#I will try to queue some caps today or tomorrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 16

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.3k

Recommended song: “The Thrill” by Wiz Khalifa & Empire of the Sun

Your Saturday gets off to a great start when you spot Sylvie lurking in the corner of the garage. The woman pointedly raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you, the simple action setting you on edge. You glare at her in return, having none of it while Pierre suits up.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Pierre places his cap backwards on your head. You smile, adjusting it so it's out of your eyes.

"I will." You glance over his shoulder before chastely kissing his cheek. You'd deal with Sylvie later; Pierre didn't need any distractions when he was about to get out on track.

"Nope, not acceptable." Pierre kisses your lips, completely unaware of the shit you'd likely catch as soon as he was gone because of it.

You sigh and take half a step back. Having none of it, Pierre places a knuckle under your chin, tipping your face towards him.

"Sylvie making you nervous?" The pad of his thumb sweeping over your jaw gives you something solid to focus on. "I can ask her to leave if she is."

You shake your head. "Not nervous, no. But she's getting under my skin."

Pierre sets down his helmet and waves off Pyry who tries to shove it back in his hands, prepared to address the matter and hash out a solution immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not a big deal," you try, "I can tell you after practice. You've only got a few minutes until lights out."

"I want to know now, mon amour."

Fighting was pointless. He would stand here until you spilled the beans so you might as well get it over with so he could get out on track. "Fine. Sylvie cornered me Thursday and asked me to lay low this weekend because of some interview you did. She gave me a copy of it but I didn't read it. She said it's bad for your image to be seen doting on me when you've got races to win."

Pierre blinks, head swiveling in slow motion. Sylvie watches your interaction like a hawk, waiting for either of you to slip up. "And you kept this to yourself?"

"I didn't want to distract you. You've got a job to do." A blush creeps up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks. "Sylvie was mad enough at me, I didn't want her in your face too."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's bullshit. I stood up for you. That's why she's pissed. I told them you were just as important to me as racing."

Your heart somersaults in your chest. "You said that in an interview? Pierre, that's-"

Pierre drops Sylvie's stare and meets yours. "I love you and I won't apologize for it. I don't have time to talk to her now though- are you okay being here with her until after practice?"

"I'll be okay as long as you top the time charts," you tell him, a smile playing on your lips. When you'd gotten back together you had told yourself nothing would come between the two of you again, up to and including nosy PR agents who couldn't keep their hands out of your business.

"I will, just for you." Helmet in hand, he pecks your cheek before heading to the car. Pierre shoots Sylvie a glare and says something to Pyry before clambering into the car.

Pyry doesn't leave your side for the entirety of practice, chasing off Sylvie each time she tries to approach you. Pierre nearly tops the charts, sitting second fastest on the famed street circuit. Only Max clocked a faster time, which didn't surprise anyone. Pierre's side of the garage erupts when he is wheeled inside and is met with claps on the back and wide smiles from his team.

Confidence radiates from him as he peels off his helmet and thanks his team. A grin from ear to ear splits his face as he makes his way to you before he even bothers to unzip his suit. Before you know it he's swept you in his arms and planted a kiss on your lips.

"It's not first, but I'll take second if you're waiting here when I get back."

"It's only practice," you remind him, swiping away a bead of sweat from his neck with the pad of your thumb. "But you drive like that for quali in a few hours and you might get your first pole."

"What did I tell you?" Sylvie hisses, ruining the moment and sending you crashing back to earth.

Instead of falling into line, Pierre's grip on your waist tightens. "Leave her alone, Sylvie."

"This isn't good for you," the woman insists. "People are saying you've gone soft-"

"I don't care what they say. My results speak for themselves." And they did. Second fastest today in practice, despite Monaco being a track that Pierre generally had a poor record at. "When I start slipping to the back of the pack you can talk to me about it. But even then it's out of your wheelhouse. I don't care what the gossip columns have to say about me-"

Pierre breaks off and you can see the pieces clicking in his head. "You've never cared either, not even when I got demoted. Horner put you up to this, didn't he?"

Sylvie straightens under the weight of Pierre's question, good enough as giving him an answer. "I have a job to do."

"And so do I." His words freeze over, his attitude icy. "How about you back off and let me do it? I don't need another person breathing down my neck. And she certainly doesn't either. And you know what? I'll make you a deal. If I win tomorrow, you leave us alone and keep your nose out of my personal life."

"You'll thank me when your name is out of the tabloids." Bewildered, you stare after her until Pierre's lips meet your temple, the simple gesture sending a tingle down your spine.

"I wish it was easier for us," you murmur, placing a hand on his broad chest as if you were the only two in the garage. "But as long as I have you, it's worth the fight."

"Don't let it get to you. You make me a better racer, no matter what anyone says. You taught me that I have something to fight for. You're the one that picks me up when I don't think I can make it. Without you, I probably would've blown my chance at taking seventh in the championship."

"And I'm the one that tells you when it's time to get your ass back in the car and race your heart out." You grin up at him, not caring for a second who was watching this time when you kiss him. "I expect you to be a pole sitter next time you're back in this garage. I might have already told my mom it was happening, so don't make me a liar."

"If I take pole, will you wear my cap again tonight? Just my cap?"

"That could be arranged."

**********

Pierre may not have taken pole, but qualifying fifth was more than enough reason to treat him to fulfilling his request. With only the Red Bulls, Charles and Hamilton ahead of him, you were confident he could at minimum hold his position, and at best his team would come up with a strategy that saw him undercut one or two of the guys ahead and put him on the podium.

As usual, Pierre gets to the circuit a few hours early to clear his head and walk the track one last time. Since it’s not a mandatory part of his race preparation, you take the opportunity to walk with him. The clouds part just enough for the sun to shine down on him, practically glowing in the light. Apparently not even the celestial bodies were immune to his beauty, coming out solely to appease him. Your gaze eats up the curve of his throat as he tips his head back to enjoy the golden rays warming his skin.

“Beau Rivage,” he murmurs as you come up to the right hand bend. “One of the few spots for overtaking, if you’re lucky.” Pierre studies the pavement, noting where patches of gravel had built up and toeing them with his shoe. His commitment was something to behold; not even Max could be bothered with a track walk on Wednesday, and forget about waking up with the dawn to participate in an optional one on race day.

Pierre was different though, throwing himself into the sport and refusing to commit anything less than a hundred percent. That commitment was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place and continued to be something you admired. You missed him when you were apart, but hearing the thrill in his voice when he spoke about racing lines or braking points never failed to remind you that he was living his dream and you would never stand in his way.

You thread your fingers through his, soaking it in as he walks you through the track. This wasn’t an opportunity you had often and you were determined to embrace and enjoy it.

“Massenette and Casino Square. This braking zone is tricky, if you go too wide you’ll lose seconds of time and probably a good chunk of your front wing, unless by some miracle you miss the barrier.”

Having little to offer to his assessment, you rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. You try to see the track through his eyes, picturing the cockpit around you as you attempt to pick out an adequate braking point.

You continue on in amiable silence, stopping once or twice so Pierre can take pictures with fans and chat with them. Eventually you come to a corner you recognize, one of the most infamous.

“I know this one.” You puff out your chest, holding an imaginary microphone to your lips. “The Lowes hairpin. Slowest corner on the calendar. The cars decelerate to 65 kph, a feat achieved nowhere else.”

Pierre throws his head back and laughs, making your heart stutter. You never wanted to go another day without hearing the full-bellied sound, rich and rife with more happiness than should be humanly possible. “You only know that because Crofty and Brundle bring that up every race, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You beam back at him when he shakes his head, the action more to say I knew it than to express disappointment. Because he could never be disappointed in you, especially not for taking an interest in what he loved. You tended to queue up archived races to listen to in the background as you studied, meaning it was inevitable that some of the quips from the commentators rubbed off on you sooner or later.

“Now this is my favorite,” Pierre says, adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“The swimming pool chicaines? Why?” They were considered boring by most racers, flat out but navigable by muscle memory if you’d had enough practice.

Pierre’s self assured grin leaves you in a puddle on the pavement. “Cause I’ll be jumping in that pool today, and I’m taking you with me.”

"I don't think so." You point to the hoodie you wore, one that you had stolen from his closet ages ago and since refused to give back under any circumstances. "I'm in irreplaceable gear. I don't want to ruin it."

Pierre rolls his eyes, dropping your hand in favor of slinging an arm around your shoulders. "I love it when you wear my clothes. My hat yesterday, my hoodie today, anything really. I love having that claim on you."

"If only I could get you to wear some of mine," you muse as the pit boxes come into view.

"If you ask nicely, I'd consider it."

The garage is thrumming with anticipation before Pierre even enters. Checo’s engine penalty is all anyone can talk about, his subsequent start from the pit lane meant Pierre would effectively move up a place and start fourth.

Pierre is whisked away as soon as Tost spots him, the warm old man greeting you before stealing your boyfriend away. You know your way around well enough to be comfortable, staking out your spot along the back wall to observe the team's preparations. The early wake up call was quickly catching up with you however, your lack of movement causing you to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand.

"You look like you could use a coffee."

A young woman about your age steps into your line of sight and holds out a steaming foam cup. "Er, sure, thanks."

"Alana," she says, sticking her hand out for you to shake. "I'm one of the junior engineers for the team. I've seen you around once or twice, I figured it was about time I introduced myself."

"Thank you for the coffee, Alana." You lift the cup in mock salute and take a sip, the contents rich and flavorful. "I swear, I don't know what you guys lace this with, but it's addictive as hell."

The two of you share a laugh that earns you a few confused glances. "I think we're gonna be great friends," she says, tapping her own cup against yours. "It's nice to see another woman around the paddock. Sometimes it gets a little testosterone heavy."

You nod, taking another swig. You can practically feel the caffeine working, already a little more alert than you were minutes ago.

"It's great luck."

"Pierre moving up a place?"

Alana laughs, her ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "No, I meant you being able to attend the race. You picked the best weekend to be trackside, the podium celebrations are the best."

Pierre startles you by snaking an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek.

"There's our star," Alana says, her smile bright and optimistic. "Better bring your team another trophy! The next one is going in the engineering department, they already have a little plaque made up and everything. I can see it right from my desk."

"Oh I'll bring one home," he replies, his hand casually grazing your ass as he moves to stand beside you. "I already promised her I would and I'm a man of my word."

"I know you will."

"You have those time tables I asked about?"

"They're in the engineering suite." Alana hooks a thumb over her shoulder and smiles at you. "You're welcome to come back with us. He concentrates better when you're around anyway."

"Are you sure?" Red Bull never let you anywhere near proprietary data. You and any of Max's guests had always been corralled into the vip suite with the occasional venture down into the garage when they were wrapping up.

"You're part of the family," Alana explains as if it was obvious. "Of course I'm sure."

Pierre grins and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. His team knew he wanted you near and they were willing to bend the rules to make it happen. "We'll try not to bore you to death."

You sit through a half hour worth of numbers and codes you didn't understand, your arm slung around the back of Pierre's chair. He offers tidbits and asks questions while Alana and the other engineers walk him through scenarios, ensuring he has everything down. The way he spoke was quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, aside from post race Pierre with his sweaty hair sticking up in every direction and an adrenaline infused smile on his red cheeks.

Before you know it the two of you are ushered off to his driver's room, Pierre changing into his fireproofs and suit while you treat yourself to some of the snacks lying about. Pyry knocks just as Pierre zips his suit up to his chin.

"Hunt 'em down," you say, resting your forehead to his and stealing a moment for the two of you.

"Always do."

And god, does he ever.

Ten laps in, Hamilton is complaining about the balance of his Mercedes, the gap between himself and Max is only a few seconds and rapidly decreasing. The headphones you wear allow you to catch snips of driver radio and team communications, and you gather that Hamilton is slowly losing power. No one is sure if it's an electronics issue or an engine issue but they aren't complaining either.

Flawless pit stops from most teams see little shift in track positions, Pierre still holding fast to P4 a little over halfway through the seventy eight laps. Alpha's stellar strategy sees him rejoin fifth after sliding into the pits for a set of mediums to take him to the end of the race.

"Gap to Norris three seconds ahead," comes the voice in your ear.

Pierre clings tight to the rear of Lando's papaya McLaren ahead, using DRS to his advantage and practically toying with the younger racer, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Three short laps later, Pierre skirts around the McLaren at Beau Rivage and reclaims fourth.

Hamilton's ability to stretch tire performance to the maximum means he gets ten more laps before he's in the pits, Max closing in on his track position. The Mercedes crew stumbles, the pit stop more than twice as long as it should be, and Hamilton rejoins fourth.

"In the podium places," Pierre's engineer states.

Seconds later, white smoke pours from Max's Red Bull and he pulls off, causing a yellow flag and bunching up the pack.

P2, with only the Ferrari standing between Pierre and a win.

"Easy pickings Pierre, choose your moment."

Your heart pounds and your nails bite into your palms as Pierre goes around the outside at the hairpin, the entire garage shouting when he somehow gets away clean and the Monegasque backs off enough for Pierre to take the lead.

"P1 mate, two laps to go, two laps."

Pierre's brisk copy tells you all you need to know. He wasn't about to let this win slip through his fingers. Neck craned up at the screen, you watch as Pierre fights tooth and nail to fend off his friend, gasping audibly when a slight lockup nearly causes the two to collide around a chicane.

When he crosses the line, all you hear is a staticy scream.

Pierre Gasly, you are a Monaco Grand Prix winner!

It almost doesn't feel real how everyone around you begins jostling for the podium, their momentum carrying you along. A combination of luck and skill had seen him skyrocket to the top.

When you finally catch a glimpse of him in parc ferme, he stands atop the halo, arms spread wide amongst the deafening cheers of both Red Bull sister teams. Pressed between sweaty bodies, his team all push to the front to be the ones to congratulate him.

You blink back hot tears. Pierre had fought incredibly hard to be on that top step, not just today but the entire season. Being demoted from Red Bull last year had been a backhanded blow, one that when coupled with his insistence on going back to the team in the future had warranted a feeding frenzy of media that ebbed and flowed as rumors surfaced. He'd been under the microscope ever since, struggling to keep his head above water but managing to come out on top.

Someone pushes you forward just as he takes off his helmet, his grin wild and unrestrained. Your mouth is open, his name on the tip of your tongue when a hand closes around your arm.

"This isn't your moment," Sylive says, near shouting to be heard over the roar. "No one wants to see you up there in the frame. This is his podium, let the media see that."

This woman really wanted to be knocked out, didn't she?

"He just won the prix." Dumbfounded at her audacity, you shake your head. "Leave us alone, he won."

"He could win the championship and I would still tell you to back off. There's hundreds of cameras out there, do you even have it in you to hold yourself together when they're all flashing at you?"

If she had asked you that question a few months ago, the answer would have been no, absolutely not. Now that you'd been to hell and back it was an entirely different story. You could walk through the throng and come out the other side unscathed if you had your best friend and partner at your side. He would shield you for the worst of it, be their punching back in order to make the burden bearable.

"Sylvie, if you don't get your hands off me-"

"Oh, sure," she says, releasing you with a smile. "He's already gone anyway. I only needed a minute."

Brow furrowed, you investigate her claim to find the truth of it. Pierre was already being herded away towards the podium, toweling off the residual sweat and setting his helmet on the provided stand. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the podium, his baby blue eyes cloudy when they should have been sunny.

Pierre's team principal calls your name as the boys take their places on the steps, gesturing for you to join him at the barriers. "Where were you? He was looking for you."

"No, I know," you start, shaking your head and gazing up at your racer. "Sylvie has it in her head that I shouldn't be photographed with him-"

"Say no more," Tost says, then pauses as the crowd claps. "I've never liked her."

"You and me both," you say under your breath as the anthems play.

Pierre's hungry gaze scours the crowd for you, hands folded neatly behind his back while he bounces on his feet. When he finally spots you in Tost's shadow his shoulders straighten the tiniest bit, like he had been half expecting you to be absent. The pride in his posture is reflected in your smile, a fact that he picks up on and leverages to shine even brighter.

Absently, you register the shutter of a camera going off as you beam up at Pierre. Your winner locks eyes with you before popping the cork of his champagne and spraying his fellow podium sitters, Daniel and Charles, before taking a long swig. Daniel blows a kiss to his girlfriend who mimes catching it and tucking it away while Pierre simply wraps Charles in an embrace, marveling in their first shared Formula 1 podium.

