#I’ve gotten to do a couple cool things for big name companies over the years actually

[galaxywarp]

it’s not the same scale + the furry examples are way funnier but THIS steven universe kinnie had sysadmin access to GameStop’s customer service phone tree at his last job.

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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[imagineyourworld]

Shang-Chi dating someone who doesn’t like working out Headcanons

Warnings: Slight spoilers for the movie 

You have always known that Shang-Chi, who you have known as Shaun for the past couple of years, was fit, but only when your group of friends went swimming one day and he took his shirt off before jumping in the cool water did you realize just how built he actually was 

It wasn’t until the first time you slept over at his place that you learned how he maintained his physique.  A creaking sound, which you soon identified as one of the old floor boards in Shang-Chi’s apartment, woke you up. When you turned around to greet the man who you were now lucky enough to call your boyfriend you found his side of the bed empty and cold. It took you a moment to put two and two together and realize that he must have gotten up and by the cause of the creaking floorboard. Slowly you sat up and upon looking around the room were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend doing sit ups at the food of the bed.  “Shaun, it’s seven in the morning on a Saturday, what on earth are you doing?”, you asked, a loud yawn soon following your question. Not that you minded the sight, but you would much rather have him still in bed next to you.  “Sorry, did I wake you? I meant to go to the living room, but you know how loud the door is so I thought just doing a quick workout here would be more quiet”, he was quick to explain, though he didn’t stop his sit ups while talking to you. “Would you like to join me?”  A low laugh escaped your lips. Nothing, not even your loving boyfriend, could make you leave the comfy bed to do a workout at seven in the morning.  “I’m good, let me just enjoy the view.” 

You soon learned to sleep through Shang-Chi’s morning workouts, though you never stopped wishing that he’d turn them into midday workouts so you could wake up next to him for once. One day you finally voiced that wish.  “I’m so sorry, baby, I had no idea you felt that way”, Shang-Chi apologized while pressing soft kisses along your jawline. “How about tomorrow I’ll sleep in with you and then you join me for a workout before breakfast.”  The smile quickly fell from your lips. That had not been your plan, not at all. You weren’t exactly out of shape, but not really in shape either and you knew there was no way you could keep up with him.  “Shaun, I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be better if you did a workout while I make your favourite breakfast?”  Shang-Chi took your hands and looked you deep in the eyes, a pleading expression in them you had never seen before. “Please, it would mean the world to me.”  How could you say no to that? 

After that day Shang-Chi tried to make you join him for at least part of his workout more often, though nine times out of then you declined. Sure, you liked the feeling of knowing you did something for your health, but somehow you didn’t seem to get the same endorphins from working out as your boyfriend did, it just wasn’t fun to you.  Shang-Chi soon noticed this and tried a new approach: self defence. Though he hoped that you’d never need it, he knew that he’d sleep better knowing you could defend yourself it need be. 

He was a patient teacher, but also a tough one. When your boyfriend had first suggested him teaching you self defense you had anticipated a lot of flirting and physical contact, and though the latter was true, it wasn’t what you had hoped it’d be. During your sessions Shang-Chi was all business, but afterwards he kept showering you in compliments and kisses, telling you that you were improving and that he was proud of you for doing this even though you weren’t fond of the idea to begin with. 

It wasn’t until after everything that happened with his father and him telling you about his upbringing that you realized why Shang-Chi worked out so much, and why he was so adamant about you at least trying to run faster and punch harder, it was his way of making sure you were protected if he wasn’t around. 

One day, just as your lives were getting back to normal, you were laying on the couch, your head in your boyfriend’s lap while watching TV an idea came to you.  “Hey, Shang-Chi”, you started, the new name still unfamiliar on your tongue after years of calling him Shaun.  His eyes immediately turned away from the TV to focus on you. “Hey, (Y/N)”, he echoed.  You tried your best to fight the grin that was making its way onto your lips at his silly reply, this was supposed to be a serious conversation.  “I understand why you want me to work out, why you want me to be able to defend myself or run away if I can’t, but working out is like... like two night shifts in a row without caffeine and only really smelly coworkers for company”, tried to explain, though judging by Shang-Chi’s low laughter it wasn’t going all that well, so you turned your back on the rest of your carefully laid out simile and jumped straight to the point.  “How about every Saturday I join you for a torturous morning workout and in return you sleep in with me on Sundays.”  Shang-Chi pretended to think about your proposal, but truth be told, ever since the two of you have started sharing a bed and he woke up next to you every morning it was becoming harder and harder to get up early and leave you laying in bed all by yourself instead of pulling you closer and cuddling until you woke up as well. And now that his father and the Ten Rings were no longer an issue, maybe he no longer needed to force you to keep working out.  “Deal”, he said with a big smile, sealing the deal by pressing a kiss to your lips.  You smiled up at him, glad to have finally found an agreement both of you could work with.  “Oh, and I get to choose the music”, you added before turning back to the show you were watching.  You felt Shang-Chi chuckling rather than hearing it. Maybe, with the right person by your side, working out wasn’t so bad. 

-------

This is purely self indulgent because my workout today killed me and the only thing keeping me going was imagining Shang-Chi being there with me. 

PS. I was really uncertain how to spell his name for this, since I’ve seen it spelled multiple ways here on Tumblr, but I ended up deciding on the official spelling used by Marvel. But if any of you speak Chinese/Mandarin, feel free to correct me. 

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[kpop-zone]

Dating High School Blackpink

Jisoo

The valedictorian

She’s by far the most ambitious girl in school

All the high school drama couldn’t be more unimportant to her

She’s only focused on her studies

And on making her report card look better by joining strategically clever extracurriculars

She only keeps a small number of friends really close

Although she still treats the other students politely and helps them out wherever she can (resulting in her being the class president every year)

But she never really lets any of them close

That’s why you were really surprised when you learned that you had caught her attention

You had been in love with her ever since you started high school

But you had never dared to talk to her because she’s not so lowkey scary

There had been countless others who had tried to woo her

Because despite being a huge nerd, her beauty and unapproachability intrigued everyone

No one ever had a chance with her though

She simply ignored their advances or politely turned them down

So you didn’t even bother to talk with her

But one day in class, she came to talk with you

Your teacher had told you to find a partner for your final project

And suddenly Jisoo popped up in front of you

“Do you want to be my partner?”

Her question had totally caught you off guard and you stared at her with an open mouth

After embarrassing yourself for another painful minute, you eventually managed to shake off your trance and accepted her offer by simply nodding your head

“Ok, great. Meet me in the library after your classes end.”

Without awaiting your answer, she walked away but you wouldn’t have dared to disagree with her anyways

Therefore, you nervously made your way to the library after your classes had ended

Jisoo was already sitting at one of the tables, waiting for you with her school supplies neatly placed in front of her

She didn’t waste any time before starting with your project

Although she seemed to be trailing off several times while you were working

“He was involved with the Medici. They are from Italy. Do you like Italian food?”

You hadn’t expected her to ask you such personal questions, but you didn’t question her method and answered everything without hesitation

It wasn’t until two weeks later that you just weren’t able to ignore Jisoo’s weird behavior any longer

You had wondered right from the start why she had asked you for daily meetings although she seemed to know everything about the project already

Your confusion reached its peak on your last meeting one day before the deadline

Jisoo was completely out of it, fidgeting about on her chair and rambling about random things

“Are you ok? Are you nervous because of the project?”

You asked concerned but Jisoo immediately shook her head

“No, we’ll get an A. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

She blurted out, managing to catch you completely off guard

But you couldn’t say that you didn’t find her straightforwardness extremely attractive

Therefore, you -of course- said yes

The two of you agreed that she would pick you up at seven the same day

She ended up arriving five minutes early at your house and introduced herself to your parents (because she’s a classy girl), managing to woo them in a matter of seconds

After you had left your house, she managed to surprise you another time

You had thought that she would go with a safe choice -having dinner or watching a movie- but instead, she took you stargazing and prepared a fancy picknick with homemade food

And you fell for her even harder, so you didn’t hesitate when she asked you for a second date...and then a third and then a fourth...

On your fourth date she finally confessed to you that she had been in love with you forever

But just like you, she had been too shy to tell you

When the teacher had asked you to pick a partner though, she had decided to grab the chance

So she had used the two weeks that you had to work together to find out more about you and to plan the perfect dates (which she had clearly nailed)

You were completely enraptured by her confession

Therefore, you didn’t even need to think when she asked you to make your relationship official

And ever since, you are a dream team

You are a well-balanced couple

Although Jisoo is still very focused on her studies, she never neglects you

She always makes sure to have enough time for you and never stops being the most charming person on earth

Even though you are already hers, she still takes you on fancy dates and flirts with you as if she still needed to woo you

“Excuse me? Have we met before? I feel like I’ve seen your face before... Oh yeah, I remember now. It was in the dictionary next to the word ‘gorgeous’!”

She will hit you with pick up lines like that out of the blue

You always roll your eyes because of her cheesiness but secretly, you enjoy it

Jisoo also helps you to study

You had never been a terrible student, but sometimes you lack motivation

Your girlfriend has plenty of ways to motivate you though

“I will give you a kiss for every exercise that you solve correctly.”

So, since you started dating Jisoo, your grades had gotten exponentially better

In return for your girlfriend’s assistance, you help her to ease up a bit

You force her to accompany you to parties and to go out with her friends more often

She always whines, but in the end, she’s grateful that you managed to lure her out of her room

Everyone else is jealous of your perfect relationship

Never had the two of you ever been caught fighting

You even got voted first in the category ‘Couple who’s most likely to get married first’ in the yearbook

Because you just look right together

Although Jisoo isn’t a big fan of PDA and at most, allows you to hold her hand in public, the two of you still manage to cause some agitated whispers every time you walk through the hallways together

Everyone simply wants to know how you managed to woo her

But just like Jisoo doesn’t care about the rumors about others, she doesn’t care about the rumors about herself either

She’s perfectly content with everything that she has

And you are perfectly content with everything that you have too

Jennie

The rich girl

She’s by far the most popular girl in school

Everyone who’s befriended with her is considered a cool kid

Her clique frequently makes the hallways its catwalk

Because all her friends manage to significantly upgrade their school uniforms with expensive accessories

Especially Jennie looks like she stepped right out of Gossip Girl

Her look is usually completed by a headband, a shiny brooch, and the newest Chanel bag

The moment she steps out of her family’s Porsche in the morning, the head of every single person in the school turns around

There are only two kinds of people on the planet: people who want to be like her and people who want to be with her

You belong to the second kind

Ever since you had first spotted her, you were head over heels in love with her

But of course, you had never dared to talk with her, because you weren’t considered a cool kid

You just stole secret glances at her like all the other lovesick fools at school

Until the goddess of destiny decided to let you find a grain of corn one day

You had agreed with your friends that you would meet in the stadium to watch the soccer match of your school team together

As usual, however, they texted you shortly beforehand that they would be late

So you ended up sitting all by yourself in the stands, grumpily waiting for your friends to keep you company

Just when you thought that you had to be the unluckiest person on earth though, everything turned to the better

“Are you all by yourself?”

You instantly recognized her voice and whipped your head to the side in lightning speed

Jennie was standing next to you with her friends lining up behind her

You were so shocked that she had noticed you that you weren’t able to utter a single word

But Jennie didn’t seem to mind

“I wanna sit here, guys.”

She said to her friends over her shoulder who sat down obediently

“Hi, I’m Jennie. What’s your name?”

She flashed you the most beautiful smile that you had ever seen, making you blush profusely, but this time you were quick to respond to her question to stop making a fool of yourself

“Y/N!”

You blurted out breathlessly and Jennie’s smile grew even bigger

“Nice to meet you, Y/N! Here, cheer with us!”

She pressed a banner and some pom poms that her friends had brought into your hands before starting to cheer for your school team

You were still completely dumbfounded by the fact that the Jennie Kim was sitting next to you right now, but didn’t dare to disobey her wish

So you started cheering for your team too, causing her to grin at you happily

Till your friends finally decided to appear, you were almost feeling like a part of Jennie’s friend group

She had made sure to introduce you to the others and to incorporate you into their conversations

And to your surprise they were actually a lot more approachable than you had thought

If you were honest, they seemed to be fairly normal teenagers

(except when they asked you if you would also attend fashion week next month)

The evening flew by and when it was time to go home, sadness overcame you because you were sure that you would never talk to them again

But everything came differently the next day at school

“Y/N! Come here! Sit with us!”

As soon as Jennie had seen you entering the cafeteria, she waved you and your friends over

Perplexed, you stared at her, but your friends pushed you into her direction

Everyone in the cafeteria stared at you as you made your way over to the cool kids and started to whisper behind your back

But Jennie didn’t pay attention to anyone but you

She patted the seat right beside her and continued to eat as if it were just a normal lunch break

From that day on, your friends and you had fixed seats at the table of the cool kids

They always waved you over during lunch break

And also started chatting with you when you ran into each other in the hallways like you had always belonged to them

Especially Jennie always seemed to make an effort to see you as often as possible

You didn’t really think much of it at first

Until your friends couldn’t take your obliviousness anymore and told you that Jennie was having a crush on you

You laughed at their ridiculousness, but in the following weeks you noticed that Jennie truly always acted a bit shy around you

You began to doubt your certainty that the Jennie Kim could never be in love with you, and you became a nervous mess around her too

(It was pure torture to watch the two of you for everyone else)

So your friends hyped you up until you finally had enough courage and asked her out for homecoming

You had never seen a happier person in your life before

Jennie smiled with her whole face and instantly agreed

The two of you became the talk of the night

But once again, Jennie only had eyes for you

She even fled the coronation of the homecoming queen

Because she didn’t want to dance with anyone else

So the two of you stole away and talked on the stairs in front of the school instead

You talked all night until more and more students left the dance and you figured that it was time to bring Jennie home

But before you could stand up, she stopped you

“Wait, there’s actually something I wanted to do before we leave.”

Expectantly, you looked at her and to your surprise Jennie suddenly leaned in

Your lips met and you completely froze until she pulled away when someone bolted out of the door behind you

You stared at her in complete shock, but Jennie just smiled at you

“Ok, we can go now.”

