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tobesobri · 4 years

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

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𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

#sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors #im just glad to have written something tbh #but yeah let me know what you think! and i hope you all have a great halloween and that you're staying safe!#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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theolsentimes · 3 years

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Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

VIEW GALLERY

Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

#Mary Kate Olsen #mary kate and ashley #Ashley Olsen #harper's bazaar #magazines #articles #photoshoot

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dickwheelie · 4 years

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heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

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All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

#tma #the magnus archives #AspecArchives #aspecarchivesweek #gwyneth writes #it's ok jon i'm allergic to clothing stores too

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years

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Everyone Secretly Wants You

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,528

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes her fam to an art gallery, showcasing the work of Ava Centuria, her favourite artist of the 42nd century. However, she gets more than she bargained for when said artist takes a keen liking to you.

A/N: I know today has been... a lot. So here's something short and fluffy I wrote to take my mind off of things. Keep yourselves safe and surrounded by love my friends. All the best everyone and lots of love ❤️

“Well then,” Graham said. “Art galleries have certainly changed.”

You had to agree. It didn’t really look like any sort of art gallery you had ever seen before. There were people performing on stages, gallery goers were dressed in multi coloured neon robes, and food that changed shape on on the trays the waiters carried around. It looked like some sort of fancy festival, and you felt like any second you would see Billie Eilish casually stroll around beside you.

You loved it.

“It’s the 42nd century Graham!” The Doctor cried. She was hard to miss, she had replaced her coat with one that was a bright neon blue. “No one cares about stuffy rich people etiquette at these sort of things, it’s why Ava Centuria is so amazing! She completely reshaped societal norms, she made kooky mainstream.”

“Sounds like fun,” Yaz said encouragingly, and she was giving the Doctor a pair of thumbs up. It looked comical, her finger nails were each a different neon colour, and she wore a black suit with neon coloured stripes, reminding you of the kind of thing a school principal would wear to a carnival, except, well, neon.

As the five of you entered, you passed a towering banner that had a woman’s face plastered across and the word ‘Welcome’ written beside her. She was quite beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, long curly black hair, and painted red lips.

“Woah,” Ryan said, as the whole lot of you craned your heads so you could see it more clearly. Ryan had gone all out for the gallery, and had neon green wings painted under his eyes, which matched the neon green blazer he was wearing over a white shirt. “Is that her? This Ava chick.”

“Yup,” The Doctor said proudly. “Oh I can’t wait to meet her, I bet she’s a riot.”

Then a pair of bells rang and you jumped, clutching onto the Doctor with a yelp. Your heart sat in your throat and the Doctor placed her hand onto yours. You soon found your gaze met with hers, and your heart continued beating rapidly, but this time, for an entirely different reason. In this light her eyes almost looked like they were bright green. They sparkled under the light, and for a moment, you were mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, tearing yourself off of her. “Just startled.”

A small marching band began walking past, wearing bright red uniforms. One of them blew something that looked like a kazoo, and it let out the shrilling bell sound that had just startled you. The Doctor gasped, her eyes shining in delight. “Oh I am following that,” and without another word, she had zoomed off.

The rest of you looked at each other, exasperated. After one moment, then another Yaz rolled her eyes. “Alright, okay, I’ll follow her. If we get into trouble I’ll ring.”

“Not too loud I hope,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to startle Y/N.”

You gave him a glare, that was only half fake.

“Oh nah,” Yaz said, and met Ryan’s smirk. “Without the Doc around, there’s no one for Y/N to cling on to!”

You began to splutter out a protest but the other’s laughed, and before you knew it, Yaz jogged off with a wave.

You sighed dejectedly. “I really was freaked out.”

“We know,” Graham said. “Just teasin’ is all.”

You, Ryan, and Graham began exploring the art gallery. Ryan nudged you on the shoulder. “When’re you gonna tell her anyway?”

“Tell who what?”

“You can play confused around her,” Graham said, by your other side. “But we know better.”

You rolled your eyes, and a waitress appeared in front of you, offering you a platter. You watched for a moment as the collection of little cakes changed from neon orange to neon cyan, and they looked almost as if they were glowing. It was so cool. You plucked one off the tray and shoved it into your mouth, nodded your thanks and then grinned ruefully at your friends as you sidestepped away from them.

The cake was nice. it wasn’t a flavour you could identify, but it was sweet and fluffy, like a cloud.

Graham took three.

“C’mon Y/N,” Ryan said, skirting around the waitress so he could catch up to you. “You know she likes you back.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied. “I just want to eat some cake and look at some funky art.”

Also a lie.

Graham held out one of the cakes to Ryan, and, in doing so, essentially barred you in between them. Ryan took off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up about it anyway, it’s not as if you’re as emotionally awkward as she is,” he sounded like he was speaking from experience.”

“You too,” you said. “Are the worst wingmen in the history of wingmen ever. Now I’m going to go over…” You glanced around the room, trying to find an area that was relatively crowded. “There,” you said, pointing at a crowd of people gathered around a stage where a man was eating… was that fire? Wow. “So,” you continued. “If you’re going to butt your noses into my love life, I suggest you keep up.”

You dove under Graham’s arm and ran. Look, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like them – of course you did, they were some of your best friends. But it was awkward talking about the Doctor. It was so confusing, she, was so confusing, and you didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.

You slipped into the crowd and scurried to the front, dogding and weaving through neon coloured bodies. When you made it you ducked, turning around so you could try and find Graham and Ryan through the gaps in the people.

There, in the back, towards the right. They were standing around like lost puppies. Good, you had definitely lost them.

Slowly, you navigated your way through the crowd until you were by the other side. This area was far quieter, and you ducked into a narrow hallway.

You’d lost them, and with it, you had lost those annoying questions.

You’d find them soon enough, you just needed ten minutes where a ‘will they, won’t they’ conversation wasn’t the focal point of anything and everything your friends wanted to talk about. Ten minutes without knowing smiles and staring at each other like they were in on some secret, or like they were characters on The Office.

You found yourself in a relatively empty room, save a few individuals. There was clothing propped up everywhere, and you quickly realised it was on display like a stagnate fashion show. Slowly, you began walking around the room, taking it all in.

And then you saw it.

Completely and utterly confused, you stood in front of a dress. You caught snatches of conversation from the people next to you, who were praising the piece for its creativity and out-of-the-box presentation, but to you... well, it was ugly.

It held a clattering of different patterns; the skirt was made with stripes of cheetah print, rainbow polka dots, red gingham, and acid washed denim. The top clashed even more, and was made of a sequinned fabric, one that, when you moved it, you assumed would change colour.

You weren't sure if it was supposed to be an open smock or a cape, but a sheer, neon orange fabric was drapped around behind the dress and over the arms of the mannequin. It ended in huge black ruffled lace, lining the mannequins wrists and the kissing the floor.

Now, this wouldn't be too bad if there were any structure to the dress, but it was cut into a t-shirt shape, so there wasn't any reason, practically or otherwise, to separate the skirt from the top.

Not to mention the Edwardian style ruff collar that sat around the neck, was made out of, of all things, CD’s – which apparently still existed. You wondered if it was a commentary on something, though you couldn't think of what.

You screwed your face up, concentrating, trying to find something, just a single element about the dress that you liked. It was just... awful, you were sure you could even argue that as an objective fact. Surely the thing broke some sort of laws about fashion and style.

"It's a social experiment," a warm voice said beside you, and you jumped. You hadn't heard anyone coming.

You turned to face the person who owned the voice, and assessed her thoughtfully. You recognised her, but you weren't sure from where.

"I thought I would explain it to you," she continued. "Since you were quite obvious on your distaste for the piece."

The realisation dawned on you like a wave of ice water, running through your mind and down into your bones. Her high cheekbones, her wry cherry red smirk, her unruly, uncontrolled black curls dancing under the light as she cocked her head to the side, it couldn't be.

But it was. Standing beside you was Ava Centuria, the artist whose work was on display.

The artist who had designed this dress.

The artist who had just called you out on not liking her dress.

Your realisation must have shown on your face, because she broke out in a pearly laugh. "I do appreciate constructive criticism though. So, tell me, what don't you like about it?"

You gauged her thoughtful. Part of you was about to splutter out an apology, tell her that you actually really did like her work. But that would be a lie, and somehow, under Ava Centuria's warm gaze, lying to her just didn’t feel right.

You looked back to the dress, then to her. “Honestly. I… I just think it’s ugly.”

She let out a delighted laugh again, and you realised it was actually quite a lovely sound. “You’re the first to say that.

”“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, because really, you had just insulted her work, and she seemed happy about it.

“It’s refreshing,” she said, and she regarded the dress. “And you’re right. It is ugly. I made it so on purpose.”

This just made you more confused. “I’m sorry? Why would you do that?”

She gave you a kind smile, and you felt yourself warm in response. Ava Centuria really was striking, it looked like she had been moulded by the gods. She was the kind of beautiful that poets wrote about. “Like I said, it’s a social experiment.”

You smiled at that, thinking of the Doctor. You would have to show her this, she loves a good experiment. “What are you experimenting?”

“People,” she said, and she brushed her arm over your elbow, guiding you with her to look around the room. Her touch was warm, and you found that you didn’t mind her touching you at all.

“I find it terribly interesting,” she said, her voice low and soft in your ear. She was so completely close – you could smell her perfume, which was sweet, like a warm Spring breeze. “That something could be completely mundane, or even downright awful, but, if you give it prestige, suddenly everyone completely and utterly adores it,” when she turned to look at you again, her eyes sparkled. “It is why I appreciate you, you are honest. It is not something I am accustomed to.”

It was a sobering statement. “That seems like a lonely way to live.”

Her expression faltered, her wry grin falling into a small, sad, smile. “It can be” she gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to find someone who can make the days just a little bit brighter.”

You thought about the Doctor, who lied so often, and kept so many secrets. Was she lonely too? Even with the fam, even with you with her? Did you help make her days brighter?

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said after a moment, recatching your attention. “But I didn’t seem to catch your name.”

You noticed she had still not let go of your arm, and was caressing you slightly with her thumb.

You chuckled. “I never gave it.”

“Surely then you must share it.”

You told her your name and she smiled. “Ah. Y/N. It is fitting. It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful person.”

You felt your eyes widen and your ears tense. Had she just-

“I am an artist,” she continued. “I know these things.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t often people as gorgeous as Ava Centuria just casually flirted with you.

She stuck out her other hand. “I am Ava, by the way.”

It was such a bizarre turn of events that it startled a laugh out of you. You took her hand. “I know who you are, Ms Centuria.”

“Ava,” she repeated. “And, I know. But I felt it was important for a formal introduction, especially when one considers what I am about to ask you.”

You paused at that. Ask what?

“I would like to give you a tour,” she said. “A personal one, just for you. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on my collection and…” her movement on your arm faltered. “I would very much like to get to know you better, if you would let me.”

Under the lighting, Ava’s hair seemed to glow, like a halo of light was wrapped around it. She looked ethereal, and you couldn’t believ that she had just –

Oh gosh, Ava Centuria had just asked you on a date. Now. As in, immediately.

“Oh Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turned to see the Doctor strolling up, her neon blue coat billowing behind her. She… there was no other word for it, she looked awkward. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was giving you a strained smile. Behind her, across the other side of the room, stood Yaz and Ryan. Yaz was giving you an incredulous look, as if you had just taken the last cake from a tray, and Ryan, Ryan looked like he was about to whoop into the air, or shake you.

You had no idea how to interpret either of those looks.

“Doctor,’ you said and her smile softened as she met your gaze.

You turned back to Ava, sure that you had flushed, and untangled yourself from her grasp. The Doctor was beside you - and when had she appeared? She wrapped her arm around your frame, pulling you in to your side. "You must be Ava Centuri?" She said, but her smile seemed too wide, too forced. "Oh I'm a big fan!"

Ava stiffened. “Well,” she said, and her voice was distant. “It appears I am at a disadvantage, Y/N has not told me about you.”

“Oh! Well that’s surprising, I’m Y/N’s number one. We’re very, very close, Y/N and I,” her other hand fell across your arm, the spot where Ava had just been holding you. “We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, made from the same cloth, you could say. Oh, a match made in heaven! Like Bonnie and Clyde,” she scrunched up her face. “No wait, not them, They died.”

“They also killed a lot of people,” you added. “Which wasn’t great.”

“That to,” The Doctor said, nodding to you like it was the most serious conversation you had ever had. She turned back towards Ava. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Well met Doctor,” Ava said, and she seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m quite sorry though, you see, Y/N and I were-”

“Oh yeah!” The Doctor said. “I’m terribly sorry,” She squeezed your shoulder again, and it looked like the Doctor wasn’t sorry at all. “But we have to be off. We’ve got loads of things to meet, people to see, and places to do,” she scrunched up her face again. “No, wait, that’s the wrong order.”

“Things to do, people to meet, and places to see,” you supplied.

The Doctor grinned at you, utterly delighted. You felt a swell of pride in your stomach, you loved that you were the cause of that smile.

“Ah,” something seemed to dawn on Ava, and she looked in between you and The Doctor. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s arm, which was still securely wrapped around your waist. That small, sad smile from earlier returned. “I, I do believe I understand,” she turned to the Doctor. “You have found an angel among mortals, be sure you remember that.”

The Doctor audibly swallowed, and her grip on you faltered, for a moment. “I – uh, yeah. You’re right. Completely right, actually. Always knew you were clever.”

She nodded. “Good,” she turned to you. “And dear Y/N, if you ever find yourself wanting to entertain the whims of a lonely artist, I really would consider myself so very lucky.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took your hand, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles, a part of you felt your arm tingle at the contact. “I best not keep you then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Doctor.” She gave the Doctor a consolatory nod, and left.

“Huh,” The Doctor said. “She was… I’m not sure I liked her as much as I thought I would.”

You hummed, not necessarily agreeing, but not really knowing what to say. You watched Ava walk away with a small frown. You hoped she was okay, she had been kind. She deserved kindness.

