the railing alongside the girls whilst voices cheer around you, including Spencer. “I blame you, Pen.”

Penelope merely groans as she pushes her sunglasses further up her face.

“A couple of hours! No big deal!” Spencer emphasises as you roll your eyes, burying your face in your hands once again as he carries on cheering for the runners as they pass you all by in a blur. “You weren’t home until sunrise!”

“Why are you yelling.” JJ comments flatly whilst Derek glances over, holding his laugh in as he keeps Jack on his shoulders.

“Make him stop.” Emily adds, and you nudge your boyfriend as he stops waving his flag frantically and focuses on you.

“Next time, I’m either joining you in babysitting or you’re joining girls night.” You tell Spencer who smiles down at you before wrapping an arm around you, holding you close as you weakly smile through the pain of your hangover.

“Deal.” Spencer leans down, kissing you softly before the cheers of your team increase as Hotch reaches the finish line. “Come on, I think breakfast is in order.” Spencer guides you away from the railing as you rely on him heavily as the girls follow behind.

“Girls night happens every two years for a reason, I take it, baby girl?” Derek jokes as Penelope shushes him as you all gather around to celebrate Hotch’s achievement and block out the blur that last night has left on your memories.

“What happens on girls night, stays on girls night.” Penelope simply states, refusing to say anymore as you walk ahead with Spencer, discussing more about his latest read, ‘Parenting 101.’

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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years ago

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Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Has a Migraine and Can’t Sleep

A/n: I had a super bad headache last night so I just came up with this. Sry for the lack of og content! I’m working on a big request rn! (btw this is not edited so sorry for mistakes)

Warnings: maybe a couple curse words? nudity? idk its chill

Bangchan:

You had been prone to get migraines every now and then. As a result, you often didn’t sleep very well. Tonight was just one of those nights. It was a particularly bad one. You wanted to scream it hurt so much, but Chan was sleeping peacefully beside you. This was the third time this month. You didn’t want to wake him up again.

Slowly, you got out of bed. It seemed every movement only made the pain worse. You started to get dizzy. Bracing yourself against your closet, you sighed and rubbed your temples. “Chan...” You felt terrible about waking him up, but you needed help. “Channie...babe?” You said a little louder. He shot up in bed.

“I'm up. I'm up.” He looked around the dark room until he saw you by the closet. He rubbed his eyes and jumped out of bed. “Is it your head, baby?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You nodded and Chan gave you a tired smile.

Carefully he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your head dropped onto his shoulder as you tried to ignore the sharp pain coming from the top of your head. Chan carried you into the bathroom and closed the door with his foot. He carefully set you on the counter and the flicked on the lights. “Ahh!” You yelped, clutching your head.

“Sorry! Sorry! I forgot!” Chan said, flipping the light switch back off. Chan turned the shower all the way to hot and let the steam fill up the room. He kissed your cheek before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The mirror fogged with steam and the pressure in your head started to subside little by little.

Chan softly knocked on the door before entering again. By now steam was setting into the room like a mist. Sweat beaded on both your foreheads and the glass Chan held in his hand. Your boyfriend came to stand between your legs, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Drink some water, baby girl.” You took the glass, his hand staying nearby in case you dropped it. After you drank all the water, you leaned your head against Chan’s shoulder letting him rub your back.

“I’m so sorry that it hurts, Y/n.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

Minho:

Work had been seriously stressing you out lately. So much so that Minho went to sleep before you did. You were doing your best to work through the splitting headache you had but it was impossible. Deciding to give up, you trudged to bed. However, laying down only seemed to make it worse.

Minho was sleeping soundly beside you, completely oblivious to your pain. You did your best to fall asleep. But it felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to the side of your skull. “Minho,” You said shaking your boyfriend. “Minho, please wake up.” You said clutching your head in pain. He groaned and rolled over, sleepily glaring at you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My head is killing me. Fuck...It hurts so much I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” You said trying not to cry. Minho looked around, brows furrowing and then back at you.

“Well....what do you want me to do about it?” I sighed and slapped his shoulder, making him yelp. “Okay! Okay! Sheesh.” Minho stumbled out of your shared bed and shuffled sleepily down the hall. He came back a few minutes later with a bag of frozen peas and water.

“Peas?”

“Sorry, we were out of brussels sprouts.” He said helping you hold the freezing bag to your head. He watched you drink the water and lazily rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you. You knew he didn’t mean to be rude. He was just sleepy.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,”

“Don’t apologize.” He said, taking your hand in his. Minho felt the back of your neck, only to pull away at the temperature. He gently took the bag of peas from you and transferred it, pushing your hair out of the way. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Minho leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. Your boyfriend sat with you half asleep until the migraine finally went away.

Changbin:

You were very stressed. Stressed was an understatement. There wasn’t a word for how much pressure you were under. You had been pushing it all down and just telling yourself it would all be over soon. However, it had started to affect your sleep. You would get these splitting headaches anytime you lied down.

Changbin lounged across your couch scrolling through his phone, probably ordering the food you had talked about earlier. “I can pay for it this time, Bin.” You said running a hand through your hair. Your boyfriend shook his head, throwing his phone on the couch.

“Nonsense. I’m paying. Come here, baby. You look really stressed. Lie down for a minute.” You shook your head. You knew if you lied down, the pain which was already starting to throb against your skull would get worse. “Y/n, I’m gonna make you lie down if you don’t come over here.” Again you shook your head and turned, trying to find something to occupy your tired mind and body.

Changbin sighed and pushed himself off the sofa. He wrapped you in his arms and dragged you down onto the couch, your head laying on the cushions. He backed away when you cried out in pain. “Changbin, I told you I didn’t want to lie down!” You said clutching your head.

“Baby, I’m sorry! What’s wrong?” You shook your head, pain throbbing.

“It’s nothing. It’ll pass....eventually.”

“No, you’re hurting. Tell me what I can do.”

You tried to push past the swelling and throbbing. “Umm....uh...in my bedroom. The nightstand- in the drawer there is a little glass bottle. It’s brown and green.” Changbin nodded and got off the couch.

You could hear him rummaging through the drawer looking for one of the bottles of essential oils you had. The doorbell rang, making you cry out from the sound. “I’ve got it, baby! Hold on!” Changbin said rushing to the door. Quietly he thanked the delivery guy and placed the food on the table.

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?” He asked handing me the bottle of peppermint oil. Nodding, I opened it and rubbed some of the oil on my temples. The pain started to fade away very slowly. Changbin wrapped and arm around me, pulling me into his chest. “Baby, you’ve got to tell me when you’re hurting so I can help.”

Hyunjin:

Today was not your day. Nothing seemed to be going right. On top of all that you were beginning to worry about money problems. There wasn’t enough in your savings to start paying off your student loans and no matter how much your boyfriend tried you wouldn’t let him pay for the entire rent of your shared apartment.

Your shifts were getting cut back all week so you were struggling to come up with the money for rent, let alone something for Hyunjin’s birthday at the end of the week. Your boyfriend was still at rehearsal, giving you time to look at your finances without him offering to pay every eight seconds. Your brain was pulsing against your skull.

You gave up after the pain started making words float off the bank statement you were reading. You switched off all the lights and rubbed your temples. The pain was only getting worse. Not having the energy to walk to your bedroom you just laid down on the cool wood floor in your living room.

“Y/n? Hey, gorgeous! I’m home!” Hyunjin called out. The sound of his keys dropping in the dish made you clutch your head and whimper. You heard him walk over to the kitchen table and sigh when he saw the papers. “Babe, I told you not to worry about all this....Y/n?” He called out again.

“Y/N!” He yelped seeing you on the floor.

“Ahh...Jinnie...please be quiet. My head...” He nodded and carefully lowered himself onto the floor, laying on his stomach. “Hyunjin, what are you doing?” You said rubbing your eyes. Another sharp pain erupted from the top of your head, making you wince.

“I don’t really know how to help...so I’m just being here if you need me.”

If you didn’t feel so horrible you would kiss him. Gently he stroked your hair and sat against the couch. His arms wrapped around you pulling you into his lap, apologizing profusely when you whimpered in pain. “Thank you, baby.” You whispered into his chest.

“Please let me pay for the rent, gorgeous. I don’t want you hurting like this.” He kissed your forehead when you nodded the tiniest bit.

Jisung:

This had not been your week. Everything seemed to be going wrong and fighting with your mom was the last straw. Jisung was set to be at the studio until late so you just cried. And maybe screamed...a little. You just let it all out until your entire body hurt from crying. It wasn’t the healthiest option, but it was healthier than keeping it all in.

The sound of the lock turning from the front door sent you shooting up from the couch and wiping your tears. A splitting pain shot through your head, making you wince, but you smiled seeing your boyfriend come home early. “Jisung, I didn’t expect you to come home for like...another four hours.”

“I missed you baby.” He said kissing your forehead. You tried to hide how much it hurt and quickly pecked his lips. After having dinner together and getting ready for bed, the pain in your head just kept getting worst. Jisung quickly fell asleep, but you lay tossing and turning next to him.

You stared up at the ceiling hours later, listening to the snores coming from your boyfriend beside you. Every way you turned hurt and the pain was so much that you wanted to cry. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jisung asked drowsily after you gave up and sat against the backboard, clutching your head.

“Ji, it hurts...”

He sat up, still half asleep, and wiped a few straggling tears. “What hurts, baby? What is it?” He tried to blink the heaviness away from his eyes. His tired eyes softened seeing you in pain.

“My head. It hurts so bad.” Without saying another word, Jisung got up from his side of the bed and walked around to yours. Gently he picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the lights your boyfriend carefully and sleepily set you on the counter, placing a kiss on your cheek.

He turned on the shower, steam filling the room. With slow tired movements, he helped you undress before doing so himself. Tenderly Jisung carried you under the hot water and let you stand there, hands braced against the cold tile. His arms wrapped around your waist and he buried his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He muttered against your skin.

The hot water was helping relieve the pressure in your brain, easing some of the pain. Jisung placed sleepy kisses on your shoulder, rubbing slow patterns on your stomach as the steaming water fell over you both. After a while, you turned around and buried your face in his neck.

He stayed under the water with you until the pain had subsided.

Felix:

Sweat dripped down your neck. It felt like a thousand shards of glass were pressing against your brain. Felix was sleeping deeply beside you, laying on his stomach. His skin was cool to the touch compared to how hot your forehead felt. You couldn’t sleep. Every time you tried to get comfortable your head seemed to hurt even more.

“Fuck...” You whispered clutching your head.

You rested your head on Felix’s shoulder, letting his cool skin press against your head. It only helped a little bit, but you just focused on listening to your boyfriend’s slow breathing. Your hand pressed against his bare back, letting the coolness try and calm you.

He stirred when he felt you wince. “Y/n, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked his deep voice slurring. He rolled over and you sat up in bed. He pulled you down onto his chest, his fingers gently stroking your hair. “Why aren’t you sleeping, baby?”

You winced feeling another jab of pain. “My head hurts too much.” His movement stopped and he moved his hand away, choosing to place it on your shoulder instead. ��Felix, it hurts.”

He nodded and carefully got out of bed, resting you against the headboard, “I know, darling.” He whispered. “I’ll be right back.” You watched your boyfriend walk out into the hall. A few seconds later you heard the thermostat kick in, making the room cooler. He returned with a glass of water, a wet cloth, and a pill bottle.

“Here, take this.” He said handing you two pills and the glass of water. While you swallowed the medicine, he gently pressed the cloth to your head, pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder, letting the cold cloth soothe the pain. “Drink the whole thing, darling. It will help.”

Nodding you tipped the glass a little further, hearing the chunks of ice clink against the side of the cup. Felix moved the cloth to the back of your neck. Another sharp pain in your forehead made you wince. You pressed the cold glass to your skin and sighed. “Thank you, Lix.” You muttered before drinking more of the water. He gave you a sleepy smile and pulled you close.

“No problem at all, Y/n.”

Seungmin:

Seungmin knew that you tended to get migraines when you were stressed. It had happened ever since you were in high school. You could practically feel a headache coming on. It wasn’t too late at night, but you would usually have been asleep at this time.

Knowing it was going to get worse any second, you went to the bathroom and checked for the medicine you needed. When you reached for the bottle you found it empty. Sharp pain in your temples made you brace yourself against the sink. “Oh, shit...”You whispered feeling sick to your stomach. Without your meds, the migraine would only get worse.

The pain got exponentially worse, sending you to lean over the toilet, wrenching the contents of your stomach. You reached for your phone, dialing your boyfriend’s number.

“Y/n, hi! I’m just leaving JYP. What’s up, cutie?” Seungmin answered happily.

“Um...I’m having a little bit of an issue.” Another throbbing sensation pulsed throughout your skull. “Min can you pick me up some meds. I’m out and I need them.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Seungmin hung up the phone. You flushed the toilet and tried to clean yourself up. The pain was getting worse and worse. Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you grabbed the first bag you saw in the freezer, holding it to your head.

“Y/n?” Seungmin called out into the dark apartment.

“In the kitchen, babe.” The sound of Seungmin’s footsteps echoed through the space. You felt sure arms wrap around your stomach. Turning your head, you were met with his lips on yours.

“I’ve got meds and I picked up coffee on the way.” He whispered pecking your lips again. “Salted Caramel Cream Cold Brew with extra ice just for you.” You cupped his cheek, mustering up a smile.

“Thank you so much, Min.” He handed you the coffee and the meds knowing you would feel better after having both.

“Always, Y/n. Anytime you need me.”

Jeongin:

Of course, you had to get a migraine right now. The one-time Jeongin was staying over. Carefully you got up from the bed, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. While you were no stranger to migraines and headaches, you hadn’t had one in a significant amount of time.

Tiptoeing into your bathroom you opened the medicine cabinet. You didn’t bother turning on the light knowing it would just make the pain worse. Your tired hands searched through the cabinet only to find that you were out of the pills you needed.

A cry escaped your lips as the pain jumped higher. Quickly you covered your mouth, hoping that the sound didn’t wake Jeongin. Clutching your head, you grabbed a washcloth and dowsed it in cold water. Folding it, you placed it over your forehead and slid down the bathroom wall.

Slow tears escaped as the pain spiked at random times. You let your body fall onto the floor and you curled your knees into your chest, holding the cold cloth to your head. The cool tile pressed against your cheek, easing the pain only a little bit.

“Y/n?” You heard Jeongin call softly. “Y/n, where are you? Are you okay, honey?” You winced, feeling another spike in pain.

“I’m in here, Innie.” You said weakly. You heard footsteps pad across the carpet of your bedroom until you saw the shadow of his figure from under the door. He politely knocked on the door. “You can come in, babe.” He opened the door, looking around before he found you on the floor.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He said crouching on the floor and pushing a few pieces of wet hair out of your face. He immediately retracted his hand when you winced. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“No, Innie. It’s not your fault.” He relaxed and sat against the wall reaching for your hand. “I just get really bad migraines sometimes. I didn’t want to wake you.” He rubbed his thumb across your skin.

“Y/n you can always wake me up if you need me.” Carefully, he pulled me into his lap and didn’t even shy away when the other side of the cold washcloth pressed against his neck. “What can I do to help?”

“I’m out of the medicine I need. Could you run to the pharmacy and get some?” He nodded and slowly got up before taking the empty bottle and leaving the apartment. About twenty minutes later he came back and gave you the pills. Jeongin sat with you in his lap as the both of you waited for your pain to go away.

Requests are open my lovelies!! Just send an ask! <3

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stark-strange-love2 · 4 years ago

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A Day at the Fair

My submission for the ironstrange fanfic challenge!

Prompt:

Tony drags Stephen out on a date to the fair, despite Stephen insisting he doesn’t want to go. Tony spends the whole day trying to show Stephen how much fun it is until finally, Stephen breaks down and confesses the real reason he didn’t want to come today.

Tags:

Omega Stephen Strange, Alpha Tony Stark, high school au

Tony grinned, practically vibrating with excitement as he rolled out of bed. Every year he and Stephen went to the fair, the closest thing their tiny town had to offer for fun. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand.

T: Heeeeeey Steph~

S: Tony? What is it?

T: Well I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the fair this fine day, as per our usual tradition

Stephen took a few minutes to reply. Tony set down his phone, brushed his teeth, dressed, and sat down for breakfast. Stephen still hadn’t replied. Then, as he was pouring cereal, his phone dinged.

S: Idk. I’m not feeling up to it rn

T: Okay… do you wanna come over and hang out then? My parents are out of town… I could even sneak a bottle of wine for us

S: Eh… let’s just go to the fair.

Tony smiled.

T: Great! I’ll pick you up in an hour?

S: Sure

The fair was loud and hot and crowded. It reminded Tony of every fantastic summer with Stephen he could think of. Tony squeezed Stephen’s hand, but Stephen didn’t squeeze back.

“Hey, Steph, are you okay? You seem a little off-color.”

Stephen bit his lip.

“Just tired I guess. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony leaned up and kissed Stephen’s cheek, then down to his unmarked scent gland. “Maybe we can sit down near the back? Have some lunch? I have Asperin too if you need it. We can even go back home if you’d like. Anything for you,” Tony said.

Stephen smiled softly.

“Lunch sounds good.”

He finally squeezed Tony’s hand back.

“Ugh, don’t they have anything remotely healthy?” Stephen bitched, scrunching up his face at the third deep-fried Oreo stand they passed.

“Oh? Are you doing another vegan kick or something?”

Stephen shook his head, cheeks pink.

“Uh- no. No, just trying to eat a little healthier, that’s all.”

“Can you take a break for today?” Tony asked. God knew he wasn’t planning on eating well today.