She held out her hand to you and you took it speechlessly

Together you made your way back home with your fingers intertwined

When you looked to the side, you could see that Jennie was still grinning from ear to ear and you started to ease up

Like two Cheshire cats you walked through the city, giggling sheepishly every now and then when your eyes met

And you were sure that you had to be the happiest person on the planet

Ever since that night Jennie and you are a couple

And you are allowed to see more and more of her world, realizing that people just had way too much fantasy

Not even half of the rumors that circulate about her and her friends are true

Jennie is not at all that scary, arrogant rich girl that everyone always makes her out to be

She’s just a normal teenager who tries to survive high school

Everyone had just put her in a box, because of her family’s money

She doesn’t think that she’s superior to others because of her family’s money at all though

Although you do have to stop her sometimes from spoiling you too much

Because whenever she sees something that she thinks you could like, she simply buys it

And when you’re getting food together, she always wants to pay

But you convinced her at one point to alternate because you want to spoil her too from time to time

Although she doesn’t really want you to spend a lot of money on her

“If you want to spoil me, then give me endless cuddles.”

She usually says and who were you to disagree?

Generally, Jennie is someone who isn’t too shy to show her love for you publicly

She always makes sure to keep you close by her side

As soon as you are together, your bodies are attached to each other in some way

Either your girlfriend will hold your hand, interlink your arms, place her hand on your leg or sit in your lap

Your friends always tease you about it when you go out together

But Jennie couldn’t care less

She loves you with all her heart and she wants everyone to know that you’re hers

Chaeyoung

The choir girl

She’s a sweetheart

Everyone knows her

And everyone loves her

Because she’s in a billion different clubs at school (she can’t say no...)

Cheerleading, prom committee, glee club, choir, creative writing club...

But her only real passion is music

In 99% of the cases when she’s not in class, she can be found in the choir room

Usually, she just strums away on a guitar or plays piano

Often she leaves the window open and her beautiful voice mesmerizes everyone on the schoolyard

The 1% of the time that she isn’t in the choir room, she can be found in the cafeteria

All the cafeteria ladies know her by name

And they are all whipped for her

She always gets an extra scoop or sometimes she even gets some special menu

And as her best friend, you enjoy the same benefits as well

You can’t remember a time that you weren’t with her

She’s your best friend ever since you can think

The two of you live in the same street

And grew up playing together

Ever since elementary school you also attend the same schools

So at one point in your live it literally seemed like you were seeing each other 24/7

That’s why you don’t really know when your relationship had changed

It was more of a creeping process

Even as children you liked to pretend that you were a married couple when you were playing

It was also normal for the two of you to hold hands wherever you were going

Therefore, you can’t really tell when you turned from friends to lovers

Neither of you were simply ever interested in anyone else

And when you moved on to middle school together, everyone assumed that you were a couple

And you didn’t bother to correct them

It wasn’t until the end of middle school though that you actually kissed for the first time

You were having one of your many sleepovers

And all the pent-up uncertainty and emotions that both of you had been feeling finally reached their limit

So when you were facing each other on your bed and Chaeyoung’s gaze flickered to your lips, you just leaned in

It was just a short and sweet peck on the lips

But when Chaeyoung giggled happily afterwards, it didn’t fail to make a million butterflies erupt in your stomach

And you knew that this definitely would not be the last time

Since then you are officially a couple

Although you actually spend less time together ever since you transferred to high school

Because both of you have quite busy schedules

That did not change the importance that you have in each other’s lives though

Chaeyoung is still the first person that you tell every important and not so important thing in your life and vice versa

And both of you are still completely uninterested in anyone else

Although there are of course a lot of jocks who want to woo Chaeyoung because she’s the captain of the cheerleading squad

But she is always quick to turn everyone down

Managing to break a lot of hearts in the process

Because she’s very bad at hiding the disgust in her face whenever someone flirts with her

So you usually laugh away all the advances of her admirers

Plus, most students know that the two of you are dating anyways

After all, you are one of those annoyingly cute couples

You have lunch together every day and wait for each other after school to walk home together

Chaeyoung also holds your hand at all times or interlinks your arms

So sometimes it seems like the two of you are magnets

And someone who doesn’t know you would probably think that you had just fallen in love

Because everyone can see that you’re completely crazy about each other

Especially when your girlfriend surprises you with small, sweet gestures

When you have a test, for example, she always makes sure to slip your favorite snack into your backpack

Or she leaves random cute notes in your locker when you have different classes all day long

In return, you always visit her at the choir room to bring her snacks when she forgets time once again

Often, you also study there instead of in the library, because you can never get enough of your girlfriend’s voice

That’s also why you would never miss one of her performances

No matter whether it’s a singing, dancing or reciting performance

You are her biggest fan

Although Chaeyoung always gets really shy when you praise her afterwards

But of course, you end up praising her even more, just to see her blush

When the two of you are not at school, you usually like to hang out at one of your houses

Often you have “study dates” which are not really used for studying though

You always plan to study, but end up doing other things instead

The longest time you had ever managed to stay focused was 15 minutes

It’s just too distractive for the two of you to be in one room

Usually you end up talking or making out all day long

So sometimes you don’t even bother to bring your books when you go to Chaeyoung’s house

Why should you study if you could have a picnic with your girlfriend and her cute puppy instead or watch some stupid variety show together?

Most of the time your procrastination isn’t too harmful for your report cards either

So neither of you feels too bad for not doing what you were supposed to

After all, time that you spent together is never wasted

Because even after all these years, you could never get bored of each other

Every moment that you spend together is special

Lalisa

The troublemaker

The moment that you had met Lisa for the first time, you knew that she would turn your life upside down

She is not your average high school student

She is just there to have a good time

Theoretically, she is smart and talented enough to join countless clubs (like the Foreign Language Club)

But practically, that’s too much work for her

The same applies to sports clubs

It takes no genius to see that she’s athletic as hell

But she doesn’t like the pack behavior that comes with those clubs

The only activity that she had ever tried was cheerleading because dancing is her passion

But it was way too restrictive for her

She hated following the lame choreographies of her coach

Plus, there had been too much drama for her with the other girls

Many of them had been jealous because they couldn’t keep up with her

So, Lisa simply left the squad again

She just wants to get through school without any stress or drama

Although she unfortunately has the talent to frequently get herself in quite a lot of trouble

Her favorite offense is to fall asleep during her classes

And one of her gravest ones is accidentally blowing up the chemistry lab

She never means to cause trouble

But the frequency of her accidents has earned her a reputation as troublemaker

Therefore, it is no surprise that the two of you had met in detention for the first time

Your teacher had guided you to the gym where Lisa was already waiting

She had instantly caught your eye although she seemed to be a be a bit shy

“Lisa! Nice to see you here...again. You know the drill. Everything needs to be squeaky clean.”

Those were the words that the teacher had said before leaving Lisa and you alone

For a few awkward seconds, the two of you just stole sheepish glances at each other

But then Lisa eventually piped up

“What are you here for?”

She asked while grabbing a mop and starting to clean the old, smelly gym

“I punched a guy for stealing a kid’s lunch money.”

You replied casually, causing her to stare at you in surprise for a second

Eventually she managed to recover herself though and nodded impressed

“Dope.”

From that moment, the ice between the two of you was broken

And you started to chat while mopping the floors

The time flew by as you learned more and more about each other

You found that you had more in common than just your inclination to get yourself in trouble

Your taste in music was pretty similar and you could also not argue with Lisa’s choice of absolute must-watch movies

After a while, your punishment didn’t even seem so bad anymore

If you were honest, you were glad to be stuck in your school’s smelly gym right now

Subconsciously, you had even started to clean slower just so that you could spend more time with Lisa

But eventually, your teacher came back to set you free and it was time to part ways

Both of you hesitated to leave though so you figured that you should not forgo this chance

“Maybe we could meet up some day and watch some movies together?”

You asked Lisa as you stepped out of the gym and she looked at you with a wide smile playing on her lips

“I would love that!”

She responded happily and you could feel your heart fluttering in your chest

Quickly, you exchanged phone numbers before saying goodbye

The following days, you didn’t see Lisa at school though to your dismay

She also never texted

And suddenly you started wondering whether she had just given you her number because she didn’t want to be rude

You were already pretty sure of your theory when Lisa finally sent you a message after four days

That’s Lego

Attached to her short message was a picture of a kitten and you laughed because of Lisa’s randomness

But you couldn’t say that her strategy hadn’t worked

The ice was broken again and the two of you texted every day

You also met up at school and hung out between your classes

It seemed like Lisa had just been a bit shy in the beginning

Because now that you knew each other better, you could barely stop her from talking (not that you would have wanted her to anyways)

You also followed through with your plan to have a movie night

Although you didn’t really watch a lot of movies

At first, you got distracted by Lisa’s cats

Then you stumbled upon her impressive collection of photos that she had taken over the years

And finally, she tried to make fresh popcorn, but forgot to put a lid on

So, when you started with the first movie, it was already past 10 pm

Nevertheless, you considered the night a success

Rarely anybody on this planet had ever managed to make you laugh as much as Lisa did

And you loved that she had allowed you to see a part of her world that not everyone could see

Therefore, your first movie night was followed by countless others

You grew closer every time, but you still didn’t really know what the two of you were

So you gathered all your courage and asked Lisa one night

“What...are we?”

You were a little nervous because you didn’t know whether you would like her answer

But Lisa just kept slurping the ramen that she was eating as if you had asked a totally mundane question

“I’m your girlfriend, right?”

She replied nonchalantly while glancing over the pot at you, causing you to chuckle

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

Everything about your relationship simply exudes strong ‘chaotic neutral’ energy

When the two of you are together no one knows what to expect

Maybe you use your time efficiently and build a darkroom for Lisa or have a study marathon

But maybe you also drink 20 shots of espresso each to watch all Harry Potter movies in one sitting

Everyone who knows you thinks that you are a safety hazard together

But for some reason you still work perfectly fine

You’re both chaotic, but in different ways

So you balance each other out

And both of you also have the same goals

You don’t take school too seriously

But you still have big plans for your future, so you always make sure to have a decent report card

And help each other out when you are struggling

Because you believe in each other

You know that Lisa will be the most famous dancer one day

And she would drop everything at any time to help you achieve your dreams as well

Together, you are an unstoppable force

And you know it

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[fridayfirefly]

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[livexdolan]

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza​ @vintagedolan​​ @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan​ @dicedols @plantbasedgray

[levi-lover]

New Light Part: 1

College Levi x Reader(Modern AU)

W/C: 2.5

T/W: Pretentious Hipster Levi lol 

A/N: Levi is a moody English major who spends his free time reading at the local cafe and yes, I think that is sexy as hell. This is a slowburn piece kinda  inspired by the Hulu show Normal People! I love that show but I could never watch it again bc it breaks my heart too much lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Part Two will be up soon! & this picture is from Pinterest)

I’ve put all the parts in one list here:  New Light Masterlist

“I just don’t get it.” You huffed and leaned back into your chair. 

“Don’t worry, this stuff takes time to learn!” Hange looked at you earnestly.

The two of you had been studying at Maria’s Coffee for a few hours. Your genetics midterm was in a few days and you were completely lost. You met Hange on your first week, you anxiously walked into the lecture hall thinking this would be an easy pass to fulfill your science credit. Oh boy, were you wrong. Immediately, you were thrown into the depths of mitosis and chromosomes. The only good thing that came out of it was your new friendship with Hange. On your first day, Hange complimented your sweater and asked if they could sit with you. Hange was a genetics major so this class was easy, hell, it was fun for them. They offered to tutor you so you bought them coffee during your study sessions in return.

“Yeah, you’re right but still,” You said in between sips of your coffee. “How do you like this stuff?” 

“Oh, it’s fascinating to me, it’s crazy how we’re made up of tiny cells and in those cells is our human history but we can’t even see it. It’s like the world’s smallest yet most important puzzle.” Hange’s eyes lit up as they continued speaking. 

You listened and continued to drink your coffee. It was late but the cafe was still busy with college students hurrying to type their papers and study for tests. The lamps left soft yellow shadows on the cream colored walls. The cafe was homey and it felt like it was a cottage pulled straight out of a forest. From the back of the cafe, you could see the entrance. It was raining and people ran across the sidewalk with their jackets over their heads. You laughed through your nose.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Hange questioned. 

“What? Of course, I am. Science is the answer to everything, right?” You quipped. 

Hange rolled their eyes and went back to their textbook. You kept your eyes on the front door. It had been a few days since you had seen your coffee shop friend. The word friend was a loose term for your relationship with the dark-haired boy. Your relationship started one day when you were sitting in the spot you are now, it was late, close to 1 am and after downing two cups of coffee you needed to pee. Across from you was a small man holding a used copy of Slaughterhouse Five, he was dressed in all black and was munching on a muffin. You asked him to watch your stuff, he nodded and pushed his hair away from his gray eyes. From that point on, you developed a friendship founded on your mutual respect for privacy yet concern over each other’s well-being. It became an unspoken rule that this was the only place you would meet. Your attention returned to your work, if he wasn’t going to show up then whatever, he was just another stranger. 

“Hange, I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“What?! Why?! We haven’t even gotten to the good part, wait until you hear about what happens to the amino acids during replication.” The same familiar look of excitement washed over Hange’s face. 

“Look as exciting as it all sounds, I’m gonna have to pass.” You began to gather your things when the front door opened. You looked up and saw the dark-haired boy. He looked as pretty as always with a beige tote bag draped across his shoulder, droplets of rain hung onto his dark strands. Next to him stood a tall, handsome blonde man who was looking around the cafe. His eyes stopped when he reached your table and he lifted a hand and waved at you. You looked at him confused. 

“LEVIIII!! ERWIIIN!!” Hange yelled and waved their arms. People looked up at them with annoyance. 

“Wait, you know them?” You asked.

“Who, those idiots? Yeah. I forgot to tell you I invited them to study with us. Levi promised to help me write a paper,” Hange said nonchalantly. “Shit! I should have asked you if that’s okay. Is it?” 

You looked down and felt your face redden, “no worries, it’s not a problem.” 

“I’ll introduce you to them, they’re buttheads but they don’t bite.”

You sat back down and looked at your notebook as the dark-haired boy and the tall blonde walked towards you. A bundle of nerves planted themselves in your stomach but you couldn’t understand why. You’ve known this man for a couple of months now, slowly building a friendship at your own pace. It was nice to have control over something in your life for once but life always has a different plan for you; it was time to properly meet the dark-haired boy. All rules are eventually broken.