She wasn’t someone who your heart could belong to.

You turned to the Doctor. “So, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

The Doctor paused, her face falling. It was almost as if you could see the cogs turning in her brain, but you couldn’t work out why she was thinking so hard. “I think Graham’s gotten lost,” The Doctor said suddenly. “So I think it’s high time we find him and get out of here, what’d you say?”

You nodded, and, still holding you, The Doctor and you began walking out the room. You found your friends gathered outside the TARDIS, in fact, neither you or the Doctor had even paused to find Graham. You assumed Yaz and Ryan had done so, when you and the Doctor were talking to Ava.

On the way in, you noticed how the neon everyone was wearing glowed under the crystals. The Doctor was gorgeous in a way you couldn’t describe. She was here, present, by your side. It was so tangible, suddenly.

You had never noticed before, the way her hair softly fell around her face. She had bright neon stripes of green in it, and you wondered, absentmindedly, when she had had them done. The chain from her earring glinted in the soft light, the stars along the chain glittering.

In a soft voice, you asked. “Why the neon, do you think?”

“I dunno,” she said, and she shut the door behind Ryan, the last to enter the TARDIS. He was giving you a funny look, and you chose to ignore him. You chose to ignore Graham and Yaz too, for good measure. You would get embarrassed and fluder, you could already feel it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said, after a moment, and she looked around the room. “When you can’t find any brightness, you wonderful humans chose to create it instead. Even in the darkest of times.”

“Us humans?” You smiled, and you took a chance, maybe this time, just once, the Doctor could be honest. “What do you do then, Doc?”

“I don’t need to create it,” she said, her gaze wholly focused on you. “I’ve found it.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. That… The Doctor couldn’t possibly mean what you thought she meant. But she looked at you so intently, as if you were her entire universe. Her gaze flickered across your face, across the neon yellow flowers Yaz had painted on your cheeks, across your nose, and on your lips.

She leaned in, or maybe it was you, and she as so close now.

The sound of a loud cheer shattered the spell. You jumped back in shock.

“Finally!” Ryan cried, all the way from across the console.

You looked up to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz standing off to the side, watching you like a collection of hawks. Graham and Yaz turned to Ryan in astonishment. Yaz elbowed Ryan and he doubled over. She tugged on his ear and whispered harshly.

The Doctor grinned when she spoke. “I can hear you, y’know.”

You, however, could not.

“Is it true?” She asked them, and you desperately wished you could have heard.

Graham gave you both a look, one which said ‘sort it out yourselves’.

The Doctor turned back to you. “I think you and I need to have a talk, later, when there’s no one else around?”

She looked vulnerable, her eyes wide and pleading, as if you hadn’t been just about to kiss her.

You nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #not edited because I wrote and posted this on the exact same day #I even wrote this during a meetting #and instead of doing an assignment due two days away #lots of love xoxoxo

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purplebunniboy · 4 years

Text

Retrograde Character Masterlist

I lied, here are all the characters. I’ll do in depth backstories later.

This probably isn't EVERY character but it's damn near close and just some basics about them that are totally subject to be altered or expanded upon later

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Afton Family

Michael Frederick Afton/ Fritz Smith/ Mike Schmidt:

Thick curly brown hair, hazel green eyes, grey tshirt with rolled sleeves, tucked into jeans// scars along his face, torso, and arms

Born October 7th, 1969 to Sandra Schmidt and William Afton

The oldest of the Afton children

Loved baseball, got his first bat from Henry

Scar across his nose came from a fight, hand scars came from attempting to pry open Fredbear's mouth during the bite, arm scar came from encounter with the Nightmares, torso scar came from getting scooped, various other scars from animatronic encounters

Fox mask bully, Dayshift worker at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1987, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals, Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1998

William David Afton:

Shiny dark hair, soft blue eyes that turned grey the first time he “died”, well-groomed and cared about his looks

Father of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton; Spouse of Sandra Afton

Co-owner of Fredbear’s Family Dinner, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, Circus Baby’s Pizza World, Fazbear Robotics and Fazbear Entertainment inc.; Owner of Afton Robotics LLC

Cunning, charming, and extremely persuasive, could find out absolutely anything about anyone and use it against them to get what he wanted

Extremely theatrical and loved going over the top in performances,

Loved robotics and excelled at crafting learning AI, but could never perfect it how he wanted

Drove himself mad with the idea of immortality and legacy

Absolutely hated being called Billy

Did love his kids, at least originally, he’s only Somewhat a heartless monster, but there’s something still beating in that chest of his

Cassandra “Sandra” Bella Schmidt:

Denim jumpsuit, dyed blonde hair, hazel green eyes

Mother of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton. Spouse of William Afton

Was a Broadway actress but left her career behind to marry William and raise her family

Very soft-spoken, only confident when she was on a stage under the spotlight

Had a beautiful singing voice and would often sing her children to sleep, especially if they woke up from night terrors

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Rose Afton:

Dark strawberry blonde hair curled into tight ringlets and pulled back into two ponytails with red ribbon ties, bright green eyes, often wore a lot bright colors

Born May 12th, 1979. Died February 1986

The youngest of the Afton children

Suspected of being the product of an affair as her looks did not resemble her father’s

Did whatever it took to get her way and was very cunning about how she went about doing that

Liked to sing with her mother and was very musically inclined

Evan “Ev” Afton:

Thick brown curls that often fell in front of bright green eyes, white collared shirt a large black tshirt with two white stripes across the chest

Born October 31st, 1975. Bitten by Fredbear October 31st, 1983. “Died” November 5th, 1983

The middle child of the Afton children

Was never the best at communicating with others, complained a lot, fought with his brother constantly at home

After witnessing Charlie’s unaliving, became traumatized and cried all the time

Had a large collection of stuffed animals but was usually carrying around at least one of the Fazbear Plushies

---

Emily Family

Henry Emily

Shoulder length hair always swept or pulled back out of his face, dirty overalls, hands are never clean

Father of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Donna Emily

Treated all the robots the same way he did his own children

Caring and understanding but had a short temper and lacked patience, especially when under a lot of stress

Extremely talented in robotics, excelling in them from an early age. He could make anything look lifelike and real.

Preferred the comfort of his garage workshop over really showing his face

Donna Fitzgerald:

Big and poofy dark hair, dark eyes, high-waisted acid-wash jeans, pink wool turtleneck

Mother of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Henry Emily.

Strong-willed and very loud about her opinions on things.

Very supportive of Henry’s passion with robotics even if the whole topic gave her headaches when she attempted to wrap her brain around the concept

Charlotte “Charlie” Emily:

Denim overalls decorated with marker drawings of flowers, green striped tshirt, green wrist band, untamable brown hair pulled into two high pigtails

Born June 26th, 1978. Died April 5th, 1983

The younger of the Emily children

Extremely empathetic and caring, always went out of her way to care for children smaller than her, wanting them to feel loved and accepted

She was never afraid to get dirty, she always colored outside of the lines on purpose, she wanted to do the daring and unexpected.

Carried around a porcelain doll that was styled like a black and white jester

Her robotic counterpart was the spitting image of the real one

Robotic Charlie was much more sensitive and much more analytical of the world around her

Samuel “Sammy” Jeremy Emily/ Jeremy Fitzgerald:

Born June 24th, 1970. Bitten by Mangle October 7th, 1987

The older of the Emily children

He was always a very gifted child, excelling in mathematics from a very young age, but hit gifted kid burnout by the time he hit highschool

Never had much of an interest in robotics

Patient and gentle, he preferred to keep to himself and would often seek out quiet places he could be alone

Jennifer “Aunt Jen/Jenny” Emily:

Older sister of Henry Emily

Always had an interest in robotics and passed her skills on to her baby brother

Fiercely loyal to family she would do anything she could to protect them and keep them happy, especially Henry since he was the only family she really had left

She was strong-willed, even in her younger years, and able to hold her own very well

---

Before the Bite

Michelle “Mitchie” Peters:

Spiky short brown hair, green t shirt, blue boy shorts, green sweatbands

Bear mask bully

Older sister to Gabriel Peters

Died July 4th,1985

Michael’s closest childhood friend

A tomboy, closet case, and had a major superiority complex or at least pretended to have one

Called the Mama Bear of the group due to her caring deeply for her friends but aggressiveness towards everyone else

David “Davie” Kennedy:

Wavy black hair, red polo shirt with a popped collar, blue bunny mask

Bigger kid and designated meat shield of the group.

Willing to defend his friends to his dying breath.

Inside, he had a soft core. He was the one who would check on each of them, asking if they were ok and if they needed help. His soft core often got him teased by his friends but it never stopped him from wanting to make sure they were always safe

Bunny mask bully, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Christopher “Chris” Houghton:

Short curly dark hair, long sleeve blue shirt

Chicken mask bully

Never left the arcade, living that sweet gamer life

Liked to run his mouth and always needed to have the last word

Vanessa “Nessa/Ness” Abernathy

Dark hair, rainbow clip extensions, dark eyes

Born December 24th, 1970.

Knew Michael in school, had a crush on him, he was the first one to ever call her Ness and the only one she ever let call her that

Took a robotics class because of him and also got really into coding

Influenced by William and eventually taken completely under his control. She was his eyes and ears in the outside world. Talks to him through the Spring Bonnie plush when non-possessed

Poses as Mike’s therapist to keep an eye on him for William

Matthew “Matt” Griffiths

Older man though no one was sure how old he actually is or if he can even die, choppy hair, thick rimmed glasses

Phone guy

Dayshift worker/ Training Manager at Fredbear’s Family Diner, General Manager of the first Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Loyal to the company but also put his own well being and safety before anyone else’s

Would not stick his neck out for anybody on his own

Blunt and standoffish, sometimes considered rude though he was never rude to customers or kids

One of Afton’s first “puppets”

---

Party of 1985

Susan “Susie” Waylar:

Messy golden blonde curls, blue eyes, pink shirt, bedazzled jeans

Older sister of Samantha Waylar

Best friends with Gabriel Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Chica

Extremely energetic and always told she should settle and be quieter like her sister

Despite being super messy, constantly having gunk in her hair and under her nails, she had an unnatural ability to always keep her dresses clean

Gabriel “Gabe” Peters:

Straight light brown hair, striped shirt beneath denim overalls, missing front tooth

Younger brother of Mitchie Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Freddy Fazbear

Stood up for the smaller kids whenever possible

Energetic, never able to settle, and outgoing. Impossible to ever see him not smiling

He was clumsy and always getting hurt accidently.

Best friends with Susie Waylar

Cassidy “Dee-Dee” Richards:

Dark hair always pulled into two uneven pigtails, always wearing yellow

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Golden Freddy

Pulled a lot of pranks, some lighthearted, some not so much.

Threw tantrums to get what she wanted.

Always wanting to be first, always wanting to come out ahead, always

Jeremy Velasquez:

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Bonnie

A generally shy kid who’s loud and energetic around his friends

Started growing out of Freddy’s pretty early on

Susie felt bad for him and invited him to hang out with her and Gabe

Frederick “Fritz” Parker:

Messy auburn hair, pastel pink polo shirt

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Foxy

Aggressive and rude, rather abrasive and destructive

---

Party of 1987

Pete Dinglewood:

Brown hair, red letterman jacket, backwards baseball cap, prosthetic hand and glass eye after being hit by a car and barely surviving.

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Foxy

Older brother of Charles “Chuck” Dinglewood

Always sticking gum under the tables in the party rooms

Alec Wilkins:

Blonde curly rocker mullet, sci-fi movie shirt with cut off sleeves, braces

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Freddy

Older brother of Hazel Wilkins

Could be rude at times, always got himself into trouble and pinned with the “problem child” title

Toby Billings:

Fluffy brown hair, mullet, reminds Michael of Cass, pullover sweatshirt with an athletic team’s logo on the front, always putting stuff in his mouth

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Bonnie

Younger brother of Connor Billings

Wanted to have the highest scores in the arcade

Cracks his knuckles when he’s lying or when he’s nervous which most people will loudly say is gross and annoying

Millicent “Millie” Fitzsimmons:

Dyed black hair always teased and pinned on one side, always wears a lot of black and intense black makeup

Died October 4th, 1987, stuffed into Chica

Best friends with Alec

Lives alone with her grandfather, who is sometimes hired by Fazbear’s or Afton Robotics to fix any minor technical malfunctions with the animatronics

Was there during the grand opening event of Circuse Baby’s when Elizabeth was killed in 1986

---

Around Town

Connor Billings:

Brown hair, square face, very hyper and always laughing even if the joke isn’t funny

Phone dude

Older brother of Toby Billings

Became obsessed with the mysteries of the place after looking into the 1987 deaths more

Collected old remnants of the closed down restaurants.

Hired by Henry to find the stuff still haunted to put into Fazbear’s Frights, no questions asked

Lowkey scared of Michael saying, quote, “the guy just gives me bad vibes”

Samantha Waylar:

Older sister of Susie Waylar

Quieter, though who’s to say that equals maturity

Preferred to keep to herself and her books

She knew how to stand up for herself and was actually better at telling kids off than her sister was

Swear she loved Oliver more

Stanley Martinez:

Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Was into tech most of his life.

Known to be a generally kind man, putting others and their well being before himself

He was never one to snoop around and would prefer staying out of other’s business

Clayton “Clay” Burke:

Father of Carlton Burke. Spouse of Betty Burke

Chief of police. Was a detective when the 5 murders happened, worked on the case.

Though he is at times a little air headed, he is very caring of those around him

Carlton Burke:

Ginger hair, dark clothing

Only son of Carlton and Betty Burke

Childhood friends of Charlie, John, and Jessica

Always the kind to crack jokes when the mood was down and laugh in the face of danger.