“Well… I mean…” Stephen worried his lip between his teeth. “I’d just feel better if I ate healthily, that’s it.” He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

They finally found something reasonably healthy- chicken tenders and lemonade- and sat down at a table under a large tree. Somewhere in the background, a band was playing. Stephen picked at his food while Tony happily munched away.

“After this do you want to go on a ride?” tony asked.

Stephen shook his head.

“No rides.”

“Why? Are you still not feeling well?”

Stephen didn’t meet Tony’s eyes, electing instead to look off into the never-ending distance, hazy with the feeling of the fair, a haziness that stayed in Stephen’s mind and mulled like a roiling, humid cloud of every problem that had ever graced him. The heat clung to his skin. His stomach turned and he looked down, his arms folded over his abdomen. Tony could smell the scent of unhappy omega from across the table.

“Yeah. Not feeling great,” he lied.

Tony’s eyes were so warm and comforting that Stephen’s stomach couldn’t help but crawling higher into his throat and nestling there like some sort of weak and defenseless baby bird. Stephen’s cheeks were hot with shame.

“Are you sure that’s everything? Please tell me if something’s bothering you, Stephen. I love you. I want to help.”

Stephen’s stomach churned and he ran to the nearest trashcan and threw up. Tony leaped to his feet and rushed over but Stephen waved him away.

“Oh God- oh God Stephen!” Tony cried.

“I’m- I’m fine,” Stephen coughed. He wiped his mouth and downed his lemonade, popping a few breath mints into his mouth. He let out a low groan and took a deep breath.

“Jesus Stephen, let’s go home. You’re sick. You need to rest.” “No. You brought me here on a date. We’re staying.” The resolution in Stephen’s voice felt strong and clear and hard and unwavering, the same way a freshly poured asphalt highway stretches on and on and on until it dissolves into a dazzling mirage. Endless and resolute in a way that made Tony feel tiny in comparison.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Stephen ate his last chicken tender and tossed the tray.

“Maybe we can try at one of those fair games,” Stephen offered.

“Aren’t they all rigged?”

“Well that makes winning more impressive,” Stephen said with a grin.

Stephen took Tony’s hand and they walked through the fair before stopping at a booth: balloons and darts. Stephen bent over, looking at the booth. Then there was a loud whistle and a squeak from Stephen that had Tony’s alpha growling in his chest. Tony turned and snapped at the fuck boy alpha that currently had his hand on his omega’s ass. Stephen turned and slapped the guy’s hand away, face red and furious. His blue-green eyes burned like two twin stars hovering above the ocean horizon.

“Hey sweet-cheeks, what’s a pretty little omega like you doing with a boring alpha like him?” the guy said with a thousand-watt smile.

“Not interested.”

“Aw, come on baby, don’t be like that.”

“He said he’s not interested,” Tony growled.

The guy rolled his eyes.

“Fine, tightass.”

He stalked away and Stephen’s resolve broke. His entire body drooped and he sank into his seat, the smell of pure displeasure and unhappiness radiating from him like a morning fog over a valley. Tony sighed and pulled Stephen to his chest, holding him tight.

“Fuck Stephen- I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Stephen mumbled.

But there was a flat sort of grey hanging in his eyes and Tony knew it wasn’t okay, but he also knew there was nothing he could ever do. Tony held him close, whispering gentle things into Stephen’s ears.

“Hey, I saw what happened.” Tony looked up to see the carnival stand girl looking apologetic at the two of them. “I don’t know if this would make you feel better, but would you like to play a few rounds for free? It’s on the house.”

Tony smiled and looked to Stephen.

“Does that sound fun?”

Stephen shrugged, laying his chin on the counter.

“You play. I’ll watch.”

Tony nodded, a plan in mind. He missed the first shot but nailed the next four. Then he aimed for the bright yellow balloon titled ‘10,000 points.’ It was tiny, underinflated, and unlikely to pop from elasticity tension. Tony ran a few trajectory equations through his head, nibbling at his lip. He had two darts left. Gravity was his best bet, if he could arc the dart so it landed into the balloon, he might stand a chance. All the other balloons were one point, and by now, he could maybe get Stephen one of those cute little teddy bears, but he wanted to get Stephen something bigger. Like that giant fluffy round hamster plushy the size of Tony’s body.

The first dart missed, bouncing off the board and falling to the ground. Tony took a deep breath and tossed the last dart in a high arc, watching as it fell and fell and fell and gained velocity until it popped the yellow balloon with a loud snap.

Stephen grinned and clapped and Tony did a little dance. The girl grinned.

“Congratulations! What prize would you like?”

Tony grinned and pointed up at the massive hamster. The girl pulled down the hamster and passed it to Tony who promptly passed it to Stephen.

“Hey, I know today hasn’t been great, but I’m really glad I got to spend time with you today. You never fail to make me happy, even when the whole world feels bad, and I want you to know I want to be there for you, on all the good days and bad.”

Stephen looked at the hamster, then back at Tony. He sniffled and broke down in tears.

“Oh God- Stephen? Was it something I said? Are you okay? Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Tony stammered.

Stephen whimpered, tears pouring down his face. Then he turned and ran, the hamster in his arms as he wove through the crowd and through carnival stands. Tony stared after him, heart sinking. He stood there for a second before taking off after Stephen.

It took him twenty minutes to find Stephen in one of the animal shows, surrounded by cages of fluffy baby bunnies. He was crying silently into the hamster, squeezed tight in his arms. Tony knelt beside him.

“Stephen?” His voice was soft. Something was very wrong. “Please… please just tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.”

Stephen looked away. His chest was so full of lead he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He felt heavy and dense, like an ancient tree rooted to the ground, bark worn by the elements but still there. Unmoving. Unable to move.

“Please.”

Stephen let out a choked whimper.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you.” His voice was cracking and frail. So weak. But it was the truth.

“That’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re safe… are you safe?” Tony asked, taking Stephen’s hands in his.

Stephen nodded.

“It’s just… I don’t know.” Stephen hung his head.

“It’s okay not to know,” Tony whispered. “Do you want to go home now?”

Stephen shook his head.

“I want to ride the Ferris Wheel. Like we do every year.”

Tony smiled softly and hugged Stephen, staying there for a second, the way a curling vine of ivy finds comfort in cracked bark, grey with exhaustion. They stayed there for a bit, nestled amongst the animal cages and beneath the flair of the crowded festival like the world was fog and they were the grass, rooted in place.

Stephen moved first, reaching up and pulling himself to his feet and then reaching for Tony to help him up.

“You know, you’re the best alpha I could have ever wished for,” Stephen said with a small, bittersweet smile.

“Well… I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to fall in love with,” Tony responded.

“Do you promise you’ll always be with me? Through everything?” Stephen asked, squeezing Tony’s hand.

“Of course. I love you, Stephen. And nothing can ever make me stop.”

Tony leaned up and kissed Stephen softly, sweetly. Stephen let his eyes drift closed and he savored every single saccharine second.

They found the Ferris Wheel easily. It was the center of the fair, after all. And one long line later they were sitting in a car going up and up and up. Stephen fidgeted quietly. It was funny how the second all you needed was time it seemed to twist and turn and go faster and faster so blindingly fast you can barely even remembered what you prepared to say. When the carriage got halfway up its arc Stephen bit his lip, letting out a little, tightly-wound sigh.

“Tony… I need to tell you what’s wrong. I’ve been avoiding it all day, but… I just wanted one last good day with you before it all changed.” Stephen looked over the edge of the carriage and let out a dry chuckle. “Although I suppose I ruined my chance at that, too.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Tony’s voice was on edge.

“I-I’m pregnant.”

Stephen stared at Tony full-on. He kept searching for something other than shock but it was like combing a beach for something that just wasn’t there. Stephen’s hands started to shake.

“T-Tony? Please say something.”

Stephen’s voice sounded so small. He felt so small.

“Am I- Am I the dad?” Tony finally asked.

Anger flared deep in Stephen’s gut and for a moment he wanted to slap Tony off of the stupid Ferris Wheel.

“Of course you’re the father!” Stephen snapped. “You fucking idiot- you really think I’m screwing a dozen alphas behind your back?”

His scent soured and he turned away, glaring. Tony stayed quiet.

“Whatever. You probably want to break up with me now anyways. Just do it. I don’t want to have you pretend to care about this. I’ll just… forget about my full-ride to Columbia. I doubt my parents will even let me go. They want me to stay on the farm and become a good obedient little housespouse omega.” Stephen let out an involuntary whimper. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and he hugged himself. “I thought I was going to be happy… I thought I was going to have a future, but I- I don’t know anymore!”

The whole world felt like it was collapsing, folding in an compressing into one invincible singularity stuck in Stephen’s windpipe. Everything was spinning and hot and his head hurt so so much… Stephen closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

Then, Tony gently wrapped his arms around Stephen, pulling the crying omega to his chest.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’m sorry, I just… I’m a father…” A small smile appeared on Tony’s face. “I couldn’t believe it. But Stephen, whatever you choose to do, this is your choice, and I will back you up 1,000%. I love you, and I meant it when I said I would stay with you no matter what. I know how much medical school means to you, and I swear that I can help you take care of our child so you can study if you choose to keep it. You don’t need to give up your dream, your dream can always stay. If you choose not to keep it, then I’ll be there for you too. No matter what you choose, we’re in this together.”

Stephen let his hands fall away from his face and his head plop on Tony’s shoulder. He was still crying and shaking, but this time from happiness. Tony wasn’t leaving him. He wasn’t going to be stuck alone on a farm his whole life. He would be okay. They would be okay.

He turned and tackled Tony in a hug, enough to rattle their cart. Tony laughed and held them as they reached the top of the Ferris Wheel, watching as the sun set over the fair and the town and everything surrounding it and turned it all to gold.

#ironstrange fanfic challenge #ironstrange fanfiction #ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #omega stephen strange #alpha tony stark #iron man #doctor strange #avengers #supremefamily #marvel #mcu

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red-riot-rat · 5 years ago

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Request: Hey little squishy 👉👈 not to be a pain but would I be able to request sero or iida x sick reader cause i feel AWFUL rn this isn't an emergency request btw so take your time if you're gonna write it (dont have to cause your lovely messages are comfort enough) love youuu 💞

HI HI BABES!!! I'm so sorry,, and I hope you feel better now!! I'm sorry this took so long,, but i'm back now babes and this might not be good i'm sorry about that as well! AND YOU'RE NEVER A FUCKING PAIN I LOVE YOU >:P

Iida Tenya x Sick! Reader

AN: AHAHAHH SO did we know in the manga Tenya has RED eyes? He's a fucking hottie hbflv also i'm so sorry if Recovery girls OOC….

“My star!” a familar voice, and pet name took you back to the real world. You sat up in your seat and groaned. You had a massive headache, and you were always hot and shivering at the same time, and you felt like shit.

“My star.” the same voice said, closer now and quieter.

“Hghm.” you mumbled. “Gofdg Modning” you rested your chin on your hand, and slowly opened your eyes. Tenya’s blue eyes met yours, his brows furrowed. You smiled slightly.

“My dear, you must rest. Are you sleeping well?” He asked, questions filled with concern. You chuckled lightly, trying to play it off as just feeling off, but he knows.

He knows sometimes you overwork yourself, and don't give yourself breaks.

He knows you like to appease people, and do everything in your power to give people what they want to need, even if it means to sacrifice your own health, physical or mental.

He knows even with your family you try your hardest to be there for them, through thick and thin, and through illness and good health.

“Let's… Let's go back to the dorm.” he stated. By singular ‘dorm’, you knew he meant his. His dorm was always very tidy, and very clean.

You never really slept over, you know him being a rule follower, but he did sleep over in yours once. Although completely by accident, it was after he got back from his internship Hosu. A very rough internship, to say the least.

“Okay my main man.” you laughed at your own joke as you fell out of your seat and landed on your butt, groaning. Iida smiled, and held out his hand. You mumbled something about how you were fine, but took his hand anyway.

He helped you up with one swift motion, but the sudden motion caused you to grip your stomach.

“My love! Oh my love.” He exclaimed. He held his hand to your forehead, and his eyebrows furrowed again, his kind smile gone.

He thought maybe you were just tired, or overworked.

He felt guilt for not seeing that you were sick sooner, even though he recognized all the signs.

You tugged on his jacket as he started to drift off into his own world.

“Dorms.” you whispered. You started to walk, eyes closed with no sense of directions. Tenya was quick to grab your hand and turn you around to face him. “I’m fine Tenya, I swear.” You were more aware of how you sounded, and controlled it as much as you could. You looked him in the eyes again, and smiled as wide as you could.

“We’re going to stop by Recovery girl, you're ill.” His eyes glimmered in the hall way light.

“I'm fine…” you muttered, stumbling down the hall avoiding his gaze.

Your brain subconsciously led you to Recovery Girl’s office, you unknowing just followed. Tenya held a warm hand to your back, to both ground and lead you.

He opened the door to the nurse, and you stumbled in before him. Wasting no time at all, you flopped onto the hospital bed as Recovery Girls eyes followed you. Your head hit the pillow, and you were out.

Iida immediately started to spew apologies to your sleeping self, and to the beloved nurse. She smiled as she took your temperature.

“It's not your fault. They overwork themselves, and don't let themselves take breaks, even if they are sick. Please, the only thing you can do is just be here, and when they get better,” she paused and looked up at Tenya. His worried eyes met her loving ones.

“Make sure they take breaks. Physically, mentally. Don't let them work if they are feeling like this again. Okay, my love?” she continued. He nodded and chopped the air, and promised to follow her instructions through and through.

He went on a tangent, unknowingly at that. He told the nurse, how he loved you, and he wanted to do anything he could for you. He confessed he felt guilty, for not following through after seeing the signs.

Recovery Girl handed him a prescription bottle and a sleeve of crackers.

“Do not worry about it. It's not your fault Iida-kun. Just make sure they take this, and eat these okay?”

Iida’s face lifted if only for a moment. He took the bottle, and the crackers as he lifted your sleeping body and left. He held you close, his (very beefy) arms held you tight and secure.

He pushed the dorm door open with his back and walked in very fast, heading straight to his dorm. The others watched in wonder as he took you into his room, and a few minutes later came back out and made tea, for two.

He had set you down onto his bed, and tucked you in with a light blanket. He kept a thermometer by your side, and a washcloth.

“I'm so sorry my love. I wish I had seen it sooner.” he whispered to you.

“I love you, and I wish the best for you. I will be by your side, even after you are no longer ill.”

He then left for the kitchen.

You opened your eyes slowly after you heard the door shut. You stretched, and looked down. Seeing yourself wrapped in the blanket you and you're boyfriend bought on a whim on a cold rainy night, had you feeling all lovey dovey, more than before.

You heard what he said, even when you looked like… Well sick.

You were sweating, and you just felt very gross. You knew you didn't look your greatest, and you were pushy, and just not the best.

But he loved you.

He loved you? At your worst, even when you insisted that you could keep on working and were pushing yourself too far, and you weren’t allowing him to stop you. Even when you threw up earlier on the way to recovery girls office, as nasty as it was. He loved you.

And you loved him.

He entered the room again, quickly and quietly. He didn't see you awake, as he sat down next to you. He held his head down, and rested his elbows on his knees.

“It's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it's just not my thing. I thought i was doing fine, you know?” You said. You gave him a sorry smile, and stuck your hand out from under the blanket.

His head shot up, and he grabbed your hand and held it to his cheek.

He felt so bad. He wanted to do anything for you, to help you grow and feel your best.

The corners of his eyes held tears, as he leaned into your hand.

“And I heard you, Tenya.” you smiled.

He shook off his tears, and flipped through his conversations in his mind.

What did you hear? Did he let you down?

“I love you too.”

He smiled, wide and bright as he pulled you into a hug.

He didn't let you down.

AN: i'm sorry this is more of a romance type thing i'm so sorry squish i love ya...

#iida #iida x reader #tenya #tenya x reader #iida tenya #iida tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader

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roxa-sos · 5 years ago

Text

heaven's gate, part two - morning mulling (john b routledge)

john b routledge x reyna lance

tw; a little smutty?, morning after shit

part two; hungover reyna can’t possibly seem to hate her one night stand, no matter how hard she tries.

a/n -- this is just fuckin chaos rn lmaooo nobody’s doing anything productive

×××

reyna was no stranger to waking up with random people she didn't know.

there was a warm ray of sunlight on her face, which was what ultimately woke the girl up. the headache she had hit her before she even opened her eyes, her body aching and her head pounding. as she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, she realized she wasn't in her bedroom. wasn't in a bedroom at all, actually. rather, in the back of some ratty van, curled up across a seat. sitting up, what had been covering most of her body fell from her chest, leaving her exposed. she quickly pulled it back up, glancing around.

nobody was there.

the material that had been covering her looked like an unbuttoned hawaiian shirt, sprawled across her body. unfortunately, on the floor of the van, she saw only her shorts and panties she'd been wearing the night before. reyna had to assume that it was better than nothing as she pulled them back on, buttoning up the shirt that had been on top of her in replacement for her own. while this ensamble didn't leave much for the imagination, it wasn't like anything reyna wore otherwise was any better.

she opened the van door, climbing out and closing it behind her. this was definitely not the boneyard, and it was definitely not figure eight.

"nice to see you up, sunshine." reyna heard a voice from a few feet away, and turned to see a familiar face.

john b. his face, and voice, quickly had her remembering the night before. he was laying in a hammock, which was a ways away from a dockside house.

reyna didn't respond to him at first, dragging her hands through her hair as she looked at him. "how the fuck did you drive me here without me realizing?"