You ruffled the papers in front of you and took another sip of your drink but it was empty. Shit, you thought. The two men were standing in front of you and Hange at this point. The dark-haired boy looked at you, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, you’re House Coffee,” he said in a monotonous tone.

The blonde man and Hange looked at him confused, “wait, you know her?” Hange asked.

You shook your head, “nope.”

The dark-haired boy looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda, actually,” You muttered.

“Huh, that’s cool!” Hange announced. “Levi’s a little bitch but you probably already knew that.”

“Shut up, Four Eyes,” Levi retorted.

The blonde man laughed, “my name is Erwin. I’m a Political Science and History double major.” He gave you a dashing smile and lifted his hand.

Levi rolled his eyes, “humble much?”

Erwin gave him a glare before returning his clear blue eyes to you. You chuckled and raised your hand to his. It was a firm handshake.

“My name is (Y/N), it’s very nice to meet you, Erwin. And it’s Levi, right?” Your head turned to the dark-haired boy and he blushed slightly. Hange and Erwin exchanged a look.

Hange raised their hands slightly and asked, “I’m confused.”

“When aren’t you.” Levi remarked.  

“Oh, shut it you. I thought you two already knew each other.”

You placed your hands around the empty mug, hoping it would stabilize your nerves. “Know might be a strong word, I guess we’ve seen each other here before?“ You shrugged and looked at Levi.

He nodded, “I agree, we sometimes look after each other’s stuff and talk about books.”

“Good to know. I’m glad Levi has someone else to talk to,” Erwin declared.

They pulled out two chairs and placed them around the table. Erwin pulled out his laptop and his binders, everything was color-coordinated down to the tabs and pens. Levi pulled out a yellow notepad and a beat up copy of On the Road and single black pen. He tried his best to act natural but was unsure how to act around you and his friends. He wasn’t prepared for his two worlds to crash, it wasn’t that he was ashamed to know you. He enjoyed your company but it was something that was special to him. He didn’t want to share those precious late night hours with anyone else but you.

“I’m going to go buy a tea, (Y/N) do you want anything?” Erwin said pointing at your empty cup.

“Uh no-” You were about to say before Levi interrupted you.

“12 oz house coffee, splash of soy,” He stated.

Hange raised their eyebrows, in all their years of friendship he had never bothered to learn their coffee order. Erwin was equally as surprised. You stared at Levi, unsure what to say.

“Alright, you got it,” Erwin said before grabbing your empty mug.

Levi and Erwin got up and walked to the front counter. Hange grabbed your arm and you looked at them surprised.

“How long have you known Levi?” They whispered.

“Uh, like I said, ‘know’ is a strong word but a couple of months. We just sit near each other and sometimes talk. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe Levi didn’t tell me he knew you,” Hange said in disbelief.

“Did you tell him about me?” You retorted

“No but still. If I knew my two friends knew each other, I would have set this study party together a long ass time ago.”

You shrugged and went back to looking at your notes. By this time, Levi and Erwin were walking back to the table. Erwin was holding a mug of tea and your coffee, Levi was holding a mug of tea in one hand and an apple muffin in another. Erwin handed you your coffee and you thanked him. He sat in front of you and Levi opposite of him. Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “how do you guys know each other?”

“We met in genetics class,” You responded.

“You’re a science major, too?”Erwin asked.

“No, I’m a humanities major but I still need my science requirement so I’m taking this class and majorly regretting it.”

“Hey, it’s not all bad. We’re friends now,” Hange nugged their elbow at you, you gave them a smile and nodded.

“What a reward,” Levi muttered.

You held back a laugh which made Levi smile, he hid it behind his book.

“How do the three of you know each other?” You pointed to the trio.

Hange shot up from their text book and exclaimed,“oh, (Y/N) you’re going to love this so it all started four years ago…”

It was their freshman year, Levi’s uncle had just dropped him off at the dorms and left him alone to unpack. Levi didn’t have much except for a suitcase of clothes, a bed sheet set and a small box of books. He started to put his clothes away in the drawers when the door opened and a lean, tall blonde boy and his father walked in, pulling a cart of the boy’s belongings.

“Hi, you must be my roommate. My name is Erwin,” he stood at the doorway awkwardly waving at Levi.

“Levi.”

“Hello, I’m Erwin’s dad, nice to meet you.”

Levi gave him a small smile and continued to organize his side of the room, it took about fifteen minutes in total. After Erwin’s dad left, Levi and Erwin sat on their respectives beds in silence. It took them awhile but eventually they bonded over their mutual love of Russian poetry. Over the next few weeks, they built a symbiotic relationship filled with chore charts and late night study hangs. Levi genuinely enjoyed Erwin’s presence, he was his first friend outside of his hometown. Erwin felt the same way too. He never had a huge opportunity to meet people since he was homeschooled until his final two years of high school. They had found a companion in each other.

The week before Thanksgiving break, Erwin convinced Levi to host a small gathering in their dorm. Levi hesitantly agreed and Erwin managed to get his hands on a weed brownie. They invited a few of their floormates and shared the goods and drank a single Mike’s Hard Lemonade that Hange brought. They sat on the concrete floor and waited for the weed to hit after thirty minutes, no one was high. One of their floormates, Zeke, took a whiff of the brownie and laughed.

“Erwin, this is a fucking regular brownie,” he glanced at Erwin who was tenderly sipping out of the bottle. Zeke’s roommate, Porco laughed.

“No, it can’t be,” Erwin responded. Hange looked around nervously and Levi glared at Zeke.

“Ha, whatever. This kickback is lame anyways. Let’s go,” Zeke and the others left.

Hange, Erwin, and Levi stayed in silence for a few minutes until Hange spoke, “I thought it was a good brownie.”

Erwin gave them a half-hearted smile and looked down at the bottle. Levi sighed and walked to his closet.

“Now that those fucktards are gone, let’s have a real party,” Levi said as he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Erwin looked at Levi, shocked. “How long have you had that?”

“My uncle gave it to me when he dropped me off. As a going away present.” Levi shrugged it off.

The rest of the night was spent taking shots of whiskey and playing cards games, it was the first night of many.

“Wait, really? Erwin you bought a dud brownie.” You held your side as you laughed.

Erwin looked sheepishly at his drink. Levi had a smirk on his face.

“Yeah! Looking back at it now, it’s the funniest thing ever. But those other guys were jerks. I don’t remember their names now or anything but I hope they’re living horrible lives,” Hange proclaimed.

“I believe it and I hope so too.” You wiped a tear from your face and felt Levi’s gaze on you.

Levi had never seen you laugh that hard, he liked this side of you. He went back to notating his book but he couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth in his chest. The four of you remained in comfortable silence for a while. The coffee shop began to slow down as the clock ticked further into the night.

“This has been a lot of fun but I think I’m going to call it,” Erwin’s deep voice broke the silence of the table.

The three of you nodded in agreement and began to pack your bags. You watched Levi’s slender fingers gently put his belongings into his tote bag. His dark hair was getting long, it brushed against his cheek as he moved his body. You looked away quickly, you knew nothing could happen between the two of you but watching him interact with his friends casted a new light on him. Levi, what a name, you thought. For the past couple months, he was your secret friend, someone you could talk to without feeling judged because he was so removed from your everyday life but now, it was different. You both shared a mutual connection and of course, you shared the countless hours spent in this cafe.

The four of you made casual conversation as you exited the cafe. The cold air whipped your face and you tugged your scarf tighter around your neck.

“Hey, do you need a ride? I’m parked a block away,” Erwin asked you.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’ll walk her home.” Hange winked at Erwin, Levi rolled his eyes.

“I live a few blocks away but thank you. It was really nice to meet you Erwin and Levi it’s nice to finally know your name.”

Levi looked down at the ground and a pink glow appeared on his face, “yeah, this was nice.”

You watched them turn around and walk in the opposite direction for a moment before turning to Hange. The air was cool and the clouds had parted, leaving open an endless sky peaking through the buildings and the trees. It had become a ritual for the two of you to walk home after study sessions since you lived a few blocks away from each other. Hange made casual conversation on your walk home but you hardly paid attention. You kept on thinking about Levi and wishing you never learned his name.

[remakethestars]

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞ 

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny. 

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers. 

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred. 

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research! 

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels. 

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[sweetdejun]

someday // l.t.y.

summary: several years after high school, when you and your peers have all established careers, you get invited to your graduating class reunion.

pairing: lee taeyong x gn!reader

word count: 2.4k

genre: exes!au, angst, some closure.

a/n: mentions of alcohol, UNEDITED

You knew this day would come, but not this soon.

It feels like it came fast when in reality it’s been almost seven years since you graduated from high school. It took a handful of odd jobs after receiving your bachelor’s degree, but you were able to land a position as an accountant. With your hard work, you’ve slowly climbed up the ladder to where you now serve as the finance director of the firm you work for. Your salary is handsome, as per your standards, and you were recently able to afford a nice apartment. It was only after your move that you visited your parents on the other side of the city where they handed you the envelope in your hands. It was an invitation to your high school reunion.

That's how, fast forward a week later, you found yourself standing in front of your old high school gymnasium. You see people walking towards the entrance and feel stupid because most of them seem to be going with another person, maybe a friend they would keep in touch with or a significant other. Maybe you should have coaxed one of your co-workers and bribed them with drinks or something afterward. Too late now, you thought, as you sighed and made your way to the entrance. Upon arrival, the first thing you notice is the reasonably large group of people scattered throughout the room. It’s dark and the only light sources are the few disco ball lamps projecting multicolored circles throughout the perimeter of the room. You squint to try to make out people when seconds later, your thoughts are interrupted by a shrill, “Y/N!” You turn your head towards the sound and find an adult Jisoo approaching you. Jisoo was one of your closest friends you kept in touch with for a while but lost contact with a couple of years into college. “Jisoo, is that you? Oh my god, it’s been ages! How are you?” you hugged her, and she began to share how shortly after graduating college, she applied for a job as a photographer at a fashion agency, but she ended up landing a job as a model. Long story short, Jisoo was now a thriving model. “I’m so happy for you!” you gush with sincerity and she gets shy, combing her fingers through her hair. She tells you that she may have just landed her big break, about to fill you in on details when an oh-so-familiar voice cuts her off. “Hey guys,” you turn around and your eyes meet Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong and Y/N: the “dream team” as they used to call you back in high school. You shared a long and valuable relationship with him, dating almost throughout all of high school. That's why when people heard that you split up, they were more shocked than they would have liked to admit. it was a rather nasty breakup that was not mutual at first; he had gotten into his dream university located across the country while you chose to stay in your home city for college. You didn't want to stop him from achieving his dreams of becoming a pediatric dietitian; you would have hated yourself for acting that selfish. Therefore, you thought things could work via long-distance and they did for a while, but the harsh realities like not being able to hold each other in your hard times set in faster than you wanted to admit. Your schedules were becoming increasingly incompatible, and it became difficult for either one of you to grasp onto the relationship. You both watched as it slowly slipped away from your hands. Taeyong was the one to pull the trigger, and with heavy hearts, the two of you officially parted ways.

You have not contacted each other since then. Now, the two of you stand face to face, and you see an emotion in his eyes that you don’t recognize. Perhaps it’s because you successfully managed to forget the negative memories from all the ones you still have of him. Or maybe you just forgot how to read him. “Uh, Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” he awkwardly rubs his hands together as he slowly shifts his gaze around the room. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to come, but I decided to come just for the fun of it. Bit of a last-minute decision, actually.” Jisoo could sense the tension in the air and playfully scoffed, “really? Y/N, I thought you weren’t the type of person to make last-minute decisions. You used to grill me for doing that all the time.” You notice the surprise looming on Taeyong's face; he must’ve been taken aback by your statement too. You turn away from his careful gaze before coldly replying, “people change over time, I guess.”

After Jisoo finds someone else to catch up with, you quickly excuse yourself to the bar to grab a glass of punch because there is no way in hell that you want to be left alone with Taeyong right now. The walk over to the bar is a little difficult, mainly due to the lack of light, but you manage to make it without bumping into anyone else. as you pour your punch in a cup, someone clears their throat in front of you. “Johnny Suh!” you gasp, a smile forming on your face. Johnny and you used to be neighbors in high school but right after graduation, he and his family moved to Chicago. You were very sad at the departure of one of your only friends, so you were beyond thrilled to see him again. You shuffle around the table to give him a hug that he gladly reciprocated. “I thought I saw you walk in. how are you, Y/N?”

“I’ve been well. Busy, but well. When did you get back?” He tells you that he recently got a job at an accounting firm, right here in the city. When you ask him where he says the name of your firm. “No way! I work there, too!” Johnny lights up at this, you talk about the work-life, how the people are, and share your experiences.

You fail to notice that across the room, a pair of eyes have been following you ever since you left them alone a few moments ago. Taeyong watches, with a pained gaze, as you reciprocate what is obvious flirtatious behavior from Johnny. Truthfully, when Johnny moved away, Taeyong remembers being a little happy on the inside, because he wouldn’t have to hear you talk about him so much. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Johnny harbored a small crush on you. When he brought it up, you used to throw your head back in laughter, before pinching his cheeks and calling him cute. That same feeling begs to ignite again, but his head is quicker than his heart, as it forces him to look down at the thin silver band wrapped around the ring finger of his right hand. You’ve moved on, he hears, and he tucks his hand into his pocket. Someone walks over to him and captures his attention, pushing the thoughts of you and what could have been to the back of his head.

Johnny gets a call from someone, so he excuses himself from your company, leaving you standing amidst the terrible background music and a half-full cup of punch in your hand. You figure you can go grab some fresh air right about now, so you meander off to the door, before stepping out onto the concrete outside. The cool summer breeze is comfortable against your arms but out of habit you fold them together, the cup of punch firmly held in your palm. You close your eyes and exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Care if I join you?” Taeyong’s voice rings, shattering the silence you developed briefly. Opening your eyes, you clear your throat before saying, “be my guest.” Taeyong stands next to you, and once he’s in the light you’re able to get a better look at him. The last time you saw Taeyong, his hair was much shorter and cleanly trimmed. He had innocence in his eyes that twinkled with every step. The version of him standing next to you was definitely more mature; there’s a shadow of smile lines and crow’s feet on the side of his face you see, his hair has grown out quite a bit and you can make out the sharpness of his cheekbone and jaw naturally contouring his face.