Art and theatre kid

John Aowyn:

Messy brown hair, white shirt, brown leather jacket

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton. Had a crush on Charlie

He was a writer and constantly lost in his own fantasy world that sometimes it was hard to pull him out of

Jessica Sinclair:

Shiny light brown hair, brown doe-eyes, always clean cut, fashionable clothing, contagious smile

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton

Fiercely loyal to her friends, and would do anything to protect them. She hated seeing them sad or hurt and was always there with bandaids and snacks the moment they needed her

Very perceptive and smart, she had a love of forensics and her friends would often put on mystery hunts just for her

Leslie Dunn:

Round face, light hair, police uniform

Police officer/ Detective

A bit blunt at times though not with the intention of being rude

A bit awkward at times

Jack Flores:

Younger man, greasy hair, bright eyes

Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Overly curious, couldn’t keep his nose out of other’s business

#retrogradeau #fnaf #fnafau #michael afton #five nights at freddy's

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myownworldstayout · 5 years

Text

New Friends Ch. 12

Ch.1 / Ch.11 / Ch.13

(Are you ready for more fluff?? you’re gonna get more fluff.) (also, It’s long so warning lol)

“Marinette, I love these dresses!” Aurore sang, twirling around in a sleeveless purple dress, which stopped short just above her knees.

“The casual outfits are quite nice as well.” Kagami complimented, studying her black, ripped jeans and rose red top, matching her black boots.

Marinette blushed slightly at the praise, though it was hardly noticeable since she was still fiddling with another outfit on one of the manikins.

“Thank you so much! I figured you guys would like those.”

“I still can’t believe you made these.” Wayhem commented, picking at the collar of his bright green, short sleeved shirt.

“Do the jeans fit okay?” She asked, turning to get a good look at the three.

Wayhem grinned. “They’re perfect.”

Marinette smiled brightly, nodding with satisfaction as she focused on the manikin again.

“It’s a shame Felix couldn’t come to your house with us. He’s missing out on some great fashion.” Aurore giggled, sitting down on the chaise and smoothing out her dress.

“Actually, I already gave him an outfit. He’s gonna meet us at the concert.”

Aurore sat up. “Really?”

“Yep!”

During lunch period that morning, Luka invited them to go to Kitty Section’s concert. They were holding it in the square this time, and the crowd was hopefully going to be big. Aurore and Wayhem were more than happy to go, since they always loved Kitty Section’s concerts, and Kagami promised to work something out in her schedule. Felix was reluctant at first- concerts were always so loud and pushy -but when Marinette excitedly agreed to go, he gave in.

The group became so hyped for the event that they decided to dress up for it as well. That was when Marinette remembered she had some outfits at home that she’d been working on. So Aurore, Kagami, and Wayhem came to the Bakery to try them on while Luka prepared for the concert.

“The real question is how you convinced Felix to come to the concert in the first place.” Kagami said, shifting comfortably on the chase next to Aurore.

“What do you mean?” Marinette asked obliviously, pulling one of the pins from between her teeth and sticking it into a skirt.

“Felix hates concerts.” Kagami stated bluntly.

“I can’t imagine Felix liking anything loud or crowded to be honest.” Wayhem joked, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Pretty much. His exact words were, ‘why listen to music at a loud, people-infested park when I could listen to the same music alone in my quiet bedroom?’” Kagami smile.

Aurore and Wayhem laughed at that, but Marinette furrowed her eyebrows.

“Why do you think I convinced him though? Maybe he decided to just try it out on his own.”

Wayhem scoffed and lightheartedly replied, “You kidding? He was so going to stay home until you said you were going.”

“He did suspiciously agree right after you did. Even though he said no the first time around.” Aurore joined in, a coy smile spreading across her lips.

Marinette pursed her lips, turning back to her project to hide her embarrassment. Felix didn’t agree just to be with her, right?

The image of him walking her to her house around the first time they met flashed through mind.

She shook her head.

He just wanted to go to the concert since everyone else was going. They were all friends, after all. It would be silly to stay home instead of hanging out with all of your friends.

Yes, it had nothing to do with her, and this certainly wasn’t going to be another Adrien situation.

Marinette stilled.

Adrien.

“Marinette, are you alright?” Aurore asked, noticing her pause.

She drew in a breath, steeling herself. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I was just thinking about..”

“About Adrien?” Wayhem finished, sitting down on the floor next to Marinette’s rolling chair, across from the girls.

Marinette nodded in confirmation, keeping her eyes on the skirt.

The group quietly waited, their gaze soft, understanding. Marinette would speak if she wanted to do so.

“They haven’t noticed my unofficial absence for weeks.” she finally began, more of thinking aloud. “They didn’t care that I haven’t spoken a word to anyone, that they haven’t talked to me for weeks. It wasn’t until I actively ignored Adrien that they got upset.”

Marinette sighed, massaging her temples. “It’s like they don’t even care about me as a person. It’s all about their egos or hurt feelings or something just- just all about them.”

The group nodded along, letting her work through her thoughts. Though Marinette appreciated it, it also sort of ached. Because she had never had something like this before. Not with Alya, or Adrien, or anyone else she knew for years in that forsaken classroom. It was always “Marinette, you’re overreacting”, “Marinette you’re being ridiculous”. It could never be, “you have a right to be angry”, or “your feelings are valid whether they completely make sense or not”.

Come to think of it, even despite Lila’s influence, they’d had trouble before. Mostly when Marinette decided to have any sort of feelings besides pure happiness. Of course, Alya and the others weren’t entirely to blame. Adrien was normally the one to scold her on that front.

She looked back up at the others. They sat there patiently, waiting for her to either finish her concerns or change the subject. It was her choice.

She reveled in that thought. Her choice. It felt as if this entire school year had flown by without giving her a single glance. She’d been forced into more things than she liked to admit.

Being ladybug, for example. She loved Tikki with all her heart, but Marinette still found herself a tad bitter about how she got the miraculous. Would she have accepted if Master Fu asked her straight up? Probably not, but it still would’ve been nice to get a say in the matter.

The point is, choices seemed to be new for her. She was sad that it turned out this way, but if it meant she could make choices, that she was finally free in a sense..

“There, done.” Marinette then smiled, leaning back to check her work.

Aurore and Wayhem gasped.

“Oh, Marinette, it’s beautiful!”

~~~~~~

Felix grumbled to himself as he got ready for the concert.

Why did her agree to go to this? Concerts were loud and crowded and everything he despised, really. Why couldn’t he just stay home and watch the concert live at the very least? That’d be much more preferable.

He pictured Marinette’s smiling face, her eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.

“You’re coming too, right Felix?” She had asked.

Seeing that expectant and hopeful look in her eyes… how could he say no?

He remembered her quietly squealing a “yes!” and pumping her fist in the air when he said he would go.

The group was surprised, though none argued. Especially when Marinette started rambling about “New outfits” and “Fitting sessions after school”.

A frown tugged at the corner of Felix’s lips.

They were all at her house now, getting ready for the concert. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be there. Unfortunately, he needed to come home first to inform his mother about the new schedule and do a few things.

As expected, she was more than eager to let him go to the concert.

“When are you going to invite them over?” she asked for what felt like the fifth time that week.

“When I feel the time is right.” Felix said, repeating the same answer he always gave.

His mother put on a pout, but only huffed and left the room to start supper.

Felix smiled towards his mother’s antics as he straightened his new tie.

Marinette had shown them lots of sketches for clothing designs, but her actually making the clothes was a completely different story.

And she’d done and amazing job. The clothes she made for them not only fit their personalities well, but also seemed like they could be bought from a store.

Felix noticed a few crooked stitches and some loose buttons, usual mistakes that are perfected over time. Considering she was only fifteen, the handiwork was extremely impressive in his opinion.

The outfit wasn’t all that different from his usual one. He still had his black dress pants and dark grey vest. However, his familiar, lighter grey of a button up, long sleeve shirt was replaced by a black one with the sleeves stitched up to his elbows in a quarter sleeve style. Instead of his black tie, Marinette gave him a striped green and black tie to use. How she got the measurements was beyond him, because the clothes fit perfectly.

“Have fun at the concert sweetie! If you need me or your father to pick you up, just give us a call.” His mother cooed as he opened the front door.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Felix said with a small smile, waving and walking out the door.

The walk was longer than what he was used to, but he left earlier than necessary so he took his time. Nevertheless, he still got there about twenty minutes before the concert started. A few people were lingering in the square, either curious about the commotion or waiting for the concert to begin. In the center of the square, right in front of the glass pyramid, Felix spotted Kitty Section preparing themselves for the performance. Luka was tuning his guitar with Juleka, Rose was checking the sound system, and Ivan was testing his drums.

Felix noted that the others were wearing their normal outfits while Luka was obviously wearing a “Mari original” as they called it. He was wearing a dark-ish blue, checkered button up shirt with black jeans. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a navy blue t-shirt underneath. In the middle of the navy blue T-shirt was a white jagged stone, similar to the black one on his white t-shirt he normally wore.

Luka glanced up, smiling when he noticed Felix.

“Hey! I see you’re wearing your new outfit, too. Mari did a good job, as always.” he commented, setting his guitar to the side and standing up.

Felix nodded with a smile, looking over his clothes once more. He ignored the side glances he received from his classmates. He figured they wouldn’t be pleased of his presence, but he was here for Marinette, not them.

Speaking of which, “Where are the others?”

“They’ll be coming soon, don’t worry. Marinette wanted to make last minute tweaks on the other’s outfits.” Luka explained, waving off the question. “I didn’t expect you to come. Concerts don’t seem to be your thing.”

“They’re not. I only came because-” Felix cut himself short. Telling Luka his real reason for coming probably wasn’t the best idea.

Unfortunately for Felix, Luka was good at filling in the blanks.

“Because Marinette wanted you to, right?” he finished with a knowing smile.

Felix gave him a glare in response, not denying or confirming anything.

Thankfully, people were already starting to pile into the square. Therefore, Felix and Luka were quickly surrounded by chattering fans, distracting them from the conversation.

“I have to go up on stage. Good luck finding Mari in this mess.” Luka chuckled, before disappearing into the crowd as well.

Felix hummed in displeasure, turning on his heel and heading for the back of the crowd. Maybe it would be better to find them if he weren’t so smothered.

“Felix, there you are!”

He stopped, looking in the direction of the familiar voice he’d come to know quite well.

What he saw brought his thoughts to a screeching halt.

It was definitely Marinette- you could tell from her signature ponytails and unmistakably bright smile -but her clothes almost made her seem like a different person entirely.

She wore a pitch black blouse which was tucked into a bright red skirt covered in black polka dots that hung just above her knees. Her black heels, which were red on the bottom, drew attention to her toned legs. Now that Felix thought about it, Marinette’s arms were pretty toned as well. She was fit in general, to be honest.

A light blush dusted Felix’s cheeks as he pushed the thought out of his mind.

“What do you think?” Marinette beamed, twirling to give him a better look.

Felix swallowed, briefly at a loss for words. Could you blame him, though?

“Did you make that?” he managed to ask.

“Yeah! It’s not too bad is it?” Marinette said shyly.

Felix shook his head almost vigorously. “No, It- you look-” he paused, taking a second to compose himself. “You look.. Stunning.”

Now Marinette blushed, a delightful pink that somehow complemented the outfit.

He pulled a soft smirk, but then it faded as he looked her up and down again and squinted.

Marinette frowned. “What is it?”

“Do you mind if I try something?”

“Try something?” Marinette repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yes, with your hair if that’s alright?” He said, reaching up and gently touching one of her pigtails in thought.

“O-Oh, uh- Sure, I g-guess.” Marinette stuttered, her blush deepening.

Without another word, Felix moved around behind her, carefully starting to pull the ribbons out. It might have been his imagination, but Felix thought he felt her shiver when he started combing his fingers through her hair to straighten it out.

“Alright, I’m done.” He stated after a few minutes, stepping around to her side again.

Marinette brought her hands up to her hair, lightly feeling around to figure out what he did.

“Thank you.”

Felix shrugged. “My uncle is a fashion designer after all.”

Marinette smiled, opening her mouth to respond when someone else called out to Felix.

“Felix! We finally found you! Oh, and you have Marinette that’s even better!” Aurore shouted over the crowds, moving towards them with Wayhem and Kagami in tow.

“Wow, I love your hair.” Wayhem complimented when they caught up to the two.

“Felix did it.” Marinette grinned, absently touching her hair that had fallen around her shoulders.

“Felix did?” Kagami raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing at her lips.

The blonde didn’t respond, keeping an indifferent expression. That might have been more condemning than if he had said anything at all.

“Well, it totally makes the look.” Aurore smiled, pulling a pocket mirror out of her purse and handing it to Marinette.

The hair-do looked much nicer than Marinette expected. Apparently, Felix took out her two pigtails, using the two ribbons to tie her hair into a half up half down style. This caused it to look like she was wearing a big red bow instead of her ordinary ribbons. Having her hair pulled back certainly topped off the outfit as Aurore had said. The red bow brought out the skirt and the hair that fell around her shoulders, along with her bangs, shaped her face nicely.

“Wow..” Marinette muttered, brushing her bangs somewhat to the side.

“Mhmm~” Aurore hummed with a smile, taking back the pocket mirror.

“We should get to the front, or somewhere near there. The concert is going to be starting soon.” Felix spoke up.

“Yeah, but there’s so many people..” Kagami said with a frown, standing up on her tiptoes to look over the growing crowd.

“Oh, let’s hold hands so we don’t lose each other!” Wayhem suggested, grabbing Aurore and Kagami’s hands.

Felix winced, though no one noticed.

Aurore grinned, turning and grabbing Marinette’s hand.

Marinette turned to Felix, holding up her hand.

“So we can stay together.” She smiled.

Felix hesitated. He didn’t like touch. Never enjoyed physical contact with anyone, really. Even his mother, who he loved dearly, was someone he could barely stay around for long due to all the hugs she smothers him with.

There wasn’t a specific reason he hated being touched, he just did. Felix assumed it was mostly from his father, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

That was why he was surprised when he took Marinette’s hand. Because he.. He actually didn’t mind her touch. It wasn’t all that bad. Her hand was warm and her grip gentle, loose enough that he could let go if he wanted, but tight enough that they shouldn’t be separated.

Her grip then tightened suddenly to keep from losing him when they got deeper into the crowd.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, Felix squeezed her hand back.

He caught a glimpse of Marinette glancing back at him in surprise, before turning her attention back to the crowds.

“Alright, Paris, are you ready!” Luka called over the microphone.

The group stopped. The crowds cheered.

Marinette didn’t let go of Felix’s hand. Whether she was distracted by Luka or just didn’t think about it, Felix found that he was okay with it.

The music began, causing Felix to look at the stage as well. Half way through, Marinette and the others started dancing. He didn’t join in, but his hand swung around with Marinette’s occasionally. That was when he noticed she was still holding Aurore’s hand as well. In fact, they were all still holding hands. To stay together.

That’s right. To stay together, nothing more. Felix reminded himself, even if he wasn’t sure why he needed to remember that.

The concert lasted for about an hour, along with a few added encores.

“And now,” Luka began, wrapping up the show. “I’d like to make a special shoutout to the girl who not only made my outfit for tonight, but also designed Kitty Section’s costumes and album covers from the beginning. Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Felix saw Marinette’s eyes widen as the spotlight landed on her.

Luka grinned, walking to the edge of the stage and holding out his hand.

Marinette, still in shock, slipped her hand out of Aurore and Felix’s grasp and took Luka’s hand.

He ignored the sudden coldness he felt from Marinette’s absence as the girl was pulled up on stage.

“This is also a ‘Mari Original’.” Luka announced eagerly, gesturing to Marinette’s outfit.

The ravenette smiled sheepishly, fiddling with her skirt a bit to contain her nerves.

The crowd gave a hearty round of applause. Her friends clapped the loudest, of course, and Wayhem whistled.

“That’s all I’ve got folks. Thank you and goodnight!”