"you're a heavy sleeper, i guess. that, or i was just so good, you had to recharge after." he answered her, a teasing smile on his face as he admired the girl standing in his yard. "don't worry, we got here, like, twenty minutes ago. you didn't miss much."

"good," reyna nodded, ignoring his first few comments. "and i just... fucking, passed out last night? in your van?"

john b chuckled, getting out of the hammock. "not just in my van, in my arms, but yeah. we had a nice talk before that, though."

"we did?" reyna wasn't too philosophical when she was completely drunk and in that post-sex haze.

"no, i'm kidding," he laughed once more, shaking his head as he walked towards reyna. "you hungry?"

"are you just trying to get me to come inside?" she didn't seem to impressed by anything he was saying. he was kind of an ass, but to be fair, he was hot. and honestly, that was just reyna's type, so there was no surprise in the fact that she hooked up with him in his van, of all places.

"yes or no, sunshine." he didn't answer her question, only giving her options so that she could answer his.

"yeah, sure, yes." she brushed it off, yawning as he passed by to lead her towards the door.

the way his shorts hung rather low on his hips had reyna feeling what she must've felt the night before. not to mention, the fact that she could see her own marks she'd left on his neck and chest had her feeling the same. his lack of shirt was doing something to her, and she was almost embarrassed by that.

god, since when did she hang with pogues? since when did reyna lance, kook of the century, fuck a well known pogue?

"why are you being so nice to me?" she asked as he held his front door open for her, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

"like, just right now, or last night? and if last night, early last night, or when you were sitting on my-"

"all of the above, excluding when i was naked." she interrupted him, shaking her head. she didn't really want him to rub it in her face.

"alright, well," he closed the door once she was inside, walking her into his kitchen. "it was fun to watch you get drunk for no reason. i mean, since when do you drink anything that topper thornton doesn't give you?" john b joked, earning nothing short of a sour look from reyna. "and... you don't suck, i guess."

she gave him a confused expression, "i don't suck?"

"no, like, you're... bearable."

"bearable?"

"okay, well, if you keep repeating what i say, you won't be so bearable. you want cheerios?" he shut her up, turning to face her when he pulled a box out of the cabinet.

reyna rolled her eyes at his first statement, shrugging when he asked what she wanted. "i'm lactose intolerant."

"i never said you had to have milk." john b shook his head as if reyna was being unreasonable.

she scoffed, leaning on the kitchen table. "okay, i take back what i said earlier, you're kind of being a dick."

"what, you want me to kick you out and let you walk back to the boneyard for your car? also, how does toast sound?" john b put the box of cereal back, giving the girl a fed up look.

"toast is fine," she finally answered, watching as he threw some bread in the toaster before turning around to face her.

while reyna wanted nothing more than to hate the boy, in all actuality, he was pretty hard to hate. he wasn't a total asshole - and if he was being a dick, he had a good reason. of course, reyna being reyna, she considered her being there a fine reason. she was shamelessly checking him out, eyes skimming over the skin she'd been pressed against the night before.

"you just decided to... what, throw on my shirt when you woke up?" he asked, pushing himself off of the counter to make his way towards her.

she glanced down at her own figure, running her hand over the fabric of his shirt. "you were the one who left it on top of me," she brought her gaze back to the boy approaching her.

"well," john b looked her up and down once more before meeting her eyes, his own body mere inches from hers, "you look... good in it." he took the liberty of placing his hand on her hip, the other hand snaking under the shirt and meeting her covered skin.

"you looked better," she breathed, head turned slightly upward to get a better look at him. she didn't mind his touch, it was rather reassuring to know that under all of what seemed to be hatred for her was some... lust, at least.

he pushed her up so that she was sitting on the table rather than leaning on it, connecting their lips once more. his hands traveled across her body, and she wasn't opposed to a single thing he was doing. it was hard to hate him.

just as she three her head back so that he could have more access to her neck as his lips skimmed over her jaw, the toast popped. "fuck," reyna breathed as john b removed his hands from her body and walked back towards the toaster.

"bold of you to assume i'm just gonna... keep hooking up with you," john b thought out loud, putting the toast on two plates before opening his fridge.

"why is that bold? was i that bad?" reyna joked, trying to get a legitimate reason out of him.

john b shook his head, a dumbfounded smile on his face as he turned to look at her, "you can't tell me you can't figure it out on your own."

reyna shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. he didn't seem to be joking, he looked like he genuinely thought she was dumb.

"let's see, i'd have topper, kelce, rafe, sarah, cynthia, ryland, hunter, and like, a million other kooks burning my house down." he laughed while naming every kook he could think of, shaking his head as he looked back towards his fridge. "not to mention sean fucking lance, so, hard pass."

"please," reyna rolled her eyes, "topper? sure, be scared of him. kelce too, but i don't know kelce super well. rafe just offers me coke whenever i see him at a party. sarah's... uh, my best friend's girlfriend, i don't know what she'd do. cynthia's a dumbass. ryland is up in vermont with his family this summer. hunter's looking at colleges. you've got, like, max three people to be... scared of, or whatever." she shot down almost everyone he posed as a reason to not sleep with her again.

"and your dad?"

"my dad is an asshole." she practically groaned. it sounded strange coming out of her mouth, usually she praised her dad in public.

that statement seemed to surprise john b, seeing as he left it there.

"besides, from my perspective, you've never been scared of kooks, man." reyna gestured towards him, thinking back to every time john b or another kook had gotten into a fight with her or her friends.

"did you just call me 'man'?" john b chuckled, picking up the plates and walking them towards the kitchen table. reyna slipped off of the wood and sat down in a chair as he sat a plate in front of her, giving him a small nod.

"so what if i did?"

john b didn't say anything else, instead taking a bite of his toast.

"fuck," reyna muttered to herself, pulling her phone out of her back pocket once she remembered it was there.

forty six texts. thirteen missed calls. all from one contact, 'top 🤮'. the latest of which being;

'did you fucking die?'

'tell me you actually got home last night'

'i swear to god if you make me go back to the boneyard to drive your hungover body back to my place'

'reyna. reyna. reyna. dumb slut.'

'pick up my calls or i'm calling the cops.'

with that, her phone began buzzing again, and she picked up. glancing back at john b with the phone pressed to her ear, she answered with a short "hello?" john b looked confused, but he didn't stop eating, he just watched her take the call.

"where the fuck are you?" topper's voice rang through, not even saying hi.

"i'm fine, thanks for asking."

"don't be like that- christ, your parents would've killed me if you, like, died or something." topper sighed, and reyna could hear the tension in his voice fade.

"aw, someone was worried about me." reyna laughed, bringing the toast up to her mouth to take a bite while listening to topper.

"where are you?"

"none of your business, asshole." she scoffed, ignoring his question.

"just wondering. you need a ride?" topper seemed more overprotective than anything else most of the time.

"no, i-"

"oh, who'd you hook up with, then?"

"that's none of your fucking business, top." reyna pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning her elbow on the table. john b sighed when he heard her address the caller by name.

"actually, it's 90% my business, but fine. bye."

"bye." reyna hung up and threw her phone down on the table. she knew topper was going to want more than that the next time they saw each other, but that was as good as she could do for the time being.

john b picked up their empty plates and set them on the counter, turning to face reyna once more as she stood up from the chair she'd been in. "want a ride back to that porsche?"

"yeah, please."

taglist; @maebanks @dpaccione @outerbxrafe @jjbabyouterbanks @wtfstarkey @milaonthemoon @spilledtee @jjmaebank @parkerpetertingle

#outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #john b routledge #john b routledge fanfic #john b routledge fanfiction #john b fanfic #john b fanfiction #john b imagine #heaven's gate obx-sos

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guessmonsta · 5 years ago

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Kuroo x Reader- Wingman

Inconsistency is key. Everything I write is for my dear friend Emily. Anyway, here’s some fun, low-key raunchy, high-key reference-y Kuroo content for everyone in quarantine rn. Stay safe and wash your hands <3

Kuroo was, at some point tonight, going to lose his mind.

He knew showing up to Bokuto’s stupid little “house party” was going to get him in trouble one way or another. By “house party”, Bokuto meant he was going to try to cram the volleyball team starters, his roommates basketball friends, a couple of girls, and miscellaneous friends on the side into his college campus dorm room.

It ideally didn’t sound like much fun, but he was going to take whatever chance he got to get out of his dorm. As much as Kuroo got out in high school, in college he felt bound to chemistry textbooks and volleyball practice. He liked to joke around with his friends and say it wasn’t easy being smart, athletic, and sexy, but there really wasn’t anything sexy about under eye bags and lab goggles.

He usually showed up to Bokuto’s dorm before anyone else did. His roommate was out of town, so it was just some volleyball guys and a few others for the night. Kuroo didn’t really mind, the basketball guys were too much to handle for him right now, anyway. A cluster headache started forming behind his right eye, and he must’ve made a stank face, because Bokuto started stifling laughter from the bed across the room.

“Do you have to go take a shit or something?” He asked, picking up a pillow from the bed and chucking it at Kuroo’s head.

“Nah. I’m just starting to think I peaked in high school.”

“See? This is why you should’ve majored in business like me. I keep it cool, I keep it classy. I focus on three things, volleyball, whatever business majors do, and boobs.” Bokuto made a gesture as if he was flipping hair over his shoulder. Kuroo shook his head.

“When I come up with a cure for stupidity twenty years down the line, you’re not getting any of it.” Kuroo stuck his tongue out, and Bokuto feigned shock.

“I thought we were bros.”

“Bros support bros. And you’ve gotta support me through fucking-” Kuroo took a deep sigh then exhaled, “Chemistry-y.”

“Hey listen, you sound like a big major bum right now and it’s making me wanna hit you with another pillow.”

“Do it, I dare you.” Kuroo grabbed the pillow previously thrown at his head, and spiked it back over at Bokuto, who dodged it.

“I’ve got some cool people coming over though.” Bokuto exclaimed while contemplating on throwing the pillow back.

“Oh, like the guy who chugged three beers in a row last time and puked all over that one girls lap? And you had to calm her down from crying because All Star started playing from Shrek on the TV and we all were holding back laughter so she wouldn’t cry harder?”

Bokuto made a face of disgust in response. “Absolutely not. It’s just gonna be me, you, Tendou ‘cause he’s got the goods, Ushijima ‘cause he makes me think god might just be a man, Yukie ‘cause she makes me remember god is actually a woman, a couple of Yukie’s girl friends ‘cause girl power, and __ too ‘cause she didn’t come last time and I miss her.”

__ was Kuroo and Bokuto’s mutual friend they met in their first semester of college. She sat with them during their freshman orientation course, and they hit it off from there. She was a funny thing, always had bright eyes and a smile on her face. Kuroo noticed his cluster headache wasn’t as bad as he previously thought.

There was definitely something about her that made Kuroo wish he had time for a serious relationship. Even then, he would make all the time in the world for her if he really could. He hadn’t seen her for a couple months- his only contact with her was sharing memes back and forth on Instagram. The thought of seeing her again made something flutter in his stomach.

“Oh wait.” Bokuto must have noticed the look on Kuroo’s face, because he started laughing. “O-oh man I forgot you had a thing for __!”

“I haven’t seen her in forever bro.” Kuroo looked up at Bokuto and fake pouted his lower lip. “Like if I could make that one puppy eye emoji face in real life I would do it.”

“Awh, does somebody have a cwush?” Bokuto teased in a baby voice.

“Yes.” He replied, in the same fashion. Then a smile extended on his face.

“Du-ude if you told me __ was coming over I would’ve made myself look nicer. I’ve been wearing the same gray joggers for like, three days.”

“College do be doing that to you, doe.” Bokuto got up, then flopped on the couch next to Kuroo. “Listen though, I’m your number one wing man. I gotchu.”

“Do you mean that, bro?”

“Always, bro.”

Without knocking, Tendou burst through the dorm door, holding a big brown bag of god knows what under his arm.

“Your king has arrived.” He announced, and Ushijima awkwardly followed in behind him, muttering a respectful, “hello.”

“I’m sorry, did I walk in on something… intimate?” Tendou glanced over at Kuroo and Bokuto, who were sitting closely together on the couch.

“No bro, we’re just two bros, sitting on a dorm couch, one inch apart cause we’re comfortable with our sexuality.” Kuroo winked, and Tendou clutched at his heart in mock embarrassment.

Yukie and her friends followed soon after, all carrying different bags of chips.

“Just so y’all know.” Yukie announced, “All this food? It’s mine. None of you can touch it.”

“Would you trade the bag of popcorn for a brownie?” Tendou winked. Yukie tilted her head, and nodded slightly.

“I’ll see. Our offer still stands.”

Another widespread conversation started, something about which movie to watch this time, or something along the lines of that. He heard “Bee Movie” and “Shrek 2”, but nothing more. All he could really think about was when __ was going to show up. He felt stupid for feeling nervous about seeing her again, especially when they were always so comfortable with each other. He had to stretch to try to calm the butterflies down in his stomach.

Then there was a knock at the door. Bokuto quickly kicked him in the shin as a sign to stand up and get the door. Kuroo shot him a look, to which he only stuck his tongue out. Why the hell did he feel nervous getting the door for her? As far as he knew, they were only friends, just buddies, just bros. But god, even if he was dying to see her, he was sure hesitant to open that door.

One he did, he was met with a bright smile and a playful punch to the forearm.

“Aye!” She exclaimed, quick to then pull him into a quick hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I know! What happened, __? What have you been up to?” Kuroo was almost hesitant to hug her back, but allowed himself to for it. His hand creeped into her hair and he allowed himself to exhale deeply. Whatever was remaining of his headache from before vanished.

“Man, it’s been the absolute pits. I’ve been swamped with work ‘cause of the new semester.”

“Well, I’ve-” Kuroo caught himself quick before he could continue. “Bokuto and I have missed you a lot.”

“Awh, really?” She chuckled. “I missed your dumbasses too.”

She set her jacket down by everyone else’s, then was quick to take a seat next to Bokuto, who already pulled her into a hug and ruffled her hair. He was saying something to her, but Kuroo didn’t hear it. There was a quiet white static in the back of his mind that was dragging him in and out of reality. “The Road To El Dorado” was playing on TV. Who’s executive decision was this, again?

Kuroo sat down next to __, and Tendou and two of Yukie’s friends sat down too. The couch was definitely too small for six people, but somehow they were making it work. Tendou was pretty much half a person, anyway. But what Tendou didn’t have, Bokuto definitely made up for. Kuroo then noticed that he was right up against __’s body, and it took a lot of power in him to keep his cool. She had really nice thighs, really nice thighs that were touching his. He wondered if she knew that, that she had nice thighs. It was definitely a terrible day to be wearing gray joggers.

Kuroo then quickly assessed the situation in his head. On one side of him, there was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She was dressed in this cute little oversized sweater and she smelled like a mix of pretty girl and coffee shop. On the other side of him, was Tendou, who didn’t nearly have half the sex appeal as __, so it was a conflicting situation for Kuroo for sure.

“To pop a boner, or to not pop a boner, that is the question.” Kuroo thought to himself, then immediately made a face at his own thought. “Tetsurou, you’re so weird. You’re acting so weird right now.”

Kuroo then looked over at __, who was now watching the movie with what seemed like half interest, half confusion.

She really did look like an angel.

“Tetsurou, do you hear yourself? Do you even hear yourself?”

She then leaned her head against his arm, and he heard Bokuto snicker quietly, and shoot him a look. He could see his face out of the corner of his eyes, but refused to look over at him.

“Oh my god, Tetsurou, you’re gonna pop a boner. You’re gonna pop a boner because she’s touching you and she’s so pretty- Do I go to the bathroom? Should we go to the bathroom?”

Kuroo noticed her look up at him, and he was quick to catch her eye.

“Is this bothering you?” She muttered.

“Nah.” He smiled. “I get it, chicks dig these volleyball arms.”

__ giggled quietly, and her attention was directed back to the movie.

“Chicks dig these volleyball arms? Are you KIDDING me right now?”

A couple more minutes passed in silence. There was a quiet mumbled conversation between Tendou and Yukie about those brownies, but Kuroo toned it out quickly. Suddenly, __ announced.

“Y’all know what? Honestly? Tulio could get it.”

Kuroo watched as Bokuto quickly shifted, and cleared his throat to reply,

“Don’t you think Tulio kinda looks like Kuroo?”

__ lifted her head up from Kuroo’s shoulder and looked at him, to which he tried to hold back a smile. Bokuto might not have been the smoothest wingman, but he made it work.

“Oh shit, you’re right. I can see it.”

Kuroo then sat there, saying absolutely nothing. He knew if he said something his voice would probably crack. There was nothing sexy at all about being related to a cartoon character, but it was kind of sexy that she said that he looked like a cartoon character that could get it. In some fragment of his mind, he started thinking about how she could totally get it. One of his arms slowly and inconspicuously fell between his legs. With the other, he flashed a quick peace sign and made a kissy face.

Oh my god, he was gonna die tonight.

“__, do you think Kuroo could get it too?”

“I, for one, definitely think Kuroo could get it.” Tendou announced. Well, there goes his pants issue.

“Thank you, bro.” Kuroo managed to spit out.

“Kuroo could get it.” Ushijima muttered from the ground, which was the most anyone had gotten out of him all night.

“I dunno, he’s not my type. But in the perfect world he could get it.” Yukie laughed.

“I mean shit.” __ shrugged. He wasn’t sure if it was from the lighting, or what, but Kuroo noticed her face flush red. “Yeah Kuroo could get it.”

And pants.

There was a wavering silence for another half hour. He was still hyper aware of her leg touching his, and every other minute detail about his setting, despite the movie. What was the movie even about, anyway? It was about halfway through, then __ announced,

“I have to go pee.”