Pierre is surprisingly the first to leave, stalking off with his trophy and bottle in hand before the cameras have even stopped rolling. You track his progress, the crowd slowing him like he was a marble trying to sink through molasses. His thanks are short, his smile tight as he makes his way to you, eyes locked on his target and utterly unwilling to yield.

You meet him at the barrier which you still haven't been allowed to cross thanks to security taking their job far too seriously. Pierre doesn't care, tucking his trophy under his arm and unhooking a section so that you can slip through.

A laugh bubbles out of you when he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning in circles. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him passionately, wholly aware of the cameras on you. This was your moment to share with him; your universe had narrowed to his arms around you and the sweat-slick skin beneath your fingers.

"Congratulations," you murmur against his lips. "How's it feel to be a Monaco grand prix winner?"

"Better now that I've gotten to hear you say it." The brim of his Pirelli cap gets in the way when he tries to kiss you again and he turns it around.

"You gonna celebrate tonight, race winner?" The endearment works just as you had wanted it to, pride and something more primal flashing in his eyes.

His voice drops, his wicked grin already causing heat to pool in your core. "I have a few ideas."

"Me too." Now that the crowd has disappeared somewhat, you grow bold and nip at his lower lip. It sends a thrill through you to rile him up so publicly, his fingers tightening on your hips in surprise.

"Mon amour, you stop that right now." The slight shake in his voice betrays his true feelings. "I still have to weigh in and debrief."

"Maybe I want you thinking of me while you're there." You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning when he gulps. "Thinking of all the things I'll let you do when you get back to the apartment. Charles will be gone all night partying with Ferrari, I'm sure. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"We've got a full night ahead of us." He grins, tongue darting out over his lips. "We've got the winners dinner too."

You tip your head to the side. "Winners dinner? I don't-"

Someone calls his name and you both look in their direction. A race official, clearly fed up with your little display of love, waves Pierre over.

"Duty calls." Reluctantly, Pierre sets you back on your feet and passes off the champagne before he retreats to answer questions or whatever it was the official needed from him.

Watching him walk away, all you can think about is getting him back to the apartment. But first, you'd drag it out as much as he'd let you.

*********

Pierre spends the entirety of the debrief locked in an unending battle between thinking of you in compromising positions and actually giving feedback to his team. It wasn't his fault that you planted the seed in his mind; he couldn't help but expand on what your dirty little lips had whispered in his ear once he finally found you after the podium.

"Okay, I think that's all we have. See you all at the pool in an hour," Alina says, and Pierre practically rips off his headset and sprints back to his driver's room. He bursts in without stopping to knock, earning him a yelp as you drop your phone on your face.

"Ow. A warning would be nice."

"I don't care," Pierre breathes, locking the door behind him and crossing to where you lay on the couch in a few long strides. "I've got an hour till I'm due to make an appearance for the cameras at the pool, care to make it memorable?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pick your phone back up and continue scrolling through it after giving him a once over. Leaving his race suit on and half undone served dual purposes: he didn't have to change again before the photo op at the pool and it drove you crazy. Apparently, his plan hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. "I kinda like seeing you all worked up."

"Come on," he practically whines, dropping to his knees to meet your glinting eyes. "Please?"

"I think you can wait." The corners of your mouth tug up and it's all he can do to resist leaning forward dragging your full bottom lip between his teeth. Energy still thrums through him, the adrenaline not yet faded.

Noting his stare, you roll your eyes. "Okay, one kiss-"

He doesn't let you finish, leaping on the opportunity to get a tiny sliver of what he wants. His tongue prods your lip and he groans when you open and allow him to explore. Hands glide over your hips while yours find his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin material of his fireproofs. Without breaking the kiss Pierre slots himself above you, a leg on either side of yours and caging your head between his forearms where they rest on the arm of the couch.

When he grinds his hips against yours in search of any sort of relief, you turn your head to the side. Pierre doesn't care, simply trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. The building could be burning to the ground around him and he wouldn't move, too enraptured by you to be bothered.

"Pierre, my love, be patient." You push lightly at his chest and he finally breaks away, chest heaving. God, he needed you. Hadn’t stopped thinking about you once since he crossed that finish line in first. "Where's that unwavering self restraint you show on the track?"

"I'm not racing." He possessed no self restraint when it came to you. In your presence every sane thought flew out the window, replaced by the sound of your laugh and the shape your mouth made when you said his name.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," you tease, the phrase jangling something loose in his brain. He had said the same thing months ago when your roles had been reversed. If he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head for uttering those words, he would.

Pierre sits up with a huff and pulls you into his lap. "No fair. I just won a race, at Monaco no less, and you're gonna tell me I have to wait when you're sitting here looking perfectly edible?"

You tip your head back and laugh. "I am, because I know you'll enjoy it more tonight."

"But we have the drivers dinner too-"

You put a finger to his lips, which he immediately bites softly. "Be patient. I know you can do it, big boy."

Pierre groans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to rest on your sternum. "I'm going to remember this."

Your traitorous fingers wind in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "How about a massage while you wait, hmm? Would that calm some of this energy you've got built up?"

"No," he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your chest. "That'll make it worse."

"Well then I think it's a perfect idea." Pierre makes you work for it, forcing you to peel his hands off your hips one at a time before you can stand. "Fireproofs off and on your tummy, come on then."

Pierre obeys, eagerly tossing his shirt across the room. He knew he'd regret it and your teasing would leave his head spinning, but anything that got him closer to you was acceptable.

"Lay down."

The command stirs something in his chest. He kisses you once before pillowing his arms under his head and allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your knuckles work at the stiff cords of muscle along his spine and he doesn't tamp down on the small noises of pleasure that start in the back of his throat. Once in a while you lean forward to press a kiss to his bare back, each one setting off a chain reaction in him that goes straight to his cock.

When you reach the base of his spine, he goes completely limp under your fingers. "Merde," he whispers, both a plea and a praise. "Right there, baby."

Something had been digging into his back during the race and it caused a knot to form by his left hip. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and you hum in approval.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," is all he manages to get out around the noise in his brain. His head is filled with your touch, reducing him to ash beneath you. You work at the spot until it's pliable, sweeping your thumb over it once more for good measure. You finish up with his back and move to his arms, dancing over the swells of muscle like you'd been a masseuse your entire life.

"God, where did you even learn this? You're better than Pyry."

"YouTube. And that's because it's different when it's someone you love versus your trainer. I can drag it out and let you enjoy it more."

He's completely lost track of time when the alarm on his phone goes off, signaling the end of this current round of torture.

"You know you're coming with me to the pool," Pierre says matter of factly as you climb off him. He stands and rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a brand new man."

You guide his fireproof shirt back over his head after retrieving it from wherever you'd tossed it earlier. You zip his race suit up with a wink that almost makes hims say fuck it and miss the event entirely. "Glad I could be of assistance."

Hand in hand, Pierre leads you through the paddock and falls in with the Alpha team as they head for the swimming pool. Being around his crew again brings the excitement of his win back to the surface and he's practically buzzing with it by the time they arrive at the gate. Journalists, photographers and a few of his fellow drivers mingle about the packed space, some of them clapping him on the back and offering praise. None of it truly registers until Max, usually hot-headed after a DNF like he had suffered today, pulls him in for a hug.

"Great racing, mate. You deserved that one, that's for sure."

"You better play nice with him next year Max." You wag your finger at the Dutchman, earning you a chuckle. "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I'd pay to see: you versus Christian Horner. A mighty fight."

Not wanting to jinx it, Pierre doesn’t comment on your confidence that he’ll be on Max’s team next year. His win today had seen him move up comfortably into eighth, and he was closing in on Lando quickly. As long as he played his cards right and finished higher up in the points, he was starting to think he could pull it off.

Pierre doesn't note Sylvie's approach until she clears her throat and all three of you turn in tandem. Pierre picks up on the way your demeanor instantly shifts from light and playful to defensive and he puts himself between the two of you.

"Photo op time."

"Right yeah." Pierre squeezes your hand in farewell and follows Sylvie to where a spot has been cleared at the head end. Standing there before the water, Daniel's dramatic belly flop comes to mind and Pierre knows he has to top that celebration or he'll never hear the end of it.

Someone- maybe you, he couldn't quite tell- starts a chant of his name, growing louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and he spreads his arms, his head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he lets the chant wash over him. Letting it sink in that he stood on the top step of the podium at the most legendary track in Formula 1, his name now joining the likes of Senna and Schumacher as Monaco grand prix winners.

He's drunk on it, on the screams and the shouts and the general feeling of being on top of the world and being untouchable.

Head dizzy, he searches for you, shooting you a wink when he spots you crouched right on the edge of the pool. God, you were gorgeous, wearing his hoodie with his logo splashed across the front and your cheeks flushed from the height of the moment.

Pierre takes a few steps back and gets a running start to leap into the pool, tucking his knees to his chest and cannonballing in. The water closes over his head and everything is dull for a split second before he pushes off the bottom and surfaces, cheers assaulting his senses in the best way.

Laughing, he shakes out his hair and poses for a few of the cameras pointed at him. In that moment he doesn't care what Sylvie or Christian or anyone for that matter thinks, all he wants is to share this euphoria with you, for you to be enthralled by it as he is.

The waterlogged suit makes it hard to swim but he manages, crossing to you and pushing off the concrete lip of the pool to capture your lips. Your hands immediately fly to cup his jaw as hoots and hollers surround the two of you as he irrevocably tells the world that you're his.

Alpha crew members take the kiss as their cue to jump in, splashing you with water as you laugh. Pierre doesn't give you a chance to protest, rising up and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in with him.

You squeal in his arms, shoving against his chest as you both laugh. "Pierre!" His name on your tongue does nothing to dampen the feel of your waterlogged body against his, nowhere near as chastising as he knew you'd tried to sound. He loves you more than ever at that moment, wants to live here on this Sunday forever, replaying the past twelve hours for the rest of his life.

Celebrations continue around him, but he has eyes only for you. He studies the way your nose scrunches up when Alana splashes you and how droplets of water catch on your eyelashes.

Reaching out, he tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, garnering your attention. You ruffle Pierre's hair and he knows that you're just as caught up as he is.

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he draws you in for another long, drawn out kiss. “You’re my trophy.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf #reader insert #pierre gasly reader insert

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buckybabybaby · 4 years ago

Text

café d'amour

A/n: my entry to @firefly-in-darkness 's challenge. Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

Proof read with a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 3537

Warnings: none! :]

Plot: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.

coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff.

Masterlist

*****

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are warm. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving the Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. Presents, plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

Thank you for reading!! Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybabybaby

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cricketnationrise · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 7,359 times in 2021

351 posts created (5%)

7008 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 20.0 posts.

I added 4,159 tags in 2021

#omgcp - 1492 posts

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Longest Tag: 105 characters

#holster's already on his way to the rink to get you but just stay on the line with me until he gets there

My Top Posts in 2021

More Cheese than a Dairy Farm

for @adambirkholtz and also how dare you :D

_X_

1. after the last practice of preseason

“Great job guys, good work today. Take tomorrow off and get ready for classes to start, and then regular practices start tomorrow night,” Dex says.

“And the first team breakfast is Wednesday after morning practice!” pipes up Chowder.

There’s a general rush to shower and leave, guys chirping each other left and right. Nursey finally feels at home. He closes his eyes while he waits for C and Dex to wrap up so they can head to Annie’s. He’s a senior. He even knows what he wants to do after college. Life is good.

“Hey. Hey Nursey.”

“What Dex.”

“Feel my shirt.”

He opens his eyes to see Dex holding out the edge of his t-shirt with a smile and doesn’t try to fight the rush of affection that comes with it. He reaches out and rubs Dex’s shirt.

“It’s nice. Soft.”

“Know what it’s made of?“ Dex asks.

“No? Cotton? Should I know?”

Dex smirks and leans closer.

“Boyfriend material.”

Nursey bursts out laughing. He can’t help it. Coming out to him and C over the summer had been a huge step for Dex. He was so much more relaxed and, though he would never say it out loud, chill now. Chill enough to use horrible pick up lines on Nursey of all people.

“Dex that’s so bad oh my god,” Nursey manages to wheeze out between laughs. He looks up to chirp him more and sees that Dex looks proud of himself despite the fire truck level blush he’s rocking.

“You guys ready?”

Dex reaches his hand out to help Nursey off the bench. “Yeah we’re good Chowder, let’s go.”

Still laughing, Nursey just says “boyfriend material” to himself, takes Dex’s hand and they leave the locker room.

_X_

2. During Spookykegster

It’s an excellent party. They won their game last night, and there’s no practice or classes in the morning to wake up for. Ideal conditions for sure. And his best friends are on NurseyPatrol, which, to be fair, hasn’t been needed since sophomore year, and has now evolved into the best excuse to hang out with Dex and C for some quality Frog Time.

“You mind if I leave to go over to Cait’s?“ Chowder asks, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

“Ooooooh we see how it is, don’t we Dexy? Not even our epic friendship can hold a candle to the lovely Farmer. What ever shall be done?” Nursey says as he sways into Dex.

“You’re good C, take off. Come help with clean up in the morning and it’s all good,” Dex says, his hands automatically coming up to catch Nursey before he overbalances and falls.

“Bye guys! Have fun the rest of the night!”

And now Nursey has a slight problem. Tiny really. It’s just that now he’s alone with Dex. Dex who is actually wearing a costume for once. He’s dressed up as Woody from Toy Story and Nursey might be having a hard time not staring at Dex’s ass in those jeans.

It’s fine.

“You want to get another drink? Or are you going to dance?“ Dex asks.

“I think drink,” he says, moving toward the kitchen, “I need another beer I think before dancing. Want one?”

“Ayuh, sure, thanks Nursey.”

He goes and comes back, handing Dex a can as he leans back against the wall next to him. He’s drinking and scoping out a potential dance partner when out of nowhere he hears,

“Are you wearing space pants?”

“What? No? I’m wearing jea-”

“Because your ass is out of this world,” Dex finishes a little too loudly, blushing furiously.

“What’s this Dexy? You flirting with little ole me?” Nursey flutters his eyelashes and delights in watching Dex’s blush deepen and spread down his neck.

“I - well - you know - I - no?”

“Chill Dex. I know you’re just practicing, en bee dee,” he says just to watch Dex’s eye twitch at the spoken letters. “Gotta go see a boy about a dance. Catch up with you later.”

Nursey laughs to cover his disappointment and goes to dance. Now that he knows Dex isn’t serious and his beer is finished, it’s time to dance.

_X_

3. At Founders a Week before Finals

Nursey is stressed okay? Just because he’s got an internship lined up for credit for next semester doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need to study. And his Harlem Renaissance paper is kicking his ass. But once he finishes this draft he can take a break. He just needs to focus. Or another coffee? Maybe he just needs -

“It’s a good thing I have my library card because I am totally checking you out,” Dex whispers, from the chair next to him.

Nursey starts to snigger, trying to keep from making too much noise in Founders.

“You been saving that one just for me Dex?”

“Just thought you needed a little break from your paper,” Dex says, trying to be nonchalant about it, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and his ears are bright red, giving him away.

And.

Nursey can’t hold it in anymore, and starts hysterically laughing.

He’s still laughing as the librarian swoops down on them and demands they leave. What a horribly cheesy pickup line. And from Dex of all people.

_X_

4. Nursey’s Birthday

All the card says is “We’re not socks but I think we’d make a great pair.”

But, he recognizes the handwriting and it was left on his pillow so he digs his phone out of his pocket, laughing.

Me: woowwww dex

Me: this one is so cheesy if i didn’t know better i’d swear you’d have a fondue machine down there

As he changes out of his jeans and gets ready for practice in an hour his phone pings. He opens Dex’s response and promptly has to sit down. William J. Poindexter has responded with a selfie. It’s a little blurry, clearly taken while he walks home from his programming class. It’s unseasonably warm for February today, so the pink across Dex’s freckles are 100% blush.

Dex: Happy Birthday, Nursey! Hope it made you laugh.

Something about the picture makes Nursey’s breath catch. He doesn’t feel like laughing all of sudden. He doesn’t want to examine the swooping sensation in his stomach too closely. That way lies madness.