~~~~~~~

Marinette’s heart pounded against her chest even half an hour later. Luka did love his surprises, she just wished they didn’t involve so many people.

“Where does this go?” Wayhem asked, holding up a box of sound equipment.

“Over there is fine.” Luka answered, pointing to a few other boxes nearby.

Wayhem nodded, hobbling off in that direction. Marinette giggled at the odd posture.

It was nice though, she thought, being appreciated. Getting the credit she deserved for her work. What did she do to deserve these wonderful people?

“I~ think that’s everything?” Aurore more of asked, looking around the now empty stage.

“Yes, I believe so.” Felix agreed, crossing his arms and searching for any lost or forgotten items as well.

Marinette smiled towards the blonde. He’d been full of surprises that evening. Since the first week she met him, actually. She was also happy to say that the outfit she created looked good on him.

“Thanks for helping out guys.” Luka said appreciatively, setting the last few boxes onto their stacked pile.

Juleka, Rose, and Ivan mumbled their “thanks” as well- Rose being as cheerful as ever. Marinette and Felix might rival Chloe in low popularity at school at the moment, but they still helped out.

“You don’t have to thank us.” Kagami insisted. Her phone then buzzed in her pocket, and she sighed when she saw the message.

“My driver’s going to be here in a few minutes. Anyone need a ride home?”

Luka scratched the back of his head. “Actually.. Can you take Juleka and I home? It’d be hard to take all of the boxes home and mom doesn’t have a car..”

Kagami smiled. “Of course, it’s not a problem.”

The exchange seemed to remind Felix of something, and he turned to her.

“What about you?” He asked, glancing at her as he took out his phone and pressed on his mother’s contact icon.

“Sorry?” Marinette blinked, looking at Felix and standing up on the stage.

“Do you need a ride home?” he elaborated, waving his phone slightly.

“Oh no! I’m alright, thank you-”

Marinette then paused, and looked to the streets. It was getting a bit dark.

“On second thought, that would be nice.” she smiled.

Felix returned the smile, before walking away to call his parents.

Marinette yelped as she stumbled down the steps of the stage, right into a firm pair of arms.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked, concern lacing his tone.

“Ah, y-yes. I’m so sorry..” she sighed, struggling in his arms to stand back up.

Felix lifted her to her feet. “It’s fine. As long as you’re alright.”

Marinette blushed, suddenly noticing how close they were and Felix’s lingering arms around her waist. She lightly touched her right cheek, which she somehow managed to scratch on the way down.

“Honestly, I don’t know what possessed you to where heels. You can barely walk around in your usually flats.” he then added, frowning at the injury.

Marinette chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. Though his tone was sarcastic, she knew he meant it as more of a joke than anything. It was hard to read Felix when they first met, but after a few weeks of hanging out with the group so much, she managed to figure him out a little.

For one, he wasn’t as stone cold as he appeared to be. Felix might be brutally honest and strongly opinionated, but he did care. She’d seen it over the past few weeks. He just had a hard time expressing his emotions.

Not to mention that ever since he arrived at school, Lila hasn’t bothered Marinette as much- if at all. She couldn’t begin to explain how thankful she was for that.

“The car’s here. Are you ready to go?” The blonde in question interrupted her thoughts, gesturing to a grey car that had just rolled onto the street.

Marinette nodded, saying a quick goodbye to the others and following Felix to the vehicle.

Felix opened the back door for her, which she found sweet. When she got into the car, though, Marinette was a tad surprised to see Felix slide into the seat next to her and close the door.

She looked to the floor to calm herself. Taking deep breaths, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her hair. The car pulled onto the street and started towards the bakery.

“T-thanks for the r-ride.” she finally said, wincing at the stutter.

Why was she nervous? It was just Felix.

Just Felix. Marinette mentally repeated.

“It’s no trouble.” Felix assured, brushing off the comment.

“I didn’t know you had a chauffeur.” She commented thoughtfully.

Felix glanced at her from the window. “Well, I would certainly hope so. My family does own and run several banks around the country.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“You didn’t know?” Felix raised his eyebrows, straightening in his seat.

Marinette shook her head dumbly. Then again, how did she not know Felix’s family ran the banks? She’s known him for weeks hasn’t she?

The boy stared at her for a moment, then simply hummed and turned back to the window.

Silence filled the car. Marinette found it frustrating. Usually, she could talk about anything or everything with Felix. Now, she was at a loss for words. Why was that?

When the car stopped in front of her house, Marinette shuffled out of the vehicle, Felix following behind her.

“Thanks again for the ride home.” she said, throwing him an appreciative smile.

“Any time.” Felix replied softly.

A frown suddenly flickered across his face and he lightly touched the side of his lips. “You’re lipstick’s a little messed up.”

Marinette blushed, bringing her hand up to fix the error.

He was looking at my lips?

The thought nearly gave Marinette a heart attack, and she shoved it to the back of her mind. That didn’t mean anything. Felix was just observant like that.

“No, wait- you missed- here let me do it.”

Before Marinette could respond, Felix was in front of her again. He tilted her chin upwards, gently grazing his thumb across her lips.

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat at the gesture and her eyes flicked to his.

His eyebrows were knitted together as he focused on fixing her makeup. It was all too obvious that he wasn’t trying anything.

“It’s such a lovely shade of red..” he murmured absently, stroking her lips one last time for perfection.

Oh, if Marinette thought she couldn’t blush any deeper..

The poor girl was about to blabber out some sort of reply when a car horn blared next to them, signaling for Felix to hurry up. The two jumped apart, glancing at the impatient chauffeur.

“G-Goodnight!” Marinette nearly squeaked, holding back another cringe of embarrassment.

Felix gave a small smile, though, not seeming to mind. “Yes, goodnight.”

With that, he got back in the car and left.

Marinette went back inside as well, hand on her lips and thoughts racing about the night she just had and the new feelings she might have just experienced.

Tag list: @unabashedbookworm @bluerosette23 @minightrose@kuroko26@im-here-for-the-content @angstyrastuff @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanboy7794@choaticneturcl @bigcheeseyboi @burntnugget-tae @ayuchan07@honorisfortheweak @knightrose15 @mjisntme@rhub4rb @simplythebestbug@wilhelmares@zebrabaker@dargeon-lissa @kristycocopop @alumneia @kaydenth3gayden @thornangelic727 @flirtshobi @whatamessofwords

#Felinette #Felix Culpa #New Friends AU

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Three

A/N: A chapter just in time for Daniel’s birthday! 🥰 Maybe I’ll post two to celebrate? 🤔

T/W: brief mention of abortion

Tuesday, July 28th, 2020

“Well it’s good to see you have some company this time around.”

Florence smiled at the doctor from her place on the white clinic bed. Her blouse was pushed up past her swollen stomach, the clear gel spread messily over her skin. Emilio stood on her other side, a gentle hand on Florence’s arm.

“So, thirty-five weeks, we got a solid heartbeat here.” The doctor stated, dragging the wand across the gel, the rapid rhythmic beating echoing gently through the room. Florence watched the screen with wide eyes, seeing the almost fully formed baby there.

“I think it has my nose.” Emilio whispered to her. She smacked his chest playfully.

“You didn’t want to find out the sex after all?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t know. I’m still on the fence.” Florence chuckled.

“No harm in that.” The doctor shrugged. She took a few notes on her paper as she checked the baby’s movement, breathing, muscle tone, and amount of amniotic fluid. The hour went by quickly and smoothly, filled with suggestions for the next month by the doctor in preparation for the birth. Florence held onto a few pamphlets she was handed as they left, Emilio leading her to the car as she flipped through them.

“Oh my God.” Florence sighed as Emilio helped her into the passenger side of his black BMW.

“What?” Emilio asked.

Florence shoved an open pamphlet in his face, a list of post-partum creams and routines listed in bold font. “I forgot my vagina turns into a post-apocalyptic world after birth.” She stated plainly.

“Ew, did not need that visual.” Emilio shuttered and gently pushed the pamphlet away from his face. He closed the passenger side door and let himself into the other side.

“And you bleed for like…six weeks straight.” Florence added as he reversed out of the parking spot.

“Way too much information.” Emilio shuttered. “Again, did not need to know that.”

Florence shrugged, looking back at the pamphlet in her hand.

The previous seven months had gone by fast and a lot had changed as well. Emilio and Grayson soon fell into a civil and friendly relationship, realizing they were both sort of stuck under the certain situation. Tensions had since eased and Florence felt more comfortable around both young men since everything had settled into a unique reality. She was still extremely nervous, however, as she was carrying around the silent burden of who was the father of her unborn child. It was a sticky spot to be in and the guilt she had was heavier than the twenty-five pounds she put on by the start of her third trimester.

Florence’s apartment was arguably the one consistent thing in her life. Although expecting her second child, she could not afford to upgrade to a three bedroom and was therefore stuck with the place she had. Callum was still sending a consistent amount each month for her rent which helped greatly.

Emilio parked in the underground garage beneath the apartment building and the two took the elevator to the familiar 25th floor. Grayson had already arrived earlier that morning, gladly offering his assistance in putting together the crib in the master bedroom. That’s right where Florence and Emilio found him, quiet music playing through a Bluetooth speaker as he sat on the floor surrounded by tools. Clementine sat nearby, a small plastic bowl of cut up strawberries set in front of her as she watched Grayson work.

“We’re back!” Emilio called, falling onto the neatly made bed on his stomach, glancing over Grayson’s work.

“How was it?” Grayson asked, looking up from the floor, pushing his messy hair back from his face. “Everything still okay?”

“Everything is perfect.” Florence nodded, setting her hands on his shoulders. “This looks great, Gray.”

“We’ve been working hard, haven’t we, Clem?” Grayson looked over to the eighteen-month-old who nodded excitedly.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of the old one.” Florence sighed, sitting on the end of her bed.

“New is fun.” Emilio shrugged.

“I agree.” Grayson nodded, pressing the screwdriver into the last beam and turning it clockwise. Clementine crawled over to him, her small hands pressing onto his light blue pants with white stripes as she got herself to her feet. She reached for the screwdriver as Grayson pulled it back.

“All done!” he told her, tickling her sides.

“Please.” Clementine whined, reaching for the bright orange handle that he held behind his back.

“Grownups only, remember, Clemmy?” Grayson said, starting to pack up his tools.

“The nap was okay?” Florence asked as she picked up her daughter from climbing over Grayson.

“Yep. She slept a good hour. I got her up at 2.” He said, also getting up from the floor. “We’ve been having fun. She’s been a big help. I think she’s going to take after me with her building skills.”

Grayson tickled the toddler’s side and she giggled loudly, slinging her arms around her mother’s neck.

“We should get ready to head out.” Florence said as the group headed into the living room. “I’m going to throw on a dress.”

Clementine was passed over to Emilio and Grayson set his tool box on the kitchen island before unzipping his bag that was on the stool. He took out a new shirt and slacks and the two separated to different rooms to change in preparation for their plans for that night.

Once dressed and touched up, Florence came back into the living area where Emilio had Clementine situated on the floor with a puzzle. Puzzles were Clementine’s new favourite toy.

Florence set her purse on the island and shuffled through it, “So-“

“I got dinner at 5, bath at 5:30, and bedtime at 6 if you aren’t back.” Emilio finished without even looking up.

“And there’s-“

“Left over spaghetti in the box in the fridge and I should warm it up but make sure its not burning.” Emilio sent a small smirk in Florence’s direction.

“Yeah.” Florence sighed. “What would I do without either of you?”

“God only knows.” Grayson tisked playfully as he emerged from the bathroom dressed in a black t-shirt tucked into olive green slacks and finished with his usual designer belt. He set a hand on Florence’s shoulder, his other ruffling through his mess of brown waves.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Florence said.

“Don’t rush.” Emilio assured her. “We are going to be just fine.”

“Like every time.” Grayson added.

“Tell mama that we’re fine.” Emilio whispered to Clementine.

“Fine, mama.” Clementine whispered through a grin, leaning into Emilio’s side.

“Now let’s get a move on. Daniel didn’t take it well the last time you were late for a meal with him, remember?” Grayson shook his keys in the air, ushering Florence towards the door.