“Thank you.” Bokuto muttered in reply.

As she stood up, Kuroo found himself grabbing her hand.

“Hey, lemme go with you.”

“To… to pee?”

“No this, this is a guys dorm. You don’t wanna get lost going down to the general bathrooms and get caught by somebody.” Kuroo stammered slightly, but followed her out of the room. “You never know what kind of guys there are out there.”

“Awh, are you protecting me?” She cooed, bumping into his side lightly.

“Yeah. I am.” He shot her a quick smile, then looked away. His heart was pounding in his chest. This was the perfect opportunity to back her up against the wall and just kiss her, or something, but he couldn't find it in him to do it.

People always liked to say he was the sexy friend. The attractive friend. The lady killer. The sex god. He had absolutely none of that, and it showed.

“Hey, uhm, I hope you didn’t think it was weird when I said you could get it.”

“Hey, hey, no offense taken.” He chuckled. “I’m just offended you weren’t serious.”

The moment he said that, he quickly regretted it. She started laughing, but was quick to stop.

“Wait, are you serious?”

Kuroo then stopped walking and sighed, almost dramatically.

“Listen.”

“Listening.”

He noticed her clasp her hands together underneath her baggy sweater sleeves. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled.

“You’re really important to me. As a friend and as a human being.” Kuroo watched her sniffle, and her face go red. “I would use a stupid pickup line on you right now but I’m way too nervous. I really like you, __.”

He watched a goofy smile spread across her cheeks. Her face only got redder as she looked down at her feet, then back up at him.

“I never knew if you liked me or not cause you jokingly hit on everyone.” She smiled. “I like you too. I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

“Oh my god, come here.” Kuroo then scooped her up in a hug, and placed a soft, tentative kiss on her lips. She stumbled a little bit, and he backed her up against the wall. He pulled away for a brief second to chuckle, then kissed her again, his heart slamming against his rib cage. He couldn't believe he actually did it, after all this time of pinning and waiting over her texts-

__ then pulled away, but not before planting a soft kiss on his nose.

“I like this a lot, Kuroo, but I still have to pee.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 5 years ago

Text

lucifer s5 thoughts pt1

behind a cut so i can be as spoilery as i want:

5x01 - i’m so glad they brought back Mr. Said Out Bitch i kinda love his recurring arc

everybody is unspooling hard this season already which is interesting cuz s4 was one long bad spiral. linda’s doing it through helicopter parenting, amenadiel’s trying to superhero the world, dan’s a walking positivity meme, ella’s in heat for bad guys for unknown reasons, lucifer’s in a totally different timeline in hell, maze redirected all her feelings at chloe and chloe used maze to ignore her own

speaking of which, OUCH. chloe seems genuinely surprised that 1) maze could misread her signals and 2) that maze doesn’t take rejection well... chloe you’re a detective neither of these things should be a surprise

when lucifer whistled and chloe heard him i pressed both my hands to my heart because i am a sucker for love and this show gets me

lesley ann brandt raging out is a sight to behold but also maze is so alone my hearts breaks for her

this show still has the best soundtrack

damn i was really hoping that one reunion could be genuine and the Evil Twin wouldn’t show up until later :(

5x02 - also i wonder who else noticed the tiny viewer warnings for this season and had the word ‘suicide’ jump out at them like it was neon? i don’t like the foreshadowing of that one bit

this fuckin show really looks at its plot and goes ‘you know what we can’t forget this season? to use the evil twin’s arrival as a pretext for filming tom’s ass. just, the longest slow pan shot ever at his backside without a stitch of clothing. let’s see if we can hold it for a full thirty seconds. live your dreams everyone.’

‘a little white lie could be quite beneficial’ *grins creepily* ...does he think that’s charm? is that what he thinks he is, charming? cuz he’s quite visibly evil rn

listen watching chloe fall apart last season and not be able to trust lucifer or look at him was horrible but the flip side of that is suspicious chloe now. i know it won’t last but please, show, let me have this, i’ve never respected her and her trust issues more

‘you two are perfect for each other’ the only thing more fun than watching lucifer egregiously misunderstand everything linda says is watching chloe do it. linda i missed you, you try so hard and fail so much

lol this show is really leaning into the bryan cranston janitor rule. i wonder who the killer could possibly be, the four random people they’ve interrogated or sharon freaking osbourne

BITE THE HEAD OFF A BAT the sass in the writer’s room my gosh

oh okay i found this a lot funnier before i realized that she’s playing herself. meh, my headache has ruined my ability to do things like read nametags i guess

oh, maze. :( don’t get played by this asshole when your vulnerabilities already got preyed on by cain in s3. you deserve better than that

i’m waiting for the show to serve up a chloe decker Look™ this season but she’s wearing the bullet necklace :D and that delights me endlessly

this is SO gross and he’s SUCH a creep get your fucking hands off her

i love tom a lot i really do but i might hate michael even more than cain, the lying and the manipulation is so much crueler already

AMENADIEL REMAINS THE MVP OF THE WHOLE DAMN SHOW i’m not even a little bit surprised that he’s the first one to figure it out himself i was expecting nothing less

‘deeply desperate, obviously, if he was reaching out to you’ DAMN chloe i’m so torn between feeling bad for maze that you’re kinda dense and mean as her friend lately and feeling ready to be pissed at maze if she lets you sleep with michael thinking he’s lucifer when maze knows just how wrong it would be to say nothing, you can see it cross her face

ohhhhh dude you have now messed with chloe, maze AND linda. if you come within ten feet of trixie i’m going to be wishing death upon you i s2g

I AM LITERALLY TEARING UP

I AM SO PROUD OF CHLOE JANE DECKER

thank you, show, for letting her not be stupid this season she should never be the level of stupid she would have to be to believe this creep

‘you know that won’t kill me’ ‘yeah but it makes me feel better’ where is lauren german’s action movie? i want to watch it she’s got such a vibe

5x03 - lucifer: my descriptions have made the perfect show...chloe: *trying to decide between punching him or throwing up*

‘i dunno, 30?’ MAZE AND LINDA all they do is bring me joy

okay happy!dan teasing lucifer reminds me how much i loved the actor on true blood and even thought that reminds me of nelsan ellis which makes me sad it also makes me really happy--dan was so painful to watch in s4 and i used to be such a fan of the actor playing him that it’s nice to remember why

5x04 - the year was 1946 YAY IT’S HAPPENING

i asked them to give me a chloe Look™ and they stuck her in 1940s menswear i couldn’t approve more

this episode is so incredibly silly i lost it at ella’s swagger down the alley...but i don’t care how silly it gets they gave me charlotte married to a very surly chloe and that + maze in a nightclub is well worth it

kevin alejandro is here in his suit of armor to remind everyone that playing Relatively Normal Guy Dan Espinoza is the very least he and his genius acting range are capable of, i love it

as soon as i realized amenadiel was the only one we hadn’t seen yet, i was waiting for this moment...hi melvin your 1940s accent is the best thing i have ever heard right alongside your car monologue

i honestly cannot decide what my favorite thing is about this absolutely insane episode but it might be the fact that it looks so noir but cannot be even a little noir at all because this is lucifer which is not a dismal show so instead it is just fucking hilarious and reminds me of clue

this show MY GOD shirl & jack i can’t i’m incoherent at this point also i miss eve she brought so much girlkissing to lucifer please come back eve

‘not if they are going to be unbreakable.’ my heart just broke for maze all over again but even harder this time

goddamn i already identified with maze but that really hurt and also i’m really glad this season is letting her dig deeper, they laid such groundwork for her abandonment issues with her mom and i didn’t expect them to follow through on it so well

#spoilers #and now i'm going to get some sleep but i look forward to watching the rest later #so far #lucifer #remains a show that just delights me #even when it's painful or absolutely crazy #everyone involved in making it is so talented #alg liveblogs #5.01 #5.02 #5.03 #5.04

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boleyn-falcon · 5 years ago

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‘wouldn’t it be nice?’

okay so ever since i made my Joan and Jane fic (here) I've decided i wanted to make a oneshot for all the ladies and their queens! this one is a lot more happy because my heart can’t handle a sad Maggie rn like i’ll die.

this is also me just being a wannabe soccer jock because i finished my first season this school year :> of yea and if i accidentally refer to it as soccer and not football i’m sorry i’m a dumbass american

synopsis - Anne thinks today would be the perfect day to kidnap her closest friend and sports-related hijinks ensue! with maybe a slight side of bruises and concussions..

Words - 2593

Trigger warnings - none that i know of but tell me if you think i should add one!

Maggie loved the early summer. It was the perfect time of the year, not too hot nor cold. She could leave her window open to let in natural sunlight during the day, she’s always hated artificial lights, they give her headaches. It was the best time to just hone her skills and relax, she could let all of her stress just melt away. The brunette started learning a new song she heard so she could play it to the ladies and queens. “Wouldn't it be nice”, by some old american group called ‘The Beach Boys’, it was a nice feel good song the guitarist just felt amazing hearing. The old song’s lyrics remind her how good her second chance at life really was, “And wouldn't it be nice to live together,In the kind of world where we belong?”, it was perfect.

Her hands gracefully floated over the strings, eyes locked on the chords displayed on her computer screen. It felt like the world had stopped moving for a moment, like everything was calm. Well that feeling didn’t last that long. Maggie’s hands suddenly gripped the neck of the instamet as a large crash came from down stairs, ‘oh no what is it this time’. The musician laid her guitar down on her bed right as a slew of very creative and colorful curses came from what she could only presume was Bessie. With a quick trot down the stairs she was soon to find a very peeved bassist, a started pianist, a confused drummer. She made haste to the living room where they were standing to also find one very apologetic tudor queen and one rambunctious gremlin on the floor, oh and a slightly broken window.

“Gosh Bess I’m so sorry about her, we just got back from pret and i let her buy a large chocolate frappe, i'll pay for the new window..”, the blue clad queen said with a sorry smile. Maria spoke up with a curious tone, “Wait why are you guys here anyway? Atleast give a reason Miss Kermit the Hulk over here came crashing through our window?”, the green eyed woman finally stood up from her place on the floor and shuffled shyly. “Well Cathy wanted to come over and get some piano lessons from Joan and I tagged along to hopefully get some time with my favorite ferret!”, Maggie gave an amused chuckle and stepped forward. “Well okay you sugared up raccoon, what did you wanna do?”, Anne made her way to the couch and plopped down, “Well before we do anything, you need to go change into some shorts and a tank top oh and put your hair up. Cathy then grabbed one of the two drawstring bags she had been holding and handed it to Anne, who was already in some black running shorts and a neon green muscle tank. “Well me and Joan are gonna go hit the keys, you two have fun with whatever trouble Anne will get you both in”, and with that the two shorter girls made their way across the room and began to talk quietly.

The band member made her way back up to her room and began to pick out an outfit. ‘ Huh, I wonder why Anne is having me wear sports gear..the only kind of sport she watches is hockey and that's because she thinks it's funny to see them beat the shit out of each other’. She opened her closet and picked out some white athletic shorts(with pockets because all pants need them in her opinion), and a pastel cyan dri fit shirt with a black double note on the front. Lastly, she ties her hair back in her normal high ponytail she wears for shows.

Finally they were ready and made their way out of the house and onto the London streets. Anne still had her green bag, without giving a single hint to what could be inside. They made their way down into the nearest tube station on the Piccadilly Line. Maggie could now slightly narrow down the places they could be heading,but just a little. They stayed on the hot tube for a good few minutes before the hyper woman pulled her off and gave her a little time to look at where they had gotten off, Hyde Park Corner. This had just gotten even more puzzling as they made their way up to the surface. They were so close to leaving the station, till they had to scan their oyster cards. Anne had gotten through the gate easily with a quick swipe of her card. Maggie walked forward and scanned her card, but as she was walking through she felt a pressure on her waist. The Confused woman looked down to find out.. The gate had closed on her and she was stuck in between the two sides of the machine. “...Well shit… that's a problem”, the two rudor women laughed and Anne waved down a worker to let her friend out of her plastic-mechanical prison.

They finally made it out of the station, at least they already had a funny story to tell the others. They ambled their way down the stone sidewalk, smiling and laughing like school kids. “So I tell Joey about the whole pasta-wall test and she actually does it! Wait it gets better, she grabs a handful of angel hair spaghetti and chucks it at the kitchen wall! In front of Maria and Bessie! Let’s just say she wasn't allowed to be near any kind of noodle for a while”, Anne bursts out in laughter even stronger than back at the station, wiping tears from her eyes. Suddenly the green queen stopped and grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her over to the other side of the road. “Tadah! We are gonna hang out here and try something new!”,the enthusiastic woman points to the stone arch like structure above them. “Hyde Park? What could we possibly learn here?”, Anne gives no answer as she continues to drag the poor musician into the park and off to a flat clearing.

The Boleyn girl stops right in the middle of the small grassy area and finally pulls out what has been hiding in her bag, a basic football and a small bluetooth speaker. “I thought it would be fun if we learned how to play Football! It seems easy enough and it would be fun bonding for us!”, she put the speaker down next to her bag and put the ball at her feet. Maggie was beyond confused, neither woman had ever tried sports, she knows Cleves runs and does boxing with Kathrine but that's about it. The guitarist gave a nod to the woman in front of her, she was about three meters away. Anne pulls her foot back like a bow and slams the front of her foot into the ball and sends it flying towards the other burnette. The ball hits Maggie’s right shin, she stumbles back and trips over the object at her feet and falls on her backside. “Ow shit!”, both women say loudly, Anne holding her foot and Maggie on the ground clutching her shin.

“Okay so bad idea, maybe we should..I dunno, learn how to play the damn game before we start kicking shit?”, the tudor queen gave a shy nod as she walked over and helped the injured girl to her feet. Maggie pulls out her phone from the pocket of her shorts and goes to her trusty friend, Google. “Okay Mags we should start with how to kick the damned thing without breaking all of your toes”, the guitarist gave a small chuckle and searched what Anne had suggested. After about thirty seconds of looking she finds a short Youtube video titled, ‘How to properly kick a soccer ball’, huh made by an American i guess. She clicked the video and turned her phone so both inept reincarnates could watch. The woman in the video showed her foot parallel to the ball, lightly kicking it with the inner side of her foot, unlike Anne who ‘toed’ the ball from what the woman said. The demonstrator showed how to open your hips wide to pass forward and how to angle your foot to make sure the ball goes in the right direction. After the tutorial ended Maggie turned her phone off and returned it to her pocket. “Okay Anne go back to your spot with the demon-sphere so we can try this again”.

So it was take two and they widened their stances slightly like the player in the video did, “Okay Mags remember to stop it with the side like she said so i don't break your foot! God the other Ladies would kill me..”. Anne got ready and tilted her foot outwards slightly and pulled back, she hit the ball correctly, well sort of. She used the right part of her foot but hit the very bottom of the ball and it flew upwards and towards the poor ferret-like woman in front of her, hitting her square in the face. Maggie stepped back and made a low grunt noise and held her face. “Christ Annie what did you do wrong this time? You did exactly what she said and it was still fucked up!”,Anne gave a confused look with a tilt of her head, “I dunno ‘M, maybe it was wind?”. Both gave a frustrated sigh as they sat down on a nearby bench and started to think. Before they could conjure up a coherent thought, Maggie spotted 3 teenage looking girls with matching gold and red sports uniforms with low and behold, a football. The younger girl shot up from the bench and gave her queen a confident smirk, “Anne i think i have a good but also maybe terrible idea”, she sped up to the girls and stopped them in their tracks.

“Hey sorry to bother you girls but erm… you play Football right..?”, the three girls looked at each other confusingly, “Um”, the tall brunette girl starts, “Yea we are on our school’s team..why?”. Anne catches up to Maggie right as the conversation continues, “Well I’m Maggie and my friend Anne and I want to learn how to play but we are kinda…”, Maggie trails off for Anne to finish, “Bad at it, like really bad”. The tanner girl with gloves on stepped forward with an amused look, “Well okay then, we were just about to go for a short practice so we could totally help you out!”, she put her gloved hand out for Maggie to shake, “I’m Samina, I’m the team’s goalie and these are two out of three of my defenders, Piper”, she points to the girl from brefor who gave a small wave, “And brooke”, a shorter brunette looked up and gave a small nod. “So I see you're already kinda set up here so let's get to it!”, the goalie led her girls over and gave the older pair an encouraging smile, “Show us whatcha got ladies!”. All five of the girls got in a wide spread circle with Anne’s ball at her feet. “Okay so first things first, do you know how to kick it without hurting yourself or sending it to the moon?”, Anne looked over and answered for Maggie, “Kinda, we can do it without harming our precious feet buuut it went flying and ‘bout gave Mags a broken sniffer..”. The shortest girl gave a small nod and gazed over at the pair, “Well then you hit the bottom of the ball, next time hit the middle or top, but i say middle because you might trip if you hit the top”, she said in a monotone voice. Anne decides to give it a go and turns to face Maggie, giving her a look that says, ‘be prepared because this might end horribly’. Giving her queen a quick nod she gets ready to receive the weapon of death, aka the ball. Anne pulls back and hits the ball just like she was told and it zooms towards Maggie on the ground and the brown eyed woman manages to catch it with somewhat ease. “Nice job Bo!”, she says as she rushes to give her green clad friend a high-five who gladly returns. “Now”, Piper starts, “time to learn how to dribble with the ball!”. Both girls groan in response.