_X_

5. March

It’s been a brutal practice. But no one is complaining. They’re in playoffs. Everyone wants to do well. And Dex is a great captain. He’s really come into his own this year.

But today was like Bitty was still here; Dex put them through a whole practice of the Russian calisthenics that Bitty had adapted from his figure skating coach.

Everyone was wiped.

“Dex, you’re my best friend but I hate you so much right now. If you were a punching bag all that would be left would be a pile of sand on the ground.”

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

He couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“Oh stop making me laugh, I can’t feel my abs as it is,” Nursey says, looking over at Dex.

“S’just the truth,” Dex mumbles, flushing abruptly and turning away to dig in his bag for his shoes.

“Fine print,” he snorts and hauls himself up to go refill his water bottle.

_X_

+1 After Winning the Frozen Four

Nursey doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. They’ve won the Frozen Four for the second year in a row. Chowder had a shut out, and both he and Dex had scored. It was truly a perfect game.

He knows he still has to get through the rest of his internship and finals but right now, he’s on top of the world.

He and Dex are crammed into a too-small booth for their combined shoulders with Chowder and Farmer (who flew out to watch the game) opposite them. Nursey feels good, floaty and glowing. They won, his friends are here, and long-established convention means he gets to be pressed up next to Dex. Not an inch between them.

It wasn’t like he was unaware his crush was getting astronomical. And it didn’t help that Dex kept feeding him pick up lines all this year. Lately, they’ve been a small torture, wanting Dex to flirt with him for real.

Whatever.

He’s here. Dex’s here. Nursey’s happy.

Dex has never looked better. Confident and loose like he usually only gets at the Haus. The lights overhead highlight his freckles and Dex’s hair, a touch too long and starting to curl after not cutting it through playoffs. Nursey’s staring. He knows he is. With a herculean effort, he tears his gaze away and tries to focus on what Chowder is saying.

“-And wasn’t it s’wasome when Bully checked that guy right before he could get to Whiskey and -”

“Breathe, babe,” Farmer says fondly, “They were there too.”

Nursey leans further into the leather, relaxing when they leave. As happy as he is, he is tired, and the booth is comfortable. Especially with Dex so close.

They’re all chatting too loudly about The Martian and he’s laughing at Farmer’s Donald Glover impersonation when Dex suddenly winks at him. Nursey almost falls off his seat. Dex leans closer, and whispers in his ear.

“Hey Nursey?”

“Yeah?” Nursey can barely breathe.

“Even in zero gravity I would still fall for you.”

Nursey doesn’t blush. Which means the heat he feels in his face must be a symptom of a fever. His throat is dry enough it might be true.

“Ha ha Poindex-” he abruptly stops talking when he feels Dex’s hand cover his own on the seat in between them and his fingers curl around Nursey’s own.

“Oh holy shit,” he whispers, “Really Dex? Now? With a cheesy pick up line no less?”

“S’thematically appropriate,” Dex shrugs and then tilts his world upside down with, “I got tired of you thinking I was joking around the other times I tried flirting.”

“Wh - I - I -” Nursey has no words. For once in his life.

“Its a good thing you’re pretty,” Dex chirps before leaning in an kissing his cheek, holy shit.

“FINALLY!”

They both jump and look around at Chowder’s shout. C’s beaming at the two of them.

“Do you know how much in back fines the two of you owe?!?!”

Dex just laughs and hides his (bright red) face in Nursey’s neck and Nursey tries not to melt.

“I think we’re good for them, C. It’s chill,” Nursey says, not looking away from where his fingers are curled up with Dex’s.

The fines are worth it.

158 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 22:32:56 GMT

195 notes • Posted 2021-05-09 03:53:07 GMT

pspspss for @pecanplease based on this post

_X_

Larissa Lardo still isn’t sure about the whole “hockey manager” thing. It’s decent money, and the guys are nice enough, but they’re an art student for fuck’s sake. (They’re keeping the name whatever happens, its cool as shit, and fits way better than they’re given name). What are they even doing here, hanging out at the Haus when there’s not even a kegster happening. It’s 3pm on a Sunday in November and they’re standing on the porch, still debating whether or not this is a good idea.

Fuck it whatever they think, and push open the door, braced for the inevitable wave of sound that normally occurs.

Nothing. There’s no one in the living room, no sound from the tv, no blender being subjected to Jack’s protein shakes. Where is everyone?

Shitty told them to come hang, and there’s no way that he would have been deliberately cruel. He’s here, even if the rest of the haus-dwellers are out. As they move up the stairs, it’s still freakishly quiet until they get to Shitty’s door, and Lardo can finally hear talking. They knock and after Shitty yells, “Lards get your ass in here!” Lardo pushes the door open. They take one look around, curious, and -

That’s their art on the wall. The pieces Lardo threw in the dumpster two weeks ago, angry at the world and coming off a horrible critique from her professor. The small triptych of ducklings. The abstract inspired by Lake Quad. The small portrait of their neighbor back home. The still life of a pong table they painted after the first kegster of the year.

The white noise in Lardo’s ears clears long enough for them to hear, “ - just left in the dumpster by Faber can you believe it? Who would want to throw this stuff away, it’s fuckin’ sick! I made Jack help me carry it back here there was no way I was going to risk someone else taking it or the trash guys coming before I could get back for a second trip, ya know?”

He put their art on his wall. He put their art on his wall. He went out of his way and made his best friend help gather their art and put it. On. His. Wall.

“...Paging Dr. Lardo. What’s up with you Lards? You look like someone hit you over the head.”

“That’s my stuff up there,” they breathe, not able to catch their breath properly yet from the sudden desire to cry.

“What?”

Lardo clears their throat, do not cry do not cry do Not Fucking Cry -

“That’s my art on your wall. I tossed it two weeks ago right before practice.”

“HOLY SHIT BRAH! Lards, that’s s’awesome! You have to sign it for me, all of it, right now - where’s my sharpie?” He’s rummaging in his desk, still chattering excitedly, when he straightens up suddenly and spins around, eyes narrowed. “Wait. I found it in the dumpster. You threw it out. Why would you throw this stuff out? It’s seriously so good Lardo.”

“Just a bad day I guess,” they say, trying not to make it a huge deal. Lardo doesn’t want to poke that raw place inside themselves just yet. Not even in front of Shitty.

Shitty just looks at them for a second, considering. For a second, Lardo thinks he’s going to pry and that is not going to go well. At all. Then his face clears back to it’s normal amusement. “Well, I’m even more vindicated in forcing Jack to help me. And you’re still signing this stuff. Get over here.”

Lardo goes, and can feel the corner of their mouth quirking upward, almost against their will.

Cool, so we’re doing this. Managing the hockey team.

308 notes • Posted 2021-07-24 02:21:28 GMT

He gets the notification almost as soon as he gets to the rink for practice. CALENDAR REQUEST FROM GEORGE: 2 P.M. AGM OFFICE, FOURTH FLOOR, ETHICS & SEXUAL IDENTITY DEBRIEF.

An hour later, there are several protein shakes and a PowerPoint cued up. The first slide says: SEXUAL EXPERIMENTATION WITH TEAMMATES, A GRAY AREA

“Before we start, I want to be clear, I fully support you in this, and I’m so glad you felt comfortable telling me. But this is frankly a logistical and ethical clusterfuck so we need to make sure we have our ducks in a row.”

“George, I --”

The next slide is titled: EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY, BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH SOMEONE ON THE FALCONERS?

She apologizes for not having time to come up with better titles. Jack is actively wishing for the sweet release of death at this point, but before he can correct her, George is moving on.

FALCONERS FUNDING, TRAVEL EXPENSES, BOOTY CALLS, AND YOU.

“From college!” he bursts out, “I’m dating one of my teammates from college.”

George blinks rapidly, disconnects the laptop for a second, types rapidly, and when she reconnects it the screen reads:

WELL THAT IS A WHOLE OTHER POWERPOINT JACK

(and you should tell Marty so he can have you both over for dinner)

@ivecarvedawoodenheart this came to me in a dream which is 100% your fault(affectionate)

383 notes • Posted 2021-06-03 14:08:28 GMT

okay so i can’t stop thinking about how the old guard and good omens is a perfect crossover

andy keeps running into crowley and aziraphale and being all, why did i not dream about you?????

crowley and aziraphale at the crusades watching joe and nicky meet and being all “oh how cute they think that’s coming from opposite sides” (in later centuries they go on double dates)

crowley and aziraphale being too busy for an assignment and the other can’t cover it so they leak the situation to the guards

the guards teaming up with aziraphale to actually find the baklava that stumps andy

480 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 14:11:00 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#cricket writes #tumblr stuff #year in review

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years ago

Text

Hungry Hungry Peter

A fic for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange for @foxes-and-arrows

Rating: Gen

Warnings: Starvation tw

Summary: Peter loves hanging out at the Tower, but no one seems to notice he needs more food than a normal teenage boy. Peter doesn't want to say anything because he doesn't want Tony to have to worry about yet another thing. How long can he go on before someone notices?

AO3 LINK

Peter likes it when Thor resides at the Tower. First, he's Thor. Second, Peter enjoys his humor and ye-olde stories. But one of the things that he enjoys the most is the amount of food they have at meals. Steve and Bucky eat a lot, but Thor can out-eat them all.

Before the spider bite, Peter was your average teenage boy. Aunt May had used the term “wooden leg" to describe his eating habits. He could eat a whole 2ft-long hoagie plus in one sitting. Now, with his increased metabolism, he needs to eat more. May knows about this and makes sure to order enough food. But when he’s at the tower, he feels weird asking Tony to get more food. Tony does so much for the team already – he doesn’t need to make sure he orders an extra serving for someone. Harley complains all the time that everyone asks Tony for too much.

May is taking a vacation in Barbados with a friend, and Peter is spending the week at the Tower. It’s Father’s Day, and Tony suggested having a movie night. He, Peter, Harley, Morgan, Pepper, and Rhodey settle into the theater for a Disney movie binge. Peter knows Pepper is only there because Tony asked her to be present, and Rhodey is only there so he can spend time with his goddaughter. Peter doesn’t mind because he loves Disney movies. “Tonight is about fathers,” He tells them. “I asked FRIDAY to queue up some Disney movies that have good fathers.”

Finding Nemo is first, The Lion King, and then A Goofy Movie are played sequentially. Peter gets popcorn and candy for everyone. He’s hungry, and he knows Tony won’t mind if he eats a bucket of popcorn by himself, but to draw attention away from himself, Peter fills a large bucket for each of them.

“Woah! This is a lot of popcorn!” Rhodey exclaims. “I’m not gonna eat this all. Do you wanna share, Morgan?” Pepper and Tony end up sharing a bucket, which leaves Harley and Peter each to their own.

Peter eats a bucket and a half of popcorn under the guise that he didn’t want it to go to waste, but he senses Harley watching him. It’s making him uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Harley doesn’t say anything to him, but Peter doesn’t want to get on his bad side. He knows what “Team Cap” went through when they returned to the tower. Coercing FRIDAY to help, Harley rained hell down on them via a series of pranks and inconveniences until Tony had heard enough complaints and forced him to stop. Even though everyone had kissed and made up, most of the pardoned Avengers steer clear of Harley. The others watch him with begrudged admiration. Peter wishes everyone would treat him like Harley, but the older boy disagrees. “Nah, they all love you, and they would do anything for you. Not me though. Most of them hate me but are too afraid to do anything about it.”

Peter walks down to breakfast the next morning to find Thor manning the stove. He perks up, knowing a big breakfast awaits them. Thor always cooks tons of food, and half of the Avengers don’t even eat breakfast. “Peter!” Thor exclaims. “It is good to see you. I was just about to make an omelet. How many eggs would you like?”

“Hi Thor! I’ll take five or six eggs if there’s enough.” Peter walks over to stand beside Thor.

The god moves over to make more room for Peter. “You know Tony always keeps the food well-stocked. I’ll make you seven. Would you like the works as well? I have brought some of that bacon you like so much.”

Peter wraps an arm – as far as he can – around Thor’s back for a quick side hug, then goes to the table to wait for his breakfast. Two minutes later, Harley saunters in. “Morning Thor. Whatcha making today?”

“Peter Parker omelets,” Thor announces proudly. “Peter showed me how to make them last time. Here, you cook the bacon, then potatoes. You add cheese and pour the egg over top. Add more cheese when the egg is cooked, and you have an omelet. It was quite good.”

“Sounds good. Can I have one with three eggs?”

Peter is finished eating his breakfast when Tony bustles in. “Oh, hey Thor. What time did you get in?”

“Early this morning,” Thor replies. “I told you I could be quiet if necessary. Want a Peter omelet?”

Tony is making coffee and glances up. “What? Oh no, not today. I’ve got a board meeting that I am attending to appease my darling wife. Hey Pete, want to stop by in, say, three hours? I have a job for you.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark! I’ll be there.” Peter grins. He loves working at SI with Tony.

Harley swipes his milk glass to take a swig and smirks when Peter notices twenty seconds later. “You know you can just call him Tony.”

“I did – had been.” Peter blushes. “But then I called him ‘dad,’ and now I’ve reverted.”

Harley simply smiles and exits the kitchen.

++++++

Three hours later, Peter and Harley are working with Tony on a new type of solar panel when his stomach starts to growl. “Hungry?” Tony asks. “I can order some food. What sounds good?”

“I’m ok. Whatever you want, I can eat.”

Tony orders three combo meals of Pad Thai, and Peter still feels famished afterwards, but he keeps quiet. They finish the panel two hours later, and Pepper and Happy meet them to go home.

Thor is not around for team dinner, and as Steve and Bucky are both present, Peter doesn’t get as much food as he would like. After a Mario Kart tournament (which Bucky wins after narrowly beating Natasha on Rainbow Road), Peter reads Morgan a bedtime story and tucks her in so that Tony and Pepper have an hour to themselves. “Good night Princess Morgan. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“I will bite them back!” She crows, giggling.

He grins. “They’ll be too afraid to come out now.” Peter loves Morgan. She’s like his little sister, and he will do everything he can to keep her safe. She clutches her stuffed spider to her chest and closes her eyes. Peter sits with her for a few minutes, and his stomach rumbles.

Morgan’s eyes pop open, and she asks, “Hungwy?”

“Just a little. I’ll be ok.” He pats her hand. “You need to go to sleep.”

“If you’re hungwy, we can get juice pops,” Tony’s daughter bargains.

Peter smirks. This little child is the daughter of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts – of course she will try to cut a deal. She’s going to be unstoppable when she takes over. “Now, missy. I am not your dad. You may have me wrapped around your finger, but I don’t want to face your mom’s wrath when she finds you still awake with a sugar high. If Uncle Rhodey is afraid of that, then you can bet your boots that Peter is, too.”

Morgan seems to consider that for a moment, and she nods. “Ok, I sleep, but juice pops tomorrow.”

“Juice pops tomorrow sounds good. Pinkie promise.” The pinkie promise seems to satisfy the five-year-old, and she promptly closes her eyes. Peter turns out her light and turns on the fake arc reactor nightlight.

He is almost out the door when he hears her whisper, “I love you one thousand-two hundred-and twenty-six.”

“I love you one thousand-two hundred-and twenty-six, too.” He whispers back and closes the door behind him.

Peter heads out on patrol for an hour or so. Usually, this is the time he picks up some extra food, but he has no cash. He catches a few car thieves and saves a man from getting hit by a speeding car. Exhausted, he stops on a roof to catch his breath.

Tony finds him there ten minutes later. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Yea, yea… I’m… fine. Just enjoying the view from here,” Peter gestures to the New York skyline.

“It is beautiful,” Tony’s modulated voice agrees. “Want a ride home?”

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr.… I mean, Tony.”

Iron Man picks up Spiderman and flies him to the roof of Stark Tower. They sit there watching the city lights. “Hey, I want to say thank you for putting Morgs to bed. Pep and I haven’t had a whole lot of alone time recently.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I love her.”

“And she loves you, too. She always asks when you’ll be coming to stay for a while. I keep trying to get May to move in, but she wants you to have a safe place elsewhere as well. I commend her for that. How have you been? We haven’t had a talk in a while.”

“I – I’ve been good. School’s been fine. I’m happy. How are you?”