“Wait! I can’t forget my pamphlets.” Florence grabbed the small stack from the table and rushed after him.

“Good luck.” Emilio said more to Grayson than anyone. The other boy rolled his eyes teasingly before closing the door behind himself and Florence.

It was approaching 4pm as they arrived at the restaurant, Grayson’s light blue Porsche earning many glances from on lookers as he handed the valet his keys and helped Florence into the building. The casual restaurant was bustling as the hostess led the pair to their table. Daniel was already there, sat next to a brunette girl on one side of the booth. The girl was named Cayleigh and she was Daniel’s new girlfriend.

They had been dating only a couple months, meeting near the end of the school year on an app that Florence didn’t care to know the name of. Cayleigh was a nice girl and Daniel seemed to really like her but there was something about the whole situation that just made Florence annoyed. She was not looking forward to sitting through an entire dinner with them and having to deal with Cayleigh’s overly chipper personality.

When Grayson and Florence got to the table, the friends greeted each other happily, Florence plastering on her best fake smile that she had perfected over the years of attending boring functions and dinners with her parents and brothers.

Cayleigh was quick to start with an excited, “How was your appointment today, Florence? I haven’t seen you in so long! You look like you’re ready to pop!”

Grayson shifted awkwardly at the slightly controversial statement and Florence gritted her teeth through her offence, replying with a simple, “It went well.”

While she was pregnant with Clementine, Florence’s body was going through massive changes for the first time, meaning she was barely showing well into her fifth month. Now, with a second child, Florence was shocked to see the difference in how easily her body stretched, the massive weight gain and large, round belly being a sensitive topic to the still young girl. Of course, having Cayleigh of all people point it out so bluntly made Florence’s cheeks flush with anger more than embarrassment. She covered it with a long drink from her water glass and hid her pamphlets deep in her purse.

“How have you two been?” Grayson asked, trying to turn the subject away from Florence as she was clearly already on edge and dinner hadn’t even begun.

“We’ve been fine.” Daniel said. “I’ve managed to pick up a few gigs around the city this summer.”

“And I’ve been working as a sports camp counsellor. It’s so fun.” Cayleigh boasted. “The kids are so crazy but literally relentless. Plus they all love me, so it’s good.”

“I wish we could see each other more but things have been busy.” Daniel said quietly, offering Florence a gentle smile from across the table. She could barely force one in return, her eyes focussed on the minimal space between the two love-birds across from her, Cayleigh’s hand rubbing against Daniel’s thigh. Florence drank more water.

Dinner progressed slowly, lighthearted chatter filling the space between the group of four as they ate. It had been a while since Florence and Daniel had a moment to talk once summer started, although their relationship was never quite the same after their little hiatus in the fall. She knew he was always there for her but things were simply different. Plus, Cayleigh coming into the picture put even more of a strain on their already weak relationship. At least from Florence’s point of view.

But Daniel adored Cayleigh and that was clear. They were almost never apart and whenever they were seen together they were always touching. It was like they couldn’t keep their hands or eyes off of each other. Daniel would stare at her when she spoke, seeming to absorb the way her lips moved and how her brown eyes would squeeze closed when she laughed. Florence hated that she noticed that.

She was glad Grayson was there, though. Even in their simply platonic standing, Grayson’s presence always made Florence feel calm. He told the group a story of how he had been getting into building in his spare time that summer. Grayson always spoke loudly, especially when he was excited about something and a few customers at other tables glanced their way as he continued his story of his recently constructed coffee table. Florence leaned into him, her hand falling to his leg. He shifted a little, almost in a movement to get Florence off of him but he didn’t miss a beat with his story. Florence frowned but turned quietly back to her meal.

Florence pushed the remining food around her plate with her fork before breaking the conversation with a gentle, “I have to pee.”

Grayson stopped his story and quickly got up from the table, letting her slide out of the booth ungracefully.

“I’ll join you!” Cayleigh said, getting up from the table as well.

Florence sent a small glare in Grayson’s direction but he merely smiled in response as he sat back down in his spot. The girls walked slowly across the dining room to the washroom and Cayleigh held open the door for them. Florence thanked her quietly before getting herself into a stall, having to wiggle her swollen stomach through the small door opening.

“Isn’t Daniel amazing?” Cayleigh spoke from the stall next to her.

Florence, now shielded by four walls, rolled her eyes, “He is.”

“He’s literally so sexy. I have no clue how you haven’t snatched him yet, girl.” Cayleigh’s voice echoed through the empty bathroom.

Florence’s eyes widened at her statement and she ran a hand over her face. The whole dinner was tiring her out. Cayleigh was tiring her out.

“We are only best friends and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

“So I don’t have to worry about you stealing him from me?” Cayleigh teased with a laugh although Florence could tell there was a hint of seriousness in her tone.

“No.” Florence could hear Grayson in her mind telling her to be nice. She then asked a question she could have cared less about, “How are you two doing?”

“So good!” Cayleigh’s groan made Florence physically cringe. “Although we haven’t slept together yet. I’ve been trying!”

Florence gaped at the stall door at the girl’s bluntness.

Cayleigh flushed and Florence heard her approach the sink as she continued, “I mean I don’t know why he won’t. Sleep with me that is. He’s a literal man, shouldn’t they want sex all the time?”

Florence exhaled deeply, wishing she could have just gone to the bathroom alone, but she got herself out to the sink as well, starting to wash her hands. She caught Cayleigh’s expectant gaze in the mirror.

Clearly wanting an answer, Florence complied, “Daniel is not much of a physical person. He shows love in different ways. Don’t take it personally if he’s not jumping in bed after three minutes.”

“I guess.” Cayleigh shrugged, pulling a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied a generous amount of pink to her pursed lips. She fluffed up her light brown hair and made a face in the mirror that reminded Florence of early pubescent girls. Florence glanced at herself in the mirror, stood next to such a unique character. Florence’s knee length blue floral dress was pulled tight around her belly, and her blonde hair hung loosely over her shoulders. She couldn’t help but compare herself to the happy, wild, free-living twenty-year-old girl beside her; the girl who’s biggest worry in life was why her celibate boyfriend didn’t want to sleep with her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Cayleigh speaking through the mirror, “Okay but honestly though, have you seen Daniel’s fingers? Like, holy shit, can he put them to use yet?”

Florence forced a small laugh to hide her disgust, turning for the door so Grayson could keep her from screaming.

Much to her relief, dinner concluded not long after that, and with a quick one-armed hug from Daniel, Florence was back in the passenger seat of Grayson’s car. The exhausted sigh that she let out once the doors were closed made Grayson chuckle.

“That was awful.” Florence shifted in her seat, rubbing her hand over her belly.

“It wasn’t awful.” Grayson shrugged, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

“You didn’t hear what I heard in that bathroom trip.” Florence held her hands up. “I think I am traumatized.”

Grayson’s laugh filled the car and, like it always did, it made Florence crack a smile. She let her two hands intertwine on her lap, her gaze drifting out the window as the city lights zipped by.

“Well while you girls were bonding in the bathroom, Daniel and I had a nice chat.” Grayson spoke after a moment.

“That’s nice.” Florence said, not turning her attention from the window.

Grayson glanced at her before turning back to the road, “He asked how you were doing. Have you not been talking?”

“No.” Florence shrugged, nervously playing with the hem of her dress. “It hasn’t been the same. Not since Cayleigh is around. She takes all his time.”

“He says he misses you. That you haven’t been calling as much.” Grayson spoke gently.

“Because I don’t want to call him just to hear all the new details on his girlfriend and her new fucking lip gloss she bought.” Florence said sharper than intended.

“Why don’t you like Cayleigh?” he asked. “She’s nice.”

Florence held onto her two hands like it would save her life, “She’s taking him from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were starting to be better again and she took him away. Now we don’t talk anymore. I miss how things used to be, Gray.” Florence sniffled. “When I was pregnant with Clementine and there was no Matt and no drama and it was just Dani and me. And I was happy.”

Bright lights flooded the car as they pulled into the parking garage, Grayson’s soft sigh at her recently consistent tense emotions barely audible. He pulled into the parking space and put the car in park before turning to face her. The hormonal girl let out a soft sob into her hand.

“Are you not happy?” he asked quietly.

Florence took a trembling breath and shook her head slowly, almost ashamed at the admittance of it. “I keep hurting you. And that doesn’t make me happy. I’m stressed, Gray. So stressed. And I-I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when this baby is born and one of you is going to get hurt. I can’t do this! I just want to go back in time and change so much! Change my choices and my actions and everything! Fuck! I wish none of this happened! I just want this baby gone!”

The panicked inhale that followed her sentence made her choke on her tears, her free hand tightly grabbing a fistful of her hair as almost to punish herself for admitting such a thing out loud.

Grayson simply watched her cry, staring at her expressionlessly. His silence made her heart ache in her chest and she tried to smother her ridiculous sobs into her hand. Grayson ran a hand through his hair, his gaze falling to his lap with a sigh.

“I-I should go.” Florence hiccupped, reaching for the door.

“No.” Grayson said quickly, reaching for her wrist to keep her from leaving. “I just…this is a lot. And I don’t know what to think or what to do. It’s hard on me too. On both of us.”

“I should have gotten a fucking abortion when I had the chance.” Florence grumbled angrily at herself.

“Don’t you dare say that.” Grayson replied sharply. “I’m allowed to still be hurt, you’re allowed to be upset, but you cannot say things like that. That is not how you better yourself and that is not how you solve this situation.”

Florence took a shaking breath and wiped her eyes with her the back of her hand as she turned away from him slightly.

“Everything is going to be okay.” Grayson whispered, but he sounded more like he was convincing himself rather than her.

Florence wanted to believe him, she really did; but even his gentle words of assurance didn’t spark comfort in the girl. She was stuck in her own mind, spiralling to where she felt she was unable to be saved. But she let herself stare at the wall of the parking garage, missing what life was like before everything changed.

#daniel seavey #wdw #why dont we #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we fanfic #emilio martinez #martinez twins #limelight #martinator #daniel seavey fic #wdw fanfic #happy birthday daniel #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #college!wdw #writing #anything but mine

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gryffindorcls · 5 years

Text

Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now

(Part 11)

Adrien left shortly after Marinette started emptying the contents of her closet onto the floor. It had barely registered in her mind what was happening when he walked over, kissed her on the cheek, transformed, and bounded off into the night.

Marinette stood in the middle of her mess and panicked. She needed help. So, she pulled out her phone and frantically texted Alya.

Marinette- OMG ALYA

Alya- Well, well, well…

Alya- The princess is back from her date.

Marinette- I need your help.

Alya- Do I need to kick sunshine’s butt?

Marinette- What?

Marinette- No

Alya- Good

Alya- What do you need help with?

Marinette- I got invited to a really big Gabriel event, and I have to go to Adrien’s house to pick out a dress tomorrow.

Alya- The princess got invited to a ball? How romantic.

Marinette- Alya! This is serious!

Alya- I’m still not seeing where you need my help.

Marinette- I have to go to brunch before I pick out the dress.

Alya- ...and that’s a problem because…

Marinette- I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR!

Alya- lol

Alya- Only you would have that problem.

Alya- You have the most clothes out of anyone I know.

Marinette- He’s a designer!

Alya- So. You’re a designer.

Marinette- IT’S NOT THE SAME

Alya- Chill, girl.

Alya- Wear the green one that you made.

Alya- That way you’ll match sunshine’s eyes. ;)

Marinette- Yeah, that’s actually good. Thanks!

Alya- You are welcome. Now...GO TO BED.

Marinette- lol

Marinette- Goodnight, bestie.

Alya- Night, girl!

Marinette grabbed the green sundress from one of the many piles on her floor. It was a clean-cut, a-line with a thick black stripe at the bottom. Around the waist sat a simple black ribbon that fashioned into a bow.

She put on the dress and examined herself in the mirror. Marinette turned and twirled, but she still felt uneasy.

“You look so pretty in that one, Marinette!” Tikki noted sweetly.

“Thanks, but I don’t know. Is it enough?” Marinette shot her Kwami a worried glance.

“Why don’t you ask Adrien?”

“Good idea, Tikki!”

Marinette stood in front of the mirror and snapped a picture of her outfit. When she was satisfied with the clarity of the image, she reopened the texting app and clicked on Adrien’s name.

Marinette- Are you still awake?

Adrien- Hey there, beautiful! Miss me already?

Marinette- I need your help.

Adrien- What’s wrong?

Adrien- Do you need me to come back over? I can be there in 5 minutes.

She mentally chastised herself. “First, I freak out Alya, and now Adrien. I really need to work on my word choice in texts. I probably gave him a heart attack.”

Marinette began composing her response when a rapid series of messages bombarded her notifications.

Adrien- You’re not answering.

Adrien- Are you okay?

Adrien- Marinette?

Adrien- Hold on. I’m coming back.

Marinette- NO

Marinette- Don’t. Please, I’m fine.

Marinette- However, I do appreciate the concern, kitty. :)

Adrien- Thank God.

Adrien- Sorry. I guess I just get worried easily.

Adrien- Okay...what do you need help with?

She attached the picture of her to a text and pressed send.

Marinette- Does this look okay for tomorrow?

Adrien- My goodness…

Adrien- ...you are stunning.

Marinette- Thanks, but does the dress look okay?

Marinette- I want to look good for brunch.

Marinette- I’m just not sure.

Marinette- Yeah...I’ll just try something else.

She tossed her phone onto the chaise and began rummaging through another pile on the floor. Her ringtone pierced the quiet as she found another dress to try on.

Marinette ran to her phone and looked at the name on the screen. Adrien was FaceTiming her.

She picked up the call. Marinette was greeted by an Adrien with messy hair, a gray t-shirt, and black, square-rimmed glasses. His head was resting on a fluffy, white pillow, and he was staring at her with a sleepy smile.

“I didn’t know you had glasses!” Marinette said excitedly.