“Some things never change, right?” He says out of the blue and you cough to offset the growing embarrassment you feel. He’s referring to how you used to zone out into your thoughts when you stared at him, usually from the side. He would always be able to pick up on it, teasing you relentlessly. “Have you been well?” “Did you move back here?” The both of you asked at the same time to one another, awkwardly laughing off the collision of your questions before you said, “you first.” Taeyong nodded, “I moved back here almost a year ago actually. I was transferred to a small hospital and they knew I was from here, so they figured it was easier to send someone who had a feel for the demographic.” You bit your lip, and he continued, “I didn’t realize how much I missed this city. It was only after I moved back that I felt like this is where home was all along. How about you, did you ever leave?” You shook your head, “I had all my opportunities here, so I never felt the need to go anywhere. I have been perfectly happy and I never felt better,” and as you speak, you notice Taeyong pull his hand out of his pocket to scratch his ear and light reflects the ring resting nicely on his ring finger. You try not to let your eyes widen too much, but you can’t help it if your heart shatters in your chest. “You’re engaged.” Taeyong winced at the change in your tone; he wanted to avoid this topic. “Uh, yeah. Yes, I am.” You attempt to play it off, looking away from his analyzing gaze. “Who’s the lucky person?” Taeyong looks outward with a certain fondness as he recalls details of his significant other. He says they met in one of his classes, saying they “were the best friend he never had”. You listened on as your walls started to break.

“I proposed shortly after I found out I was transferred here. They moved here with me, actually.” You nodded, recognizing all too well this feeling growing in you. It was reminiscent of how you felt when you broke up with him, but this was much more intense. You painfully exhaled and you knew he could sense it. “Happy for you. I really am,” you managed to say without letting your voice crack. Taeyong was always very straightforward with you, and it didn’t surprise you when he said, “Y/N, I was in the darkest place when we broke up. They helped me get out of that. I know it was not an easy decision to make, which is why I want you to know that you will always have a place in my heart. We spent so many years together, it’s natural that you and I will always be something special.” You turn the other way, and this time, you can’t stop the tears from falling. You couldn’t face him anymore because you don’t want to reveal to him that a big part of you still wanted him. Seeing that ring on his finger and hearing him gush about his partner reaffirmed all that. Now, all you wanted to do was to get out of there. “I’ll be honest, sometimes it still feels like I haven’t gotten over you. Even if I did. Know that I will always love you and that you’ll always have a piece of me.” Taeyong says, and a small whimper leaves you. “I’m a mess, Taeyong,” you croak. “I built this strong wall and convinced myself that I was okay. Tonight you’ve proved me wrong. I tried time and time again to find someone else to introduce into my life but no one comes close.” You finally wipe your eyes and turn back to face Taeyong to find silent tears trailing down his face. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight if I’m being honest. I needed to get this off my chest. I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.”

You breathe, the final bit of teardrops sitting at your waterline. “Thank you, Taeyong. For everything, but especially the memories. I know I can’t fall out of love with you overnight, and I certainly will not ask you to do anything selfish. You know that I just want you to be happy, and if they make you happy, that’s all that matters.” Taeyong wants to reach out to wipe your tears, but he’s afraid he’ll cross a line he set for himself. “Would you still want to be friends? For old times’ sake,” Taeyong asks, hoping you’ll say yes. You feel conflicted but you say, “you’re going to need to give me time, Taeyong. I need to sort things out in terms of relationships, and right now, I don’t think I can take being your friend. That’s going to lead to me wishing terrible things on you two, and I don’t want to jeopardize a relationship that is strong enough as it is. Please, don’t force me to befriend you when I’m broken.” Taeyong is hurt, but the rational voice in his head is telling him that you are doing the right thing. “It’s getting late,” you muster the courage to say, “I should head out but I’m glad you got the closure you needed.” Taeyong offered to walk you to your car, and you don’t know if you can take any more heartbreak, but you let him walk you anyway. The tears are gone for now, but they’ll come back. Taeyong hesitates, “Do you want to meet up for lunch or something anytime soon?” You unlock your door and open it before turning to him. There’s a glint of hope in his eye, and you smile meekly, “maybe but not soon, Taeyong. When I’m ready. I hope you can understand.” He nods almost instantly, and you’re grateful for his reaction. “I’ll see you someday,” you tell him and he nods, waving to you as you start your car and leave, whispering under his breath “someday.”

a/n: AHHH my first ever long scenario. this was much easier to do than a series lol but I’m nervous! I would appreciate any and all feedback you guys have for me, and thank you for reading it!

[marcherarrant]

"On this day, March 1st 2021, Marcher Arrant sets off for his biggest walk yet...a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail."Here we go!!! This is so surreal,  I can't believe this is happening! I'm excited and nervous! This is so much more than a walk. Every walk I do is. It is my way of life, my art, my therapy,  my source of meaning, ect. But this walk in particular is something even more. This walk is the crossing over of a threshold. It is a self created rite of passage, a new beginning. As a Walker my I embrace a philosophy of becoming, of constant movement, of no beginning or ending, constant flux. That being said, there are moments of being, moments when flowers bloom. I'm in love with shows and movies in which you see people become their destiny. It's perhaps a banal example but the first show that comes to mind is Better Call Saul. I watched that with such joy seeing him become the sleazy lawyer he was meant to become. I was destined to become this person I have always dreamt myself to be, Marcher Arrant. This walk is where I become him fully.  I made a real life flag as a symbol of that. I was born a Walker. I began walking more than those around me when I was in 6th or 7th grade. And my love for it has continually grown through the years and there have been countless thresholds I've crossed that have been pivotal in marking me for my destiny. It was around middle school or early high school that I walked from my house to downtown Columbus,  a 4 hour walk. I later walked there and back. Years later I walked the tracks from Boulder, Colorado to Denver, a twelve hour walk. I ended up doing that walk a lot. Eventually I walked to Denver and back, walking for more than 24 hours without stopping. Then I started doing aimless 24 hour walks all the time. I moved to Paris. From there I did my first long distance walk, a month-long  trip from Paris to Rocessvelles, Spain. That opened up a whole new door. I then walked the entire length of every street in Paris. And on and on and on... so many walks. In Paris,  maybe 10 years ago now, thanks to my homie Curve (@thecurvazoid, forever grateful) I began toying with graff, came up with my character and name. I later moved to Spain and did many more walks.  For most of my life my walking was something personal that I did not share with anyone. I thought it romantic, beautiful and pure that my art was just for me.  But then I had a health scare and it was then I got the urge to share what I do online. I felt I had something unique to offer the world and I did not want to die without sharing it.  I am glad I did because doing so gave my life so much more meaning.  I then got into making art and books and fell in love with that.  2 years ago I decided that before I did another big walk that I would catch my art up to my life and make books and art from all my previous walks so that when I did the next walk I could focus for the first time on making art and a book while I was doing the walk instead of going back and doing it after the fact. I finished all the art and books for my past walks. This is the first walk where everything comes together for the first time, the walk, the art, the book, the graffiti. Also over the last two years I decided to set up for myself work so that I will always have a job no matter where in the world I am so that I can walk with no pause. I began an online English teaching business. It was a long road to be able to get enough students so that I could make a living from it.  I have finally gotten to the point where I am fully booked. I begin my dream life now, a sustainable life where through art and teaching English I can walk forever and take care of myself.  My dream is to spend my life walking the world, alternating from long distance walks to living in new cities and fully exploring those, walking every street and painting and making art.  This is a dream come true, my idiosyncratic idea of the perfect life, a life I will never tire of, one that suits who I am in the most perfect way.  I am in love with the writer Nietzsche who philosophy was about making your life a work of art, living in a way that ties together all the aspects of you into a beautiful whole. The work I have done over the past few years with the walking, the graffiti, the English teaching, the art and books, the travel and how they have all tied together at this moment, with this walk, I have accomplished this goal of making my life a work of art and tying all the aspects of my life into a harmony. No matter what happens in my life now, I can die happy having accomplished this. For me, it is a sort of intangible form of art, my greatest accomplishment.  It is so hard to figure out who you are and what you want when there is no precursor to it. I am so fucking proud of myself for believing in my strange vision despite the fact that until very recently it never gave me a cent, never did anything to advance my life or do anything for me besides the meaning it gave to me. It is so hard to keep doing something that seems to everyone around you, to society, to be utterly useless. You have to be brave and trust your vision. 

The hardest part of any walk for me is getting to the starting point.  I grew up pretty poor.  When you grow up poor, at least for me, everything seems so out of reach.  You have this unconscious feeling that you would never be able to do so many things.  This is great because when you do those things your mind is just blown and you  are so amazed and in disbelief and you don’t take it for granted in the slightest.  I never in a million years thought I would be able to live in another country.  I thought that was something rich people do which is totally untrue but that is just the kind of mentality you have when you grow up poor.  When I moved to Europe it was surreal. Every single day, for the ten years I lived there, I was in total awe that I was there. I did not have a single boring day. Every single day I could not believe I lived there and that did not lessen a single minute bit the entire time I lived there.  It is the same way I feel about doing long distance walks. I was so amazed by the idea of the Appalachian Trail when I was a kid. But I thought only rich people could do it.  The fact that I am setting out to do it today is absolutely surreal. I am in total disbelief that I am doing it. I keep getting scared that somehow something is going to happen so that I can’t do it. I don’t take it for granted in the slightest that I get to do it.  It literally feels like a miracle to me. And there are so many to thank for it.  First I want to thank my mom and step dad who let me live at their house rent free while I worked on starting my online English teaching business and making barely any money.  I never could have started my business without them and saved the money I have.  I thank my grandma, my dad and step mom, my sisters, my brother and all my family who have helped me so much. Thank you so so so much to the people who have bought art, books, stickers from me over the past couple years, people who have given me donations, people who bought shirts, pins ect. I never could have done this walk without that support and I am eternally grateful and forever in your debt. I take none of that for granted. Thank you for all the kind words, messages and comments, you have no idea how much that has helped me to keep on. You have no idea. No fucking idea. I could kiss every last one of you. These past two years have been two of the hardest years of my life. For the past year I worked 7 days a week, waking up at 4:30am. For various reasons I went through some horrendous depression, so many suicidal thoughts. So many times I wanted to take the money I saved for this walk and check myself into a mental hospital. All the positive words from people really helped me to keep on. Thank you so much.  Thank you to my crew, the Abe Lincoln Brigade, Impeach, Hank, and Alamo. I’m so grateful and honored to be in a crew with such legends, people who I’ve always idolized. Thanks again to Curve (@thecurvazoid) for giving me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given, the gift of getting me creating art.  And thank you to Art Primo (@artprimo ) for sponsoring this walk with art supplies. Not only does this help financially but the fact that such a legendary company believes in what I do enough to give me supplies is such an honor and so fucking encouraging. 

There are two new things that I am doing with this walk. One, is that I will be making art with the guidebook pages as I do the walk. I have already made art with maps from my walks, but I did it after I did the walk. This is the first time I will be making art as I am actually doing the walk. I am so in love with this idea. And I love that when I send the art it will be from whatever town I am in along the walk. I think that makes the envelope itself kinda a piece of art. Selling art along the way will also make it so I spend the money for my trip at a slower rate and hopefully not end totally broke like I usually do. The second new thing I will be doing is making it so people can follow my walk online. I have a gps device that also tracks me and sends that information to a website. I think that’s kinda fun and cool. It also makes it so if you want to meet up and you see I’m near you you can reach out. A lot of people have offered me a place to stay or just meet up and I am so disorganized that It makes it hard to remember all the people and where they live. Hopefully this helps to make meeting up possible. You can follow my walk at share.garmin.com/marcherarrant. Again, thank you all for everything!

[ihearthes]

Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music. 

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information. 

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes. 

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer. 

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead. 

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross. 

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree. 

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them. 

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide. 

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. 

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!” 

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck. 

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit. 

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly. 

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained. 

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps. 

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me. 

“I’m not going, though. Okay?” 

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes. 

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?” 

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up. 

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore? 

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything. 

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before. 

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck. 

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less. 

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet. 

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy. 

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question. 

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone. 

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises. 

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt. 

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites. 

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay? 

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver. 

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.” 

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare. 

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season. 

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle. 

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe. 

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.” 

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet. 

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words. 

“Do what?” 

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off. 

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too. 

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system. 

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts. 

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”. 

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him. 

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death. 

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Once upon a time in NYU- MGG AU

Fandom: MGG, Criminal Minds

Pairing: College!Matthew X College!Reader

Summary: you couldn't stand Matthew, and he couldn't stand you. But you couldn't say the same when you were in his bed

Warnings: alternative universe, enemies to lovers relationship, cursing duh, hair pulling, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bad writing basically

WC: 6.1k 

A/N: so I saw I think it was @eideticmemory​ write an enemies to lovers college fic and like a light just went on in my head, and I really wanted to that because I've always wanted to, but also give it my own twist and touch of course, so I guess this my attempt at writing a multi-chapter Matthew fic. Will I succeed? Probably not. But it's a good excuse to write smut after a year so we'll see. ALSO HUGE TW I understand posting this now might be a bit of a bad timing. So if you think that reading this will trigger you in any way, just go ahead and skip this one. I dont want to trigger anyone in any way, I just want to entertain you guys and myself in the process so yeah, read at your own risk and please please stay safe. And this is going to be a bit long so strap in yall and enjoy the poorly written sin. 

Andddd huge huge thanks to my friend Kara (idk if shes reading this but yeah) for helping me edit this, she helped me make this so much better for you guys and she literally so amazing for actually spending the time to help me. So yeah, 

You know when something bad happens, you’re always told to see the bright side of things? That maybe that unfortunate event isn’t as bad as you feel it is? Yeah, well, that doesn’t always apply, and it certainly didn’t when I found out I was partnered with the one person I was hoping I wouldn’t get paired with for my end of the semester film project. 

Seriously, out of the nearly hundred students that were enrolled in my film class, I had to get paired up with him, him out of all people, literally the one person I was praying wouldn't get paired up with. Not only because I was forced to work with someone, because honestly all I wanted was to work alone, I had to get paired with Matthew fucking Gubler.