After about an hour and a half of learning the simple methods of the sport the girls had to leave so it just left Maggie and Anne to figure it all out from there. Maggie spots an opportunity to turn up the fun and jogs over to Anne’s speaker and connects her phone. An upbeat guitar melody begins to play and just a few seconds later words start to emit from the speaker, “Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long?”. The musician gives a bright smile as the cheerful song plays, she now could really understand how grateful she really was for this new life. She sauntered over to the smiling Boleyn girl and they began to pass the ball around and laugh. They practiced thier passess and dribbleing, even tripping a good few times which made their smiles even brighter as they became covered in dirt,grass, and small bruises.

“Annie! Heads up!”, the ball flew past the queen’s head and into a tree behind her, getting stuck up in some branches. “Shit sorry, i'll go up and get it dont worry!”, Anne gave a worried glance, “Are you sure Maggie? We could just throw stuff at it to knock it down..”, Maggie had already started scaling the tree. It was anything but graceful, she looked like a blind cat with a missing tail,left leg, and whiskers, she couldn't balance at all. After making her way up about 5 or so branches she finally got to their beloved horri-ball. She grabbed it with her left hand, leaving her right, non-dominant hand, to be the one holding onto the flimsy branch above her, it was a recipe for disaster. “Hey Anne, I got the bAL-”, where her last words before the branch gave way and she went tumbling to the ground. Luckily or not so luckily, her dearest queen was there to break her fall. “I told you so”, is all Anne could croak out from under Maggie before she pushed her off. After that fiasco they moved a tad bit farther from the trees so they didn’t have to go home in full body casts.

After a few more hours it was starting to get dark and they thought it best for them to head back to their respective homes. They parted ways and started the trek back to their humble abodes. “See you later Mag! I'll text you later!”, and with that Anne was gone, Maggie has always wondered how she just vanishes right when you take her eyes off her. After a very cautious tube station trip and ride, she was finally home. The guitarist, happy to be home and rest, opens the door, ready to have some quiet time. Her dreams are slightly crushed as she sees a small brown blur scurry across the hall with a very distressed Maria rushing after it. The drummer stops in her tracks to make eye contact with her bandmate, “Bessie,Cathy, and Joey went out for dinner, don't say a word about this Margret”, today just got even more exhausting.

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Okay well that was an absolute acid trip-

i hope yall enjoy some cute bonding shit becuase the last one was so edgy n shit, and before any of you ask, yes the three girls on my team who are all really amazing players and friends and i love them so so much-

the next one will probably be with Maria and Lina and them dealing with Maria’s.... new little predicament haha

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golbrocklovely · 6 years ago

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just so you know // colby brock

requested by anonymous: Could you do one where a bunch of bad stuff happens to the reader and the only thing they know to do is call Colby and then maybe they like each other?

A/N: I know a lot of ppl that have done one shots like this before. Almost always Y/N is being abused by their SO and it ends with them going to Colby for comfort and a possible hookup/’actually I love you, date me instead’. Not to knock those one shots, bc I love them, but I didn’t personally want to write that. So I tried to just make the “bad stuff” super mundane. Hopefully the anon is okay with this. Also this is gender neutral. ALSO ALSO listen to this song while reading this bc it’s kinda sorta the inspiration for this. Lmk what you think of this. Alrighty, I’ll see yall tomorrow with a new chapter of OTLS. Bye!

trigger warning: honestly just the fluffiest, maybe a bit of a cliffhanger???

word count: 1203

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

Y/N had had bad days before, but somehow it felt like this day was extra worse for no reason at all. In the early hours of the morning, Y/N awoke to a splitting headache, one that made them feel nauseous. After drinking what felt like a gallon of water and taking two pills, the headache only slightly subsided as they got ready for the day.

They tried to forget about the pain in their head while walking into work. They were a server at a small unknown diner in the middle of LA. The day was boring; little-to-no customers coming in. However, the one or two customers they did have to deal with left almost no tips. One did leave their number on a napkin though, which made Y/N instantly roll their eyes as they cleaned up the table with it.

While on break, Y/N's boss told Y/N that they were moving really slow today and that they needed to be quicker, to not keep the customer's waiting. When Y/N tried to explain why they weren’t as fast as they usually were, their boss waved them off and told them to get back to work.

After a full eight hours, Y/N was praying to go home. Getting into their car, they decided to listen to some music to past the time and try to lighten up their mood. Y/N was starting to feel okay, a slight smile resting on their face as they sang along to the music.

But that smile was short lived.

The moment they pulled into their apartment's parking complex, they could feel themselves get lower in the car. Confused, they pulled into their parking space quickly and got out.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Y/N groaned, looking at their new flat tire.

Y/N sighed, rubbing a hand over their face. They decided today just wasn't their day and they didn't really feel the need to replace the tire right now. They didn't need to go anywhere but up to their place and to sleep this day off.

As they entered their apartment, they went over to their kitchen to grab a snack. They opened their fridge to find it barren. Reality smacked them in the face when they realized they were supposed to go shopping today after work, all of which they forgot about.

"What the fuck?!" Y/N yelled, clenching their fist and shutting the fridge door angrily.

They went into their room mumbling curse words to themselves as they took off their uniform. Changing into some comfy clothes, they sat on their bed. They took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. The amount of random shit and stress that had happened today made them feel so low and extremely overwhelmed. They were just so tired, aggravated, and now sad. They grabbed their phone and opened their messages. They needed to vent to someone. They needed someone to be with them.

Y/N: are you busy rn

They waited a moment, praying that their best friend wasn't busy. Knowing him, he most likely was. They bit their lip in anticipation.

Colby: nope. what's up ??

They exhaled, a light smile coming to their face. They typed out a short message, one that only they both knew.

Y/N: SOS

Seconds later, Colby responded.

Colby: be there soon

Colby and Y/N had an interesting relationship, to say the least. Most people that didn't know them would have thought they were dating. They flirted and touched each other often, always in each other's embrace while around company. But, Y/N and Colby weren't together. They were just friends.

Like really close, good friends.

'SOS' was a message they created after a rough night Colby had. He was in a dark place and just needed someone to go to. So, Y/N helped him through it, which is why they were as close as they were. When either one texted each other this, they would drop everything, grab their favorite food and drinks, and come over to each other's apartments. They would talk, watch movies, goof off, and fall asleep together.

Y/N's food of choice was a stuffed-crust pizza, diet soda, and vanilla ice cream. Colby's was Taco Bell, McDonalds fries, and chocolate.

Y/N sat in their room for a while, staring up at the ceiling. They tried to relax as they waited for Colby. Finally, they heard three knocks come from their front door. They jumped up and scurried to the door, opening it quickly.

Standing there was Colby with a box of pizza and a grocery bag of ice cream and soda.

"What happened today?" Colby asked, smiling softly.

/ ~ /

After six hours of conversations, pizza, and a movie that was haphazardly watched, Colby and Y/N were starting to get sleepy. Y/N was already cuddling into Colby's chest, their eyes slightly glazed over. They listened to Colby talk, his chest rumbling against their ear. They smiled lightly as he told them about a party he and Brennen had recently attended.

"Brennen made such a fool of himself in front of this girl. It was so fucking funny." He chuckled softly.

"I would pay to see that." Y/N whispered, causing Colby to snort.

A moment passed and their conversation came to an end. The room was mostly quiet, the only noise was the soft voices from the tv and their breaths. Y/N's eyes drifted close as they snuggled into Colby more. He gazed down at their, a smile came to his lips. After a hard day, Y/N was finally peaceful. Colby remembered the upset look on their face as they told him about their day. He listened to every word they had said, letting Y/N vent about everything. He actually really liked days like this. He loved hearing about their day, regardless of how good or bad it was.

He also loved days like this because he got to be close to them.

Colby had told Y/N everything about him. Except one thing: his feelings for them. He was in love with them but could never say it. One time he told them 'I love you' on accident, but he brushed it off as a friendly sentence, and that's what Y/N took it as. His feelings for them had grown over the three years they knew each other, and it came to a head the night they made the 'SOS' message.

Y/N was there for him when he felt like no one else was. He couldn't stop his heart from falling for them in that moment. Since then, it's been constant butterflies, sweaty palms, and nervous laughs every time he was around them. When Y/N was close to him, he had to calm himself down as much as he could. Their proximity to him alone caused his heart to race.

Colby exhaled. He bit his lip lightly as he raised a hand and gently ran his fingers through their hair, pushing a strand out of Y/N's face.

"I love you." His voice came out like breath.

Y/N's heart leaped in their chest. They tried to calm their nerves before Colby could realize they hadn't fallen asleep yet.

Y/N had told Colby everything about them. Except one thing: their feelings for him.

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock oneshot #colby brock one shot #colby brock fluff #colby brock x reader #what you seek

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years ago

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I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4964

Summary: Simon is on a blind date, but there’s this guy who keeps catching his attention. Based on “I’m going to save you from this bad date” request from @krisrix and “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” by Arctic Monkeys.

Read on AO3

AN: Hello, I am back after a reluctant prolonged absence. My health has been in the shitter. Bad headaches, little sleep, and low energy all suck. This is M rated to be safe but there isn’t really anything explicit, just implied sex and a lot of horniness lol. Hopefully you all like it :D (Edit for Tumblr: something fucked up and deleted the read more break. I'm on my phone rn but I'll fix it when I get home. Sorry!)

———————————————

Simon

“This is a terrible idea,” I say again.

“It is not,” Penny replies, plucking lint off my shirt. “My friend says she’s really sweet and you two might get along.”

“And that matters because…?”

“Because you can’t stay cooped up at home. Time for you to go out and meet the world.” I blow air between my lips. “Don’t do your horse impression in front of her.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is setting me up on a blind date a way to vicariously fix your romantic life by fixing mine?”

“No, Mr. I Took One Psych Course.” I keep glaring at her. Penny’s shoulders fall slightly. “Okay, maybe. But I also think you two might be a good fit. So at least give it a shot, alright?”

I sigh heavily, shoving my hands in my pockets. “One drink.”

She grins brightly. “Awesome. I’ll be waiting back at the flat. Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t. Bye, Pen.”

“Bye, Si.” She presses a kiss to my cheek then walks off smiling.

The second she’s out of sight, I slump forward with a groan. I don’t think she heard the resignation in my voice. Honestly, I really don’t want to do this. But I’m doing this for Penny, because she’s sad and I love her.

Ever since Micah broke up with her (arsehole), Penny has put the excess energy she used to waste on him into other things, including me. Guess if she can’t have a partner, she wants me to have one. Sure, I wouldn’t mind being with someone, it just hasn’t been a priority between uni and my mental health. Both are still not really great. I should be studying or something, but Pen says one night away won’t kill my GPA. She’s rarely ever wrong, hope she isn’t now. Hope this isn’t a total disaster…

I walk up to the nightclub door. It’s neon purple with a burly man at the entrance. I gulp down the lump in my throat. God, why am I so nervous? It’s just a date. This won’t kill me. I can do this. I won’t burst into flames no matter how much it feels like I will any fucking moment.

The burly man looks at me, the weirdo just standing six feet away from the door. “You going in or what, kid?”

I nod furiously. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

He holds out his hand. “Fifteen pounds, please.”

My eyes bug out. I expect him to start laughing, but he stays stone faced. “Fifteen bloody quid?! Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope. Pay up or leave.”

I growl and pull out my wallet. I slap the bills in his hand. “Fucking rip off.”

“I don’t make the rules, mate.” He puts the money in his back pocket and lifts the black velvet rope. “Welcome to Club Violet.”

“Thanks,” I grumble. Fifteen fucking quid. What am I, the Queen?

Club Violet absolutely lives up to its name. The whole place is different shades of glowing purple. It’s like if Queen Victoria opened a royal dance club. People shake and jump in a huge sweaty clump on the main dance floor while techno pop blares around us. It’s actually a pretty good song. Wish it wasn’t so loud though. There’s metal stairs with a chrome railing leading to the upper level. I check my texts again. Okay, so she’ll be at the upper bar, wearing a shiny pink dress. Cool, cool, I can find her.

I push through some giggling dancers and a couple snogging against the wall to get to the stairs. The top level is less crowded, mostly just people talking with their heads very close together. They’re smiling, giggling, kissing. They look happy. My heart aches a bit. Huh, I actually miss that, more than I thought than I did. This might not be such a bad idea.

The bar is nestled at the back of the floor. Bartenders in posh black shirts and vests shake those silver shakers I’ve seen in Bond movies. And at the front of the bar, stirring a margarita is a blonde woman in a bright pink, sparkly dress. Okay, deep breath, you can do this.

I walk towards her, head held high. I stand next to her. She has a pretty face and golden brown eyes. Let’s hope this goes well.

“Uh, hi,” I say with only a little nervous hitch. “Agatha, right?”

She turns her head. Her mouth pulls up slightly. Not a smile, but almost, I guess. “Yeah. And you’re Simon?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

We stand in awkward silence for awhile. My body and mouth feel utterly paralyzed with unsureness. She seems just as confused. Guess it’s been a very long time for both of us. I stumble forward onto a cushy violet stool.

“You wanna drink?” I ask.

Agatha holds up her barely empty margarita. “I think I’ll finish this one first, thank you.”

My cheeks heat up. I hope they’re not visible under the lowlight. “Uh, y-yeah, makes sense. I guess I’ll get one just for me then…”

I wave at the bartender. They walk over with an extremely fake customer service smile. “How may I help you?”

“Can I get a…um…” I look at the drinks menu. It’s filled with weird punny names with liquors I don’t know. It makes my head hurt. I slap the menu down on the counter. “Pint of Guinness, please?”

“Sure, coming up,” they say and walk off.

I turn to Agatha with a sheepish smile. “I like to keep things simple.”

“I can see that.” She takes a sip of her margarita. Her lipstick is a nice shade of soft pink. She has good taste in makeup at least.

“So, um, Pen mentioned you were in third year at University of London. What program are you doing?”

“Veterinary medicine at the royal college.”

“Oh wow, that’s cool. You wanna be a vet?”

She nods, swirling the drink in her hand. A small smile plays on her mouth for the first time. “Yeah. I hope to take care of horses.”

A small shiver runs down my spine. “Wow, um…sounds interesting.”

Her head tilts to the side in confusion. “Something wrong?”

“No, no. It sounds amazing. I just don’t have a good history with horses.” Her eyebrows pull together. “A police horse nearly trampled me when I was seven. Been a bit jittery around them ever since.”

Agatha nods thoughtfully. “Hm, I see. You probably did something to provoke the horse though, they don’t hurt people for no reason.”

My cheeks heat up, but from embarrassment unfortunately. “Oh…you’d know better than me I guess…”

Agatha takes a long sip of her drink in lieu of words. My pint of Guinness arrives on time. I take two big gulps, reveling in the distracting burn. I try to look literally anywhere else. There’s a neon purple flower on the wall. I see three people dancing together, smiling and laughing. I’m not usually a fan of dancing but they look like they’re having fun. I spot on a presumed couple sipping on the same fancy cocktail together. My eyes flick to Agatha. She’s staring straight ahead, totally uninterested in me. So y gaze keeps drifting, until it meets someone else’s. And I nearly choke on my beer.

Holy fucking shit, he’s staring at me. A gorgeous guy with reddish-gold skin, wavy black hair, and piercing grey eyes is looking right at me with a devilish smirk on his lips. He’s wearing very fitting black skinny jeans and a short sleeved dark shirt. Well, technically he’s wearing a shirt, but it’s unbuttoned all the way to his navel so I don’t know if it counts. His beautiful eyes wander over me again and again, smirk slowly growing. Why is he staring at me? What the hell makes me so interesting? Is it getting hotter in here?

“Simon?”

I snapped back to reality from the deep sea grey induced daze. “What?”

Agatha’s brow is all pulled together. I can’t tell if it’s out of confusion or concern. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m fine.” I take another drink of my beer. “So, what else do you like?”

Agatha shrugs and goes back to looking at her drink. “I play lacrosse.”

“Yeah? Is that fun?”

“It is, until someone shoves you to the ground.”

I let out a small laugh. Agatha does the same, but quickly goes back to stirring her drink with a neutral expression. “What do you do? For fun, that is.”

“Um, some stuff…” I scratch my chin. This is harder than I thought. “I like gaming, fencing, baking, watching Dr. Who. That’s pretty much it.”

“Baking sounds fun.”

“Yeah it is!” I turn towards her with the brightest grin. “I’m learning this new technique for making scones. It makes a much lighter pastry, but it’s hard to get the same flavour, y’know? I’m trying to figure out how to compensate for that. I’ve been trying fresh ingredients, pure oils, lots of stuff. But really-”

I stop when I realise Agatha is looking at me with utter confusion. Right, not everyone understands baking science, or wants to know. I turn away from her and drink down the rest of my beer. It won’t help though. First year uni gave me quite a tolerance. I stare at the empty glass, swishing around the last bits of foam.

“So, how’s school going?” That’s a safe question, right?

“Oh it’s going fine.” Agatha replies. “There’s actually this one class I’m taking.”

She starts talking about her animal biology class. I try to listen, I really do, but my attention span is notoriously short. My eyes drift, and soon fall on raven hair.

The man isn’t staring at me anymore. He’s looking off to the side. I tilt my head slightly to the side. He’s talking to someone, a red haired man with a sly smile. They’re giggling and whispering together. My stomach feels weird. Must’ve had something bad for lunch. My eyes drag over him more carefully this time. He’s quite thin. Wait, no, not thin, lean. There’s strong muscles in his calves and upper arms, and his stomach looks very tight. I wonder how he got those. Football maybe? I could see that. Him running across the field at lightspeed, stealing the ball easily with his strong legs, flying across the field with ruthless grace. Part of me just really wants to see how he moves.