Adrien scrunched his face. “Yeah...they’re new. I got my eyes tested a few weeks ago, and it turns out that...just like my dad...I’m a little far sighted. They arrived the other day. Of course, father insisted on getting designer, so they took longer to come in the mail. I wear them to read and do my homework. I just finished some Chinese drills, and I didn’t take them off. Sorry.”

Marinette smirked. “Why are you apologizing? They make you look kind of hot.”

He turned on his side, propped his head on his hand, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Only ‘kind of hot’?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Model, but yes, I do find you conventionally attractive.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I have absolutely no problem telling my girlfriend that she is going to be beautiful and/or drop-dead gorgeous in anything that she puts on. She also needs to stop worrying about looking good enough because she’s already wonderful without the perfect outfit. I say this as one attractive person to another.”

“I just want to make a good impression.”

“He’s already met you before.”

“Yeah, but not as your girlfriend.”

“He’s never had anything bad to say about you in the past. Trust me...if he didn’t like you, he would not be quiet about it. He HATES Nino. My best friend is not even allowed in the house. My dad actually invited you over, AND it was his idea. He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yet…”

“Marinette...breathe. I will be next to you the whole time. Everything will be okay. I love you, and I will never let anything happen to you.”

She closed her eyes and allowed the gentleness of his voice to soothe her anxiety. It was like listening to a hug. She could almost feel the comforting touch of his strong arms embracing her.

“Try to get some sleep, bugaboo,” he suggested, “It’s been a long day. On top of everything that happened in our civilian lives, we had to battle an Akuma. You must be exhausted. Just think, before you know it, I will be there to come and pick you up in the morning.”

Marinette hung her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I must be keeping you awake, as well. You probably want to get to sleep.”

“Talking with you is always time well spent. You are welcome to call me whenever...day or night.”

“Why are you so amazing?”

“Caring for someone as incredible as you comes easily.”

Marinette blushed. She squeaked and dropped her phone onto the chaise. Muffled laughter could be heard emanating from the fallen device.

She picked up the phone and shot Adrien the grumpiest look she could muster. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but you are just too adorable. But seriously...go to sleep, Marinette. You will feel better about all this in the morning.”

Marinette’s expression softened into a smile. “Okay. BUT...before we stop talking...you’re going to wear those glasses more often right?”

“Uhm...yes? I’ll wear them when I need them.”

“Good. I want to see those in person.”

Adrien chuckled and yawned. “Whatever you want, my lady.”

“Goodnight, Chaton.”

“Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Marinette pressed the end call button and sighed.

Tikki zoomed over to her chosen. “Adrien is right, Marinette. You should go to sleep.”

Marinette smiled. “Yeah. Let’s go to bed.”

She quickly tossed her clothes back into the closet and climbed into bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, she fell fast asleep.

***

Morning arrived quickly, and Marinette jumped out of bed at the first sound of her alarm. Usually, she would hit the snooze button multiple times before getting up, but today she was vibrating with excitement. Adrien had been right. She did feel much better after a good night’s sleep.

She quickly put on her green sundress and slipped on a pair of black flats. Marinette then pulled her hair into a low bun at the base of her hairline. She finished her look by applying light, natural make-up.

She stood confidently in front of the mirror and smiled.

“Today is going to be a good day,” she thought to herself, “You have an incredible boyfriend who loves you, and your favorite designer wants to have brunch with you. Then later today, you get to put on a beautiful dress and attend a REAL event in the fashion world. You are Ladybug. You are MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG. You are smart and confident.”

A soft knock sounded from the hatch to her room. Marinette spun around clumsily towards the noise and unceremoniously tripped on her own feet. She landed on the ground with a thud and a groan.

The trap door creaked open, revealing a wide-eyed Adrien.

“Is everything okay? I heard a…” he cut himself off when he saw Marinette getting up off the floor and smoothing down her dress.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled still fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

Adrien walked into the room and over to Marinette. He pulled her into his arms and looked her in the eyes.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked softly.

Marinette scoffed. “No more than usual.”

Adrien leaned in and placed a tender peck on her lips. “Send this kiss to where it needs to go.”

“Hmmmm,” Marinette said with a grin, “I actually think it hurts a little bit more than I initially thought. I think I might need more kisses.”

“Well, if my Princess requires assistance, who am I to refuse?” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows.

His hands moved to the sides of her face as Marinette closed the gap. Adrien left a lingering kiss on her lips. Marinette felt her toes curl and her leg lift into the air as she deepened the kiss.

Adrien was the first to pull away. “Any better, my lady?”

Marinette giggled. “That’ll do for now, kitty.”

He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and bit his lip. He backed away, and his eyes scanned her outfit.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” he remarked.

“No, you’re slacking,” Marinette teased.

“How careless of me.”

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me somehow.”

“And...pray tell...how exactly would I do that?”

“ Hmmmm...maybe you should put on those glasses for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and then…”

Plagg zipped over and hovered between the couple before they were able to continue their flirting session. “As sickeningly adorable as this exchange is, may I remind you that your father is expecting you in 20 minutes.”

“Did...did you just show genuine concern?” Adrien asked, stifling back laughter.

“No...I just...no.” Plagg crossed his arms and turned away from his chosen.

“I love you, too, Plagg.” Adrien used his finger to pet in between his Kwami’s ears. He then turned to Marinette. “He’s right. We really do need to get going.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure this dress looks good enough?”

Adrien smiled. “Princess, the word ‘good’ will never be enough to describe you. It’s beautiful. You’re stunning.”

Marinette blushed and covered her mouth with her hands. Adrien removed one of the hands from her face and gently coaxed her towards the hatch.

“Oh, wait!” She ran back to her desk and grabbed her sketchbook. “I wanted to bring my designs with me...or do you think it’s too much?”

“My love, that sounds perfect. It’s a wonderful idea. Now, come...please...we really have to go,” Adrien shot her a pleading look.

The duo bounded down the stairs, out of the apartment, and into the bakery.

“Are you two kids headed off now?” Tom asked with a smile.

“Yes, papa. I’ll see you a little later when I come back to get ready before the gala,” Marinette said quickly, hugging her father goodbye.

Sabine walked in from the kitchen and handed Adrien a large box of pastries. “These are for you to share with your father, Adrien. You two have fun!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cheng,” Adrien replied politely.

Once they were out of the bakery, they hopped into the back of his car. They soon reached the front gates of the Agreste Mansion. The car came to a stop, and Adrien ran to the other side of the vehicle to open Marinette’s door. He extended his arm for her to take, and he guided her into his house. Inside, they were greeted by the sight of Gabriel Agreste waiting for them on the stairs in the foyer.

“Hello, father.” Adrien took Marinette’s hand in his own.

“Good morning, Adrien, and welcome, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel said with a subtle nod.

“Thank you for having me, Monsieur Agreste, and please...call me Marinette,” she remarked sweetly. Marinette smiled and clutched her sketchbook close to her chest.

Gabriel’s eyes tracked the movement of Marinette’s arm. “I’m glad you could join us, Marinette.”

“Father,” Adrien began, “Marinette’s parents sent us with some pastries from their bakery.”

“That’s very considerate of them. Please send my thanks to your family, Marinette,” Gabriel paused for a moment, “However, I must ask...what kind of book is that in your hand?”

Marinette glanced nervously at Adrien. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled while mouthing the words “it’s okay”.

She stood up straight and took a deep breath. “I brought my designs with me today, sir.”

Gabriel smiled. “That’s a bold move. It shows drive and ambition, both of which are necessities in the fashion world. Is it right of me to presume that it is your goal to become a designer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. I would like to see your sketches over brunch. My intern recruiter spoke very highly of the design she saw yesterday.”

“Wow...thank you, Monsieur Agreste.”

“Please, follow me.”

Adrien continued to hold Marinette’s hand as they walked behind Gabriel.

“I told you it would be okay,” Adrien whispered in her ear, “I’m not going to leave you.”

She smiled and nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He returned her gesture by lightly kissing the top of her head.

As Adrien went to pull out Marinette’s chair at his end of the table, his father cleared his throat. “Marinette, please come sit next to me so we can go over your designs.”

Marinette began walking away from Adrien, and Gabriel sighed. “Son, why are you still standing at the other end of the table. I should think that you would want to sit next to your girlfriend.”

Adrien perked up. “Yes, sir!”

He swiftly moved to the seat next to Marinette’s, sat down, and laced his fingers around hers. Under the table, she brought their hands to rest on her thigh, and she covered them with her other hand. She then turned her head towards him and was met with the softest expression she had ever seen on Adrien’s face.

His eyes conveyed a thousand declarations of love. Her heart clenched in her chest as the rest of her melted away under his gaze. He seemed to drink in her essence. It was as if being her in her presence was as necessary as water or air. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that someone would look at her like that. This boy was her forever...and she was never going to let him go.

“Marinette,” Gabriel’s voice snapped her out of her reverie, “talk to me about some of your designs before the food comes out.”

She placed her sketchbook on the table and flipped through several pages while explaining her ideas. Gabriel remained silent and nodded periodically while she spoke. Adrien rested his hand on her shoulder helping her confidence to grow as she talked with his father.

When she reached the page that had the design she was currently wearing, Gabriel finally spoke. “Did you construct this dress on your own?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, “I have a sewing machine and a dress form in my room.”

“You did an exceptional job for a novice. It’s clean and simple.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Marinette. Your talent speaks for itself.”

“Still, sir, I appreciate you taking the time to look at my sketches.”

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have an ulterior motive for asking.”

Marinette paled. “Oh?”

Gabriel continued. “Yesterday when Noelle came into my office, she spoke to me about an idea she had about starting a junior internship program for younger students who were looking to study fashion in university. She talked to me about the merits of fostering the next generation and how aspiring designers like you would benefit from such a program. To her surprise, I agreed. When I was younger, my family did not support my passion. I created this company from nothing, and talent like yours should not be wasted scraping your way from the bottom. However, I wanted the opportunity to see your work for myself. I recalled your bowler hat design from last year, but that was only one example. I was going to ask you to bring your designs at another time, but you took the initiative to bring it with you. I wanted to know if you had a greater vision and if your designs showed versatility. Today, you have proven to me that you do.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Marinette tried to find the words to respond, but luckily Gabriel resumed speaking before she had the chance to say anything.

“I would like to offer you the opportunity to shadow Noelle this summer. Not only is she the intern recruiter for the company, but she is an incredibly competent designer. At Gabriel, we look for the best, and you have great potential, Marinette.”

Marinette’s breath hitched. “Monsieur Agreste, I would be honored. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Gabriel extended his hand to Marinette, and she shook it. “The pleasure is mine. I will have Adrien give Nathalie your contact information, and we will make arrangements for you to start sometime next week. I look forward to seeing what contributions you will make in the future. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I, unfortunately, must leave you two to finish brunch on your own.”

“Father,” Adrien called out, “will you be attending the gala this year, or will you be attending to something here?”

Gabriel paused for a moment. “I think the investors would be happy if I made an appearance this time. What do you think?”

“I think it would be good for the company if you came.”

“I agree. Astute observation, son.”

“Thank you, father.”

Gabriel started walking out of the room. He stopped in the entranceway and turned back towards the table.

“Adrien,” he began, “I’m happy to see that you found someone who is talented and driven.”

Before allowing his son to answer, Gabriel disappeared into the foyer. Once they were sure Adrien’s father was out of earshot, both teens breathed sighs of relief and began to laugh.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Marinette exclaimed.

“I know, that was insane!” Adrien responded.

“What an incredible opportunity.”

“You deserve it.”

“Thank you, minou.”

“I am kind of disappointed that he didn’t tell you the best part though.”

Marinette gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

Adrien slung his arm around Marinette and pulled her close. “Last night my father told me that he wanted me to start taking a more active role in the business side of Gabriel. He wanted me to spend time in the offices this summer learning from the executives there. So, it looks like we’ll be seeing each other a whole lot more over the next few months.”

“Really?”

“Really, Princess.”

“Why didn’t you mention this last night when you came over?”

Adrien’s hand moved to the back of his neck. “Well, my dad is always making me do stuff, and I didn’t think that it was all that important at the time.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Anything that happens in your life is important to me, kitty. Never forget that.”

Marinette and Adrien finished their meal while chatting cheerfully and making plans for the upcoming weeks. The air around them pulsed with happiness and anticipation.

Brunch ended when Nathalie informed them that it was time for Marinette to pick out her gown for the evening.

“Adrien, you have a piano lesson, so Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng will be coming with me on her own,” Nathalie informed the two teens.

“Will you be okay?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“Yes, kitty. I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be more fun if you see me in my dress for the first time tonight. It will be a surprise!” she responded with a bright smile.

“Okay, my love,” he kissed her cheek, “I will see you later.”

When the pair finally separated, Marinette looked up at Nathalie who was attempting to maintain an emotionless facade. She was failing.

“Please come this way,” the assistant commanded with the ghost of a grin on her lips.

Marinette followed the assistant into a guest room on the second floor of the mansion. Inside were several racks of evening gowns, and (to her surprise) a familiar face.

“Monsieur Agreste just told me the wonderful news!” Noelle beamed, “I am so excited! We are going to have a wonderful time. I can’t wait to teach you everything!”

“Thank you so much for talking to him for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you!” Marinette said with joyful tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, sweetie, you just keep being yourself. Watching someone like you become successful one day is all the thanks I need.”

“Still...thank you.”

Noelle walked over to Marinette and gave her a quick hug before returning to the racks. “Now, let’s get you dolled up for Agreste Jr. I’m going to guess that pink is your favorite color.”

Marinette nodded enthusiastically.

The designer picked a few pink dresses off the rack and turned back towards the excited teen. “That boy isn’t going to know what hit him when he sees you later tonight.”

<—Previous Next—>

AO3

Fanfiction.net

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Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following this story. You are all wonderful!

Also, thank you to those who have left comments and asks. They make my heart feel full, and it fuels my passion to keep writing! (That and I love talking with all of you!)