You know when people say God has his favourites? Yeah, well I certainly wasn't one of them.

Now, I didn’t necessarily hate Matthew Gubler. I didn't hate him for no reason, I didn't just wake up one day and decided I was just going to hate Matthew. There was a time where I actually liked him, I liked him more than I'd like to admit, deep down I still did. And I knew he liked me too, he did then at least. And we were good together, it was fun, we had a fun first couple of dates. To this day, they were the nicest dates I ever had, because he knew just how to make them special. I mean, when a guy takes you to the Neue Galerie here in New York and have nice long walk through Central Park, a walk filled with laughter and bliss, it has to be special, and in a weird way, he was special too. 

And as much as I wanted more than just two or three dates, I would've been perfectly fine if he had told me what he wanted from the start. If he had suddenly changed his mind about me, I would've accepted it, and I would've been able to live a happy life as his friend if that's what he wanted.

But he didn't, and instead I found out he had other interests. And I didn't hear it from him, I heard it from my friend. She didn't even need to tell me who it was, because the minute she told me where he took her, I knew. He took her to the same place he took me not even two weeks later and then acted like I was nothing the next time he saw me. And my god did that fucking hurt. It hurt me in a way I had never been hurt before, because I thought he was different, I was hoping he was. And convincing myself that I hated him was much easier than facing the fact that it hurt. And I never addressed it ever again, not that Matthew cared enough to actually talk about us, or, whatever we were. So instead we just made each other's existence miserable.

No, what I felt for Matthew wasn't hate, it was just the strong need to stay ten feet away from him so I wouldn't shove a five foot pole up his ass. That's how I felt about Matthew Gubler.

And now, here I was, aggressively shoving my laptop and notebook into my bag so I could leave the auditorium as quickly as possible, or at least quick enough to avoid Matthew, because knowing how he was, he would come straight to me to rub our partnership in my face. And I was right, because the minute we were dismissed, I spotted his lanky frame starting to come down from the top rows where he usually sat, and he was headed my way.

Screaming a big nope in my head, I strapped my bag over my shoulder and headed straight for the exit. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, especially now but, I just needed a minute to mentally prepare myself to deal with him, a minute and probably a bottle of booze. But I didn't get either because the minute I was out those doors, I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice calling my name. 

Great.

"Y/N! Y/N wait!" I heard Matthew call out, followed my rushed footsteps coming from behind me.

"Hey, partner, I'm glad I caught you before you left. You weren't trying to run away from me were you?" He teased, throwing one of his particularly long arms over my shoulder.

If I had rolled my eyes any harder they probably would've gotten stuck there. I groaned, grabbing a hold of his arm and unwrapping it not so subtly before dropping it beside him, "first of all, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't touch me,  and second of all, just please go away, Matthew. I have a class I have to get to." I muttered, walking slightly faster and keeping my gaze forward, refusing to even look at him.

If there was something I've learned about Matthew in the two long years I've known him is that he usually goes away on his own if I don't give him the attention he wanted. I was hoping this was one of those times, because I was not in the mood to deal with him right now.

But alas, he didn't, he walked faster, staying beside me the whole time. "But I wasn't even doing anything. I was just saying hi." He defended, and I could just hear the smile on his face even when I wasn't even looking at him. 

I rolled my eyes harder, letting out a small breath through my lips, "what do you want Matthew?"

"When can we meet up? I already have an idea for our project and I think you're going to love it."

I chuckled sarcastically, finding his words actually hilarious, "If you came up with it I seriously doubt it." I sighed heavily, digging my teeth into my bottom lip before speaking, "tonight after I finish my shift, I guess. The quicker we can start, the quicker we can get it over with, soo..."

"Great. It's a date then, see you tonight, sweetheart." He hummed, ghosting his lips over my ear, his lips smacking loudly as he pretended to kiss it before he quickly took off in the other direction before I could even say anything.

This fucking guy.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I seriously do not understand how you fucking dated this guy, he's so obnoxious and annoying, how could anyone want to date someone like that." I complained to my friend and roommate Liz. I met her for a quick lunch break before my afternoon class and I just had to let her know how unhappy I was about my partnership with Matthew. She was amused to say the least.

"You make it sound like we dated for years, we dated for a few months, but he's not even that bad." she argued.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest and leaned back into my seat with an unamused expression, just waiting for Liz to bury herself further up Matthew's ass. I always had the feeling she still had feelings for him, as much as she insisted it was just a meaningless relationship. And as much as they were just friends now, I just knew she wanted more with him. But it wasn't really my place to question that, not that it mattered to me anyway.

"He's a pretty cool and fun guy to be around, you just never gave him a chance. You've hated him ever since you met him for absolutely no reason, you never gave yourself the chance to get to know him better." Liz insisted, she always did. She always insisted Matthew was such a great guy I never gave the change to get to know. 

I had let out a heavy sigh in annoyance of her defense of Matthew before responding, "yeah well, it doesn't really matter since I'm being forced to anyway. And he's coming over tonight to start our project. Can't fucking wait."

I could've sworn I saw Liz's expression change into a mixture of surprise and something I could've easily confused with jealousy. She pursed her lips together and her eyes darted everywhere, like she was avoiding making any kind of eye contact with me.

But, it couldn't be jealousy? What even is there to be jealous of? Her and the whole world knew how I felt about Matthew, her out of all people knew it better than anyone.

"Oh, he is? Well, I'm not really going to be home tonight, I would've given you company so it wouldn't be so awkward with him." She frowned, she sounded disappointed, angry even. She looked uncomfortable, like she was deeply bothered by something, by something I said.

It was weird, I wasn't exactly sure what to say, I wasn't really sure why my news seemed to bother her as much as it did. It's not like I was going to sleep with Matthew while she was away or something. It didn't really matter though, I didn't have time to answer. Thank God.

"I'm sorry Liz but I have to go, I have class in like ten minutes." I excused myself, eating whatever was left on my plate in a matter of seconds before I stood up from my seat and gathered my belongings, "I'll see you later and wish me luck." I said quickly before taking off, not giving her the chance to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~

Usually, I pray for shifts to be over as soon as possible, for it to be slow so I can go home early. Today though, today I prayed for just the opposite. I was hoping the end of my shift wouldn't come, and when it did, that it would be too late and I would be able to cancel my meet up with Matthew.

But like I said, I wasn't one of God's favourites. And today out of all days, it was the slowest it has ever been and my shift ended rather quickly, quicker than I had hoped.

Groaning loudly at the evening that awaited me, I walked down the long halls of my floor, standing outside of my dorm room, dreading my evening already.

Figuring I should just get it over with, I went to get the key on the lock of my door, but noticed it was already unlocked. Liz probably forgot to lock the door, again. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at my stupid roommate before turning the knob, opening the door. And my jaw dropped the minute I stepped into the room, not believing what my eyes saw.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

"Matthew, what the fuck are you doing in my dorm and in my bed!? How did you even get in here?" I nearly screamed at the tall brunette that was carelessly laying on my bed with what I figured was one of my books in his hand.

Matthew turned his head towards me, a carefree and calm look plastered all over his face before his eyes went back to the pages in front of him., "oh, well, Liz let me in before she went to work. I hope you don't mind." He responded nonchalantly, continuing to flick through the pages of the book he had in his hand.

I stared at him with absolute disbelief and a loud scoff left my lips as I slightly pitched the bridge of my nose, trying not to throw the nearest object at his face, "yes, I do mind, in fact. You can't just come into somebody's dorm, lie on their bed and go through their stuff. Seriously dude, what is wrong with you?"

I just couldn't believe this guy. He just knew how to get on my nerves without even doing anything. 

Matthew, of course, couldn't have cared any less about whatever I was saying. And it wasn't that he wasn't listening, because he was, he had that stupid smile on his face that proved he was in fact listening to every word I was saying. He just didn't care, or he did, but he just liked getting on my nerves. He loved pushing every single one of my buttons until I snapped. And I had no idea why. I had no idea why he liked annoying me so much.

I exhaled heavily through my nose, closing my eyes slightly as I ran a hand through my hair exasperatedly, "I just can't fucking deal with you. I can't." I huffed, dropping my bag from my shoulder and walked to the opposite side of my room, facing away from him, not even wanting to look at his face.

"Tell me something, sweetheart," Matthew spoke, curiosity and a slight bit of amusement lingering on his words.

"What."

"Why do you hate me so much? You've hated me ever since I dated Liz back in our first year of college and I never truly understood why," he questioned with genuine curiosity, but there was also a certain playfulness in his voice. I opened my mouth to answer, still not facing him, and I was so ready to tell him off, god knows I've been wanting to but he cut me off. "Is it because I never slept with you?"

My eyes instantly widened at his words, a clearly offended scoff leaving my lips as I turned around to face him, "what? No, of course not, I—" my words got caught in my throat when I saw his tall frame towering over me, my eyes getting stuck on his chest before they traveled up to his face, and he was close. Extremely close. I swallowed thickly, feeling slightly cornered by his significantly taller frame so I stepped back, trying to create some kind of distance between us, but he simply followed me. "I, uhm, that's not why I don't like you, Matthew. I don't like you because you're an insensitive asshole and—"

"Oh, I know why you hate me," he cut me off again, slowly running his tongue to wet his perfectly pink lips. "You hate me because I dated Liz and not you."

His proclamation made my eyes grow even wider and my mouth hung open as I stammered for words. I wanted to disagree, I truly wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But honestly, he wasn't altogether wrong. I couldn't say some of my resentment didn't come from a deep rooted feeling of rejection. Because while most of that resentment came from that place of genuine hurt, my resentment was fueled by frustration and a shameless sense of envy.

But it was just easier to convince myself that I hated him than to admit that I still liked him and that it hurt me that he chose my friend over me.

But of course, I would never admit to that, especially not to him.

Avoiding eye contact, I looked down and shook my head, running my tongue to wet my suddenly dry lips, "of-of course not. Why—why would I care about your dating life? You can fuck whoever you want, I don't care." I wish I sounded more confident when I said that. But my stuttering words and my unsteady legs gave him exactly what he wanted.

And the bastard actually chuckled. He fucking chuckled.

"But you do, you do care. You care because you haven't stopped thinking about us and me since our first year." He grinned, digging his teeth into his perfect lips as he brought a hand to cup my face, lifting it so I had no other choice but to look at him.

And I was fucking gone.

It was like, all of that anger, frustration and hatred just vanished and instead turned into longing want. Want for him to just take me and do whatever he pleases with me. I was practically nothing in his hands, and I was nothing waiting for him to make me something. Waiting for him to make me his.

And that absolutely delighted the bastard. He found amusement in having the power I never allowed him to have. But right now, I just couldn't fight it.

I always knew that if I ever found myself alone and in this situation with Matthew Gubler, I would lose, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

And he knew that too.

"That's it, isn't? You want me to fuck you like I fucked your friend." He smirked, almost like he was proud to say it. And he stared, his usually soft amber eyes now brown and darkened with want.

Who the fuck was this guy and where did Matthew go? Matthew Gubler was the most awkward and disgraceful guy when it came to women. The poor guy couldn't even flirt his way out of a wet paper bag. And yet, somehow, here he was, with this new found confidence and the ability to turn me into a shaking and stuttering mess. Who fucking knew.

Once again, I stammered for words, I truly wanted to tell him otherwise. I wanted to scream in his face and push him away, but I couldn't. Not that I wanted to.

He took my lack of response as the answer he was looking for and brought his other hand to my waist, backing me up against the nearest wall, caging me between the hard surface behind me and his body, which right now, seemed so much bigger than mine.

My breathing instantly skyrocketed as I felt the same hand that was on my waist sneak its way past the ends of my dress and up my bare thighs, ones that shook like an earthquake as the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed the tense skin. Like he was testing the waters. Testing how well my body reacted to his touch.

And it wasn't subtle. At all.

"W-what—what are you doing?" I almost squealed, my voice practically betraying me.

"Oh? Well, I'm just giving you what you wanted. I'm giving you what you've been wanting for years." He stated so casually, like he had no idea what he was doing to me. And just as casually, he slowly ran a finger over the thin cotton fabric of my underwear, touching me, but definitely not in the way I needed to be touched.

I wished my body didn't betray me like it did though. I couldn't even hold back the breathy moan that escaped my lips when his fingers made contact with the thin material. But Matthew certainly loved the response I gave him.

"Because this is what you've been wanting, isn't it? You've been thinking about how my fingers would feel buried inside your little cunt. Or how good you would feel around my cock." He taunted, it was almost cynical just how easily those filthy words rolled off his usually reserved tongue. "I'm not gonna lie, I've thought about it too, you have no idea how many times I've thought about having your filthy mouth wrapped around me. Or how pretty you would look begging me for more." 

I opened my mouth to speak but my words instantly got caught in my throat when the sneaky bastard pulled the fabric to the side and dipped his fingers into the soaking mess that was my core.

And if there were any rational thoughts still hanging in my head, all of those just went straight out the window when another moan erupted from my throat and my head fell back into the wall behind me.

"See just how much easier things are when you just shut the fuck up and stop fighting so much?" He almost whispered, his lips ghosting over the skin on my neck as a lithe finger gathered my wetness and spread it over my clit.

Despite being a complete whimpering mess at that point, I managed to spit out a surprisingly harsh, "fuck you." 

It was a pretty convincing retort. One that didn't exactly have the effect I hoped for though.

I could feel him smirk into my neck as his lips left wet and sloppy kisses into the skin before he pulled back, just so he could see the look of utter want and frustration on my face.

"Hm, sorry sweetheart, I can't do that. I'm too busy trying to fuck you instead."

I swear to god, he was the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire fucking life. But he was an asshole who immediately slipped two of his sinfully long fingers into my dripping core. I instantly choked on my own breath as he began working his fingers around the muscles, stroking the digits inside me at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Because that's what you want don't you sweetheart? You want to me to fuck you into that mattress until you can't keep your eyes open?" He continued, his filthy words making me pant like I ran for fucking miles. "I do too, trust me I do. And I will, I promise. But I want to make up for all of the lost time. Don't you?"

I wasn't even paying attention to whatever filthy proclamations were coming out of Matthew's mouth, with my eyes nearly closed, my mouth slightly open and my mind only focusing on his fingers working diligently inside me, how could I?