“So-so. I’ve been sleeping better. Morgan has been a blessing, as have you and Harley. By the way, Pete, when you called me ‘Dad,’ I reacted the way I did because I wasn’t expecting it. I want you to know that you are like a son to me, and if you want to call me dad, I am perfectly fine with it.” Tony places a gauntleted hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Thanks. I – I’ll keep that in mind.” Peter acknowledges. “So… never mind.”

“You sure? Nothing I can help you with?” Tony asks.

Peter shakes his head. “Nah, it’s… nothing.”

“Ok, I’m going to head in. You should probably come in soon as well.” Tony stands. “Good night kid.”

++++++

The week goes by, and Peter just can’t seem to eat enough. No matter how much he eats, he has to make sure his stomach doesn’t growl at inopportune moments. And he hates how he gets so tired after a night on patrol.

Friday morning finds him waking up the sound of the Avengers alarm. The threat is low-risk – large robot geese roaming the city streets and attacking civilians. Peter joins the fight, but due to his lack of energy, tires quickly. He crouches down behind an overturned car, trying to catch his breath, when a large goose starts beating his head with a metal wing. He quickly passes out… and wakes in a bed in the hospital wing.

Harley is sitting on the chair, watching him. He’s always watching. In his head, Peter asks, “What do you want?” but it comes out as “Wha wan?”

“You know, now is probably not the best time to lecture you, but you know what? You’re stuck here for the moment so I’m going to,” Harley leans forward in his seat. “Why aren’t you eating enough? Are you starving yourself?”

Peter’s eyes widen. Is that why Harles’ has been watching me so closely? “NO!”

“That doesn’t seem suspicious at all,” The older boy scoffs. “I’m sorry. I should be showing more tact. What’s going on, Peter?”

“Can’ talk. Paper.” Peter manages out. His head is pounding, and he just feels weak.

Harley swipes a holo-keyboard over to him, but says, “If you’re too tired, we can talk later. I just am concerned for you.”

Not starving self. Just need more food, but don’t want to burden T. He’s got enuf on his plate. Peter types.

“Peter,” Harley’s voice grows soft. “When I said those things, I meant the team getting on his case about upgrading armor and weapons. They ask for the tiniest upgrades that take hours to complete when their stuff is better than what they would have been getting from SHIELD. Tony has a wife and kids now, and he doesn’t need to spend time in his lab for things that don’t need to be done. Now, you, you need food to survive. You need way more food than Tony or I do because you have the increased metabolism. All Tony needs to do with that is order another serving of food. Three extra words to an order. It takes a maximum of 2 minutes. And you’re basically his son. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. The only reason he’s not here right now is because Morgan has an ear infection.”

Harley gets interrupted by a knock on the door. Tony sticks his head in. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Yea. Are you staying?” Harley moves to get up.

“Stay there. I can pull up another chair,” Tony waves his hand at Harley. “Morgan’s finally sleeping, and the pain seems to be gone. Rhodey’s sitting in with her so I could come see you. How are you feeling, Peter?”

So-so. He types out.

“Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. Morgs had an ear infection, and Pepper’s in Japan. Harles offered to stay here with you so I could be with Morgan,” Tony explains, and Peter nods. “By the way kid, I’m also sorry that I didn’t notice you hadn’t been getting enough to eat. You’d think with a tower full of geniuses and super spies that someone would notice, but we didn’t. We’re going to order a lot more food from here out, and never be afraid to ask for more. They don’t call me a billionaire for nothing.” Tony pats the bed by Peter’s arm. “I love you, kid. I’d do anything for you.”

A tear slips down Peter’s cheek. “I love you, too, Dad.”

#irondad and spiderson #the friendly neighborhood exchange

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enbycalicocat · 4 years ago

Text

Day 3: 29th of January, 2021

The day had finally come.

Not like he'd been anxiously waiting or anything. Well, he had been anxious, and he had been anxious while waiting. But not in that way. Not like there was anything wrong with his house in Busset or his family and friends. In fact, he had no reason at all to move.

Other than ambition.

He wanted to dance in the capital.

There were many great opportunities in Busset, yes. And it was a lovely city, yes. He definitely was not doing this because he thought going to the capital was the only way to make a living out of his passion, contemporary dance. He could easily do what he loved from the safety and comfort of his home town. But that was the thing. Jimmie didn't want safety and comfort. He wanted to explore. He wanted to see the world. He wanted to try new things.

And the first step towards that second dream of his was moving to the capital. That would be the first piece of world he'd see. It wasn't much, but it was something, and he had to start somewhere.

"All packed?" The door to his room creaked and a few soft steps sounded on the wood floor, taking Jimmie out of his mind.

He turned around and found his little brother Jily standing dejectedly by the door to his room. Jimmie smiled softly and opened his arms. Immediately, a little body collided against his and Jimmie wrapped his arms around it. Jily hiccupped and Jimmie started whispering nonsense to soothe his little brother.

To tell the truth, Jily was supposed to be at school right now. But the whole moving away thing had hit him so hard that he'd gotten physically sick. It hadn't been too bad or too serious so far, just headaches and stomachaches, but today he'd been throwing up nonstop. Jimmie's parents had been forced to call the school and notify them that Jily wouldn't be going that day. The boy's teachers knew Jimmie and knew he was leaving today, so they probably knew what Jily's sickness was all about. But they just said they hoped Jily got better. Didn't even ask to see a doctor receipt tomorrow. And good thing too. Because Jily was just so sad he made himself sick, and doctors couldn't detect or cure that.

"I don't want you to leave," Jily sobbed as his hands clutched Jimmie's shirt tightly. "Please Mimi. Don't leave. Please."

Jimmie was convinced this boy wanted to kill him. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He held back his tears and his feelings and smiled gently as he pulled back. Jily stared at him with big doe eyes, shiny and watery, his cheeks stained with old and new tears. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears as best as he could.

"Come on Jiji, don't be like that." His tone betrayed nothing, but inside he was begging. For all his little brother loved him and was doing this with good intentions, he was making it harder and harder for Jimmie to leave. "You know I'll be back. Thanksgiving and New Years are right around the corner. I bet the company will let us go visit our families. Just wait a few months and I'll be able to come see you."

Jily somehow seemed to see or perceive the begging Jimmie had been doing in his heart, and he stepped back and used the back of his hand to wipe what was left of his tears furiously.

"Alright Mimi," he said, meeting Jimmie's eyes for all of five seconds before he lowered his head because he was getting teary again. "I'll be waiting for you, so you better come visit us, okay?"

"Sure thing, Jiji." Jimmie gave him another smile, a radiant one this time, because he was proud of his little brother. Everyone and their mother could see that Jily was trying to be 'mature' and an 'adult' and that he was failing terribly.

God, Jily was already entering that 'I'm a grown up at fifteen and too cool for this world' phase of adolescence. And Jimmie wouldn't be here to tease the living daylights out of him.

Let's not continue that train of thought, okay? More importantly, shouldn't we be leaving soon?

"Jims," a low male voice rang through the room. "It's time son. Grab your luggage and let's get going or you might miss the bus.

Jimmie nodded and looked at Jily again. The boy, well, teen really, was staring at him with those red watery eyes again.

Please don't ask me to stay. I really might agree if you do.

"I hope you have a good time at the capital Mimi." Jily's voice was breaking all over the place but he held Jimmie's eyes and tried his best not to cry again. At least while Jimmie was still in the house. "Really. I hope you meet lots of nice people and make good friends, and dance a lot, and have fun, and love whatever you're going to be doing from now on."

Man, Jimmie would've almost preferred Jily cried again and asked him not to go. These words felt even more heartbreaking.

"I-I..." Jily's voice cracked and he had to take a deep breath and swallow before he could continue. "I ho-hope you're very loved and appreciated over there. And if you're not, then don't think about it twice and come right back home." Jily's eyes hardened and he took on a firm tone. Jimmie was shocked. He'd never seen his brother like this. "Because here you have people that do love you, and you have people that do appreciate you, and you have no need to be there. If they ever treat you badly, if they ever... I don't know, do something that hurts you in anyway, do not feel like you have to take it because there's no other option. There is another option. Remember that."

The teen stared Jimmie down like his life depended on it, no wavering; almost cracked his ribs with the fiercest hug he'd ever received; and then proceeded to walk out of the room with the same firmness.

Jimmie and his father stared at Jimmie's bedroom door, both dumbfounded and impressed.

"Wow..." Jimmie said quietly.

"I know, right?" Jimmie's father turned to look at his eldest son. "I've been raising him for fifteen years now and I didn't know he had that in him. I guess it's true that you never really know everything about a person."

Jimmie snorted and his father smiled. The serious atmosphere dissipated just like that.

They brought down Jimmie's bags and drove to the bus station. The car was silent as though no one was in it, even though mother, father and oldest son were there. No words were left to be said. No other topics came to mind. All the three could think about was that one verb: leaving.

They arrived at the bus station right as Jimmie's bus was preparing to depart. There was a long queue of people waiting to leave their luggage and board, but Jimmie didn't go immediately. After all, the seats were numbered. There was no need to rush. He turned to look at his parents and they both had the same red watery eyes as Jily.

"Listen to your brother. He was right with what he said. Do not let yourself be mistreated, Jims. You have another option."

Before Jimmie could think of something to say or some awkward joke to make, his father grabbed him by the arms and stared him down. For obvious reasons, his stare was by far more intimidating that Jily's.

Even though his mother hadn't been there to hear what her youngest son had said, she nodded with teary eyes.

"Give it your best. Put your whole heart into this project. Don't give up without a good fight even if it get's hard. But honey, remember you have a home to come back to."

Jimmie's eyes started itching and his throat got tight, but he fought it back.

Not yet, hold it a little longer.

Not trusting his voice Jimmie nodded firmly. They weren't a poor starving family that depended on his success to survive. There was no sob story here. No need for Jimmie to endure insults and abuse. He knew it well, and he would make sure to keep it in mind.

The three hugged one last time. Jimmie boarded his bus, his parents begun walking towards their car. They knew their eldest son, and knew that he really needed space right now. So, even though they wanted to stay until the bus left, they didn't because this particular son of theirs liked to cry in private.

Jimmie sat down, pulled his cap down low, and pulled the hood of his sweater on over it. That was when the first tear began to roll down his cheek. Many more followed and he tried his best to hold in his sobs. He didn't want the person sitting next to him to hear him.

The bus started moving and Jimmie tensed so fast his muscles literally hurt. Surreptitiously, he looked over at the seat next to his. It was empty. He rekaxed all at once and let out a long shaky and hiccupy exhale. Thank God for small mercies. No that he began full out sobbing, but he was a lot less tense and on guard while he cried. Jimmie looked out the window at the moving scenery as he thought about what he was leaving behind, about what he hoped awaited him at the capital, about why he was leaving in the first place.

Never once had it occurred to him that leaving, exploring, seeing the world, would hurt this much.

He hoped fervently that it got easier as the years went by.

Prompt: 3. Write about leaving home.

Previous Day Next Day

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a-table-of-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Oddworld, Conar's Ambition, Chapter 2, Draft 1

[[Thanks to Tumblr updating the post length limit, I can finally put the full draft of Chapter 2 in one big post!]]

Slim was silent in line to Slugbite Motel. The chatter was hopefully decent cover; he didn’t need yet more attention after his outburst. If he kept his head down, he’d be fine, and wouldn’t get any more surplus bruises on top of the regular workday bruises.

He heard chatter all around him, gossip from other Slog Huts, Splinterz, and Flub Fuels.

“Management must be pissed, what with -”

“I can’t believe what Skrag did to me! What got into-”

“- hear about FeeCo?”

“We’re gonna be settin’ some electric fences up tomorrow, anyone know about -”

“ – say Abe’s got to Necrum –“

“ -Sligs must be worried if Abe’s getting’ to their place –“

Any talk of Abe was, of course, in whispers. No one believed him to be a terrorist, really, but everyone knew better than to celebrate. Well, everyone but him, apparently, but still. Slig forces were already pretty antsy right now, and there were cameras everywhere. Besides, it was a long day full of more abuse than normal. Everyone was just ready for bed, so to speak. Sure, it was less a bed and more a closet with a dirt floor and next to no elbow room, but it was a place to sleep, nonetheless.

It was almost his turn in the queue. Slim dug in his pouch for his meal ticket. With any luck, he’d get half a Scrabcake with the somewhat edible slop they served here. He presented the ticket to the Slig clerk Jeandis. Jeandis took one look, rolled his eyes from under his visor, and then slammed the counter to his left, deepening the indentation next to the bell. A Mudokon, wearing a light brown cap with deep red stripes and a similarly-colored loincloth, emerged from the back door, carrying a tray of gruel with him.

The tray had no trace of Scrabcakes, sadly, but it did come with a small can of that drink everyone was talking about – Soulstorm Brew. The green can with that nondescript Glukkon’s face on it was an interesting look, at least, and the somewhat sickly Mudokon in those commercials did look exceedingly happy when Director Phleg gave him a crate of the stuff, as if it was sorely-needed medicine. Slim even saw the server longingly stare at the can he had to give him.

“On the house… buddy,” Jeandis said, his line carefully rehearsed. “You saw the commercials; it’s a freebie!”

“Um, okay, thanks.”

Slim took his dinner tray and a plastic spoon over to find a seat that was open; this was no small feat in a Slugbite Motel. Many Mudokons had long since given up on the prospect, instead sitting on the floor against any given wall. He noticed how everyone was given similar cans of Brew, and a lot of the chatter he came across was already shifting from the recent Abe scare to the Oddsend the new drink was.

He walked through the throngs of fellow Scrubs, the smell of Brew filling the air. It was very strange; a tangy aroma that was also somehow familiar. The chatter grew louder and more animated as time went on, and even Slim was feeling a little less tired from the fumes and infectious cheer.

Still, it was a long day, so he still prepared to just sit down and eat. He found a place next to Ben, and dug in. Well, as much as you could dig in with whatever this was. Some said those were fruit chunks mixed in with the goop, some said they were Elum Chubs, but one thing for certain was they were undercooked. It was well known that this was the least of dinner’s concerns, sadly.

Slim took a few shaky scoops, doing his best to forget the words “gag reflex”. He was able to swallow the muck as usual, but he found himself coughing; it felt like he was eating sawdust under the slimy texture!

“Yeah,” Ben said, sympathetically, “Jeandis’ Special really sucks today, doesn’t it?”

“WHO SAID THAT?!” demanded Jeandis, so loud that everyone on the other side of the cafeteria could clearly hear the greenish-yellow Slig. The din died down as a furious head chef stomped over to the wall where the sound came from. There were at least ten cowering Scrubs under his wrathful glare, and they were all pointing grey or green fingers at each other.

“This is more than you deserve, ya miserable Chippunks! You oughta know I could—Eh?”

He was interrupted by frantic whispers from the server Mudokon, who was quick to rush up to his boss. He lowered his fist, slowly, and his face-tentacles sagged.

“…You oughta know…er…I could getcha another can of Brew to…wash it down…?”

Nine out of ten Mudokons were nodding enthusiastically, and the Scrubs at the surrounding tables cheered.

“Shut up and get in line again if you want another round!”

Almost all the Mudokons immediately shot up and sprinted into line. Some of them trembled excitedly while they waited.

Slim had never seen the cafeteria so alive or enthusiastic before. This Soulstorm Brew stuff must have one hell of a kick. If he drank it now, he’d probably be up all night. Best to save this stuff for when he needed it – no need to come to work tired tomorrow.

Besides, if all else failed, he had a bartering tool now.

With this in mind, he tucked the can he had into his pouch. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to sleep with a dry throat; he knew better than to ask Jeandis for anything else to drink.

His body still ached, and it had been a long day on top of that, so while Jeandis was occupied with his sudden fame, Slim quietly ate up the rest of his “meal” and left. With the “first come, first served” policy of getting a room for the night, he was able to get one right by the cafeteria for once. He might even be able to get breakfast tomorrow!

He dug in his pouch for his ID, and a quick scan gave him the room for the night. As the door closed behind him, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the windowless closet. When he did, he could see all kinds of scratchings on the wall. Short complaints about bosses and a variety of tally marks filled most of it, but there were some other things. There was the occasional crude drawing of a bird, which gave Slim nostalgia over something he never experienced. There were conversations between anonymous Mudokons, about the latest gossip, concerns, and anything else. It was comforting; they watched out for each other and kept each other informed even when they didn’t really know each other.