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#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agresste #adrienette #adrien x marinette #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #Please Tell Me I'm Awake Right Now #part 11

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kittyotakunoir666 · 5 years

Text

Felix Month #3 Boredom

Alright, this one doesn’t directly go with the theme but here you go so yeah.Forgot to put this @felixmonth

Today was just another boring day for Felix. Felix was tall around 6’1 in height, with pale blond combed-back hair, light greenish-gray eyes. Like usual he got up around 6 am and got changed into a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a gray vest, a black tie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes before he headed down to eat. And like usual it would only be him eating for his parents are out on business trips separately and out of the country. Felix had a busy schedule today as he had no school but had Ballet practice, piano practice, and would later be going on an outing with his friends Allegra, Allan, Claude, and Nyx. (Nyx, if you haven’t noticed, is my OC)

That was his routine for most of his life. It was even more boring before he met the other four. Together they call themselves the quantic kids.

Felix heads out and started making his way to his ballet practice where he would meet Allegra, a caramel skinned girl with blonde hair that she wore in a single braid except for her bangs, she has blue eyes, a slim figure, is around 5’7 and with heels around 5’9 in height, she plays many instruments, and has many recitals because of it, and Nyx, also had caramel skin, but with jet black hair that she would dye all constantly usually blue or purple with this time being blue, she had dark brown eyes, a bit of pudge but not too noticeable, is around 5’4 and with heels or wedges 5’6 of height, and she aspires to become a singer and dancer.

On his way through he stopped by the famous bakery Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. He went inside and ordered a caramel latte and two oatmeal cookies and 3 chocolate cookies. And with that, he started making his way to ballet. He arrived early like usual and like usual Allegra and Nyx were already there. Allegra was wearing a black long sleeve formal shirt with a gray blazer and black formal jeans with black heeled shoes. Nyx, on the other hand, was wearing a black tank top with the skull printed on it, her crop top leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and her black knee-length wedged boots.

“Hey, Felix whatcha got there?” Allegra asked knowing full well what he got.

“You know what I have Allegra” Felix responded, “I get it every day for us”

“Yeah yeah whatever give me my cookies and my coffee I’m hungry” Nyx responded with a snap. See Nyx wasn’t a friendly person in the mornings unless she is fed. But after she has had those things she was a joy to be around. Meaning she’ll do a 180 but not change too much.

“Then maybe eat a home Nyx so you don’t have to wait for me to bring it to you,” Felix said handing over the latte and 3 chocolate cookies to her and the 2 oatmeal cookies to Allegra.

“Hissssssss” was all Nyx responded with as she took her food and started eating instantly relaxing after a sip of her latte. They then waited in silence as more and more students started appearing only to wait for there teacher. They quickly changed into their ballet practice clothing.

By the time the class started, it was around 7:30 am, Nyx had mellowed out and went to find her partner as today was dancing with your partner. Felix was lucky he was partnered with Allegra as he knew her or otherwise he would have demanded a change. The day continued to go on as normal when the class ended since it laster for 3 hours and 30 min only.

Felix had his piano lesson right after that started at 11 am and the other two also had plans in the same studio as him so they made their way that way. They had changed back to their attires and were walking to the music studios.

When they got there they went their separate ways and into their respected rooms. They each had private lessons so they could focus more on their task on hand. Today Felix would be practicing a new song he picked out. It was Claude Debussy’s clair de lune since he thought it was beautiful.

That lasted for 2 hours and by then he almost mastered the song entirely. After the lesson, he was going to join his friends when an Akuma had decided to attack. The Akuma, it would seem, was a music student who had been bullied by another student and was calling himself the composer. His power seems to be that he can give an instrument to anyone out of nowhere but that person wouldn’t be able to stop playing their instrument.

Then Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up and took about an hour to vanquish the Akuma because Chat Noir wouldn’t stop flirting with Ladybug. Honestly, does Chat Noir ever stop and focus?

After the Akuma was taken care of it was already 2 pm and he is meant to meet his friends at the new cafe that opened up not too far from where he was so he started making his way there. Allegra and Nyx were already waiting there probably escaping the Akuma before it attacked. They sat down in a booth that would contain all 5 of them. They quickly each ordered something along with ordering something for the two missing friends. So now they were waiting inside for Claude and Allan.

They didn’t have to wait long since Claude came in not long after with Allan following him. Claude had tan skin, brown hair, blue eyes, around 6’0 in height, he was the exited type with a lot of energy which is why he was part of the soccer team. Today he was wearing a v-neck white and blue striped t-shirt that is solid white on the top and solid blue on the bottom, with a blue shirt underneath, dark blue jeans, and comfortable shoes. Allan was a dark-skinned boy, dark brown hair, golden brown eyes, around 5’9 in height, he was the more chill and relaxed one, and he was also interested in music so he would compose some from time to time. Today he wore a green flat cap with a white horizontal stripe towards the top and a white bill, a green jacket that had a white collar and dark gray pants, yellow-orange headphones around his neck and black shoes.

“Did you guys see the fight?” Claude asked sitting down at their booth. By then their orders have arrived and given to their respective people. “ thanks for the food”

“Thank Felix since he’s paying for everything” Nyx responded, “And of course we saw the fight and I have strong opinions on the way Chat Noir’s behavior”

“You mean how he was acting unprofessional and was basically ignoring the task on hand” Felix inputted, “And what do you mean I’m paying for everything?”

“Don’t worry I’ll pay you back for all of us but you did say last time that if an Akuma attacked in the next outing you would pay and an Akuma did attack so bam you payin,” Nyx answered, “And yes on the Chat Noir thing”

“He does seem more desperate on trying to get Ladybugs affection” Allan inputted

“And when he doesn’t get his way he seems to act like an um…” Allegra started saying.

“Bratty Brat who cries mama as if someone took his toy away” Nyx finished for her

“Exactly, Thank you Nyx” Allegra nodded her way

“Do you think we’ll keep this Chat Noir?” Claude asked, mostly to Nyx.

At that, everyone looked at Nyx. Nyx looked back at all of them. She then sighed and answered. “Ok I need you to stop staring at me because I told you I never carry my tarot cards unless told to, not to mention I have not gotten any visions, and the balance is still doing ok”

“Will you tell us otherwise?” Allan asked

“You know I will” Nyx answered, “Now then let’s move on how was everyone’s day?”

And with that their day continued and they stayed at the cafe for a while before each started heading back to their houses. Felix arrived back to his empty cold house and went back to his room to go to sleep since it was around 9 pm. So Felix changed back into his PJ’s and settled into bed. For you see it is another boring regular day.

~~0~~

While Felix rested in another part of Paris Chat Noir and Ladybug were having a fight about Chat Noir not focusing on the Akuma that day.

#felix month 2019 #felixmonth #felix month #felix ml #marinette dupain cheng #day 3 #allegra #claude #allan #oc

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braincoins · 5 years

Note

Could you do a Shallura ficlet with Shiro and Allura going undercover?

She was all hips as she strolled in leisurely, as if she were entering the lobby of a hotel she owned rather than some dingy warehouse on the docks. The look on her face said she was considering renovations. She gave a tug on the leash so her pet would keep up.

The men she was here to meet weren’t impressed. “Hurry up,” one of them snarled. “We ain’t got all night.” There were four of them, different in size and shape but alike in cruelty and overall greasiness.

“Patience yields focus,” she replied with the air of a long-suffering schoolmarm. Her pet missed a step and the leash jerked ‘round his neck. She didn’t seem to notice.

She stopped just inside one of the circles of light cast by the few lights still working, her pet to one side and just a step or two behind her. She smiled. “Believe me, ‘gentlemen,’” her tone practically dripped with sarcasm on the word, “my merchandise is worth waiting for.”

“Who’s that then?” one of the others asked with a jerk of his chin.

“A sample,” she said, and took another step forward as she jerked hard on the leash.

He came tumbling into the light: tall, broad-shouldered, strong, and mostly naked, save for a black thong and, of course, the collar around his neck that the leash connected to. He also had black cat ears and a black cat tail. He didn’t look up at anyone.

“We ain’t interested in sampling,” the first one said.

She laughed. “No, no! This one is mine, all mine.” She approached him, forced his head up with one hand, though he kept his eyes closed. “It took time to tame him, and he’s still not completely docile yet, all appearances notwithstanding.” She ran her hand over his throat, pausing briefly as if she might tighten her grip, but then let it continue to descend. “And he’s been worth the effort, let me tell you.”

She looked back to the prospective buyers. “But he’s an example of the sort of quality you can expect from the rest of my merchandise.”

One of the men pushed forward and came to inspect, circling her pet with a critical eye. He grunted and pushed a grubby finger at the leashed man’s back and he winced and flinched away.

“They don’t sell as well striped,” he grumbled.

“None of them are, except for this one. As I said, he needed to be tamed. When he wouldn’t heed my words, he heard the crack of the whip instead.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “The others are untouched, save for maybe some chafing ‘round the wrists. It’s a bit inevitable.”

He finished his circuit and grunted again. “They ain’t all like this?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. Whatever you need, I have it. Or I can get it if I don’t.”

He returned to the others as the first man spoke again. “And what do you have?”

“Boys 10 to 25, along with a five and a seven year old. Girls 8 to 22. Mostly southeast Asian, but I have a handful of Africans, and about a dozen Slavics.”

They glanced among each other. She knew they were trying to keep their tongues from lolling out of their mouths.

“Expensive taste, m’lady,” the first one said.

“Quality always comes with a price. And I hope you’re prepared to pay it.”

“Jimmy, get the case.”

“Right, boss,” and he zipped off into the darker parts of the warehouse.

“And they’re undamaged?” the boss asked.

She nodded. “Most of them have been crying their little hearts out since they woke up. Very few struggled, and none of them effectually, save this one. I made sure the more troublesome ones watched me break him. And now, as I said, he’s generally obedient. Kitty?”

He opened his eyes, turned his head to her.

She pulled her hair away from the side of her neck closest to him, tilted her head a little. “Here, kitty.”

He had to bend down a little, but he gave an obedient lick of her neck while she smirked at the men. ...until he bit her.

She whirled and slapped him hard across the face. “Bad kitty, no biting!”

There was some laughter. “He still has some breaking he needs,” one of them said.

“Yes, he does.” She glared at him, but then Jimmy came back with the case, and she returned her eyes to the prize.

The case was handed over to the boss, who opened it to show off the agreed upon cash. She approached, jerking hard on the leash of her disobedient pet, and took a stack of dollars out, rifling through it briefly before setting it back in the case and stepping away.

“This seems in order, for the first twenty.”

The boss slammed the case shut in annoyance. “Twenty? This is enough to buy a hundred!”

“Of other peoples’ lesser merchandise, perhaps. For mine, it’s good enough for twenty.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “One hundred.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Ninety.”

“Thirty.”

He adopted her five-at-a-time haggling. “Eighty-five.”

She held firm at fifty though, and they shook on that. She took the case and jerked the leash.

“Come along, then. I have the first twenty-five outside and an address where you can pick up the rest.”

They grinned and followed her. She continued her sashaying devil-may-care stroll, her “kitty” walking along despondently behind her.

And as they walked out of the door she’d walked in through, they were met with bright lights in red, white, and blue. “FREEZE!”

The buyers bolted back into the warehouse, trying to make for the other exit, but of course the place was surrounded. All of them were bundled into the back of cop cars.

“I’m a lady!” she protested as she was shoved unceremoniously into the back seat. “You can’t treat me like thi-...!”

The door slammed shut on her outrage.

Back at the station, she fell into the chair at her desk. “Ugh, my feet are killing me. Those high heels were murder.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” her partner grumbled as he walked back in from the locker room. “You weren’t dressed like a cat. Hell, you were dressed.”

She laughed. “You were purrfect.”

“Ha ha. I’m never living that down.” He was fully-clothed again, police department t-shirt and black jeans. “And it took me forever to get all the fake ‘whip lashes’ off my back.” He sat in his own chair, opposite hers.

Everyone else was busy interrogating the buyers or doing paperwork.

She grinned across the desk. “You did an excellent job, Shiro-neko.”

He threw a wadded up ball of paper at her. “Knock it off.”

“Except for biting me, of course.”

“You deserved that. That whole ‘kitty’ nonsense was your idea.”

“You ought to thank me; now you have a Halloween costume.”

“NEVER again.”

She pouted. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“Do your paperwork,” he grumbled, angry at himself for blushing. “Or I’ll bite your neck again.”

It should have been yet another joke between them, but for a moment, both of them were remembering it: watching her offer her neck to him, his tongue on her throat, licking along the artery and making her breath stutter for just a second.

She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to her monitor. “More afraid of the chief coming down on me than I am of your teeth,” she said, trying to lighten the mood again.

“R-right,” he agreed awkwardly, getting to his own work.

#Shallura #Socks writes Voltron fanfic #Anonymous

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adorkablephil · 6 years

Text

Fic: The Happiest Place on Earth

Title: The Happiest Place on Earth Summary: Phil Lester hates his job playing Prince Charming at Disneyland, until another British boy shows up and unexpectedly charms him instead Word Count: 4.6k Rating: Mature Tags: Disneyland, Flirting, Strangers to Lovers, Semi-Public Sex, Hand Jobs Author’s Note: This fic was inspired by the @phanfichallenge’s Disney Challenge. Thanks a million to @ivy625fanfic and @jorzuela for their general wonderfulness, assistance, and encouragement! Also on AO3

The Happiest Place on Earth

Phil pulled off his white NASA t-shirt and black skinny jeans (with the stylish rips that had of course made the jeans ironically more expensive) and began to don the costume that he had rapidly come to despise. He was a fan of colorful clothing, but even he recognized the cheesiness of the bright red polyester pants, and the ridiculously thick white polyester coat always made him sweat like a pig in the Californian summer heat.