But Matthew was expecting an answer this time. Because I could feel his darkened eyes glare into my face and his fingers immediately stilled inside me. Earning a loud whine from me.

"I asked you a question, answer me."

It took me a minute to remember his question before I quickly nodded, "yes! Yes! Is that what you wanted to hear?" I nearly screamed at his face, my hands coming to clutch his shirt, needing something to relieve some tension.

"I want to hear you say it. Say it, tell me you want me." He demanded, his eyes locking with mine as he waited for what he wanted to hear.

He wanted me to beg, he wanted me to give up that control I never allowed him to have. And was I going to?

Absolutely.

I needed to.

"I want you, Matthew, I want you to take me and fuck me into that mattress until I can't walk straight. Please."

I guess that was the answer Matthew had been looking for because his fingers immediately began to work diligently inside me again, stroking the digits until he had me whimpering and begging for release.

It wasn't long before my head started to spin and stars began to blur my vision. Words were no longer an option at that point, nothing would come out, not even Matthew's name. All I could manage to let out were pathetic, strangled moans. But he could tell I was close, or I figured that much because his fingers only worked faster around my tightening walls, determined to finish me.

"C'mon sweetheart, come for me." he encouraged through gritted teeth as his fingers were anything but still inside me and his palm applied a crushing pressure into my front. And even when my eyes were half closed and my mind had turned into dust, I could see the look of utter determination on his face, his eyebrows were furrowed as his teeth dug into his perfectly plump lips. It was like his only focus was on driving me over the edge. And he succeeded.

The second his fingers curled, I was fucking gone. My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I cried out his name like a praise, my body nearly spasming against the wall. But his fingers didn't stop until my whole body shook to the point where my legs no longer supported my weight and I practically slid into the wall as I tried to catch my breath.

It was almost dizzying just how quickly Matthew withdrew his fingers from me and hoisted me up on his slim torso. He wasted absolutely no time in striding over to my bed across the room. My whole body collided with my bed so quickly and forcefully it knocked the air out of my chest.

Matthew was practically ripping away his clothes before I could even sit up or catch my breath. Like he had this urgency to do what I've been avoiding for the past two years. Like he needed to do it, right now, like something would happen before he got the chance to.

"Matthew—"

"Shut up, I've heard enough shit from you for the past two years, and I'm fucking tired of it." He almost growled, his usually soft voice coming out so low and dark it actually stroked fear in my heart. It was scary just how quickly his demeanor changed.

Matthew didn't really waste much time in discarding his clothes, he was down to only his boxers and was on top of me before I could even blink. He brought a hand to my chest and he pushed me down until my back was flat on the bed, but his hand stayed there, pinning me there as he hovered over me, trapping my significantly smaller body under his own.

He wasted no time in grabbing a hold of my dress and pulling it over my head. And I could've sworn I saw pure awe and infatuation flash through his eyes as they shamelessly eyed over my newly exposed skin. Come to think of it though, this was the first time I was this naked in front of him, and even then, I wasn't fully naked. Not yet anyway.

After a good minute, his eyes flickered back up to meet with mine, his previous look of awe quickly replaced by this feral look of want and pure desire. And I couldn't say it didn't excite me to see it.

He brought a hand to my face, running his smooth fingers over my face with a surprising amount of delicacy before he deep rooted them into my hair and slightly tilted my head back before he brought his face into mine, our lips crashing into a deep fervent kiss. I didn't realize we have never actually kissed. No wonder there was so much desperation and hunger within that kiss. We've been wanting this ever since we met, and ironically, I wanted it more.

His mouth was harsh and fervent against mine, his tongue wasting no time before it quickly slipped between my lips without much of a warning. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth and took as much control as he wanted to as he brought one of his hands to discard my brassiere, he struggled a bit at first but he managed to unhook it and discarded the flimsy material along with the rest of forgotten clothes. He pulled back to capture the image of my newly exposed skin. And he wasn't subtle, at all.

I almost felt intimidated under his deep and penetrating gaze as he shamelessly ogled my exposed body. I was completely exposed to him, completely vulnerable and right now, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with me. And that scared me, it scared me just how quickly he took control over me after years of fighting against it.

With a hard swallow and a bob of his Adam's apple, Matthew slowly licked his lips, scraping his teeth against his slightly swollen bottom lip in a way that almost made me roll my eyes back into my head. But I didn't, instead I just locked eyes with him as he brought his face down and wrapped his lips around one of my breasts and his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud almost expertly, using one of his hands to toy with the other.

"O-oh fuck." I couldn't help but helplessly moan into the air as my hands found their way into his mop of brown curls. This reaction certainly delighted the bastard above me because I could feel his eyes burning into my face and his lips curving into a smirk around me before he slowly pulled back, latching on to my nipple as he pulled off it.

"You have a very filthy mouth, jeez." He tisked, slightly shaking his head disaprovingly but still had that fucking smirk of his.

Clearly, I wasn't amused, in the slightest, so his stupid comment earned him a nice and concise, "fuck you." 

But then again, it didn't have the effect I hoped for.

"Mhm, yeah, you're about to." He retorted one last time before bringing his face back up to mine, capturing me in a heated and messy kiss that only worked as distraction from the journey Matthew's hands took down south. I was only brought back to reality when I felt my underwear being ripped away and the cool air hitting me. And he was quick to pull down his own boxers and allowed his length to spring free. And I couldn't even play off the fact that I had to stare, my mouth slightly hanging open at the sight of him.

"You're so cute when you stare." He taunted, his words being fairly tame in contrast to his very dark and not innocent tone. The sound of his voice made me flicker my eyes to meet his face. Big mistake, because the borderline devious smirk on his face didn't help, at all. And it certainly didn't help when he positioned himself between my legs, rubbing himself on my already dripping heat.

"You do have condoms here, right?" He asked, but I wasn't paying attention, with him rubbing himself on my slick, I couldn't really pay much attention to anything. "I could just fuck you bareback, I'm clean, so I don't care. But it's up to you." He spoke again, slightly teasing my entrance with the tip of his length, hoping to actually get my attention, and I actually listened this time.

Biting my lip, I mentally cursed at my lack of sexual activity because it just so happened that I had no condoms. Matthew gave me an expectant look, not to pressure me, but just waiting impatiently. I knew if I told him to stop he would without a second thought, but he would just leave. I wasn't going to make that mistake twice.

"I'm clean too, just," I chewed on my bottom lip, already shuddering with anticipation as I hooked my legs around his slim torso, pulling him closer, "just take me, please just fucking take me already."

I didn't have to say it twice.

Without a second thought, he propped himself up on his arms and pressed his face against mine as he slammed into me in one swift motion. A strangled moan erupted from my throat as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching me open at once. And fuck, the feeling of him inside me was intoxicating, addicting even, I don't think I've ever felt like this before.

This was so fucking wrong. So wrong, so wrong to be fucking the guy my friend dated, so wrong to be fucking the guy I swore to everyone I hated. It was just wrong. So why the hell did it feel so right? It was so perfectly right the way our bodies felt together, like they simply belonged there, buried deeply within one another. I never wanted to stop feeling like this.

It was almost dizzying just how good he felt. And with the quick and fervent pace he set for himself right from the start, I knew I probably wouldn't last long. With my eyes rolled into my head, my open mouth and my body sprawled out on the bed as I tried to find something to hold on to, he probably had one hell of a view. And he enjoyed it too, because his thrusts only became harsher.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking beautiful," he cursed through gritted teeth, his hands holding my hips down with a vice like grip, making sure I couldn't move. And it wasn't for lack of trying. My body shook and shuddered like a fucking earthquake around him but he simply held me down as he continued.

"You feel so good too. I can't believe you made me wait two fucking years for this. Fuck." He nearly shouted, slamming into me with an insane amount of force and clenched his eyes shut, almost as if the thought made him angry, "two fucking years to take what was mine."

His. He called me his.

Fuck, I wish those filthy words didn't have such a strong effect on me, but boy did they make a number on me. I couldn't even hold back the guttural cry that erupted from my chest as I nodded feverishly, not really realizing what I was nodding to. 

"Yes! Fuck yes, Matthew, I'm yours!" I almost screamed, saying whatever incoherent thoughts flashed through my mind, letting the whole floor know just how much fun I was having and with whom. And with my mind and thoughts being too clouded by the feeling of him, I didn't even think about what those words entailed.

But it didn't matter because they served their purpose regardless. I wasn't expecting just how much the words actually affected him, because his hips began to falter, his thrusts becoming longer but impossibly deeper. And I could see how concentrated he was, with sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his breath was hard and short, like this was a task he was determined to finish. He was determined to ruin me.

Letting out a guttural and nearly animalistic groan, Matthew grabbed a hold of my hips and raised them so that each thrust would make him bottom out inside of me, knowing just how close we both were to our release. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart, let the whole floor know who's making you feel this good," he growled as he gave one last final but brutal thrust, digging his fingers into my hips so tight I just knew I would have bruises tomorrow as he held me down on him, "let the whole floor know you're mine."

And just like that, my orgasm crashed into me, Matthew's harsh words of ownership sending me into a euphoric state of pleasure, my lips chanting his name like a mantra and my walls tightening around him as he came deeply into me, my own name rolling off his tongue in a quiet praise. And the utter and absolute look of ecstasy on his face made up for the bruises I would have to hide for the next few days and for the two years we've made each other's life a living hell. Because right now, seeing that look of being completely fucked, I just wanted nothing more than to just stay like this.

The second we were no longer blinded by our highs, he fell forward, nearly crushing me under his weight as he struggled to get himself up. Yeah he looked fucked alright. Despite knowing damn well he could've easily rolled off me, he didn't, he simply rested his head on my chest and closed his eyes like he was just going to sleep there. A small smile made its way to my lips at the sight of his tousled brown curls on my chest, ignoring all logic, I ran my fingers through the messy locks, and they were in fact as soft as they always looked. 

Realizing just how bad this was for me, and just how vulnerable I actually looked, I smacked his forehead, successfully earning a glare from him once he lifted his head, looking dead at me with his now soft amber eyes.

"You're crushing me, you ass, get off." I breathed out and rolled my eyes, being too exhausted to try and get him off myself. And knowing just how easily he corrupted me, I didn't need another thing to make this harder.

"Okay, okay, jeez." Matthew rolled his eyes, letting his head back into my chest exhaustively and groaned tiredly into my chest before he gathered just enough strength to roll off me and collapsed beside me, his reddened and sweaty chest still rising and falling unevenly as he was still trying to steady his breathing. And I was trying, too. And we just stared, we stared at each other, saying nothing. There was nothing to be said. It was better that way.

After a long long while of silently staring at each other, he brought a hand to my face and rested it there, his thumb mindlessly rubbing over the warm skin of my cheek and he smiled, he simply smiled. And it felt good, it felt comforting, sweet even, it was a funny contrast after what he just did to me.

"So.. About our project.."

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

Tag list:

Matthew Gray Gubler

All- @aberrant-annie @marauder-exe @vquezada84 @boiled-onionrings @writeronkeyboard @l0ve-0f-my-life @mariaramz @soederberg

OUaT in NYU-

So I'm starting a tag list for this fic because it will be a mini series so let me know if you'd like to be added to the once upon in NYU tag list

[musette22]

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet

You Make My Heart Skip a Beet

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: Teen and Up

A/N: Based on this lovely prompt by @greyhoundsgirl​. I have to be honest here, I’ve never actually seen Top Chef though so I thought it would be safer to make up a new fictional amateur cooking competition which I’ve titled Chef Wars :p 

No warnings to speak of, apart from maybe for awful food puns, but it is a bit of a cracky piece, and it’s in Sam POV (poor guy). Hope you enjoy!! 💗 Huge thanks to the amazing @rainbowsandcoconut​ for brainstorming, food puns and awesome beta’ing, as usual 😘

Read on AO3

Summary:

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

****************************

When Sam and Steve had first been approached about being guest judges on an Avengers-themed special of Chef Wars, they’d spent a full fifteen minutes jumping around the common room in the Tower like a pair of overgrown kids on a sugar high.

Guest judges. On Chef Wars.

It so happens that Sam and Steve watch Chef Wars religiously. In fact, Steve even mentioned this in passing in one or two of his more recent interviews when asked how Captain America likes to spend his downtime, which is probably how the show’s executives had thought to invite them in the first place.

Sam’s love for cooking and cooking shows was passed down to him by his mother Darlene, and he, in turn, passed it on to Captain America – though if you’d told ten-year-old Sam that, he would’ve thought you were nuts. Poor Steve isn’t exactly the culinary sort of guy himself, but once Sam started turning up on his doorstep three nights a week to keep him company and make sure he didn’t sink further into depression, he’d slowly started to enjoy the shows Sam insisted on watching with him. Sam figured the familiarity of the actions and the low stakes of an amateur cooking competition would be perfectly suited to someone trying to integrate into a new century, while still being just exciting enough to hold the attention of an adrenaline junkie like Steve.

And he was right. So now, every Thursday night, the two of them chill on Steve’s couch, yelling at the TV and pretending they‘d do a better job of it than the contestants. Which, to be fair, Sam probably would, but Steve decidedly would not. What Steve lacks in culinary skills, though, he more than makes up for with his crazy supersoldier metabolism, rivaled only by the Other Guy and sometimes Thor, once he’s cracked open the mead. Steve can eat, and he does so with relish.

So needless to say, when they got the invite, they’d both jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t, when presented with the opportunity to do the thing they did every Thursday night for funsies, but this time for realsies? And after weeks of giddy anticipation, today is finally the day.

Filming day.

The whole thing had gotten off to an excellent start. The sun was shining, Steve had actually been whistling on their way to the studio instead of nervously drumming his fingers on the dashboard (something which got on Sam’s nerves like nothing else), and they’d been offered some quality Italian espresso when they arrived. The show got on the road as soon as they’d gotten a quick tour of the studio, and after lights, camera, action, the contestants were introduced one by one.

There is Bernadette, a Missouri housewife who turned out to be somewhat of a BBQ expert and who reminds Sam of his Aunt Jenna; there’s Bob, a big, burly dude from Kentucky who wouldn’t look amiss on a Pro Wrestling show but who ends up surprising them all with a surprisingly delicate edible flower-dish dedicated to his lovely wife; and Yulia, a tiny, fierce girl from Bulgaria with some mean knife skills who Sam suspects could very well be a distant relative of Natasha’s.