My eyes move back, only to meet Gorgeous Guy’s. Oh fuck, he’s looking right at me again. I can feel myself blush as I go rigid. His mouth pulls into that smirk again. It fits too perfectly on his sharp face, like he was designed to look so cocky and beautiful at the same time. My face feels so fucking hot right now. Damn clubs, no air conditioning.

“And that’s why you have to be very careful when treating young horses.” I refocus back on Agatha’s voice. She’s looking at me, gesturing with one and stirring the margarita with the other. I nod thoughtfully like I’m not an arsehole and I’ve been paying attention this whole time.

“That’s really cool, yeah,” I say. “You’re really into this stuff.”

“Of course, it’s my future career.”

My cheeks go redder. Between Agatha and Gorgeous Guy, I’m pretty much a tomato by now. “R-Right, course.”

We stare at each other. The awkwardness is so thick you could slice it in half. God, why am I so much worse at this than normal? My normal is pretty shit so that’s a real feat. There’s no flow or spark. I don’t think this is working at all. But I don’t know how to leave without being a total dickhead. What could I even say? “Sorry but I don’t find you interesting enough to keep talking to you, I have to go.” ’ Instead I’m silent as a statue and more awkward than a fourteen year old at a school dance.

Agatha is drinking down the last of her margherita. I look pointedly away from her. And my eyes happen drift back to the guy. He’s still with the ginger bloke. It’s hard to tell if they’re talking or dancing. Maybe it’s both. Gorgeous Guy’s thin lips are moving slowly. His hips are swaying slightly, the curves of his body showing well through the tight jeans. I’m fixated by the way he moves. It’s seamless and graceful yet so strong. He looks good dancing, even just a little. I wonder how he’d look if he was truly moving to the beat, swaying his lean body with purpose. He’s not looking at me this time. I kinda wish he would, honestly.

“I’m going to the toilet,” Agatha announces. She’s out of her seat and walking away before I can get a word out. Alright then.

I look at my glass, rolling the remaining foam back and forth. My mind is being way too chaotic for me to think straight, so I’m trying not to think at all. I just watch the white bubbles, back and forth, back and forth, just like that guy’s hips. I wonder-

“Hello,” a smooth voice says to my right. “How are you?”

I turn my head and nearly choke on my own tongue. It’s him. Gorgeous Guy. He’s standing right there, leaning against the bar with his hip cocked out, looking at me with that smirk and dazzling eyes. And I’m completely frozen.

“H-Hi,” I finally get out. “I’m, uh, fine. H-How are you?”

“I’m alright. May I ask you something?”

“Um, sure.”

“Are you on a date with the woman who just left?”

I scratch at my wrist, looking to the side in the vain hope he doesn’t see my blush. “Uh, sort of, I guess.”

The guy raises an eyebrow without moving any other part of his face. It’s very impressive. “Usually that’s a yes or no question.”

“Yeah, I know,” I chuckle awkwardly. “We’re supposed to be on a blind date, but I don’t think it’s going well.”

“Hm, yes, I assumed that when you kept staring at me over her shoulder.”

As if I wasn’t a tomato face before. I think my flush has reached the bottom of my neck. My mouth opens and closes like a stranded fish. His smirk only becomes more smug, and I find it so annoyingly attractive.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, that was rude a-and objectifying and I-”

“Did I say I disliked it? Remember, I made eyes at you first.” All the blood in my body rushes straight to my face. Gorgeous Guy leans closer. His long fingertips are nearly touching mine. “My name is Baz. What’s yours?”

“Simon.”

“Simon,” he echoes in his much, much sexier voice. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“T-Thanks. Your name is nice too.”

“Thank you.” Baz’s head tilts further to the side, showing off his long, graceful neck. “So, if your date is not going well, would you mind if I wanted to whisk you away from here?”

My eyes go wide and my heart starts beating double time. I’m not sure if it’s from the fear or the thrill of the idea. Do I really want that? When I look at Baz, all of him, I do. But could I do that to Agatha? Just because I’m not attracted to her doesn’t mean I should ditch her.

“Um, I-I do,” I say, “but I gotta go do something first. Wait here, please? I promise I’ll be back in a minute.”

Baz blinks rapidly. He looks like a very confused deer in the headlights.“Alright…”

With only a little fear, I reach forward and put my hand over his. He inhales sharply, and I swear, even in the lowlight, I see a blush on his face. “I just need to tell her I’m cutting the date short. I don’t wanna be a total arsehole. One minute and I’m all yours, I promise.”

That smirk comes back, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Less dagger like, more a pretty cloud on an overcast day. “Alright. One minute, I’ll hold you to that.”

I grin brightly. “Awesome.”

I squeeze his hand, and surprisingly, he squeezes back. I take one last look at him before dashing off like a madman.

I’m very lucky that in a dark club like this, the toilet signs have to be very bright to see. The woman’s toilet is on the far left of the upper deck. Not too far, but there’s a crowd of people between me and my destination. I push through the other night club goers, some wobbling, most swearing at me. Unfortunately I can’t explain to them that I need to tell my blind date that our date has to end so I can go hang out with an incredibly handsome man who for some reason is attracted to me. I’m not sure I could explain this to anyone and sound sane. I don’t care. Baz is waiting for me back at the bar. I’ll push through every one of these people to get back to him.

When I reach the toilet, I immediately spot a pink dress near the wall. Agatha is bent over her phone, blue light illuminating her pensive face. She’s typing really fast. I speed walk like a bloody madman.

“Agatha!” I call out. Her head snaps up.

“Oh, Simon,” she says, sounding far more shocked than I thought she would be.

“Hey, hey, sorry for barging up. Just, uh, we need to talk.”

“Okay…”

I scratch the back of my neck like some awkward teenager. “Um, look, I’m sorry I’m being an arsehole. You’re nice and very pretty, but I don’t think this date is working out. We’re just not…clicking, I guess. Which sucks but it’s alright. I-I just hope we can still be friends…”

Agatha blinks a few times at me. I wait for her to storm off or yell or something. Instead, she just smiles softly and nods. “Alright, yeah. I agree. I don’t think we’re a good fit as a couple.”

All of the tension drains from my body. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I think you’re nice too, but it’s not going to work out. Maybe friends could better.”

“Yeah, yeah definitely. Wanna get coffee sometime? As friends?”

“I’d like that.” Her phone buzzes. She looks down and sighs. “I have to go. My friend Minty is here to pick me up.”

“Oh, okay.” The gears start turning in my head, and my eyebrows pull together. “Wait, were you just going to leave?”

Agatha looks down, probably to hide the embarrassed expression on her face. “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t want to make things awkward. I’m not good at saying goodbye to people…”

I’ll admit, it hurts a bit. But I also get it. I hated saying anything as a kid, especially something awkward. And I don’t think it’s my place to berate her right now. I nod slowly. “Alright. Well, hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“You too.” She goes towards the stairs. One step down though, she looks over her shoulder with a little smile on her lips. “Have fun with that bloke. He looks cute.”

Before I can answer, she’s off down the staircase. My face is going to get stuck blushing this much. After only a moment of shock though, I dash back in the direction of the bar. I’ve never been more nervous than I have been speed walking back there. But when I see Baz, with his hips against the bar, fiddling with his phone, I sigh in utter relief.

I take a deep breath, trying to hide just how out of breath and eager I am. Be cool, Simon, be cool. I walk towards with what I hope is a badass swaggering walk. Bloody hell, I hope I don’t look stupid. I really hope I don’t fuck this up.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m back.”

Baz’s head snaps up. I like the way his hair falls in a lazy wave, like a waterfall made from raven wings. (That poetry book Penny got me for Christmas has really expanded my metaphors, wow.) That softer, nicer smirk comes back. I love it more than the arrogant one, actually.

“One minute and thirty eight seconds,” he replies in a playful tone. “You’re late.”

I chuckle and rub my neck. “Sorry. There’s a lot of people here.”

“I’m aware. I’ve been looking through them all night.” His fingertips touch mine, sending jolts up my entire arm. “Until you caught my eye like no else did.”

“Really?” My heart rate is going nuts. It’s not arrogant, well, not totally. Everyone’s a little vain, after all.

“Mhm.” His hand moves slowly up my arm, stopping just above my wrist. “Blue eyes, bronze curls, tawny skin with constellations of freckles and moles. You were like the sun in this dark nightclub. How could I not be entranced?”

“O-oh.” All words have fled my tongue. Baz’s sweet voice and words have melted my brain into pure mush.

Baz’s hand moves further. His thumb traces tiny, wonderful circles on my upper forearm. He’s got these slight calluses that I can’t get enough of. “You have no idea how much I wanted to come up and talk to you right away.”

I pout slightly. “Why didn’t you?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. I like the way his hair moves. “Because you were with someone, Simon. I didn’t notice her until after you started talking to her again. I wasn’t going to be that arse who stole someone’s date.”

“And yet you offered to whisk me away a few minutes ago.”

“Well,” he sighs, tracing patterns lazily on the inside of my elbow, “I tried to ignore you, I really did, but my eyes kept drifting to you. I didn’t think your date was going well but I still wasn’t going to intrude. I distracted myself instead.”

I frown deeply. “That redhead bloke.”

“Yes, Lamb. He approached me but I welcomed him.” His face becomes sly and devilish. The expression is eerily, like his face was made for scheming. “Were you jealous?”

I gulp down a large lump in my throat, unintentionally biting down on my bottom lip. From the way Baz watches my mouth I think he likes it quite a bit. “Maybe a little…”

“Mm, good to know.” Baz tilts his head, showing off that damn neck again. Is he doing that on purpose? “I’ll admit I was jealous. I desperately wished to be in your date’s place. When I glanced over a few times, I saw things may not have been going well. So when she left…”

“You jumped at the chance?”

“Precisely.”

I grin ear to ear. It’s strange to think I’d be so wanted by someone that they’d wait to talk to me, but I don’t dislike it. Especially when they’re as pretty as Baz. I move forward this time, touching his forearm. His hands may be rough, but the rest of his skin is impossibly soft.

“I’m glad you did,” I say quietly. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Baz smiles too. It’s not arrogant, but genuinely happy and bright. “Me too. I thought you were gorgeous, but now I also know that you’re the kind of guy to make sure he says goodbye to his blind date, even when it didn’t work out. Who knew the gorgeous man would turn out to be kind too?”

Once again, I am lost for words. I mean, what do you say to that? Glad you noticed? Arrogant. You too? Weird. Thank you? I guess, still feels awkward. It seems me gaping mouth is good enough for Baz, because he’s still smiling. He brings up his other hand and traces his rough thumb on my chin, just under my bottom lip. Dear Lord, I really want him to move it a little bit up.

“So I’m wondering,” he drawls, “if you would be so kind as to do something for me.”

“What?” I almost say “anything,” but that’s just a little too desperate.

“Would you please follow me downstairs? Because ever since I saw you, I’ve thought about how lovely you would look on the dance floor.”

Is my brain dribbling out my ears? Because it bloody well feels like it. Baz’s skin may be cold but he’s burning me to a crisp. And I really don’t mind.

“I-I can’t dance,” I whisper. I want him to know what a mess he’s getting into when he’s with me.

“No matter.” His thumb actually touches my lip. A harsh, beautiful shudder moves through my spine. “I bet you’ll still look gorgeous.” He tugs on my wrist with his other hand. “Shall we?”

All I can do is nod. Baz grins devilishly. He slowly weaves our fingers together one by one. Every touch threatens to make me burst into flames. “Then let’s go.”

Baz pulls me forward, and I happily trail behind him. We zig zag through all the sweaty people and soar down the spiral stairs. There’s some sort of techno remix of an eighties song. The singer keeps singing about a girl named Rio. (Weird name, but I don’t think I can talk much considering my last name is Snow.) Baz pulls us deep into the throng of dancing people. He finds us a small space in the middle of all of it. At first I think it’s too small, but when Baz presses almost his entire body against me, I quickly get the point. He puts his arms around my waist. I’m completely frozen.

“I still don’t know how to dance,” I shout in his ear.

Baz leans forward. His hot breath caresses my skin. “Put your arms on my shoulders, then follow me. It’s really easy. You just have to sway.”

I gulp and nod. I place my hands on his shoulders. They’re a bit boney but very nice. Baz slowly starts moving side to side. His hips move absolutely beautifully. He has perfect rhythm. He slowly sways to the thumping bass of the song while holding onto me tight, pressing us together so close. I can feel every part of him against every part of me. My eyes are glued to my hands on his shoulders. I’m pretty sure my entire fucking body is blushing now.

“You can move too,” Baz says. “Just follow me.”

I nod, even though I’m still unsure. I look down at his hips (holy fuck he’s hot) and try to copy him. Slowly, I move side to side, following him as best I can. I’m not as smooth and graceful as him of course. Baz helps, silently guiding me with his hands. We start moving in near perfect sync. And it feels absolutely amazing. Holy shit, is this grinding? I’ve never done it before, so if this is it, it’s bloody great.

My chest feels tight and breath is short, but in a good way. The fear and nerves are fading bit by bit. Slowly, I finally look away from my hand. I look at Baz’s face, and god, why haven’t I been looking at him the whole time? He looks even more gorgeous. The strobe lights perfectly illuminate the deep angles of his face. His hair falls in his face in a beautiful lazy wave. His eyes are absolutely dazzling, and they’re completely focused on me. He looks so good, somehow even better than before. My gaze flicks down to Baz’s lips. They’re hanging slightly open. The violet lights catch on them again and again. I can’t stop looking, and I don’t really want to.

I look up again, meeting Baz’s beautiful eyes. He’s looking down as well at my mouth. God, I want him to be thinking the same thing I am. My arms quickly wrap around his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin. Baz inhales sharply. For a second I worry he’s going to shove me away. But instead, I feel him pull my waist even closer, fingers digging into my back through my t-shirt. Our faces are inches apart, moving closer without us even realising it. My nose touches his, just barely. We’re breathing the same air. Maybe, just maybe…. Oh, fuck it.

I lean forward and press my mouth to Baz’s.

It takes less than a second for Baz to kiss me back. There’s zero pretense or nervousness. We move our lips fervently, mutual desire completely obvious. Baz sticks his tongue down my throat at the same time I tug harshly on his hair. Thank god the music is too loud for anyone to hear our groans. He bites down on my bottom lip and I feel like I’m fucking melting and exploding and dying. I kiss him like it’s a fight, and he doesn’t give an inch. We match so well. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. God, I’m drowning in him, but I don’t want to come up for air.

Baz eventually, sadly, pulls away. He keeps his face close to mine. I study all the different colours in his eyes. I could do that forever.

“Want to get out of here?” he says. “I think I’d like to see you somewhere other than the dance floor now.”

I nod immediately. “Yeah, definitely, let’s go.”

Baz grins. It’s a mix between devilish charm and genuine giddy excitement. He grabs my hand, then we push through the throngs of people even faster than before. I can’t stop grinning for even a second.

We hop in a cab heading towards Canary Wharf. Baz takes me up to his flat, pins me down on his king sized bed, and proves once again that he is incredible with his hips.

All in all, a fantastic night.

———————————————

AN: Needless to say, a spring in Baz’s mattress breaks. Hope you liked it! Simon was a bit of an ass, yeah, but imo so is Agatha. In my mind they meet up later and talk properly without pressure to date awkwardness and they become really good friends. In the end they’re both happy. I liked writing this because I love the prompt and I love the song. Arctic Monkeys fucking rule. Hopefully my next fic will be out soon. Have a good day!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #pining #night club #first meetings #simon is distracted by baz as usual #mysnowbazfic

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imnotcameraready · 6 years ago

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chivalry is dead (15)

A/N: 👏🏼COME👏🏼GET👏🏼Y'ALLS👏🏼FLUFF👏🏼 this is SUCH a fluffy chapter im LIVING!!! all these slow moments are so much fun i'm actually just soft rn. gOd.also, realizing that this probably isn't slow burn. since it like. happens over the course of a day and a half. there're just hints that they've all been either pining or in denial for forever . so whoops

i’m at my family’s house right now, but after this i’ll be in my Stable Home™ for the foreseeable future. plus the next chapter is going to be.....so fun. :^)

WARNINGS: I FUCKING FORGOT TO UPDATE THESE K. M. S. wound mentions, self-deprecation — pretty sure that’s all there is in this one, but please let me know if i should add any more !

Words: 7390

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1

general tag: @jemthebookworm

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to the ball tonight.”

The Thief shot the Bard another glare and turned his head to face the ceiling again. They’d been talking about the ball for about an hour. The Playwright had gone as soon as they’d explained, saying he didn’t like spending too much time in the Imagination’s action grounds, and the Artist then left to find the other Sides.

If the Thief didn’t go with them, they wouldn’t have any protection. No one was willing to fight, much less fight the Dragon, and no one else alive could go toe to toe with him.

But your wound….

Fuck off.

It stings, doesn’t it?

“You know that doesn’t matter,” he said aloud.

“It matters so much,” the Bard whispered back.

He shifted, hand resting along the Thief’s tummy. After the Artist left, the Bard opted to lay down next to the Thief, hugging him as gently as he could around the stomach as to not jostle the bandages wrapped tight around the Thief’s chest.

Sure, the Bard sung a ditty, used as much magic as the setting would allow, making sure the gash didn’t hurt and didn’t bleed and would heal quick. But he’d always had a soft spot for the Thief. They got along better than anticipated, given how fiery they were. He didn’t want the Thief feeling any sort of pain. Plus, pain wasn’t really their thing.

“How’s Logan?” the Thief asked, for the fifth time.

Seeing Logan in distress had upset him more than the actual wound. The Bard clicked his tongue, almost annoyed at the Thief’s apathy for himself.