With his nightly reading done, Slim slumped down to the ground. The dirt here was cool, but nothing he wasn’t used to. With any luck, he wouldn’t wake up to Bolamites crawling over him, but that was a problem for future him. Present him just had to be absorbed by the soft earth, and dream of a better workday, one where Abe saved him from this miserable job and blew up the Slog Hut.

It was all he could do, really.

* * *

It wasn’t even five minutes before he felt a cold breeze, and the light of the hallway made him squeeze his eyes shut more before sitting up. A hand went up to shield his vision, but he was still blinded for a moment while he tried to make out the silhouette. A Slig, for sure, but that hardly narrowed it down. The Pants were pretty basic, being two robotic legs attached to a large ball. However, the giveaway was the mask that obscured this particular guard’s face. It was one of the older visors, like some Sligs still wore, with a single long visor. However, this one covered his scalp, forming an ugly black helmet rather than just a scary red visor. Only Conar had that version, but what was he doing here of all places?

Well, it couldn’t be anything good. Slim shuddered, wondering what he’d have to apologize for to get a manager from work to find him in this motel. But… no beating or gunfire came his way. In fact, Conar looked taken aback. He wasn’t aiming his Blunderbuss anywhere in particular, and his head kept turning either way, as if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Well, whaddaya know, Slim,” he said, after a moment. “Funny I’d run into you here…”

Slim blinked, lowering his hands, but remaining where he was.

“So, uh... you wanna get outta shoveling Slog crap?”

Slim opened his mouth to answer, but Conar grabbed his arm, so the Scrub’s confused questions were interrupted by his own yelp.

“Time’s up!” Conar said, hearing the chatter die down in the cafeteria. “We’re leavin’!”

“Oh-okay…”

“And you’re gonna shut yer yap! We ain’t supposed to be doing this, you know!”

With that, the two of them silently beat feet away from the hubbub of the mess hall, kicking up a lot of dirt on their way.

The hall separated into two different ways at the end. Conar knew that to the left was the back door he came from, and was going to drag Slim with him. But Slim had other ideas, nearly pulling Conar out of his Pants as he pulled them both to the right.

Conar adjusted his seat so he could run properly again, then struggled to get out of Slim’s grip.

“What the hell?!” he protested, before realization struck, and he quieted down. “The back way’s the otherhall!”

“Where do you think most’f the Sligs are?” Slim harshly whispered. “Seen at least four Mudokons try that, and they never make it to the parking lot!”

“Oh, and the front door’sgonna be much better? Hah!”

“Dunno,” Slim shrugged. “No one’s tried it.”

Conar was about to say something pretty snippy, but he saw they were close to the lobby. The pair stopped just short, and Conar looked ahead. There wasn’t much to see, past the dozens of bored Mudokons waiting in line to be checked in by a very bored Glukkon receptionist, complete with a very bored Slig there to type the guests’ numbers in.

No one was looking their way, so Conar motioned for Slim to follow, and the two of them walked towards the other exit. They made it about halfway through before the Pud looked up.

“Where do ya think you’re goin?!”

“Ah…” Conar started, before regaining his composure. “Y’see, he was volunteered to work overtime tonight! Just came here to pick ‘im up!”

The Glukkon rose to his full height, which would have been impressive if he had shoulder pads or any non-plaid clothing. His assistant also rose, clicking a pen as violently as one could manage. Both Conar and Slim hunched a little, preparing to put their hands over their heads.

The receptionists walked over, sneering. The Mudokons in the queue muttered, some talking about the scene, others complaining about this new delay between them and dinner.

The Glukkon leaned close, so close Conar could almost read the miniscule nametag.

“We have procedures for this, you know! Guests –“ he said the word like most would say “slurg”, “—are to be signed out before leaving the premises!”

Slim blinked. It was hard to tell if Conar did the same.

“Yeah, er…” Conar said, rubbing his head. “Sorry, sir. I thought you wanted ‘im in line, too.”

“And risk the liability?” the receptionist exclaimed. “No, we have registration protocol for a reason!You security and your..your… unprofessionalism!”

His assistant merely gave Conar a look of resignation before marching back to check the Mudokons in.

“If we were to mix the lines like that, our quotas would go kaput! And this is a fine establishment!”

Conar chose not to bring up the dirt floor or the mold-eaten wallpaper. He was already debating whether or not this endeavor was worth it. Zoning out and wondering about that was far easier than listening to this chump.

“…My brothers and I… investors….”

Conar nodded along, thinking about the future, and the riches that would be in store for him. Maybe he could force Zeb to work for him. Of course, something like that would come after a little bit of begging for mercy. But what to spend the well-earned Moolah on? Maybe he’d get himself a nice, classy suit, with premium Slig Pants, armor, and a nice, big gun with all the works…

“…So, I’d really appreciate it if you’d show some class and go to the other desk!”

“Yes, sir!” Conar nodded, moving over to the empty desk. The Glukkon waddled over to the other side, and started controlling some machinery with his shoes.

“Name?”

“Slim.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“…Not found in our records.”

“Can’t you just add ‘im?”

“We just went over this! There are procedures! It will not be as simple as your mind! I can’t just add a Mudokon who is already in the--”

As Conar prepared to sigh, Slim stepped forward.

“Sorry sir,” he said, putting on his best Gluk-pleasing face (that is, a weak smile politely begging for mercy), “He must not’ve read my ID. Do you need my number?”

The receptionist laughed, looking down at Conar while nodding. He kept chuckling at the absurdity of this Slig’s ineptitude as he worked the pedals, searching for Slim by number. He finally stopped adding to Conar’s humiliation, catching his breath while reading what came onto his black-and-white monitor.

“Right, right, you’re all set to leave. Can’t be too careful this day and age, with all those escapees… Anyway, give him a few corporate-approved smacks to keep him in line, would you?”

Connar nodded, a little too hastily. After a moment to ensure no signature or receipt was needed, he turned and poked Slim with his blunderbuss.

“Alright, get movin’. We’re goin’ to work, now!”

Conar couldn’t believe it; he was expecting a tense escape, maybe an amazing shootout. But no; he was walking through the front door, with a Mudokon openly in tow. He even waved at a couple of the guards on his way out. He looked up at Slim, who kept himself hunched and shivering in a clearly practiced manner. The two of them marched in silence for a while, with Conar occasionally tapping the muzzle of his gun against Slim’s back for effect.

“You’re welcome,” Slim finally said, once they were closer to the Slog Huts again, and well out of earshot.

“What, you expectin’ thanks?” Conar asked, laughing at the audacity. “I was the one bustin’ ya out, y’know!”

Slim gave a smug grin, leaning against the wall as he did so.

“Oh, really? You go out the back with a Mudokon like you wanted, they’d be throwing your lead-filled ass into the recycler faster than you can say—”

He tried making that noise he heard many Sligs shout, but it sounded more like his lungs were playing tug-of-war.

“Yeah, well, you seemed pretty comfy in that filthy closet.”

“Ha, yeah, thanks,” Slim laughed, looking around for a moment. “So uh, why didja get me out of there anyway?”

“Right, yeah,” Conar said, clearing his throat. “So, you’re gonna help me take Zeb down a peg. If that Abe guy can take down RuptureFarms, I figure you can help me get his Moolah and ruin ‘im!”

Slim’s smile faded, and he looked at Conar like the Slig grew legs on the spot.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nah,” Conar shook his head. “This should be easy; we go in, hold ‘im at gunpoint, and—”

“And just how,” Slim asked, leaning forward until he was face to face with Conar, “do you expect us to ‘go in’? Do you even know where his office is?”

Conar’s smug grin faltered.

“Eh--? I…”

“To say nothin’ about the security he’s probably got! You got the news just like I did; they’re scared. They probably got security tighter than Jeandis’ skull there! Didja think any of this—”

He was cut off by a blunderbuss muzzle under his chin. So it was going to be certain death or immediate death, he saw.

“…G-got it. So, what’s the plan, boss?”

#oddworld #oddworld conar's ambition #oddworld fic #chapter 2 #draft 1 #oddworld conars ambition full chapter

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

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SkyFire 1: Chapter 15

Rori in Manchester: May 2014

Word count: 2.3k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

◊Harry: good luck with your final exam this afternoon. I know you’re gonna crush it, love. H

Aurora smirked at her phone as she read Harry’s text. She had actually finished her exams two days ago but had told Harry that she had one more today which is why she couldn’t make it back to the UK in time for the bands Manchester shows. He’d floated the idea months earlier, wanting her to meet his mum, stepfather and his sister. When she’d told him that her exams didn’t finish in time for her to make it to the show, they had made a new plan for his family to travel down to London for the shows the following week and Aurora would fly in to meet them before joining the band on the European leg of the tour. Unbeknown to Harry, Aurora was currently at the airport, waiting for the StarkJet to depart for Manchester airport. She would arrive on the day of the first of two shows in Harry’s home city and she was excited to surprise her boyfriend and finally meet his family.

Once the jet finally touched down at the airport, Aurora took a cab to the stadium. Before she climbed out of the cab, she quickly pulled her long dark hair back in 2 braids, covering her eyes with a large pair of sunglasses and tugging a baseball cap down low over her brow. She joined the queue forming outside the venue, chatting with some of the fans already in line, smirking when none of them realised who she was at first.

Eventually a few of those standing closest to her in the line recognised her but she shushed them and swore them to secrecy. “I just want to experience the show like any other fan,” she told them. “If you want, we can take some selfies together, but could you wait until tomorrow to post them?” They’d agreed and she had enjoyed spending the majority of the day chatting away with them while they waited. When the doors finally opened, Aurora ran with her new friends into the venue, staking out their position against the barricade next to the catwalk section of the stage about halfway along. Once the lights dimmed for the start of the show, Rori finally took off her baseball cap and pulled her hair out of the braids, combing her fingers through them and tossing her hair back over her shoulders.

Aurora was euphoric as she felt the energy of the crowd surrounding her and the music blasting from the speakers. The entire stadium felt electrified and she felt a grin splitting her face apart as she screamed along to the song. In that moment she felt as if she had been transported back in time, she was suddenly the 15 year old standing in the crowd of the X Factor live tour with her best friend and their mums, screaming along to the same 5 boys, only now she was 19 and it was no longer Liam that held her attention. She hadn’t been able to look away from Harry since the moment he’d stepped out on stage and her heart soared to see the pure joy on his face as he danced across the stage with his 4 best friends, his brothers, singing his heart out to the sold out Manchester crowd.

As the final notes of Rock Me played out she took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair to push it back out of her face as sweat beaded across her body from the dancing and the swelling crowd surrounding her. She was leaning against the barrier and looked up with a goofy grin, watching Harry and the other boys walking back towards where she was standing as Niall spoke to the screaming girls about the upcoming song. By some stroke of luck, as Harry took a seat on the central apparatus built into the stage he looked out over the crowd and spotted her standing only a few metres in front of him, freezing in place in shock as their eyes locked. The girls around her started screaming hysterically in response to his stare and she shot him a cheeky grin and a little wave that caused a huge grin to break out across his face, exposing his dimples. ‘What are you doing here?’ he mouthed, to which she replied by shouting back a joyful, “Surprise!”

He shook his head in bafflement, blowing her a kiss as the music began to swell and Liam sang the first lines of Don’t Forget Where You Belong. His eyes kept returning to hers as the song continued and every time he saw her singing back at him, his smile grew impossibly bigger. At the end of the song they once again locked eyes and he mouthed the words ‘I love you’.

The concert continued on with Rori having an incredible time, letting herself pretend she was just another fan in the crowd, screaming along to her favourite songs, but every so often when he passed by her section of the crowd, Harry’s smile would grow and he would throw a wink or blow a kiss in her direction, causing those around her to meltdown and swoon at their idol. Half a dozen songs after he first spotted her, all 5 boys returned to the raised section of staging and Harry sat himself down directly in front of her, with Niall sitting to his left with his guitar. The young couple locked eyes as Zayn sang the opening lines of Little Things. Aurora’s eyes grew damp with unshed tears while Harry sang out, “You’re perfect to me,” as he stared into her eyes and the tears spilled down her cheeks as she sang back along with him, “I’m in love with you and all these little things.”

It was much later in the concert, towards the end, when things changed. The smiles, winks and kisses that Harry had been directing towards his girlfriend all night had the fans surrounding her riled up into such a frenzy that during Story of My Life they all began to push forwards towards the stage, causing those against the barriers to become crushed against the metal. Louis noticed the problem moments before the nearest security guard, immediately signalling to the band to cut the music and drawing the security teams’ attention. “Is everyone alright down there?” he asked, his accent thickening with his concern for the fans. The other boys turned towards Louis trying to catch up to what was happening, and the moment Harry noticed that Louis was standing in front of Aurora’s section of the crowd he sprinted across the stage towards her, panic clear on his face. By the time he reached Louis’ side, the security guards had already managed to pull several of the girls over the barriers and Louis was instructing the fans behind to calm down and stop pressing forward. Rori quickly joined the few fans standing between the barriers and the stage and as soon as she was out of the crush she looked up to find Harry crouching down on the side of the stage in an attempt to get closer to her without leaving the stage and causing a bigger crush from the crowd. “Are you alright?” he yelled in concern, visibly relaxing when she nodded and smiled reassuringly back. He stayed kneeling at the edge of the stage until the situation had been sorted and just before Rori was ushered away to a different part of the crowd, Harry signalled to the guard by her side to wait. By the time he jumped down from the stage, a camera had already been tracking the situation and a large percentage of the crowd was already aware that the girl with the black hair was in fact Aurora Stark, so when Harry swept her into his arms the crowd around them erupted into screams with the confirmation of the rumours that the two were dating. He turned to the waiting guard as they pulled apart, insisting that he make sure she was taken backstage to watch the remainder of the show in safety before he quickly climbed back on to the stage.

After the show, Harry rushed to his girlfriend's side, pulling Aurora into a hug and spinning her around as soon as he reached her. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he yelled excitedly. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you for another week.”

“Surprise,” she giggled, gripping his face in her hands and kissing him deeply. “I missed you.”

“God, I missed you,” Harry sighed. “OMG are you ok?” he gasped suddenly remembering the crush in the crowd.

“I’m fine,” Rori assured him. “Although I feel bad about the rest of the fans that caught up in it all though. It was kind of stupid, now that I think about it.”

“But very romantic,” Harry said. “Everyone’s allowed to make mistakes. I’ll check with security in a minute and make sure everyone’s ok.”

“The secrets out about us now I guess,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize,” Harry replied. “This was a wonderful surprise and we were going to announce it next week anyway so who cares. I’m just glad you’re here.”

xXx

Aurora’s knee bounced nervously as the van pulled up out the front of Harry’s family home. He reached across to place a comforting hand on her thigh, stilling the anxious movement. “Just be yourself,” he whispered in her ear as the other boys climbed out of the van. “They’ll love you; I promise.”

The couple climbed out of the car, joining the other 4 boys as they walked towards the front door of the house. Harry squeezed his girlfriends’ hand in his while Liam knocked on the door. Anne threw open the door with a wide smile, welcoming the boys into her home. Harry bounded forward, sweeping his mother into a bruising hug. “So good to have you home, love,” she murmured into her sons’ curls.

“Brought someone to meet you,” he said, pulling back from the hug and Anne’s eyes widen as he reached back, taking Aurora’s hand and pulling her to his side.

“Aurora. I thought we wouldn’t be seeing you until next week in London,” Anne said in surprise before hugging the young woman warmly. “It’s so lovely to have you here. Come on in.”

Harry threw a smirk towards his girlfriend, his expression clearly saying, ‘I told you so’. She rolled her eyes in response, following Anne into the front sitting room where the rest of the band was already crowded onto the sofas with Gemma and Robin joining them.

“How about I chuck the kettle on?” Anne asked the room. “Who wants a cuppa?”

“I’ll come give you a hand,” Rori offered, earning her a smile from Harry. He kissed her cheek before heading over to hug his stepfather and then throwing himself onto the sofa beside his sister. Rori followed Anne into the kitchen and watched as the older woman filled the kettle under the tap and then put in on to boil.

“I take it you surprised Harry by flying in a week early?” Anne asked once she turned away from her task. “I’m sure he was thrilled.”

“He was,” Rori said with a smile. “I couldn’t wait to get here.”

“I’m glad you are. He’s told me a lot about you. Hasn’t shut up about you really.”