And then there’s Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes is a thirty-one-year-old physical therapist from Brooklyn who’s looking to change careers and get into the restaurant business full time. He has that whole hipster vibe going on: long, meticulously conditioned chestnut hair in a messy top knot, designer stubble, sleeve of – admittedly awesome – tattoos on his left arm. His cool, blue eyes and sharp cheekbones give him a model-like appearance, and yet there’s something soft and disarming about him.

Steve certainly seems to think so, at least.

The moment Barnes came walking through those glass doors, Sam heard Steve suck in a sharp breath at his side. A quick glance at Steve’s slack-jawed expression told Sam all he needed to know, since the dude is about as subtle as a sledgehammer. He’d elbowed Steve in the side until he looked over and pretended to wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth. Steve’s eyes went wide as he hastily mirrored the movement, missing the joke by about fifty yards. Oh, boy.

From that moment onward, Steve’s brain seemed to have gone through a blender, turning it into a rainbow smoothie – which was pretty unfortunate, considering they were going to have to interact with the contestants in a way that was suitable for daytime television.

The thing is, Steve is not exactly what you’d call a people person at the best of times. He’s fine with someone he’s known for a while and feels comfortable with, but with strangers he’s just… a little awkward. Credit where credit’s due, Steve is one of the most loyal, sweet, funny and whip-smart guys Sam has ever known – and let’s not forget stubborn as hell – but he’s also very, very bad at social cues. It’s not his fault, of course. Steve had gone from growing up pretty isolated without any real friends to speak of, to suddenly spending years surrounded only by his army buddies, which wasn’t at all representative for how normal people interacted with each other (Sam knows this from experience).

While Steve’s many social faux-pas are an endless source of entertainment for Sam, he’s not a total asshole, and he has tried to help Steve practice his social skills. Unfortunately, giving him well-meaning advice like “just be yourself” seems to be a sure-fire way to ensure Steve will put his foot in his mouth somehow.

That’s why Steve prefers to put on his Cap persona for public interactions. When he’s Captain America instead of Steve Rogers, all he has to do is look commanding and sort of friendly and say bland things like “I’m very happy to be here” and “You did well, son” and no one would be any the wiser that beneath that righteous exterior, Steve was floundering and wondering when he could reasonably leave whatever social engagement Pepper had sweet-talked him into attending, and head home to the comfort of his armchair and his sketchbook.

For today’s engagement, Steve had wisely adopted this approach as well, and the fact that he was genuinely excited to be there helped to loosen him up a little – so really, it should’ve all been fine.

But then Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn walked into the room and turned his big, blue eyes in Steve’s direction, and Steve promptly seemed to forget who or what a Captain America even was.

So far, Steve has already missed his cue twice, and it’s taken Sam stepping on his toes to get him to focus. To be fair, though, Steve puts in a valiant effort to pull himself together, managing to ooh and aah in all the right places when talking to the other candidates – sheer dumb luck, if you ask Sam. But as Steve’s best friend and confidante, Sam sees right through it. He hasn’t missed the way Steve’s gaze keeps drifting in Barnes’ direction, and coupled with the blush creeping up the back of Steve’s neck whenever Barnes’s eyes meet his, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Cap has got himself a Manhattan-sized crush.

Now, most people probably aren’t aware that Captain America is also attracted to men, but Sam has a feeling that by the end of this episode, that cat will be most definitely out of the closet. Steve’s never purposely hid his sexuality; it was more of a question of it never having come up yet. It sure as hell has come up now.

And what makes this even better is that Barnes is just as bad. He stuttered his way through his introduction, very obviously starstruck at meeting Captain America, but also very obviously gay as hell for him, if the way his eyes lingered on Steve’s chest and thighs is any indication. Sam, for his part, is incredibly amused by it all. Not only does he get to be on the set of his favorite cooking show, he also gets to rib Steve, throwing in as many food puns as he possibly can – most of which go over Steve’s head because he’s too busy drooling over Barnes. Sam’s wit is wasted on his friends.

Then, it’s time to judge. In the first round, the contestants are supposed to make something which represents why they got into cooking in the first place.

Sam can feel Steve practically vibrate with nerves at his side as they walk up to Barnes’ station. Feeling magnanimous, Sam decides to have mercy on his muscly pal and take the lead on this one.

“Mr. Barnes,” he says, giving Barnes an encouraging smile. “Tell us about your dish, if you please.”

“Call me Bucky,” Barnes says, returning the gesture with a quick quirk of his lips.

Next to him, Steve repeats the name in a whisper, most likely unaware that he’s even doing it.

Sam has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

*****

Bucky’s confessional

“I grew up in Brooklyn, as the eldest of five kids. My dad left when I was fifteen, and while I was still in school, my mom had to work three jobs to provide for us all. She wasn’t home much, so it was kind of up to me to make sure dinner was on the table most nights.”

Bucky plucks at the seam of his black skinny jeans, lost in thought. “I think that’s why my specialty is comfort food. Nothing unnecessary, just hearty, nutritious food, y’know?” With a tilt of his head, he adds, “Although since all my siblings moved into their own places I’ve been cooking mostly for myself and my cat, so I’ve been experimenting with adding some twists to my tried and tested recipes.” He laughs, right hand clasping the back of his neck in a bashful gesture. “I’ve had… mixed success. Luckily Alpine has loved all of it. She’s my cat.”

“My first dish today is Irish soda bread with sage butter and Himalayan sea salt,” Bucky continues. “Bread was something we could never have enough of in our household. Five growing kids, y’know? And also, um...” A slight blush creeps its way onto Bucky’s cheeks, his eyes flitting around nervously. “Well, I guess you could say I used to be a bit of a history nerd growing up. I was super interested in World War II, particularly, uh, Captain America.” His blush deepens, spreading upwards from the neckline of his white t-shirt to the tips of his pierced ears.

“I, uh, I basically read every Steve Rogers biography I could get my hands on, which is why I learned to make things like soda bread because, y’know, Steve Rogers was Irish. Is Irish,” he corrects himself. Bucky’s eyes glaze over, taking on a faraway look. “Man, I couldn’t believe it when Cap was found a few years ago,” he marvels, “and alive. I don’t think I slept for a week after I found out.” He stares into space for a moment before shaking himself. He clears his throat, eyes refocusing on the person behind the camera. “Anyway, so when I heard that Chef Wars was doing an Avengers-themed special, I immediately applied because Steve – Cap, I mean- Captain America. Um. Yeah, so Cap mentioned in a few of his interviews that he watches Chef Wars, so I figured there would be a good chance he’d be watching this one too, you know? And then I got the email that I’d been selected and that he was going to be the one judging us, and I just…” Bucky trails off, looking a little faint, the blood draining from his face as quickly as it had risen.

“God, I just can’t believe I’ll finally get to see him in the flesh.” His eyes widen. “In person, I mean," he hastily amends. "And I’m excited about my dishes too, of course. I really hope Cap will like them. And the Falcon. Him, too. Yeah.”

*****

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

When Steve puts a piece of bread into his mouth and chews slowly, he sniffs, eyes turning a little watery. “It tastes exactly like my mom’s,” he says in a hushed voice, sounding like he can’t quite believe his taste buds. Sam pats Steve’s back consolingly, before scooping up some sage butter with his own piece of bread and taking an enthusiastic bite.

“Hmm, nice,” he says, giving Barnes an appreciative nod. “And the butter? You make that yourself, too?”

“You butter believe it,” Barnes replies, then immediately looks horrified, like he can’t believe he made a pun that bad on national television.

Sam cackles, holding out his fist for Barnes to bump. When Barnes has recovered enough to return the gesture with his left hand, Steve stares longingly at their touching hands, before letting his gaze trail over the tattoos on Barnes’ exposed forearm. Since he's not exactly subtle about it, Barnes catches him looking and gives Steve a tentative smile when their eyes meet. Steve chokes on absolutely nothing and launches into an impromptu coughing fit. “Crumbs,” he wheezes, thumping a massive fist on his massive chest, “wrong pipe.”

Sam just smirks at him, before turning back to Barnes. “That was delicious,” he tells him. “Can’t wait for your next dish, man.”

“Really, really, good,” Steve chimes in once he’s caught his breath. “Well done, Bucky.”

Barnes goes as red as a tomato, eyes trained on the floor as he awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Steve, please,” Steve implores.

Barnes bites his lip, looking up at Steve through his lashes. “Thanks, Steve.”

Sam's pretty sure Steve stops breathing altogether right then. Christ, it’s like there’s an electrical current running between the two of them, the air crackling with it. Thunderbolts and lighting, very very nauseating.

Sam claps his hands. “Right,” he says loudly, “moving on to the next contestant now… Yulia, what have you prepared for us?”

*****

By the time the second round rolls around, Steve has had a series of meltdowns and Sam has spent precious time he could’ve been exploring the set and taking pics for his mom on talking Steve out of a bathroom stall. Damn, he’s a good friend. It takes all of Sam’s VA-honed therapist skills to convince Steve that he’s doing fine, he’s not embarrassing himself, and no one but Sam has noticed Steve’s massive heart boner for Barnes yet. Sam actually isn’t entirely positive about that last one – or the first two for that matter – but Steve doesn’t need to know that. There are still two rounds to go.

In the second round, contestants are asked to make a dish that represents who they are as a person.

While the contestants are cooking up a metaphorical storm, Sam and Steve walk around their stations to chat with everyone some more, camera crew on their heels. Steve manages to get out at least three complete sentences, and Bernadette and Bob are too in awe of him to notice the few times he says something that doesn’t actually make any sense. Yulia has given no indication that she even knows who either of them are, and Sam can practically feel the relief radiating off of Steve. He guesses that’s part of why he and Natasha get on so well.

When they round on Barnes’ station, Barnes has just started seasoning his dish. There’s a checkered dishcloth slung over his right shoulder and a focused look on his face, which turns into one of low-key stress the moment he spots Steve and Sam coming towards him. Leaning his hip against the counter, Sam settles in to watch Steve make a fool of himself. He's not disappointed.

“Wow,” Steve says inanely, gesturing in the direction of Barnes’ hands. “That’s- you’re- you’re really good at that.”

Barnes pauses his turning of the peppermill to give Steve a slightly panicked look. “At… grinding?”

At Steve’s strangled cough, Barnes seems to realize what he just said, his bewildered expression morphing into one of abject mortification. The poor guy looks like he’d very much like the ground to swallow him whole right about now.

Honestly, these two deserve each other.

When they've finished chatting to everyone and it’s time to taste, Barnes is asked to explain his dish and how it represents him. He seems to have pulled himself together somewhat since their last encounter, his stance a little more confident now and his eyes only drifting to Steve’s pecs every other sentence.

“I’m a simple guy,” he tells them, somehow managing to make it sound genuine instead of cliché. “I enjoy the little things in life. I like taking care of people, making them feel good and comfortable, and I think that’s reflected in my cooking. I enjoy making comfort food, the hale and hearty stuff.” He licks his lips, meaningfully adding, “Although, don’t get me wrong. I do indulge occasionally. I’ve got my guilty pleasures same as everyone else, y'know?” That last part is directed at Steve, who nods dazedly, like he knows exactly what Barnes means. Gross.

“So I guess you could say you’re just… arugula guy?” Sam grins, cheerfully ignoring the growing sexual tension.

Barnes stares at him for a beat, and then snorts. “You know what?” he says, returning Sam's grin, “the s’more I get to know you, the s’more I like you.”

Sam has a very real moment where he thinks he might actually fall in love with this guy himself. It’s only Steve’s doe-eyed look that keeps him from proposing to Barnes there and then. Okay, and maybe the fact that Barnes is clearly smitten with Steve, and also Sam is straight and very happily dating Nat, who would not hesitate to gut him if he decided to elope with some pasty hipster dude.

Barnes’ dish – mac and cheese with black truffle and locally sourced cheeses and fancy cuts of bacon – is mouthwateringly good, and Sam tells him as much. Using appropriate words to do so. You know, like a normal person.

Steve, on the other hand, moans loudly around his bite and then, mouth still full, he blurts, “That’s exactly what I thought you’d taste like.”

In the painfully awkward silence that follows, Steve and Barnes blush so hard the combined heat of their flaming cheeks could probably power most of New York City. This time, Sam can’t contain his laughter. He crows as he gleefully slaps his thighs, and even some of the crew is hiding having a hard time staying professional in the face of such blatant dumbassery.

Shaking his head, Sam grabs Steve by the bicep and herds him towards the backroom. “Come on, Casanova,” he says. “Let’s get you some ice for those burns.”

*****

For dessert, Barnes goes all out.

He actually makes Captain America cake pops, shaped and decorated like Steve’s shield with blue, red and white frosting. Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees them. Barnes explains how they’re “sort of an adult version” of normal cake pops, which makes Sam raise an eyebrow. He’s been on the internet. He unfortunately has seen adult versions of all kinds of Captain America paraphernalia. Fortunately, Barnes just means that his cake pops have some sort of liquor in the center, “for a punch, you know?”

The starry-eyed look Steve gives Barnes clearly conveys just how clever he thinks that is, and Sam surreptitiously rolls his eyes. No game whatsoever, either of them.

“I’ve never had a cake pop before,” Steve says, carefully picking up one of the treats and inspecting it curiously.

“Oh,” Barnes says, blinking at him. “Well, normally you’d eat them in one go, but these are a bit bigger than usual because of the shape of the shield, so you probably won’t be able to fit -”

The rest of his sentence sort of peters off into a stunned silence as Steve proceeds to stick a whole-ass giant cake pop in his mouth in one go, letting out an appreciative grunt as he chews and then swallows.

Barnes’s mouth goes slack. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes glazing over, and Sam cracks up. Again.

The cake pops are actually surprisingly good, despite their garish (sorry, Steve) appearance, and then it’s time to retreat and deliberate. As was to be expected, Steve has a crisis of conscience.

“I can’t vote for him just because he made my mom’s soda bread and he practically raised his baby sisters by himself and he cooks for his cat and he has pretty eyes, Sam!” he laments, voice muffled into his massive forearms. Sam makes the filming crew promise not to air this bit. It takes some doing, but finally Sam manages to convince Steve that Barnes’s food was simply the best. Better than all the rest. He even does a little Tina impression to get his point across, and that seems to do it.