“Wonderfully,” the Bard promised, “He’s with Patton and Deceit, and they’re taking care of him.”

“Better than we would.”

“You could say that again.”

Distantly, they heard a door opened and closed again. That was likely the Artist coming back, the Bard thought, and he gently squeezed the Thief’s side. “Should I go check on them?” he whispered.

He felt the Thief shrug against him.

Laying like this was calming. A little depressing as Roman realized he was cuddling against himself, but, well. What can you do. They both elected to wait until someone came in from the foyer, where the Artist had led everyone into and was now making six mugs of tea.

Logan was the last to enter, closing the door behind himself. Another throb of pain jolted through his head, and he couldn’t stifle a quiet groan. It felt like something was pushing on the inside of his skull, trying to break out.

“Logan?” he heard Deceit ask.

He was leaning on the door now, hand still gripping the handle as he rested his forehead and tried to stop feeling dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as the fluorescent lights were just a bit too bright for him to handle. This was the worst bout yet.

Multiple hands grabbed him, leading him slowly back to the couch he’d been at prior.

“Logan, honey?” Patton asked.

He laid down on the couch, shifting as the hands left. How expedient of a situation. The pain subsided only slightly, returning to sit in the back of his cranium.

“Yo, Professor Plum, are you going to say something?” the Artist said.

They all were sitting now, Deceit on the coffee table, Patton on the ground beside the couch and the Artist on the couch’s armrest. Logan’s eyes were still closed, but he lifted his thumb up, resting his hand on his stomach, and all of their shoulders loosened.

“I have a headache,” Logan stated, “That is all. It will pass.”

The trio all looked worriedly at each other, gesturing at one another as though asking if they’d heard about this headache. As it became more and more apparent that this was news to all of them, Patton turned back to Logan. He knew how to deal with Logan’s occasional headaches, often brought on from Thomas overthinking things or having to deal with strenuous mental exercises. Or Taxes. It was tax season, after all..

“Darn. What kinda tea is that?” Patton asked, gesturing to the cups, “Do you have any peppermint?”

The Artist bit his lip and waved his hand over the cup. The scent, which had been light and fruity, shifted into mint. “Now it is,” he said, worry ebbing into his voice, “Is there anything else we can do?”

“How long have you had this headache?” Deceit asked, still watching Logan.

“Since we entered the Imagination. It was small, when we woke up in that forest yesterday,” Logan rubbed his forehead and took off his glasses, “Patton, can you hold these?”

Patton took them wordlessly and set them on the coffee table.

“And you stated earlier that you’ve never been in the Imagination?” Deceit asked again.

Patton glanced at him. Deceit was, once again, taking notes. Well, more like poking his pen against a specific page in his notepad.

“Yes. I have never been here before.”

“Ah.” Deceit circled something on the page and poked his pen against it again.

“Ah?” the Artist asked, brow furrowing, “Ah, like, ‘ah, by Jove, I’ve got it’ kinda ah?”

It was Deceit’s job to ‘get it,’ as the Artist put it. But now he had to explain what was wrong.

Something Deceit was very well known for being bad at. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was first interrupted by Logan.

“Have YOU been in the Imagination before?”

Deceit bobbed his head to either side, thinking. “Yes. I have,” no need for details.

“Roman let you in?” Patton sounded surprised, and Deceit waved his hand.

“No, of course not.” and he was cut off again, this time by the Artist with a clearing of the throat. An incredibly offended clearing of the throat.

“Yeah, no, we don’t let just anyone in. Do you see how much work we’ve put into this place? It’s more elaborate than the Marvel Cinematic Universe. You’ve come in a few times, just to help with memories in dreams, right? Virgil’s helped with a few nightmares. But mostly it’s just me. And….well,” the Artist pursed his lips and waved his hand, indicating ‘you know.’

Before anyone could ask follow up questions, he stood up. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go check on Thief and Bard.”

The Thief, the Bard....wait, that was just three Romans. Deceit frowned up at the Artist’s retreating back, switching gears for a moment. “Where’s the Playwright?”

“He doesn’t like being, uh, on stage. His words,” the Artist’s eyes flicked up for a second, before looking back at Deceit, “He’s also grabbing costumes for the ball tonight.”

The three Sides vaguely remembered the incredibly long corridor of costumes and the extended process of trying to dress for the medieval setting.

Logan frowned. The “medieval” setting indeed. It was so historically inaccurate that he was taking a running count of the innacuracies that seem to be without a Doylist explanation, and had been considering what the historically plausible alternatives were. What kinds of outfits would be accurate for a ball, though?

He winced again, closing his eyes and laying down again as the headache bounded back in full force.

Deceit, Patton, and the Artist all looked back at him. Truthfully, the Artist felt guilty; Logan seemed to be doing fine before he arrived, so the increase in headache-induced-acheing was probably connected to him. Somehow.

“I’m gonna bring Thief and Bard some tea,” he mumbled, picking up two of the mugs, “Sorry the Imagination sucks, Logan.”

And he darted away before any of them could tell him to not.

Patton blinked, looking around. He could have sworn the Artist was just with them. Oh, he must have left.

Had Logan had his tea? Patton had zoned out for a little there and hadn’t noticed. He shifted how he was sitting on the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and looking around the room again.

Where were they again?

Dr. Picani’s office, oh, yeah.

Where had the Artist gone?

“Artist….?” Patton hummed, quiet and to himself as to not interrupt the other two.

“Now,” Deceit seemed unphased by the Artist’s quick exit, turning back to Logan with his notepad, “It came back? Just now?”

“Yes. Stop talking for a second, please,” Logan raised a finger.

Deceit nodded and puffed up his cheeks, looking up and around at the room. His eyes eventually landed on Patton, who was still looking around, vaguely confused. But now he was more confused about why he was so confused because, like, of COURSE he saw the Artist leave. Patton’s eyes refocused, blinking at Deceit. He waved one hand.

At first, Deceit’s expression didn’t change, and Patton lowered his hand. But then, slowly, Deceit blinked at him, then stuck his tongue out slightly.

“Blep,” Patton whispered.

Deceit smirked, and winked. Blep indeed.

Patton slapped his hand over his own mouth, stifling his giggles as Logan lowered his hand. “Alright. I am okay.”

“Good,” Deceit said, turning his attention quickly back to the logical side, “Now, actually, Patton.”

Patton perked up. “Mhm?”

“Do you feel any difference?” Deceit crossed his legs where he sat, pen sitting on his notepad as he waited.

Patton tilted his head in thought, then shook it. “Not like a headache or anything,” he made a gesture with his hands, as though he were pulling something apart between them, “It’s like….like. A feelings-y thing. I’m feeling a little more airheaded than usual? You know, like how you feel right after we binge-watch The Office.”

Deceit watched him blankly. He didn’t have the heart to tell Patton that that made absolutely no sense because he wasn’t the overseer of Thomas’ emotional interpretation, so he just nodded.

“Patton,” he turned to Logan, who was gesturing into the air above him while laying down, “I do not know what the fuck that means.”

And there Logan was with the incredibly tired realism. Patton deflated. “Oh,” he hummed, frowning at the ground as he thought of a new way to explain the sensation.

Honestly, it’d been building, like a burp. There were a lot of things going on he didn’t agree with, and a lot of things that plain hurt, but there were weird things he’d never felt before.

Patton hummed angrily behind his lips, drumming his fingers against his chin for a moment in thought. What kinds of feelings had he never felt before? How would he know?

Gosh, that didn’t even make sense to him. Patton was getting his thoughts wrapped in a tizzy. He balled up his hands in his lap and tried again.

“Well, it’s like….like you’ve just experienced so much that you KNOW! You know you know what’s going to happen, but it still happens and you still feel everything, but not as big as before, like it’s an echo? Almost? It feels like I can kinda feel everything a lot always. And on top of that, I feel like I’m letting a lot more slide. Like, earlier. I know you’ve got a headache, but language.”

Logan sighed tiredly and Patton waved his hands a little frantically, backtracking. “I know! But I didn’t really register that! I had to think about it! But usually I can just, ya know, know, and usually you’d know too, right? It’s like what I’m feeling and what I’d USUALLY feel about things are all wonky, so I’m sensing things and feeling things a lot slower than usual.”

Logan exhaled, then rubbed his face with both of his hands.

That made only the tiniest modicum of sense.

Well, it made perfect sense to the person who’d been looking for that answer. Deceit jotted down another note and exhaled, nice and slow. Eureka, he supposed.

How was he going to synthesize this in an understandable way?

“Logan, Patton, remember how surprised Bard, Thief, and Child were earlier, over how time was moving at a regular rate?” Deceit asked them both, looking up from his notes and raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, huh. They said it’d been a whole week but you said it’d only been a few hours,” Patton crossed his legs on the ground and leaned back on the couch, head resting beside Logan’s shoulder.

“Exactly. And that time thing changed, what, when we first arrived here?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. He still had his eyes closed, despite the fact that his headache had eased up once more. It was just pleasantly calming at this point. “Do you think our arrival into the Imagination had something to do with the time scale changing?”

Oh good, Logan got it instantaneously. Deceit clapped, nodding excitedly. “Yes!”

“But I dunno how to change anything in here. If we’re not trying to change things, then why’re they changing?” Patton slumped, knitting his eyebrows together in thought and tapping Logan’s hand, “You know anything about that, kiddo?”

“I’m afraid I have to confess ignorance to how the Imagination works. On this side, I assumed Roman controlled everything.”

That was valid; Deceit couldn’t profess to being an expert either, but what other explanation was there? He had other evidences, too. “But do you both remember how the town looked when we first arrived? Or the forest?”

Patton watched Deceit as his brows pinched even tighter. He was really trying to remember, and he knew what he thought it’d looked like, but he wasn’t sure. It did look different this morning compared to yesterday evening, too, but he couldn’t pinpoint in what ways.

“Not quite,” he made a so-so hand motion. “It sure looks different, though, but I dunno how.”

“I cannot either,” Logan said. “It looked like a town, but I cannot remember any precise details.”

“Neither can I, but that’s the point,” Deceit twirled his pen in the air, as though circling the town, “We know what it looks like now! It’s got detail.”

“Yes, possibly because we’ve been in the town for longer. It stands to reason that, the longer we are in an environment, the more that environment becomes familiar,” getting much farther away now, Logan, “That seems more likely than our entrance into the Imagination impacting the physical landscape.”

“Not just the physical landscape,” Deceit huffed, annoyed now as he crossed his arms, “I think all of us are adding our own assets to whatever story Roman’s trying to tell in here.”

Logan scowled at the ceiling. That was possible, but in Logan’s opinion, less plausible. He and Patton had no idea how to change things, especially how to change the things that Roman had so painstakingly built.

In theory, it shouldn’t be any harder than striking a red line through it, similar to how he would when editing one of Roman’s scripts. But in practice, Logan wouldn’t know where to begin or what sorts of — he cringed — feelings it would envoke.

COULD their very presence in the Imagination be changing it? His headaches usually stemmed from being overworked. Could he, as a Side, be overcompensating for the lack of Logic in an Imagination purely overrun by Creativity?

Logan frowned at the ceiling. He would have to concede to Deceit — his theory made sense, the more Logan considered it.

Deceit looked from Logan to Patton, who was flapping his knees up and down while he sat. When he met Deceit’s eyes, he shrugged apologetically. Patton was still zipping slowly in and out of understanding; he’d always attributed that to the Imagination because, well, that’s just how the Imagination had always been for him. And implying that Roman’s imagination would be hurting them? That didn’t make sense! Roman would never, he wasn’t evil!

“I just thought it was ‘cause it was the Imagination. I wouldn’t want to change anything about what Roman’s making. Plus, Roman always talks about how creation doesn’t make sense, ya know,” he fixed his glasses and held his legs with both hands.

“Does it not, or does Roman think it wouldn’t make sense to us?” Deceit asked. The uncertainty that passed over Patton’s face was interrupted by a cold question.

“What doesn’t make sense to you?”

Deceit and Patton both looked over to the door, where the Artist had returned from the other room. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, posture rigid.

Numbly, Deceit wondered how much he’d heard. The Artist met his gaze with a hardened glare, but nodded to the other room. “Thief wants to talk to you,” he stated, “Just you. And I wanna talk to Logan and Patton.”

The Artist had heard enough to be vaguely upset that they were talking about him behind his back.

Deceit sighed and climbed off of the coffee table finally. He’d die before sitting in a seat correctly.

“Fine. Maybe they’ll understand what I’m trying to say,” he stated, giving Patton a look that plainly read ‘Think about it or I’ll stab you with this sword.’

You know what, Patton took back the thing about Deceit being an actor. That anger was thinly veiled at best.

But he also loved him.

So Patton smiled at Deceit and blew him a small kiss.

He absolutely hadn’t expected Deceit’s eyes to widen, nor for him to walk straight into the wall beside the hallway and sputter in indignation.

Deceit slid into the other room quickly, avoiding the Artist. Which was fine. Completely. Fine.

The Artist walked back and sat down on the ground, beside Patton. He leaned his head back and nudged Logan’s hip. “Your head still hurt, Cranium Command?” he asked, voice much softer and….was that guilt?

Well, they couldn’t have the Artist blaming himself for a quandary he had no hand in. Plus, that was quite the Disney-rooted nickname, and Logan couldn’t deny that he was pleased with it. He shook his head with a quiet hum. “A little, but not as forcefully.”

“That’s good. Uh,” the Artist held one of his knees, letting the other leg straighten out beneath the table, “Playwright actually wanted me to ask why you haven’t looked at his book more often.”

“Oh?”

“Worm?” Patton added.

The Artist snorted, giving him a soft smile and nudging his arm. This Roman was real different, in Patton’s mind. So quiet and unsure of himself outside of the persona he’d built for himself, that of a worker. His smiles were like those tiny ones Roman would give, when wrapped beneath his arms, or when receiving praise for a job well done.

He unthinkingly straightened the strings on the Artist’s hoodie, humming quietly, and the Artist took one of his hands.

Before anything else, though, Logan grunted. Both of them scooted forward, letting Logan swing his legs carefully between them. “Let us peruse this book, then,” he murmured, taking the book from his coat once more.

“Oh, yeah, THAT book!” Patton said, pointing to it.

His hand lowered as they saw the cover.

“Woah,” the Artist murmured, “Interesting design. I would have coated everything in the same level of golden foil, though. It’s a little unbalanced right now.”

Every bit of Roman’s crest was visible to some extent, indicating that they’d met everyone. That must mean, Logan realized, Virgil met the Damsel. He didn’t know if that alleviated some of his worries about never finding that particular Roman, or if it worried him that the center tower of the castle was the most blank portion of the entire crest.

Should he point it all out? Would that be awkward, with the Artist present? The ocean’s (or was it a lake, because of the lake outside of the town’s walls) waves were present as a flat yellow color, not glittering but at least with vibrantly visible lines. The most bold part, glowing golden, was still the central spiralling sun.

A part of Logan’s chest loosened, knowing that they hadn’t failed the Child, that he still believed in them all. In all honesty, seeing the entire crest, even the Dragon’s thin golden castle wall outlines, comforted some part of him that was worried they’d never reassemble Roman.

Pattn pressed a finger to the cover.

“What’s this all mean again?” he asked, brow furrowing in concentration.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what the entire book was for. Which was super bad, considering the Playwright had given it to them yesterday.

In his defense, though, it’d been a LONG, long, long, long, long day.

This was definitely going to get awkward. Logan didn’t particularly care, though; if the Artist had qualms with it, he would have to take it up with the Playwright. “The cover indicates how much we’ve ‘convinced’ every form of Roman that we appreciate his existence,” Logan explained.

“Ah.” The Artist’s voice was eerily level.

“Oh, yeah! Wow, the Child really likes us,” Patton drew his finger along the outer edge of the crest, a thin line of ink in the indentation that was barely glowing, “What’s who?”

“We broke it up ourselves, I’m the waves,” the Artist pointed out himself, intrigue growing as he looked over the cover once more, “Interesting. I, uh. Wow. Interesting plot device.”

“That is likely why the Playwright is upset with me not using it as often. I did not expect this excursion to last for long, nor for it to go as fast as it is,” Logan rubbed the back of his neck, gently rubbing the spot where his neck connected to his skull.

The motion was not missed by Patton. “D’ya want a massage while you read?” he offered, standing up slowly.

Ah. Logan blinked up at Patton’s blurry face. Had he been able to see, he would have seen the gentle and ultimately fond smile he wore. “That would be lovely, Patton. Thank you,” he leaned forward and took his glasses from the table, slipping them back on as Patton climbed up onto the couch, sitting on the top of it behind Logan.

His hands rested gently on Logan’s shoulders, then slid closer to his neck. A good call, to start with — oh, Patton was so gentle. Logan let the tension leave his shoulders and tried to focus on the book. If he thought too hard about the fact that Patton was intimately touching his shoulders….AND, if he thought about how much he was being touched currently, with the Artist’s head resting on his thigh, Patton’s hands on his back…

He straightened his back a little more and sniffed. Too many emotions today.

“Looks like Bard’s bein’ a little bratty baby,” the Artist pointed to the mountains, dim in the crest’s background.

“His apprehension is valid. Trust should be earned,” Logan responded, raising his eyebrow at the Artist’s quoting, “I find that it is surprising that Dragon trusts us at all. Perhaps Virgil has spoken with him. If we were ranking….”

His eyes flicked to the Artist, who raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Give us your top seven Roman belief list,” he said, as though trying to comfort Logan’s worry.