Rori’s eyes widened and Anne chuckled. “I’m sure you already know this but he’s quite fond of you, love. You’ve made quite the impression.”

“I’m pretty fond of him too,” Rori admitted. “You raised an incredible man.”

“Thank you but trust me, he made it easy for me.”

“I was nervous to meet you,” Aurora admitted with a small chuckle. “I should have known you’d be so welcoming.”

“From everything Harry’s told us, I knew that you’d be a wonderful woman,” Anne said. “We’re excited to have you join the family.”

“Thought I’d come make sure everyone was playing nicely together,” Harry interrupted with a cheeky grin. He crossed the kitchen quickly, stopping behind Aurora and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I was just about to tell Aurora here all of your most embarrassing childhood moments,” Anne told her son, laughing loudly when he replied with a groan and hid his face in Aurora’s shoulder.

“Not to mention all the baby photos I need to see,” Rori joked, grinning widely at Anne as Harry complained about bullying.

They stayed at the Twist house for the rest of the afternoon before the boys headed back to the city for soundcheck and preshow preparations. Aurora stayed behind after Anne and Robin offered to give her lift when they headed in for the show later in the day. Despite only having spent a few hours with Anne, Robin and Gemma, Aurora found herself fitting into the family dynamic easily. She hadn’t realised how starved she had been for a maternal figure in her life until Anne had welcomed her with open arms. Her own mother had only been gone for 3 and a half years, and while no one would ever replace Louise, Aurora found herself comforted by Anne’s presence.

When they arrived at the arena that evening, they were escorted backstage and found the boys in the green room. Harry was quickly at her side as soon as they entered, his dimples flashing. “How was the rest of your afternoon, love?” he murmured in her ear, wrapping his arms tightly around her torso.

“It was great,” she said. “I love your family.”

“Knew you would,” he replied.

Unlike the previous night’s show, Aurora watched the second show from the side of stage with the rest of Harry’s family, dancing with Gemma to their favourite tracks. Following the show, Harry and Aurora headed back to the hotel with the rest of the boys and in the morning Rori joined the band as they travelled north for a midweek show in Edinburgh before heading to London for 3 shows at Wembley.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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829

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point? For the most part, yeah. I’m a little impatient and quickly get annoyed when people go around in circles. What was the last thing you said in complete caps? It was probably the conversation I had with Angela this morning since we talk in all caps 97% of the time. The subject of the conversation is a bit of an inside joke though so it’ll be complicated just to start explaining it. Do you enjoy playing board games? Not really. I’m bad at following instructions so I’m mostly uninterested when someone tries to explain a new board game to me. I stick with the ones I already know, which aren’t a lot. Are there any movies you are wanting to see? Yeah but not any upcoming ones (if there are even any). My film queue is full of stuff that’s been released in the past, and the ‘My List’ section on my Netflix for instance has movies like Rosemary’s Baby, The Pianist, The Truman Show, V for Vendetta, etc. Do you live closer to the Atlantic Ocean or the Pacific Ocean? Pacific. I’m nowhere near the Atlantic Ocean.

Who was the last contact you stored into your cell phone, if you have one? The makeup artist who did my hair and makeup for my test grad shoot last December. My mom loved how I look so she had me ask for their contact just in case she needs it for future events. Did you wear anything new today? Nope, because I’ve been home for the last three months. That sounds more and more ridiculous to say each day... Would you ever have a calendar in your car? No, that’s what my phone is for. I think having a calendar in my car would be highly distracting too? What was the last song you sang along to? I’m not sure, I don’t think I listened to music today or yesterday. My guess would be Saw You in a Dream - The Japanese House. Are you a fan of the band Taking Back Sunday? No, but I heard of them a lot when I was a younger teenager. Do you ever eavesdrop on people's conversations? I don’t usually get to because my hearing is bad lol, but if it’s juicy and if I caught the context I probably would. Aside from waking up, what was the first thing you did this morning? I hung out with Cooper. I’m officially in charge of playing with him whenever he’s awake haha. I’ve never cared for a puppy before so one thing I learned is it’s a lot like taking care of a newborn baby? Cooper’s routine so far has been sleep for 1-2 hours, play for 1, and repeat. Once we notice him getting up, I’m the fun mom that plays with him until he tires himself out. Are you good at playing Hide and Go Seek? I can be good at it but I generally don’t like playing it. I always feel anxious whenever the It gets warmer to wherever I’m hiding. Do you live in an apartment or a house? House. Is there a music artist that never seizes to amaze you? In recent years Paramore has been drastically changing their sound for every new album they put out, so I’m always excited when they have new material because they always hit it out of the park. At what time do you normally go to bed? It ranges between 12 and 2 AM. It’s no longer as late as before. What is the last magazine you read? I haven’t read a physical magazine in a year or two; but the last online version of a magazine that I checked out was Esquire. How many words do you type per minute? If I’m taking a speed typing test where I really have to type as fast as I possibly can, I can reach 80-90. I never have to type that fast though so my typing speed would definitely be considerably less. What is your favorite term of endearment? I like baby. Do you like Twizzlers? I got into them as a kid just because Kristen Stewart ate it in the Twilight movie LMAOOOOO. Fangirls are ridiculous. I’m honestly just fine with them, they’re not groundbreakingly good or anything. I don’t even think I’ve had them again since my Twilight phase. Who or what made you smile last? I took a peek at what my dad was making for dinner and I already know it’s gonna be so good. Have you ever seen the movie The Wicker Man? Nope. How many states are between the state you live in and Florida? *yawn* Another US-centric question; though I got a little curious and looked up the distance between Florida and Manila instead. Google says 14,717 km. Do you sneak in candy/soda when you go to the movies? You don’t have to sneak in any type of food when you go to the cinemas here since they allow you to bring in whatever you want. I once bought Cinnabon buns to watch Wonder Woman hahah. The only unofficial rule is just don’t bring something that’s gonna smell and distract everyone. What was the last song you had on repeat? Back To You - Louis Tomlinson because of a question I answered on a survey yesterday. Do you often have that song on repeat? In 2017 I sure did. I don’t encounter the song these days anymore unless I look it up myself on Spotify. What brand of lotion do you use? I don’t use lotion. Where are your favorite pair of jeans from? I’m not sure actually. It was my mom who saw it and she bought it when she thought of me, and I never thought to ask her where she got it from. Silly string or confetti? Like, for a party? Confetti looks nicer to me. What month is your best friend's birthday in? June and September. One a scale of 1 to 10, how tired are you right now? 12 from taking care of Cooper, 2 in general because I made coffee. How long is your favorite song? I don’t really pick favorite songs because I have at least one in my preferred genres at a time. Nachos or tacos? Nachos. Also because I miss Nacho. Whose wedding did you last attend? My uncle and his then-fiancée, now my aunt, but that was 2007. It’s my parents who get invited to a lot of weddings, but not me and my siblings. Are you a rebel? Not anymore. I definitely acted like one when I hit puberty though. Does it take you more or less than an hour to get ready for the day? Less. I usually savor my time in bed then hurry up once I’m about to be running late haha. I’m out the door by 15, 20 minutes. What was the highlight of your day today? Taking a survey this morning on the couch with Cooper napping beside me while Kimi was near my feet :) Do you tap your foot when you listen to music? No, especially not when I’m driving lmao. Would you rather use tape or glue? Tape, it’s more secure. Homemade or store bought cards? Either works fine because my ultimate takeaway is that at least someone thought of me. I would personally make homemade cards/letters though. When did you last eat popcorn? Sometime around Christmas. My mom started making us bowls of popcorn but we got tired of it pretty quickly so our popcorn binge only lasted over the break. Have you ever done community service? I’ve done it with my classmates for a class requirement, not because we did something bad and it was our punishment. Will you get your hair cut anytime soon? Nope, I just gave it a big haircut earlier this year. Are you uncoordinated? Mostly not, but I still have moments where I trip over air. Michael or Janet Jackson? Michael. I know Janet is crazy talented too but I just never started trying to get into her music. Do you listen to any hip hop? Just some. What will you be doing at this time tomorrow? Most likely doing surveys too, as is routine. Have you ever listened to Jane's Addiction? I haven’t. Orange or purple? Purple. & - the typical ending to my surveys - how about some lyrics? “There’s just no future left for us to dream of, living in an era of instability / So caught up in the culture of their rivals, fear breeds in honest men.” From High Pressure Low - Against Me! Been thinking about these lyrics for the last few days.

#survey #surveys

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mightyfineblog · 6 years ago

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‘Stand By Me’ -1-

Ben Hardy x Reader

Ch. 1

Summary: You are moving in your boyfriend’s flat. As you unpack, you remember the long road you two have walked down from when you met to where you are now.

Words (this chapter): 1.7K+.

Enjoy:

“Baby. Pass me over that box.” you point over your shoulder.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you huff at the sight in front of you. Ticking your tongue you brace yourself and gather all your force to push the pile of boxes further into the living room.

Ben laughs at the sight of you as he walks beside you, holding yet another box. Placing it on top, the pile gets too heavy and won’t move forward. You groan and stomp your foot on the floor.

“BEN!” you hiss at him.

“What? You said, bring me another box.” Be chuckled with his arms crossed in front of him, casually leaning on the tower of boxes you had constructed.

“Not putting it on top you moron! Now I can’t move it an inch!” you rolled your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have pile them up like this.” he waves his hands innocently in defeat.

“Yeah, yeah, smartypants. Get half and i’ll get the other half up.” you poke the tip of his nose.

After two full hours of carrying cases and chests up and down, you finally set the last two. Falling on each side of the sofa, you and Ben can finally catch your breaths, swimming in sweat and dirt.

“We’re not doing this again!” you swiped the sleeve of your blouse over your temple “Shit, I need a shower” you sigh closing your eyes.

“Remind me again, why you have so goddamn much of everything? My mind still can’t process how all of this” his hands drawing a circle behind his shoulders “fitted in your tiny Hammersmith studio!”

“Barely” you lifted a brow, “Gonna miss the old dump...” you nod, pouting your lips in confirmation.

“Seriously?” Ben’s voice going an octave higher “I hope you’re joking!”

You chuckled, closing your eyes you let your head fall on the soft pillow behind your back. You let your brain rewind memories of the long road you two have walked since the beginning. “I hope you’re joking.” you hear these words, just same way you heard them when you two met.

It was the first thing Ben ever said to you. You clearly remember that day, the memory is still vivid in your head.

…

September 2015

Hammersmith, London, UK

“Another windy day in London.” I say to myself, rubbing my arms together. Standing by the misty old window in my flat, I look outside. The view is seemingly the same as every day. Buzzing cars, people rushing hectically in every direction.

“Hopefully, we’ll get at least a few hours of sun today.” i exhale.

Following my morning routine I wash my teeth and face. Looking up in the mirror, I see deep dark circles and dull face. “I’m working too much” I shake my head “thank god for the people who created concealer and makeup.” Applying the rest of the makeup i slip on my favourite sweater and skirt.

On my way to work, as always, I stop at Costa for a mocha latte. Unlike other mornings, today is particularly busy. I sigh and modestly situate myself at the end of the queue, like a good Londoner, that I am.

Five more people to go, and I am already running late for work, just awesome. Great. By the time I have the coffee in my hand, I frustrate even more about how my boss is going to ramble forever about being late for work. I quickly run to the isle on the other side. Opening the boiling cap I silently swear to myself.

“Come oon. There must be some left!” I madly rumble as I try to get the last bits of nutmeg from the bottom of the small container.

“I hope you’re joking!” a deep voice from behind startles me. Jumping a little I turn around.

“Shit. You scared me!” you squealed at the man in front of you. “Piss off, you git.” you move aside, as he is standing at an uncomfortable proximity to your face.

“Please, I apologise! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I look up meeting his graze. Unbelievably soft green eyes.

“All I wanted was to express my disappointment at the shortage of nutmeg.” he is biting his lip, kind of nervously shifting his glance fo the side.

“Aah, yes. Nutmeg.” I nod, trying to assemble the cup of hot coffee.

“I thought nobody liked it.” the man leans against the isle “Need any help?” he eyes my shaky hands.

“I’ve got this, thanks.” I try to make my way out, but instead bump onto this guy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Fuck my life!” I look upon his cashmere scarf “I totally ruined your Burberry!” I try to hide my embarrassment with my palm over my eyes.

“It’s expensive, but I could try and take it to the dry cleaning down the street, they are really good…” I quickly try to wash the flush of my face.

“Hey, hey. It’s fine.” he is even smiling.

“No, it’s not! It’s ruined, and it’s totally my fault. And I’m unbelievably sorry. I’ll take it to the cleaner’s. Just. Just give me a name and address I’ll have it sent to you” my free hand reaches up.

He chuckles, “Nah, I’ve plenty more. How about something else?” he lifts a brow at me.

“What the hell do you think of me?” I furrow my brows, ready to storm off.

“No, I didn’t mean it like this.” his greens wide with the raise in his voice.

“Look, I’m late for work. If you don’t want me to take it to the cleaners, fine.” I spout.

“What I meant is, would you like to have a coffee with me?” his cute lips curl into a shy smile as his head cocks to the side.

I try to brush past him, but he steps in the way, causing me to spill the rest of my coffee all over his shirt.

“You just did that on purpose!” annoyed I huff.

He laughed, examining his shirt and scarf, “Not at all. But, now I can’t let you go that easily.”

“What the fuck?!” I raise my voice, noticing the looks people around shoot at my direction.

“You wanted to compensate for my ruined clothes. So I’m asking you out for a coffee.” his eyes are flicking their long eyelashes at me.

“A’ight.” I can’t help but curl up a smile, at the silly encounter “Same place, after I finish work” I wink at him.

As I try to make my way out through a large group of people, I barely hear a voice calling for me from behind “Hey, wait! I didn’t catch your name!”

“Because I didn’t say it.” I shout back.

As I leave, I can’t help but look inside the cafe, the blonde guy with the green eyes was following my every move open mouthed, waiting for me to do something. I slyer a smile as I made my way across the street.

Throughout the day, I can’t focus my mind on anything. Every task I take, only leaves me thinking about this stranger I met in the morning. He was very charismatic and handsome, no doubt. And he asked me out, hehe. I can’t help but wonder, what if I’m hyping myself up unnecessarily, what if he was just being nice and polite?

At the strike of the clock, I storm off the office straight to the cafe. Before I push the door open, I stop for a second to check my reflection.

Here goes nothing.

The place is half empty, just some students with their laptops. He doesn’t know when I finish work, or where I work, or my name… why would he even show up?

Sternly I turn on my heel to leave, when somebody crashes over me.

“Ouch!” I cry out “My shoulder!”

“Shit, oh my! I’m so sorry!” The person turns around.

“Oh, it’s you” I cackle at my faith. “You and I are destined to destroy each other, aren’t we!?” I uncomfortably rub my arm.

“God” his face is burning red as he tries to hide his flushed cheeks with his hands.

“My shoulder hurts so much!” Acting classes here you come.

“What? Did I just break your arm? I hope you’re joking… you’re joking right?” His face looks so genuinely worried.

“What gave it away? My fake whining?” I self deprive.

“You’re good then?”

“Yeah, it hurts just a little.” I sigh.

“I need to take you to the hospital.” he reaches for me.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I stop his hand in the air.

“Let’s at least sit down.” he pulls me closer by my waist. I hum and nod my head.

After we’re sat opposite each other by the window, I feel all confidence leave my body.

“You’re right. We keep bumping in each other.” he laughs.

I chuckled and shake my head, while rubbing my shoulder.

“You sure you’re fine?” he prompts again.

“It’s just a bit of a uncomfortable feeling, that’s all.” I lift my eyes to find him already searching for mine.

“I’m Ben, by the way.” his hand reaches for a handshake.

I reach my other hand to him “Nice to meet you Ben. I’m Y/N.”

His palm feels so soft and warm, the contact his skin feels rather magnetizing. I quickly pull away from his firm grip and look the other direction.

“So Ben, what do you do for a living?”

…

“Baby?” Ben is kissing your shoulder.

“Hmm?” you hum flickering your eyes open.

“I say, we leave the boxes for now, as they are. We’ll unbox tomorrow.”

“Good idea Benny.” you reach for his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

“I love you so much” he murmurs against your lips.