When they announce the winner, Barnes smiles so wide it transforms his whole face and makes Steve melt into a puddle of Gü.

Sam has to nudge Steve again to get him to say his line, since he’s too busy mooning over Barnes to notice the autocue changing. “Ah, yes!” Steve says loudly. “First prize is a substantial sum of money, sponsored by Tony Stark, which we hope will go towards opening your own restaurant–"

“… and a weekend stay at Avengers Tower, also sponsored by Tony!”

Steve’s head whips around to him in surprise. Sam winks at him. “Including a private tour of the premises by none other than Captain America himself. Isn’t that right, Steven?”

A beat of silence, and then Steve.exe starts back up. "Right,” he nods, drawing out the word. “Yes. That’s right.” Sam pats his arm. Good man.

Stepping forward, Steve takes Barnes’ hand and shakes it slowly. “Congratulations, Bucky. I look forward to seeing you again soon," he says, adding, after a quick, bracing inhale, “and maybe when you visit, I can make my mom’s stew for you? If- if you like?”

Sam feels a surge of pride. Look at Steve go, being something almost in the vicinity of smooth.

Barnes laps it up, beaming at Steve. “I’d really love that,” he says in a low voice, still holding Steve's hand. “I’m sure you’re delicious.” His eyes widen. “It’s delicious. The stew – not- not-" Abruptly, Barnes stops babbling, then seems to come to a decision. “Oh, fuck it,” he mutters, and pulls Steve towards him, crashing their mouths together in a scorching kiss.

Over the noise of the assembled crowd's whoops and cheers, Sam gleefully calls, “And that, my friends, is a wrap!”

[anonymous0writer]

Prince and Princess

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Warnings: Smut. Swearing. Light alcohol use.

Requested: Yes! 

“can i have an imagine with topper where you guys are going to midsummers with topper and you guys are basically the kook prince and princess and everyone's like all over you guys and then going back to toppers and doing the dirty and it's like really good too”

Summary: You and your boyfriend are called the prince and princess of the Kooks. What a fitting theme for Midsummers.

A/N: This is so cute. And I have a soft spot for Topper- I know. He needs a redemption arc in the next season or I’ll be sad. But this was fun! And I love the idea of a prince and princess Kook. :) I loved this request!

Also this is just a regular midsummers. Not based off the show. Sarah and Topper were never together. :)

(This is the first Topper gif I’ve laid eyes on, lol)

Prince and Princess of the Kooks. Prince and Princess of Figure Eight. The Kook Princess with her prince. The prince of the Kooks. The Kook royals. 

The titles had always been linked to you and your boyfriend. You didn’t really mind it, because the words weren’t lies. You and Topper were famous among the Kooks. And you’d been together for a long time, and you were the among the three richest families in Figure Eight. Once apon a time, Sarah Cameron was dating your brother and they were the power couple, but Sarah had cheated like she always did and you brother had eyes for another.

So the title of Prince and Princess of Figure Eight was yours. And it was beyond fitting.

Y/N Y/L/N. The second child of four to the Y/L/N dynasty. The second richest family in Figure Eight. Close friends and business partners with the Camerons. Rich beyond measure. Famous name and company. Massive house with the biggest pool. The princess of the Kooks.

Topper Thornton. The heir to the Thornton legacy. The third richest family on the Figure Eight. Father was the best man at both of Ward Cameron’s weddings. Money practically bursting out of the bank account. A grand house with a private, sprawling gold course. Name known and feared around the island. The prince of the Kooks. 

It was fitting for you two to date. And it was perfect for your families. Dating since the summer before freshman year at Kook Academy. They all prayed you’d marry and join to create a powerhouse of class and wealth. And it looked like you were headed down the perfect path. 

And it was even more fitting for you two to show up to Midsummer's the way you did.

You were dressed in a satin, pale pink colored dress. Hair curled tightly and dressed in a half up, half down manner. Pearls adoring your ears and throat. Your nails a creamy color with a silver colored ring slipped carefully on your finger. Your makeup was light. Mascara and blush that heighten your beauty. You looked beautiful, with your tan, glowing skin from days in the French countryside. A princess indeed. 

Topper was in his suit. A soft gray with a pink button up shirt. Matching you perfectly. Even the flower tucked in the pocket of his blazer was the same pale color as your dress. His skin was tan from days lounging around his pool and golfing. And his body was toned from working out throughout the summer. And his blue eyes seemed extra bright. A prince indeed.

You linked you arm with your boyfriend, sending a fleeting smile toward him. Before you exited the building the party was held at, Topper leaned forward and kissing your temple. His warm lips against your head eased your nerves. You were somewhat nervous. It was your first appearance after leaving for summer vacation in France with your family. You were worried everything changed in the span of the two months you were gone. You’d missed your boyfriend more than anything, and had feared he’d changed his mind about you two. But he’d eased your nerves and reminded you of his love. 

“You look beautiful, baby.”

You smiled. “You look quiet good yourself,” You eyes roam over his figure appreciatively.

He grins back, but soon enough it was your cue to step through the massive french doors. You stepped out into the yard of the festivities of Midsummers. It was breathtaking. Fairy lights strung around the posts of the pergola. Soft clinks of champagne glasses and soft laughter filled the air. Fancy, expensive dresses shifting as the girls in them danced to the music floating around the area in a gentle haze. The night was warm, a cool breeze wrapping around you and embracing you. The sun was half setting, making the horizon explode in bright oranges and rich pinks and soft, bruise colored purples. 

Topper’s grin widened as you joined the party. The part was a good way to come back to Outer Banks. You fell right back in with Sarah and your old friends. They filled you in on the happenings around the island as they pressed you with seemingly endless questions about France. As you talk, your hand is tight in Topper’s. His eyes are filled with love as he looks on at you, pulling you just a bit closer because he needs you closer.

And as the dancing picks up, your boyfriend extends as hand and asks to dance. His hands go to your waist and he pulls you closer. You rest your head on his chest, swaying to the music playing. His embrace is warm and you shiver as the night gets cooler. Your hands grasp Topper’s blazer as you snuggle into his warmth. You missed your boyfriend more than anything. You were tempted to beg your father to allow him to come, but you knew the answer wouldn’t be what you wanted. You’d gotten back to North Carolina a few days ago and were getting over the jet lag and unpacking for most of them. So tonight was one of first nights you and Topper had since you got back. 

Topper pulled you closer and kisses your hair. “You okay, baby?” He breathed in your ear. 

“Yes. I just missed you.” You replied and broke away to peer up at him. You smiled brightly and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

The music started to pick up, and before you knew it, you and your boyfriend were dancing around each other in the classic Midsummer’s dance. You giggled at his facial expressions as he struggled to remember some of the moves, but you were always there, helping him step in the right direction. 

When the song ended, you two broke away to get some drinks. You were breathless from the dancing and stumbled after your boyfriend. He grabbed your elbow to steady you and laughed. Topper snagged two tall champagne glasses and handed you one. Technically you weren’t supposed to drink, because you were minors, but everyone in attendance drank at Midsummers. It was practically tradition.

You took a sip, trying not to get too drunk. But you weren’t even given the chance to take another sip because more people flocked you, asking you questions about France and gushing about how you and your tall boyfriend were perfect. You couldn’t even close your mouth for a second, questions overflowing. You caught Topper’s eye and he smirked, amused. But you loved how nice and lovely they were being. And how they pestered the boy beside you too. 

“Alright,” Topper cleared his throat after a while. “I’m going to dance with my beautiful girl if you don’t mind.” He smiled at the Kooks surrounding you two. When his blue eyes landed on your they light up and he gripped your hand.

The boy pulled you away from your classmates and friends. However, he didn’t pull you to the dance floor like he said he would. Topper held your hand as he led you back inside the country club. You giggled as he entered a hallway and dragged you down another. He stopped, pulling you toward him in an empty hallway. 

Here, the music was heavily muted and the sounds of the party were practicality non-existent. Topper pushed your against the wall, lips meeting yours in a long over due, passionate kiss. The kiss was sweet, but behind it was a breathless “I missed you”. 

You kissed back, lips hot. Your fingers dug into his hair, quickly finding home. His hands on your waist and pulling you endlessly closer were familiar. As you kissed, making up for the ones you didn’t have this summer, you felt home. You felt perfectly happy and at ease. He gave you warmth and love. You finally felt home. You never felt this way. Not when you touched down on American soil. No even when you arrived in Outer Banks. No even when you entered your bedroom. Not in the arms of any other. Here, in Topper’s arms, you felt at home.

“Top,” You whispered, gasping for breath as you pulled away. You clung to his jacket, not wanting to let go. “Let’s go back to your place.”

He smirked at the intended actives you’d participate in back at his house. You weren’t driven by lust, or need. A tiny part of you, sure. But you wanted an intimate night with the boy who had your heart. He kissed your cheek after pecking your lips. 

“Yeah, okay.” He breathed, breath hot on your neck. He intertwined your fingers and led you to his car.

---

Topper’s lips were hot and needy on yours as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. You’d made it up to his big bedroom, his lips on your skin the moment the door shut and locked.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as they always did. Your breathing became quickly labored as his mouth traveled from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. Need burst through you at every touch of his skin against yours. His fingers danced around your hips, thumbs brushing against the silky fabric of your dress. No doubt wanting the thing off. But tonight wasn’t a night for fast and furious sex. This was perfect, sweet sex. Long, passionate sex.

“Oh my,” You breathed as his lips found your sweets spot, sucking lightly. 

Your hands dropped to cup his neck as you pulled away. “Top,” 

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, mouth still hovering over your skin. Topper stood, hands cupping your face. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“Yes?”

“I love you.” You stated, looking him hard in the eyes. You meant it. You’d always mean it. 

His lips curved into a big smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

You nodded, and looped your arms around his neck as Topper carried you to his bed, setting you down. He crawled over you, your dress spilling around you in a satin halo. His lips connected to your collar bone, taking their time with exploring the smooth plains of your skin. 

You arch your back, aching for his touch. Topper’s fingers dance along the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders. You squirm out of the dress, your hot skin exploding with goose bumps as the cool air wraps around you. But Topper’s body hovers over yours, a soft warmth radiating. Your lips find his again even as your fingers tug restlessly at the buttons of his shirt. You don’t bother with his blazer or getting it off. You just need to feel his skin against your finger tips. The buttons open to reveal part of his tanned chest. 

“Topper,” You breath, meeting his lust blown eyes. He pulls away, lips leaving your skin as he peels off his shirt and blazer. You grip his shoulders as he grabs one thigh and pushes against you, lips hungrily meeting yours. Yours hand go for his pants, as his hands slid up your legs. Topper’s hands are warm and the edge of his fingertips run along the edge of your underwear. You squirm, need threatening to break your self control. You feel your panties go wet as you undo Topper’s belt. The boy finishes your job, yanking off his pants and throwing them on his floor. 

His lips cascade onto your chest, dipping in between your breasts and onto the valley of your stomach. His kisses are hot and needy. Your hands tug at his hair, aching for more. Constantly more. You buck your lips slightly at his face as his lips trail along the hem of your underwear. Suddenly, the boy on top of you grabs your thighs and rests them on his shoulders. Topper’s head dips down to tease you, peppering kisses and marking your legs lightly. You can’t help the loud moan spilling from your throat.

“Baby, please,” You whined, your core aching. 

Topper dropped your legs lightly and crawled back up your body to kiss you. You hands were still nestled in his hair and you tugged lightly, soliciting a moan from your boyfriend. He rolled his hips against yours, needing the friction as much as you. He muttered a curse as your head tipped back and your dropped your hands to tug his boxers down. Soon enough they were off, and Topper was quick to rid you of your own underwear.

And he was teasing you, eyes roaming over your bare body. You cupped his cheeks and moaned his name. The moan made his eyes flicker. “Please?” You begged, the need almost too much.

With a simple thrust of his hips, Topper pushed into you, making you cry out loudly, hands grasping his hair. He leaned over you, face dropping into the curve of your shoulder. His soft grunting and occasional moans threw you faster towards your climax. Topper’s hips rolled expertly against yours, hitting deep places only he was able to touch. You cried his name every time he hit a certain spot. Your legs were shaking, and your hands dropped to grip the sheets, tangling them.

“Oh my- Fuck!” You screamed as your boyfriend hefted a leg higher, granting him more access. 

“Come on baby,” Topper muttered in your ear, a moan following soon after. The bed was creaking, moving in time with Topper’s fast thrusts. 

Topper was unforgiving, going harder and fucking you until you couldn’t form a thought. The moans he solicited were sure to send you to hell. You clenched harder around him, your stomach tightening into a coil. 

“Top!” You moaned, back arching off the bed as he slammed into you. The coil was threatening to snap as Topper’s hips started to stuttered. 

“God baby. You feel so good.” He praised, hitting your g-spot as you eyes fluttered closed and you reached up to run your hands through his hair.

And then you snap. You cum, body going lax and Topper releases too, shooting into you. His hips stop, trying to catch his breath while being seated in you. You hands relax, and you fall back against the bed, spent. 

That was by far the best sex you’ve had with Topper. Or anyone for that matter. Your high was fading, but you could still feel it hover over you like a ghost. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling. Your boyfriend lay down next to you, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

You roll on your side, facing your boyfriend. 

“Top,” You whisper, voice hoarse from screaming his name. The blue eyed boy smiles at you, pulling you closer to him. You nestle into his warmth, head resting on his chest. You listen on as his heart beat clams down, sure your own is beating just as fast. 

Topper brushes your hair away from your sweaty skin and leans to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby, that was good.”

You curl closer to him. “That was the best sex I’ve had, Top.”

Topper’s arm wrap tighter around you, fingertips tracing random patterns into your skin. His breath fans against your ear, making you squirm away, giggling. He kisses your hair. 

“You were really good, sweetheart.” He rests his chin on the top of your head. You close your eyes, exhausted. You stay quiet for a beat before your boyfriend speaks up. “I missed you a lot, baby girl.”

“I missed you more,” You mumble, falling quickly into the arms of sleep. You doze, barely able to hear your boyfriend as he kisses your hair again. 

“I’m going to marry you, baby.”