“I’d like to hear, those lines do kinda look the same to me,” Patton added from behind, knees on either side of Logan’s shoulders giving him an awkwardly placed squeeze.

The succor helped, at least. Logan blinked in place of a nod and looked back at the cover. “It appears that Child trusts us most, followed by you. Then it is Thief, and then Bard, then Playwright, Dragon, and Damsel.”

Patton sighed. He was still upset that the Playwright was feeling so disconnected from them. He’d actually been looking forward to spending some downtime with him, have an open discussion about what he wanted. Last time must have been dragged down by the need to, what’d he say?

Provide exposition. Yeah!

After all, Patton didn’t want to leave him waiting in the wings.

He snorted to himself, leaning forward and almost pressing his head to Logan’s, before he stopped mid motion. That’d be bad, they had boundaries and all! He straightened up and cleared his throat.

Playwright needed his turn in the spotlight.

Patton let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.

“Well,” the Artist hummed, after they’d both starred at the cover for a few quiet seconds, “Open it.”

Ah. Right. Logan flicked the book open. The Artist said “ah” quietly and added, “Playwright mentioned the Author’s Notes. Didn’t say anything about reading it, but I’d recommend reading something with notes from him.”

That was the first section added. Logan suspected that that had been originally crossed off, before they even found the town, because it was written directly below the scribbled out section. He flipped the book’s pages, expecting only a few notes. Why would the Playwright write them authors’ notes if he was planning to visit them?

The answer was more clear when he reached the page. The Artist whistled low, and Patton winced. “Oh, boy,” he murmured above Logan’s head.

Logan simply didn’t react.

The pages were full of notes, some scribbled out, some written large, some written hastily, some blotted out with water. Perhaps tears? The first note was written clearly, marked with a date and time even.

“I hope you understand, but I would prefer not to enter the Imagination. I like to remove myself from the narrative. :)”

Of course, a Hamilton reference. Logan chuckled quietly and continued reading the notes aloud.

“Now that you’ve found the Thief’s tree, it shouldn’t be too hard to locate the other figments. Do you need assistance?”

“Please?”

“It’s crossed out?” Patton asked, pointing to the note.

Logan nodded. “Yes, it is. Do you know why?” he directed the last part to the Artist and was met with a shrug. The strikeouts only continued, some in thick scribbles, but others in neat and crisp lines that left the words semi-legible beneath.

“Apparently not. These notes may be useless, butThen again, it’s not like Roman the Bard, the Thief, and the Child are good at hiding. The Damsel will be most difficult to find.”

“Good call with the guards. I miss you all already. I think I gave you a pen, in your coat? Or you could just speak. I’ll hear you.”

“Please, tell Patton to not worry too much. Virgil and Deceit have found the Thief and are enroute to his tree; they will be safe. I would actually recommend going there instead of staying with the Artist. He is difficult to handle, at best, and atrocious at worst.”

The Artist scoffed and pointed at the note. “Go write a chorus,” he hissed, turning to the sky and flipping it off.

“Roman!” Patton scolded him, stopping his massaging and putting a hand over the Artist’s. While the Artist rolled his eyes, Logan continued.

“And you’re going to the Artist’s house. I would recommend that you don’t speak ill of his paintings, they’re all he has to live for.”

“I know I said I didn’t want to come to the Imagination, but the Artist is speaking ill of you, and I’m going to go fight him. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“You know, you’re allowed to pass this book to any of the others, too, Logan. It’s not just for you. I know you’re obsessed in love with might eat fond of books, but I would prefer this book in the hands of someone who will interact with it.”

“That’s absurd. Who would he have had me pass this book onto?” Logan mumbled, rubbing his jaw.

The Artist shrugged. “He was probably getting emo. Sad you weren’t reading his dumb lil’ book, as though it’s not the most useless method of communication ever. What kinda video game tutorial.”

“It’s pretty stylish, though. I like it!” Patton said with a grin.

“What’s the point of even warning you about that if you’re not going to read this to notice.”

“I guess you’re never going to read this.”

Logan hummed quietly. It was getting more and more distressing.

“Why would you? Roman’s only a nuisance. And I’m part of him, aren’t I. Can’t hide that!”

“I promise I’m not just a nuisance. I’m better. I’m the better one. Right?”

“Roman’s better.”

“Oh, God, what if being a nuisance is so crucial to being Roman that all of us are nuisances. That would make sense, given how ridiculous this whole situation is. We’re such idiots. I’m such an idiot, why would I listen

“I guess I’m not going to succeed at this contest! I’m not dumb enough to be Roman. Hah!”

“It’s almost a solace that no one’s ever going to read this.”

“Team Work makes the Dream Work. Cute. Tell Virgil that’s cute. I love him.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at the Artist. I’ll tell him myself soon, but I also wanted to tell you, because Patton and Logan heard. I want to be useful, somehow.”

“The most striking difference between Roman and I is” the following text was so scribbled out it was illegible. Everything was crossed out. Red lines were appearing on all of the text, actually.

“He’s crossing it all out right now,” Patton mumbled into Logan’s hair.

He’d given up rubbing his shoulders and was now simply sitting atop the couch, legs cradling Logan’s shoulders.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you’ve written,” Logan said, seemingly to no one. Neither of them, at least.

The Artist looked up at him.

“If you would like to speak honestly to us, then please do. I understand that trust must be earned, but how can we prove ourselves trustworthy without any chances to do so? You have been incredibly helpful. These notes would have been indicative of the path we should have taken, and it’s on us….it is my fault that we did not know,” Logan drummed his fingers against the book’s side, “We would like to talk with you more. And not just through a book.”

The lines stopped. The Artist sat up, watching the page, then looking up at Logan. His lip was quirked up slightly; he knew what he’d said.

A small arrow appeared on the bottom of the page, pointing to the edge of the book. Logan flipped the page.

At the top of the new blank page was more writing.

“Thanks for checking eventually.”

“It is my pleasure. My one concern with the book was that it would provide information we already knew,” Logan felt Patton squeeze his shoulders with his knees, “For example, the Dragon’s section is fairly nondescript. However, if you are uncomfortable with entering this level of the Imagination directly, then we can surely communicate via the book.”

More writing appeared, then was smudged.

They could almost imagine the Playwright swearing at himself for smudging the ink.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Not taking more chances, hm. Logan hummed, patting the book.

“Thank you for your ingenuity,” he responded.

Patton turned his attention to the Artist, while Logan comforted the Playwright by speaking to the air. It seemed that they didn’t need the pen, after all. The Artist was starring hard at the book, jaw set in an angry disgruntlement.

“Hey, Artist?”

“Mh?” he looked up at Patton, pushing his glasses up tiredly.

There was still something Patton couldn’t really understand about the Playwright’s writings. He slid down beside the Artist and held open an arm, an offering for if the Artist wanted a hug.

To which he shook his head with an apologetic frown. Not much of a hugger. Patton smiled, that was okay, and patted the Artist’s knee.

“What did he mean, about not being Roman?” he asked. “I thought all of you were Roman.”

The Artist frowned and, for a second, Patton was a little worried he didn’t understand what he was asking. But then the Artist seemed to have a lightbulb moment, eyes lighting with understanding, before he scowled again.

“I don’t really….know, know. The whole point of all of this is that we WERE Roman,” the Artist rubbed the back of his neck, looking sidelong at the door, “I mean, the ways we’re connected to him differ. And the, uh, the levels of how much we exist as being in Thomas’ mind versus as Imagination creations is wild. I don’t know how real we are in terms of being real parts of Roman. It’s kinda hard to explain.”

“Sounds like it,” Patton nodded sympathetically, “Some of y’all don’t feel like Roman?”

The Artist shook his head. “I’d argue that none of us feel like Roman. Not really. We just all want to feel like Roman, so we say we do. One of us’ gotta be Roman enough, right?”

Alright, now he lost Patton. Before he could ask further, though, the door at the end of the hall banged open as the Bard jumped out, startling the other three.

“Whoops!” he called and lunged into the room with one leg, “Sorry about that, darlings, but we need you in the room pronto.”

“Fine. Maybe they’ll understand what I’m trying to say,” Deceit turned around and slid into the room.

Of all things he expected to find, it was not the Bard and the Thief cuddling like a married couple, especially in light of their argument earlier. The Thief’s cloak and shirt were hanging on the nearby coat rack, chest wrapped in thick layers of bandages. They were leaned closer to each other, whispering about something, something about the ball that night. Deceit raised an eyebrow and coughed to get their attention.

Both simply looked up at him, neither concerned about their positioning. Honestly, figures.

“Heyyy,” the Bard sang, beckoning Deceit in with a hand, “Come sit!”

Deceit squinted at them and grabbed the chair across from the couch. He spun it around and sat backwards in it, legs straddling the backrest. Once he’d leaned over the backrest, one hand wrapped around it while the other held up his head, he spoke. “You called?”

“Yeah,” the Thief shifted, patting the Bard’s side as he sat up, pulling no punches, “You kissed us?”

Ah. Welp. Deceit immediately shot the Bard a glare, opening his mouth to reprimand him, but the Thief interrupted. “No, no, he didn’t tell me. He just, uh, well,” they shared a worried look before the Thief turned back to Deceit, “He confirmed what I thought. We all felt it.”

Deceit recoiled, confused mostly. “You all what?”

“Felt your kiss,” the Thief’s cheeks turned red as he scooted himself up, the Bard stuffing pillows behind him and hissing unintelligibly at him, though he was too engrossed in the conversation to notice. “Me, Child, Dragon, we were all in a scuffle when we felt someone kiss our cheek. Couldn’t have been Logan or Virgil, might have been Patton but Bard said it was you.”

The Bard clenched his teeth in worry and made a so-so hand motion. “Guess I did tell him one teensy thing,” he said.

“How does….how did you feel it?” Deceit’s brows pinched as he took out his notepad again, looking down at what he’d written, “Is it something to do with the whole ‘we’re all Roman’ thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was trying to tell you, Ponyboy, it means we’re gonna be whole soon!” the Bard gently punched the Thief’s arm, then threw his arm around him and laughed.

Deceit raised an eyebrow at them, but his expression went unnoticed at first. He scribbled something down about how fast the Bard and Thief made up after their argument — perhaps they were compatible sides of each other?

No, no way, not after the arguing.

“Pony boy?” the Thief asked, frowning at the Bard.

Who winked at him and stuck his tongue out. “Stay gold,” he whispered.

The Thief groaned and shoved his shoulder, prompting the Bard to laugh. He wrapped his arms around the Thief’s waist gingerly, below his bandages. Had he any strength, the Thief would have pushed him off, but he opted for a tired eye roll and level glare.

Deceit clapped to get their attention, because no facial expressions were interrupting whatever was happening here. “Moving past that,” he made a ‘continue’ hand gesture, “Care to explain what ‘going to be whole’ means?”

The Bard rested his head on the Thief’s shoulder with a wide grin. His eyes would have sparkled if they — no wait, there, they were sparkling. “I’ve got a hunch that all that we need to bring us together is a little bit of love!”

“And I,” the Thief said, putting one hand on the Bard’s face and pushing him off slowly, “Think that’s one of the dumbest suggestions possible.”

The Bard scowled at him, nudging him with his hip. “Oh, you know what I’m talking about! It’s like true love’s kiss! True love’s kiss solves everything!”

True love’s kiss. A fairytale ending for a fairytale adventure?

Deceit hated it.

“No.” True love? Get out of here with that. He had barely believed in love as a general concept before coming into the Imagination, he wasn’t ready to commit to TRUE love.

Plus he’d already kissed one Roman on the cheek today and that was enough. He’d like to be kissing the real Roman next, but, well. Maybe he wasn’t ready for it? Either way, Deceit’s entire being was telling him to not.

He’d admitted QUITE a bit in the past, what. Hour? Two hours? And he wasn’t keen on anything else. It made his stomach churn.

The Thief was semi-on his side, as he shot the Bard a glare. “This isn’t a fairytale, Bard.”

“Oh, isn’t it, Flynn Rider?”

“Either way, that’s gonna take Deceit spilling the tea,” the Thief held up a finger at the Bard and turned to Deceit. “What happened?”

Deceit raised his eyebrow. “Oh, you just want me to tell you?”

“Uh. Yeah,” the Thief waved his hands around, “What else?”

Deceit crossed his arms. He didn’t want to disclose this fact; not of his own volition, at least, and not just yet. He’d been so upfront with Logan and Patton that he wasn’t sure how much more emotional validation he could withstand today without crying or something. “Why would I?”

“To prove him wrong,” the Thief jerked a thumb back at the Bard.

“To prove me right!” and the Bard preened, putting his hands beneath his chin and giving Deceit an award winning smile.

“No.”

Both Romans frowned. “No?” the Bard asked, “Wait, I was literally there, you DID!”

“Maybe you saw wrong?” oh, God, they were going to argue again.

“I didn’t see wrong! I—”

“Fine,” Deceit snapped, interrupting their squabbles, “Yes, I kissed the Artist on the cheek, but I don’t know anything about making you all whole. I don’t know what you want of me.”

The Thief and Bard had certainly shifted. Now the Bard was sitting on the top of the couch, legs crossed and back resting on the wall, while the Thief was laying across the couch still, legs kicked up and nudging the Bard’s knees.

They both froze, looking at Deceit through his confession. The Thief cleared his throat and propped himself up on his elbows, scooting back to lay on the armrest. “Deceit, buddy, I just wanna make sure this isn’t the answer. We want you to kiss us again.”

“If you wanted a kiss, you could have just said so,” he fixed his gloves, trying not to look at either of the Romans too directly. “Why go through all these lengths for something that means nothing?”

“Means….nothing?” the Bard’s voice was so small.

“Yes, it’s just a kiss,”

“A kiss means everything!” the Bard snapped. He jumped up, standing on the couch with one foot on the backrest and one on the armrest, towering above. “When you kissed us, we all felt it, and it felt...it felt like something. It felt like we were whole in the moment, but….”

“See, you can’t even describe the feeling,” the Thief scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly, “Ridiculous.”

“If you’re just going to argue again, can I go?” Deceit asked, annoyance clear.

He’d thought these two Romans may be compatible, but it seemed that even they couldn’t agree on anything. At least they were still being civil. At least. Who knew how long that would last?

Both of them looked up at him and said “Wait,” with similar levels of desperation. Deceit put his hands up in mock-surrender, tired of their, of Roman’s, antics. It’d been a long day, could you really blame him?

“We,” the Thief started, eyes flicking to the Bard, who nodded for him to speak as he slid down to sit on the armrest, “We thought it’d be best to. Disclose. That Roman loves. All of you.”

His teeth grew more gritted as the confession came out. The Bard looked back at Deceit and nodded vigorously, clasping his hands to his chest and standing. He leaned down in front of Deceit, ignoring how Deceit leaned back, and met his eye-level. “Roman loves all four of you. I love all four of you, so, so much that it hurts,” he whispered.

Deceit watched his eyes, watched them glimmer with unseen red and gold, and steeled his expression. That wasn’t necessarily as big of a surprise as it was a confession. It was like a breath of fresh air, the truth. He didn’t always get to see it so blatantly.

Truth to Deceit was like high percentage alcohol. It was incredibly bad in large quantities, and was an acquired taste, but he could partake. And sometimes it was nice. But today had held a lot of hard truths and a lot of bare feelings, and he wasn’t sure how much he could take of this rampant exposure.

It was all given honesty, though, and given trust. He couldn’t fight that. Not when Roman was so disassembled, and not when it was about something he’d never dared to dream of.

“I am….glad,” Deceit stated, trying to figure out how to word it right.

The Thief frowned, and the Bard leaned back, a blank expression overtaking his face. Perhaps those weren’t the right words. They exchanged a look and the Bard shuffled slowly toward the door.

“Bard thought we should tell you, just in case. That just means Dragon loves you all, too. He won’t hurt Virgil,” the Thief said.

Deceit frowned. Hang on.

Hang on, there, because that contradicted what he’d said earlier.

“You said that Dragon wanted to dismember us,” he asked.

The Thief nodded. “I don’t know now. He, uh. He was pretty adamant about just hurting me and Child, so it’s a hunch on my part.”

“I don’t think he will,” the Bard’s voice had softened.

Deceit glanced at him, catching a tired smile. He waved back at Deceit, then gestured with his thumb to the door. “I’m going to get the others. We should plan for the ball tonight, right? Planning? That’s a thing?”

“It is,” Deceit said, pursing his lips.

He couldn’t help but feel that he’d said something wrong, as the Bard dashed out of the room.

“This whole separation thing’s been hard,” Deceit looked back at the Thief, who was tracing shapes with his finger against his leg.

“I can imagine. It’s confusing for us, it must only get easier,” he hummed, then leaned over on his knee, “You’re trusting Bard now?”

The Thief gave him a small glare, noncommittal enough that he gave up after a seconds and looked away. “I’m….not Roman. Not fully. So I don’t have all the answers. Bard’s got some.”

Not Roman.

Of course. They shouldn’t have been putting their trust in any one or two singular Romans. Each of the Romans was just as Roman as the next.

Okay, he should stop thinking Roman’s name, because it was starting to sound less like a word. That fell in line, though, with his prior conclusion about the Imagination. Things were falling apart without any control in here, things that Creativity should be able to control, things that wouldn’t typically hurt the other Sides.

Deceit frowned, and wrote down another question. Curses; that oversight was on him. He’d tend to it at another time, though. For now…. “Thief?”

“Mh?” the Thief looked up, eyes half lidded with boredom.

Deceit’s lip quirked up in just the tiniest of smiles. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

The Thief’s eyes widened at first, but then he fell back into a comforting smile. “Thanks, Riddler. Let’s get this show on the road.”

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