“Even when I’m all dirty and sweaty like this?” you bite his bottom lip, gently pulling him closer to you.

“Especially” he nuzzles his nose in behind your ear.

“I say, let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll take you to dinner.” his deep voice resonates against your flesh, sending shivers along.

You grin widely, “I’d love that.”

_______________________

Let me know your thoughts.

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manjuhitorie · 5 years ago

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Hitorie’s unreleased concert recordings, are coming out on wowaka’s birthday

https://www.hitorie.jp/Loveless_IKI/

Hitorie’s full length DVDs of 2 concerts: The Loveless tour final and the IKI tour final in their full glory! It's region free and the release date is November, NOVEMBER, 4th. wowaka’s birthday.

The cover art has been unveiled, and the details of the bonus items have been divulged!

The standard edition cover feautures wowaka in ai/SOlate T-shirt twanging his guitar!

It comes with both concerts and an envelope with a lottery ticket for a chance to win a framed photo. It's cheaper and only comes with the 2 DVDs, the perfect piece! Regular edition DVD: via cdjapan

The limited edition cover features all members basked in laser lights!

The complete special package comes with both concerts, a new special photobook of unreleased photos by cameraman Nishimaki Taichi, sticker replicas of the staff passes used for both tours, and an envelope with a lottery ticket for a chance to win a framed photo. It’s also separated into Blu-ray and DVD, so make sure you buy the right one for your gear! DVD limited complete edition: via cdjapan Blu-ray limited complete edition: via cdjapan Bonus pre-order items!!!

If you preorder from select stores you’ll receive a A2 size poster of the wowaka photo (Tower Records and CDJapan are sure to have it)!

Amazon preorders will include a 5 piece set of concert photo post cards! (Amazon hasn’t prepared a page yet though, I'll link it ASAP).

And preorders from the concert venue booths will nab you a Hitorie-chan themed ticket case.

The track list is as follows

From Hitorie’s UNKNOWN-TOUR 2018 "Loveless" at EX THEATER ROPPONGI March 25th 2018 01. NAI. 02. Shinya 0-ji 03. Inperfection 04. One Me Two Hearts 05. Nichijou to Chikyuu no Gakubuchi 06. Bathtub and Sleepwalk 07. Eve Stepper 08. Loveless 09. Monocolor 10. Glare 11. Senseless Wonder 12. Unhappy Refrain 13. Social Clock 14. Namid[A]me 15. Talkie Dance 16. Unknown Mother Goose 17. Absolute Encore 1. Dancing Mannequin, Singing Fool Encore 2. Little Cry Baby

AND

From Hitorie’s National Solo Tour 2017 "IKI" at STUDIO COAST May 7th 2017 01. Heart Breath 02. One Me Two Hearts 03. Inperfection 04. Daydreamer(s) 05. Eve Stepper 06. Rularula 07. doppel 08. Lights in the Polar Night 09. Saihate 10. KOTONOHA 11. Hagure no Color 12. 5 Count Hello 13. Dancing Mannequin, Singing Fool 14. Shutter Doll 15. Little Cry Baby 16. Glare Encore 1. Kara no Waremono Encore 2. Senseless Wonder Encore 3. SisterJudy Encore 4. Montage Girl

"The full crowd bouncing around today was the best, I wish I could've shown everybody how crazy you guys looked. Please stick with us through future endeavors to come." After the IKI show in the DVD, ygarshy had said this.

And now.... that chance to see that day's craziness and follow their future is upon us, please do consider purchasing and dancing!!! And thank you for looking...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

⚠️~~~⚠️~~~⚠️The rest of this post is unnecessary bonus manju material⚠️~~~⚠️~~~⚠️

I had report on the Loveless final compiled together from way back on March 28th 2019, so I’ll post it here again to give a small taste....!

●The stage lighting for Namid[A]me was apparently breathtaking, they made it look like it was actually raining, ●Yumao used a real gong for Social Clock. ●During Senseless Wonder yg went all the way over to snd’s side of the stage, stuck his body against his, and they played it out together. Then came the encore MC break.

●Yu started cheering himself on, while making flamboyant poses: "Yumaooooo!! Oooh~! WOooooOOah *rough voice* !!💪( ＞ω ＜💪)” Crowd: “You’re so cool~!” Yu: “Thank goo~ *Goes to a cutesy voice*” “You’re so cute~!” “Thank goo. Thank you!” SND: “Hey dude, they’re all callin’ ya cute and cool y’know.” Yu: “…(short pause) Thank goooo~~~”

wowaka: (laughing) We’re done, that's all we need for MC ahahaa.

●Leaving members stuck on what to ramble about, they’ve already talked so much throughout the whole tour, what’s left? So wo suggested that they do a re-cap on all those fun boring discussions they’ve had. Omnibus time.

●Back when the Japan was collectively swept off their feet by the Olympic ice skater Yuzuru Hanyu-kun and his performance, wo had also praised him during MC. Yet just thinking about him puts pressure on Yumao, it inspired Yumao to do his best. And as the next song on Rie’s set list was the inspirational Memai, he concentrated so hard, poured himself in and played super neatly, “Oh shit oh no oh shit, Hanyu-kun makes me nervous.” Yumao explained.

●During the span of the tour SND fell off the stage way more then once... SND: “The skin on my back peeled off once too.” Yu “Eeeh?!” SND “Saying it peeeled all the way off is an overstatement but..” ”Well then the scab ripped off.” “Seriously?!” “But it healed nicely.” “Ahh” “After that, in Niigata, when I went to brandish my guitar up with a “pwooosh” towards the roof, it went bonking into my forehead.” ●SND’s middle finger had also stopped moving, (nerve palsy maybe??) During Talkie Dance there’s the “piropiropiro” where a “pero, pero” bit comes in between (Queue SND and Yuma singing the riff together), which is very straining. He has to press his fingers against the strings one by one to play it, he was scared but nonetheless. So Yuma watched him at the piropero part wondering “Oh no oh no is it gonna move? Is it moving today??””

When it came down to it his middle finger moved for him so thank goodness... (Manju comment: SND is this karma for all the times you gave the crowd the middle finger when they cheered your name,,, or flipped off girls who waved at you, or giving wo the middle finger a lot? God I love you)

●Yumao “Also ygarshy laughed ONCE!” “There was the one time I was talking nonstop (queue SND and Yumao making “blaghblergh” noises together to imitate him). When yga let out a chuckle, which made me super proud in front of everyone… I went Wahooo!!! but turns out it wasn’t because my story was funny or anything. It was because yga was off on his own! Testing how many candies he could eat before we would shut up!” SND: “Did you chuckle because you finished the third candy?” yg: “Uhhh” SND: “Well tell us about it.” wowaka: “Is this the first time he’s talking?” yga: “See, I always think our encore MCs are… long. So I feel like having some candy. I was originally worried I wouldn’t be able to finish eating one in time, the song would start and turn into a problem, but.... it turned out that day’s had become the longest MC yet. I lost my inner bet, damn it, I thought. You guys really can talk. Three whole candies worth of talk! So I laughed, and Yumao thought I was laughing at hims story”

Yu: “Yeah yeah!! Honestly the story I had been telling didn’t have a punchline, so I just used your laugh as an escape.”

SND “Foolish” Yu “Yep” wowaka “Well that day the most” Crowd “laughing” Yumao “...Thank goo~ (laughing)” (Yumao you never have a punchline I swear to God I love you too)

●wowaka talked about the story from back when he used to be so so scared of standing in front of people. In middle school his teacher chose him to represent his class in the English speaking competition, yet he was so afraid that he just, went out to the podium crying hysterically. “I can’t talk English in front of everyone waghhh....”

But now he’s able to do >this<. He’s become such an adult.

SND “I bet there wasn’t even as many people at the competition as there is people here today, haha and you’re able to even talk naturally here, eh, look at you.”

Yu: “Ahh even SND’s such a big boy now~.” SND: “Well we all have.” ●They announced the next nexUs tour at the Loveless tour final. “We just love doing shows”

●Also Pre- Little Cry Baby emotional speech from wowaka. “In living we find cool things and sparkling things, yet there’s moments when we betray those things, we worry if ahhh was I wrong with that, there’s so much of this, in actuality that’s all I do, yet still we’re made out of things we can’t throw away, that’s what I think, what is it! Like those sorta texture that have a paint dried over them, like things that are just superficial just… Those are things that I have NO FUCKING interest in! Like it’s that, c’mON, with music, people are just humans!! trying to be, they’re trying to do what they can do! I have interest in things that only humans can do, some things that can even surpass human, and that’s what fuels me to do music. As long as you follow me, I feel like ,, I could go anywhere!!!!! thank you always, thank you for making me!! Thank you for being here!!!”

This was also the showing they used during the Memorial Service on June 1st… STAFF WE ARE GOING TO CRY “Thank you we were Hitorie, let’s definitely! *through deep breaths* definitely! Meet again!”

Also some from IKI

●wowaka’s mother came to this show.... As divulged in this interview. THE ORAL CIGARETTES had sent Rie flowers in celebration of the event, which were on display at the venue.... Shiohigari SND’s good friend went, also the Synth player of the band “the telephones” who took the picture that’s featured on this blog) went also! ●Before Shutter Doll Yumao did his signature, Yumao! Yumao! Yumao! cheer on rhythm with the familiar intro, but with “Final! Final! instead. Along with We’re ●Hagure no Color had snazzy band introductions molded in between it. ●wowaka had actually cried during Little Cry Baby..... It really is a song that’s so important to him.... I’m anxious to see the video... ●MC: One was wowaka talking about how thankful he is for everyone and everything about this IKI tour. wowaka “I don’t want it to to enddd!” SND “We’re been on this tour for 4 months, it’s been a long time though, it’s amazing, it’s a new record for us.” wowaka “Now what am I going to do with myself tomorrow.“ SND “Go back to our dark dark life...” wo “Why”

SND “You guys had been waiting outside all this time, how was it, was it cold, are you okay? Further crowd: “We were okay-! Closer crowed “(less voices) We were okay.” SND “So you guys were okay and you were cold, okay (laughing). Well if you were cold, then see this sweatshirt Leader is wearing.. please wear one too That thing is perf. Crowd: “Woooah!!” SND: “Why the fuck ‘Woah.’ Even if you said you’re okay then still go buy one alright. Thanks..”

#ヒトリエ #wowaka #first photo is from the IKI show http://meetia.net/music/hitorie-iki-report/#Nishimakiiiii #Hitorie

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mvssmallow · 6 years ago

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Bloodline, Part VI

Previous Chapters

Soundtrack: Waste It On Me by Steve Aoki (feat. BTS)

It’s a fire truck that wakes him up the next day, blaring with the type of distress and urgency that makes it hard to dream of anything peaceful. Not that he has a lot of peaceful dreams these days. He thinks about his family on the other side of town, of his sister (all grown and in high school now), of all the friends he barely talks to anymore, of work, of life....

...but no matter how they start, his dreams always lead him to darkness, shadow, smoke and a cool smirk that fades every time he tries to get closer.

Maybe he should thank the fire truck for waking him up and cutting short his misery today. Maybe this was good luck. Something like that.

Or maybe not.

Because he’s almost out of food, having left the grocery shopping to the very last minute and then succumbing to the habit of ordering take-out all week out of sheer laziness, resignation and shame.

He makes a strong mug of black tea and drinks it, leaning of the kitchen bench, slowly waking up and trying to mentally make a shopping list. The fire truck’s siren has long since faded and it’s so early on Saturday morning that there’s an eerie hush that washes over the apartment block. Maybe it’s always like this, he wouldn’t know, he never gets up this early.

The search for a clean shirt just reminds him that the laundry needs to be done at some point too but not today, he can only handle one domestic task at a time. There’s a Chicago Bulls t-shirt (left over from high school) and some semi-clean grey sweatpants that haven’t seen a gym for more months than he’s willing to admit. They both vaguely match his favourite red plaid shirt and well worn black Chuck Taylors. As for his hair, it’s a mess that only a navy Yankees cap can cure.

Too bad he can’t even find that right now.

But fuck it. It’s Saturday. The shopping list won’t care what he looks like.

The rice definitely doesn’t. Neither does the bread, pasta or cereal. He buys orange juice and spinach because sometimes you have to try and not kill your body, and besides, for all his self loathing, he doesn’t actually hate himself that much yet.

The check out queue is non-existent and he’s in and out the store in under half a hour. Maybe that fire truck was onto something. Maybe he should get up at 7am every weekend and join the tribe of Early Birds; catch that worm, take control of time, make something better of his life.

Or maybe not.

The bad luck starts in the big parking lot that’s shared between the supermarket, a 24 hour McDonald’s, a bakery and fruit shop. No matter how early it is, there’s always a group of people hanging around.

He hears it before he sees it. And he feels it before he hears it, it’s that prick on the back of his neck, that static over his skin and heat in his stomach that always resembles fear. It’s that feeling you get just before you turn into someone’s target.

He’s 25 now. He’s not a teenager in school anymore. He’s not skinny, small, indefensible anymore. He’s been in fights and knows how to defend himself but whenever he has to walk past a loud group of people, the jittery teenager inside will always be there. The best thing to do is keep your head down, avoid eye contact and get the hell out of there.

It’s a good plan, in theory. In reality, he’s stupid and makes the mistake of looking up. Curiosity is going to get him killed him one day.

Three guys. A girl. Laughter that floats across the carpark. Maybe they’re talking about him. Maybe not, he doesn’t know. They’re dressed in blue and gray and one in all black.

Jiwon.

Again.

He’s everywhere, like an inescapable presence, like a blood red wine stain on white carpet, the longer you leave it, the harder it is to get out.

He doesn’t mean to stare but his eyes like it, they’re drawn to that face in a way that he wishes they weren’t.

Jiwon sees him but does nothing, eyes cold, blank, without a shred of recognition. Even if he had the guts to wave (he doesn’t) it’s too late, Jiwon is already turning away to look at something on his phone. The girl with them leans in close to peer at the screen, saying something that makes that familiar smirk appear, the one he thought only he got to see.

Oh…..

Oh.

It’s delusional, he knows, of course Jiwon smiles and laughs for other people. He’s not special. He’s just a doctor. Jiwon is just a patient. Nothing more. Maybe he thought they had a connection but now, maybe he’s just the gullible sucker that fell for the charming act. He hates being wrong. Almost as much as he hates himself right now.

He rushes to his old car and tears out of the parking lot without looking back.

Jin warned him. But he walked into the web, blindly, stupidly, and got stung. It’s nobody’s fault but his own.

********

He cleans the apartment. Tries to cook a healthier meal. Gets his hair cut. Does Laundry. Irons his shirts. Calls his parents. Face times his sister. Emails a few old friends.

He’ll be a new Hanbin. A better Hanbin who learns from his mistakes.

But New Hanbin still has the same old problems.

“My favourite patient is back!” Jim announces.

He smiles. “Haru? She only likes you because you gave her 20 stickers last time.”

“No, my other one.” Jin says, motioning out the back window.

New Hanbin wants to say no. New Hanbin does say no.

“Give him to someone else.”

Jin looks over in surprise, clearly not expecting him to say that.

But he’s shut down, icy doors closed around his heart, ready to just pack up his room and go home early for once. What’s the point of busting his ass to stay late just in case Jiwon needs him? What’s the point of trying to hide all this from their practice manager? He’s putting his job on the line and for what?

“Yeah okay.” Jin says quietly, sensing the sudden change in the room and not asking anything else.

He’s cleaning his stethoscope when Jin walks in again with an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, I know you said you didn’t want to see him but he’s cut up pretty badly. Yun’s stuck with a chest pain and Mina’s gone for the day. I can just tell him to go to the hospital emergency department?”

He sighs in angry defeat, checking himself at the last second to stop it from becoming a really unprofessional tantrum.

“Take him to the treatment room and just….give me a minute?” He says, defeated by how much he can’t escape any of this.

“Yeah okay.” Jin says sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Once he’s alone, he throws his equipment in his bag with too much force that part of him wonders if he broke something. Not that he cares. He doesn’t.

The walk to the treatment room is both long and short. He pauses, takes a breath and walks in. Jin is prepping the suture trays and anaesthetic. Jiwon looks up and gives him a sheepish smile that fades quickly when he doesn’t return it in quite the same way. But who is going to blame him? He doesn’t feel like smiling.

“What happened?” He asks, putting on a gown and gloves and trying to keep everything clinical.

“Accident in the kitchen. Tried to cook Jiun something I guess.”

Why does he bother? It’s just pretence now. He asks a question, Jiwon lies. That’s what their relationship is.

Relationship? His laughs to himself. There’s no relationship.

He peels away the towel wrapped around Jiwons arm, there’s a jagged shaped laceration over the wrist joint. It doesn’t look like an accident. It looks deliberate. Like all of them. The wound was half healed, half open, like it’s been days already. Like all of them.

Jin stays with him and he’s grateful for it because there’s a buffer now, he can just sit there quietly cleaning and stitching Jiwon back together without having to socialise when he doesn’t want to. Jin asks them both boring clinical questions, ‘Is that painful?’ ‘Are you dizzy?” 'Do you need more saline?’ 'Which bandage do you want?’

Easy questions that fill the silence and don’t really mean anything important.

Once or twice he catches Jiwon’s curious and questioning eyes but Jiwon’s not the only one with a poker face. He can give as good as he gets and right now, the look he keeps on his face is cold but of course it is, it’s always the coldest when he’s hurt.

Without all the small talk and cute jokes, the stitches hardly take any time at all and when he’s done he leaves Jin to tidy up and bandage the wrist. He prints a prescription for antibiotics because the wound looked dirty, like it was done with a rusty blade. He tries not to think about that.

“Stitches need to come out in 7 to 10 days.” He says, not offering a repeat appointment because he knows Jiwon won’t turn up anyway.

But if he thinks he’s winning at this I’m Fine game, he’s wrong.

“Okay. Thanks.” Jiwon says, putting his jacket back on and folding up the bloody towel he came in with.

He hates that knows what Jiwon blood smells like, all earthy, elemental and ominous. It makes him sick and ache at the same time.

And then.....he’s gone.

“Is it always that weird?” Jin asks carefully.

He can only shrug. “Thanks for helping me out. I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

“I do like those raspberry danish pastries from the bakery down the road.”

He smiles, adjusting the grip on his bag and pausing at the door. “Expect it on your desk tomorrow morning.”

It’s safe when he gets home. The world outside his apartment can go fuck itself, he’s done playing the game. He just wants to be left in peace. No more drama. No more guys who never give him any time of the day. No more.

But when he sleeps, he dreams. And when he dreams, all he sees is Jiwon and all he smells is blood.

New Hanbin sinks back into his Old Habits.

“I have bad news and bad news.” Jin says the following week. “So which one do you want first?”

“The bad one.” He says with an eye roll.

“He rang up before.”

“Who?”

Jin just gives him a withering look.

“Well, what did he want?”

“To make an appointment.”

“And...?”

“He did it from a pay phone or burner phone because I couldn’t get a record of his number.”

“So?”

“It’s for his kid brother. He wouldn’t say what, just that the kids been sick and wanted an appointment.”

He tries to play it cool, New Hanbin is detached. “Did you book him in with Yun? He’s good with kids. Better than me anyway.”

Jin furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “He wanted an appointment with you.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was fully booked.”

“Not on Thursday.”

“Well, Yun’s still better with the younger patients.”

Jin looks like he wants to say something, something resembling a lecture, but he just sighs instead. “He only wanted an appointment with you.”

He shakes his head in defeat and tries to remember the Hippocratic Oath from Med School. “Yeah...okay.”

****

“So what’s been going on?” He asks Jiun with the friendliest smile he has. “Have you been sick?”

Jiun nods.

The entire consult goes like that; he asks questions, Jiun doesn’t say a word. It’s not exactly that different to his brother.

“Jesus, use your words Jiun. You didn’t have a problem with ordering the pizza last night.” Jiwon sighs in exasperation.

He’s about to say something about not pushing kids out of their comfort zone, how mutism is a defence mechanism, how this might be a lot of PTSD....but then he remembers that he’s not Jiun’s brother or parent. He’s not family. He’s just a doctor.

“It’s okay, you tell me when you feel like it.” He says instead. “We’re doing perfectly fine.”

He hears Jiwon sitting back and probably grumbling about being the bad cop to his good one but he doesn’t care. Jiun is his patient and his priority. Brothers with attitude problems will have to wait.

After a small amount of gentle coercion, he’s finally allowed to examine Jiun’s throat and is relieved when it’s just a mild case of tonsillitis. It’ll only need a short course of antibiotics and a little bit of care. It’s fortunately not serious but one of the hazards with starting school, kids are germ sharers and he warns Jiwon that Jiun might catch more infections over the next 12 months.

“Great. We’ll be in here every week.” Jiwon mutters.

He tries to ignore the way that stabbed somewhere in his chest, instead he focuses on peeling a few dinosaur stickers for Jiun to put on his t-shirt.

“I’d like to review him next week, make sure it’s improving.”

Jiwon nods. “I’ll be out of town Wednesday though.”

“What about Tuesday?”

“No, I’ve got a-”

A what? he wanted to ask but doesn’t. A job? A meeting? A date? What?

“Okay. What about Monday?”

“Yeah. Guess so, sure.”

He gives Jiun the appointment card to hold and puts another sticker on it.

“Remember to take all your medicine okay? You’ll be better in no time.” He says, crouching down to Jiun’s eye level. “If you still feel sick, tell your brother.”

Jiun nods enthusiastically then goes right back to looking at all the stickers.

He dreads this part; the small talk by the door. Jiwon shifts awkwardly as he straightens up and looks at him in the eye for the first time in, what feels like, a long time.

“Is your wrist okay?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral and professional.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Jiwon replies in the exact same tone.

They look away at the same time.

And then Jiwon’s gone. Jiun turns to wave at him but his brother doesn’t look back once.

****

He should’ve know something was going to happen. The day started late, his computer crashed half way, there was too much sugar in his coffee.

It’s 6:30pm when he finally leaves the clinic to walk to his car. He got to the clinic so late this morning that all the staff car parks were full and he had to take one a whole street over.

It starts with the footsteps, unfamiliar breathing, then something cold pressed against the back of his neck. His heart thumps erratically inside his chest and his entire body is electrified into paralysis.

I’m going to die.

This is how I die.

“Money and keys and I won’t blow your brains out.” It’s an unfamiliar voice he can’t place, deep but young at the same time.

He fumbles around his pockets, throwing the items on the ground before leaning his head against the car roof, staring into a deserted parking lot and praying to God that someone passes by.

But then...nothing.

“You that doctor from the clinic round the corner?”

He’s too shocked to even reply.

“Need to borrow a 50 okay? Sorry bro.”

His wallet and keys get put back on the roof of his car.

“Might wanna park someone else, yeah? Don’t wanna get jumped proper.” The voice says, chuckling. “Never know what kinda people hang around here.”

He��s told to count to 10 before turning around. He doesn’t know why he does it but he does it.

The guy is gone before he hits 8.

The adrenaline is suddenly so overwhelming that he snatches up his belongings and speeds all the way home, only stopping at the hardware store to get new dead locks for his doors and windows.

What the fuck.

What the fuck?!

“What the fuck.” Jin says over coffee the next day. “So he just takes a 50 and just leaves you alone?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the weirdest mugging story I’ve ever heard. Bakery Guy had his car stolen in broad daylight last year.”

**** Monday rolls around faster that he’s ready for but just as well, he was turning increasingly paranoid and had spent the entire weekend replacing every single deadlock and bolt in his apartment.

He’s glad to see Jiun though. There’s something about the mutism that kind of works for them. Maybe there was even a smile or two today. After he gives Jiun the all clear and leaves him to pick out new Spiderman stickers, Jiwon finally speaks, voice strained and tense in frustration.

“You planning on telling me about what happened last week?”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah.”

Jiwon looks at him in restrained disbelief, jaw tense from holding back whatever it is he wants to say. But there’s no lecture or demands for answers. There’s just a small package that’s slid across the table.

“Keep it on you.” Jiwon says, holding his gaze with the kind of serious and steely look that he half wants to back down from. It’s not so much a request as an order.

It burns in his hand. It burns in his pocket. He never stops thinking about it. Is it a bomb? A gun? A gift? Why did he take it home? Hasn’t he learnt anything this whole fucking time?

But it’s here now, sitting on his dinner table, wrapped in unassuming brown paper. He’s stares at it all night, pacing around his apartment until it’s nearly midnight and he’s worn himself out to the point of exhaustion, only opening the package with shaky hands because he’ll never get to sleep otherwise.

There’s a crumpled 50 dollar note.

And a black butterfly knife. Double edged. Sleek and cold with a perfectly symmetrical black blade that barely glints under the light. There’s something sinister and ominous and, as much as he hates to admit it, exciting about that. The handles close with a metallic click and the entire knife folds neatly to fit into his hand.

He stares at it with a combination of disbelief and fascination, feeling the push and pull of hating violence and being drawn to it at the same time.

He puts the knife in a drawer at the back of his wardrobe, as if out of sight will mean out of mind, but his eyes are drawn there like magnets, he can feel it’s dark ominous presence flooding his apartment, like that blood red stain that seeps further and further into his life.

How can I get him out of my system when he’s already everywhere?

He falls asleep with the cold metal in his hand, gradually warming up because even the hardest cut steel responds to human warmth after awhile.

#Bloodline #I know I know #CWAC was meant to be updated next #but all those asks about BL just made me want to write this today #Jiwon #Hanbin #BL stuff #i like the sentiment of that song #i hated it when i first heard it #but now i love it #it's sad af #like.....most of me wants to scream: DON'T SETTLE #but at the same time-sometimes you fall for people who you will let step all over you #just for some of their time #it's sad #but it happens

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wolfie-dragon-rider · 6 years ago

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slide me one hiccstrid, no. 6 for the short fic please!

6) meeting at a coffee shop au

Sorry this one is so late, I had a bunch of writing projects going! Hope you enjoy!

Hiccup was exhausted after his first day at university. So different from the high school in his hometown. A lot more challenging, but the courses were also a lot more enjoyable.

Not to mention his new classmates seem a lot nicer than the people who made his life hell for years in high school.

There had been a lot to process today, and that was what made Hiccup stop when he saw the Starbucks sign on his walk back to his apartment. He deserved a hot drink right? Sure, he hated coffee, but he could get a nice hot chocolate before going home and having to worry about unpacking more stuff and preparing for tomorrow.

He entered the coffee shop, busy with like minded students, and joined the queue. As he waited, his phone buzzed, and Hiccup rolled his eyes when he saw a message from Snotlout.

Hey, little Hiccup, check out my gals!

Attached to it was a picture of Snotlout in a sports uniform, surrounded by a cheerleading team. Part of Hiccup wanted to send a snarky reply about how Snotlout had lost his pompoms, but then he realized he could just not do that. Snotlout had gone to a different college hundreds of miles away, he’d probably never see him again. Why stay in touch with someone who had bullied him nonstop?

So Hiccup’s finger moved from the reply button to the block button, and a weight fell off his shoulders when he pressed it and the messages vanished.

Yeah, this could be an opportunity to start over, a clean slate. He could even get rid of that dumb nickname that had followed him all those years. Hell, he could do that right now! When he’d have to give his name for the order, he’d finally use his real name instead of Hiccup.

“Can I help you?” a female voice made him look up to see the line in front of him had vanished, and he was up to order. Then he looked up a bit more, and nearly dropped his phone.

Did goddesses work at Starbucks? The logo was a siren, and that seemed an apt way to describe the blonde toned woman in front of him. Her smile turned into a frown, and he remembered he was still in a line at a coffee shop.

“I… uh… “ he stuttered, walking to the counter and reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the girl to look at the list of drinks. His brain refused to process any of the words, instead his breath sped up as he realized he looked like an idiot in front of this very attractive and very murderous looking woman.

“I’ll have coffee!” he somehow managed to say.

Any pride he felt in not stuttering vanished when he saw her head tilt, clearly thinking ‘Are you serious?’

She took a deep breath, before asking “What kind of coffee?” with a sugary sweet voice he was sure she used on her most annoying customers. Hiccup really didn’t want to be a most annoying customer. But his brain was bouncing between “Pick something please!”, “Tell the pretty blonde you have to think for a moment!”, and “Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!”

His eyes locked onto something his brain somehow thought was appropriate for the situation, and he shouted “Blonde roast!” making the girl lean back in surprise. Sure that his face was bright red at this point, Hiccup mumbled an apology.

“Alriiiiight then… would you like something in it? Hazelnut, vanilla, caramel?” she asked, looking away from him to enter his order into the register.

“Uhh… No?” he said hesitantly, just wanting this trainwreck to be over.

“Okay, name?” she asked, blue eyes bright as she looked back up at him again, and the part of Hiccup’s brain that knew his name was overwritten by images of her.

“Hiccup!” he finally managed to say when he noticed she was getting frustrated again. Oh gods, why had he said that name?! So much for getting a fresh start! But he couldn’t correct her now, she was already writing it on the cup!

Mentally kicking himself, Hiccup grabbed his card to pay, then moved to the end of the counter. He briefly considered running off, but that’d probably be even weirder. And maybe the coffee would actually be good! So he waited for his drink to finish, trying not to look at the blonde girl. He had been the last in line, so she was now waiting for new customers, leaning her head on her arm.

For a second he thought he saw her glance in his direction with a smile, but then the other barista called his name with a confused tone, and the moment was gone. So he grabbed his coffee and sat down at a small table. The shop was emptying, just some people with laptops left. Hiccup considered doing homework, but decided he just wanted to drink his coffee and go home as quickly as possible.

The moment he took a sip and tasted it he knew that would take a while.

It was sour and bitter, like he was drinking a spoiled lemon. He gagged, the cap the only thing preventing half the cup from spilling over his legs when he jolted from the shock. Gods, why was coffee so awful? Why hadn’t he gotten that vanilla and caramel and all the other stuff that would make this taste like anything other than… this?! Somehow he managed to swallow it, but tears sprang from his eyes.

Okay, one sip down, just… like a hundred to go. Yay, Hiccup. Well done.

The next sip went slightly better. He only gagged audibly once, and managed to put the cup down before his hands shook again. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to swallow. What had he done to deserve this? Was this instant karma for blocking Snotlout?

“You want some sugar?” Hiccup’s eyes flew open at the sound of the pretty barista’s voice right next to him, and a high-pitched squeek came out of his throat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, I could see you… weren’t enjoying your drink, so… “ she said, and he somehow managed to nod.

“I should probably have gotten the caramel,” he said with a chuckle. The girl sat down next to him and grabbed his cup, opening the cap and pouring a pack of sugar into it.

“You didn’t want coffee, did you?” she said as she put the cap back on. He expected her to give him back the cup, but she just held it in her lap.

Hiccup wanted to lie, to pretend like he actually knew how to drink coffee, but she was looking at him so earnestly, the truth rolled off his mouth without thinking.

“No… I wanted hot chocolate,” he mumbled, blushing bright as he looked away.

“Soooooo… why didn’t you order it?” she asked in a playful tone, making him look up in surprise. Along the way his eyes finally noticed she was wearing a name tag.

Astrid. What a pretty name.

“I panicked,” he said, and when she didn’t laugh, he continued. “Sorry, I probably seem like such a creep. I just… It’s my first day here, and I’m exhausted, and as I was waiting I got this annoying text message, and then I looked up and saw you and I-” he quickly shut up when he realized he was about to say way too much.

“It happens a lot here. But not everyone who messes up their order is as cute as you. How about I take your coffee, and we get you an actual hot chocolate, and we can talk more,” Astrid said quickly, and Hiccup was sure his heart stopped beating for a second.

“Don’t you have to work?” was his very smooth response, brain still scrambled as this girl apparently asked him out! Was this a date? Or just a trick to make him spend more money?

“Nah, just got off the clock. It’s slow time right now anyway. So, want that hot chocolate? I can use my employee discount!” she said, winking at the last word. Hiccup was sure he looked very stupid, nodding as a grin formed.

“I’d love to,” he said, and she stood up, coffee still in hand.

“Oh, one thing,” Hiccup somehow found the courage to say. “My name’s not Hiccup. It’s Henry.”

Astrid turned to smile at him. “Very well, Henry. One hot chocolate coming up. On your tab, though. You owe me after ordering ‘coffee’ at a coffee shop.”

#hiccstrid #httyd #fanfiction #drabble #coffeeshop au #silly romance #prompt ask

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