God, he missed England! He missed the rain, and the green grass, and the snow in the wintertime. Here, the only greenery was carefully manicured topiary. But he couldn’t control where his father found work, and so he’d relocated with the rest of his family to this godforsaken suburban desert called Anaheim.

Sure, he could have stayed in England on his own, but when not only his mum and dad but also Martyn had all planned the move here together, he hadn’t wanted to be left behind without the three people he was closest to in the entire world. They’d always been a tight-knit family, and he would have missed them terribly.

But he was beginning to think that moving back to England on his own might be the only answer, as working this wretched job at Disneyland had come to seem like a fate worse than death. But he hadn’t been able to find any other work with his degree in English Language and Linguistics. The other Californians he’d met outside of work had joked that his university education had prepared him very well for a career articulately asking, “Would you like fries with that?” Ha bloody ha.

Playing Prince Charming every day might drive him insane, but at least it paid better than McDonald’s. Marginally.

Phil donned the military-style coat with its ridiculously fiddly golden closures and high, scratchy collar, and adjusted the fringed epaulettes on his shoulders, then also the snug belt at his waist. Last, always last, he tugged on the pristine white gloves he was required to wear at all times. Yes, he had to wear not only a thick coat but also gloves in the 33ºC heat. This job sometimes felt death-defying, as if earning his meager wages might actually result in him expiring from heat stroke at any moment.

With his naturally sunny disposition, he had thought that playing a Disney character to amuse children all day would come naturally and even make him happy. But it hadn’t turned out quite as he expected, and his sunny disposition was growing cloudier and cloudier under the bright California sun as he toiled endlessly in this costume so ridiculously unsuited to the local weather.

He slathered his face with sunscreen, since no other skin on his body would be exposed to the sun, before he combed and shellacked his hair into the required unmovable quiff, and then practiced a bright smile as he gazed into the dressing room mirror.

Well, thus started another shift at the happiest fucking place on earth.

***

As he escorted Julie (a.k.a. Cinderella) down Main Street, they maintained their constant smiles and stopped to chat with any park guests who showed an interest. They also, of course, posed for about a thousand photos per hour.

“Oh, you’re even faking a British accent!” a woman in plaid shorts and a striped tank top cooed at him after taking several photos of him with her children as they pelted him with questions about what it was like to be a prince and were he and Cinderella married and where did they live and did they have any kids and a million other questions Phil had to answer a hundred times every day, always making sure to stay in character.

That was the most important part of his job, as the management had stressed over and over during his hiring process and continued to stress nearly every day. He must always stay in character, must always be Prince Charming. Even when one of the overly entitled children kicked him in the shin, he had to laugh it off and tousle the boy’s hair with a faked fondness that potentially put him in danger of getting his hand bitten.

Luckily, the annoying costume gloves would have protected him from whatever rabies the brat might be carrying.

“Your accent doesn’t sound quite right, but it’s good enough to fool the kids, and that’s what matters at Disneyland, right?” The woman grinned at him, showing red lipstick smeared across her front teeth. She made no attempt to control the four children apparently in her care as they ran about and climbed on anything they could get near.

Phil smiled at her, trying not to grind his teeth audibly, and said, “Children certainly are a blessing and a joy, yours especially. It’s been so wonderful to talk with all of you,” and then he took Julie by the gloved hand to guide her away.

“One more picture!” the woman yelled after them, so he and Julie turned, and she looped her arm gracefully through his as they’d been forced to practice a thousand times, and they posed with those bright fake smiles as the tourist snapped a few more photos with her phone before they were released to stroll again down the boulevard full of families sweating in their summer clothing, sure that none of them ever spared a thought for the costumed park employees in their much less comfortable attire.

He thanked his lucky stars that at least he didn’t have to wear one of the non-human costumes, like the fellow who played Mickey Mouse. That guy was always a disgusting, sweat-drenched mess at the end of his shift, but at least he didn’t have to actually talk to the park guests like Phil and Julie did.

It must be much easier to stay in character when you didn’t have to smile or talk.

Suddenly, out of the constant babble around him, Phil noticed an English accent, then another. A family stood nearby, and they were clearly from one of the southern counties. Berkshire, maybe? The voice he had first noticed seemed to belong to an utterly beautiful boy near Phil’s own age, and he couldn’t help but stare a moment until Julie patted his arm to remind him to keep playing his character role.

Always stay in character. Always be Prince Charming. He smiled brightly at the beautiful boy, who raised an eyebrow.

And then suddenly the boy walked away from what Phil could only assume was his family and approached Phil and Julie. “This guy’s a philanderer, you know,” he told Julie, jerking his thumb at Phil. “He’s got loads of other girls on the side. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel … and who knows how many other hapless women who subscribe to the ridiculous gender roles that require them to passively wait to be rescued by a man instead of proactively getting themselves out of their own stupid predicaments.”

Great. A heckler. They didn’t appear often, but when they did … joy. This one was surprisingly—and intriguingly—articulate, but still … a heckler. Phil forced the smile to stay on his face, nodded politely to the beautiful pain in his ass, and began to lead Julie away. The heckler grinned at him, showing deep dimples that only made him more lovely, and Phil contained a groan of dismay at the bolt of intense desire that shot through him.

“He’s also the villain of the story,” Beautiful Heckler continued loudly as they started to turn away. “Anyone who’s watched the Shrek movies knows that.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Phil bestowed upon the little asshole his most gracious smile, “my princess and I must continue to visit with our many guests.”

The heckler’s brown eyes went wide as he heard Phil’s voice. “You’re English!” he exclaimed in obvious shock. Phil only nodded, his hands embarrassingly sweaty in those terrible gloves, and tried to extricate himself and Julie from this potentially out-of-character conversation.

“Indeed, I am. It’s been lovely to meet you, but we should continue on our way. Please do enjoy your stay in our magical kingdom.” Julie’s hand tightened on his arm, signaling him to speed up their escape. It wasn’t his job to stand talking to a twentyish twink with gorgeous dimples when there were hundreds of small children and lipstick-smeared mothers waiting to meet their favorite Disney characters come to life.

But Heckler Boy put his hand on Phil’s other arm and asked, “Where are you from? And why are you working at Disneyland, of all places?” He was shaking his head in disbelief, shiny brown curls bouncing slightly.

“I’m from a kingdom far away,” Phil replied in character, ignoring Julie’s increasingly tight squeeze on his arm. “But I journeyed far to find my true love.” He turned to smile at Julie, and she smiled at him with her mouth but glared at him with her eyes.

Phil gave in and nodded his best aloof Prince Charming nod at the beautiful heckler, who was now staring at him in apparent fascination, making Phil want to do nothing but stay there and stare at him in return. But he wasn’t Phil right now, and he couldn’t flirt with anyone but Julie, and he couldn’t be visibly gay—though, honestly, what Prince Charming didn’t seem at least a little gay? So he just patted the boy’s hand on his coat sleeve, wishing that there wasn’t a layer of polyester glove preventing their skin from touching, even just for that brief moment, and then he and Julie continued on with their stroll, only to be stopped almost immediately by a family with two small children who wanted to pose for photos.

Smiling for the tourist’s camera, Phil dared a quick glance in the direction where he’d left the beautiful British boy and saw him still watching Phil, which made him blush a bit. Blushing in this costume was extremely unpleasant, as it only made him even warmer than he already was, but he couldn’t help it when such an attractive guy was watching him like that.

After the family had taken their photos, Phil took Julie by the hand again, tucked her arm through his, and escorted her further into the park.

He didn’t look back toward the boy again.

***

Phil groaned with pleasure as he pulled off the hated gloves at the end of his shift, divesting himself of the rest of the horrible costume as quickly as possible. The entire thing was soaked with sweat. It was lucky the park supplied him with a clean costume each day, because he could never have kept up with the laundry himself.

In another stroke of luck, the “backstage” area had showers, so Phil cleaned up with a thorough soap and shampoo, running the water cool enough to give himself goosebumps, but glad of the temperature change after an entire day of roasting in the sun and polyester.

Donning his own clothes again and giving his black hair a quick combing, he snuck out through the backstage entrance instead of the employee exit he was supposed to use. Character-role employees were forbidden to re-enter the park in their street clothes, lest a guest recognize them, spoiling the oh-so-important illusion. Phil couldn’t have said what inspired him to break the rules today when he never had before, but if he’d been forced to guess, he probably could have intuited that it had something to do with a certain heckler with irresistible dimples.

In a park filled with thousands of people, he was extremely unlikely to even see the guy again, let alone have a conversation with him … but only 10 minutes or so after he left the employee area, he saw him. Phil wondered if maybe the guy wouldn’t recognize him now that he was out of costume, but when their eyes met, the boy immediately grinned and said something to his family before turning and walking toward Phil.

He looked Phil up and down, and his first words to him were, “I like the ripped jeans a lot more than the prince outfit. You look hot in a very different way.”

Phil had no idea what to say to that. He’d sort of secretly hoped to see the guy again, but he’d had absolutely no expectation of the guy actually hitting on him.

“Um,” Phil stammered, “I’m not … I’m not really supposed to talk to guests … when I’m out of costume.” He was blushing again, and he cursed his fair skin for giving him away.

The guy leaned close and said quietly, “What if we go somewhere where people won’t see us?” He smirked.

Phil looked around, then walked toward one of the buildings that housed supplies, then ducked behind it so that he and the boy—who had eagerly followed him—were hidden between the wall and the nearby foliage. With the sun going down and the park beginning to get a little dark, there was very little chance anyone would see them here. But he could still see the beautiful boy in the dimming light.

“I’m Dan,” his beautiful heckler said, and then he leaned in to kiss Phil, just like that.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Phil, pulling away slightly. “I mean … what are you…”

Dan raised his eyebrow again, just as he had when their eyes first met hours ago and he asked smugly, “You don’t want to?” And Phil found himself numbly shaking his head.

“No,” Phil rasped out, his voice exhausted after a day of greeting strangers, then laughed a little. “I mean yes.” And then he smiled his first real, honest smile of the day, and Dan kissed him again, this time with a much more enthusiastic response from Phil.

Phil didn’t even know how long they’d been kissing when he felt Dan’s hands slide underneath the back of his t-shirt, stroking the bare skin of his spine. Phil gasped, and his head fell back slightly at the incredible unexpected pleasure.

“I can get away tonight if you want to … you know … meet up and … do something. Together,” Dan suggested awkwardly, kissing the notch at the base of Phil’s throat and then flicking his tongue out against the sensitive skin there to make Phil moan.

Phil lowered his head to look into Dan’s eyes. “I don’t even know who you are,” Phil protested. “Why are you in California? How long are you here? Are you a student, or do you have a job, or…”

Dan asked wryly, “You don’t really care about any of that, do you? Really?”

But Phil shook his head, then nodded, confused. “No. Yes. I do. I don’t just … do this.”

Dan raised that damned eyebrow again. “You don’t? Because, you know, you could. You could pull almost anybody you wanted. You’re fucking gorgeous, you know. Even better out of that ridiculous costume.” He ran his hands through Phil’s damp, freshly showered hair. “And I like your hair better like this. It looked like plastic before, but it’s actually really soft.” Then he stroked his hands through Phil’s hair to the back of his head and reeled him in for another kiss. He pulled away slightly and whispered, “My family’s here on holiday.” Then he kissed Phil again before breathing against his lips, “I’m on my gap year.” Another kiss, longer this time, his tongue stroking against Phil’s in a maddening caress before he slowly pulled away to kiss the side of Phil’s neck and murmur against it, “And we’re in town for another week. During which time I really really hope I’ll see a lot more of you.” He pulled away to look Phil up and down before blatantly licking his lips. “And I do mean that in every sense.”

Phil leaned back against the wall of the outbuilding, breathing heavily. “Jesus. Do you do this on every vacation? Everywhere you go? Just find some stranger and pull him into a corner and suggest…” He shook his head slightly, not sure how to finish that sentence. Because what exactly was Dan suggesting? Quite a bit, if Phil wasn’t mistaken.

Dan sighed and leaned away slightly. “Do we really have to have this conversation? Because … no. No, I’ve actually never just dragged someone off into the bushes like this before, but I feel like … I don’t know. Both of us being from England, and meeting here, and the way you looked at me, and the shivers I got…”

Phil interrupted him. “You got shivers?”

“Didn’t you?” Dan asked, and for the first time he sounded a little uncertain.

“Yeah,” Phil admitted with a slow grin, finally feeling a little more confident. “But I thought it was just me.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Dan replied. “It was like … an electric shock. Like fate or something, meeting you here. I feel like I’ve known you forever, almost from the first moment our eyes met. I can’t explain it.” He breathed out a sort of frustrated sigh. “Are you really going to make me say all this sappy stuff, or can we just kiss some more, and maybe make plans to meet up later?” He swallowed, then looked at Dan with those warm brown eyes, and they looked happy, which made Phil happy, too. “Because I’d really like to meet up later,” Dan whispered, like it was a secret, then leaned forward to kiss Phil again.

They kissed for a long while, Dan pressing up against Phil, pressing him up against the wall so that Phil could feel that Dan was just as hard as he was. “Won’t your family be looking for you?” Phil gasped, reluctantly pulling his lips away from Dan’s.

“I told them I’d meet them at the front gate after the fireworks,” Dan purred. “There will be fireworks, won’t there?” And he slid his hand down to stroke the front of Phil’s jeans, making Phil groan.

“Yes,” Phil gasped, and he didn’t know if he was answering Dan’s question or responding to Dan’s wayward hand. He reached down to press Dan’s hand against his cock through his jeans … and noticed that Dan’s fingers were shaking. Perhaps the boy wasn’t as confident as he seemed? Maybe they should put this all off. Dan had suggested meeting up later, which would give him time to decide if he really wanted this.

Phil spun their bodies around so that Dan was against the wall, with Phil the one leaning forward to press them together. He ground against Dan once, then once again, and Dan’s body arched against him with obvious pleasure. “There’ll be fireworks if you want them. I promise. But not here,” Phil said firmly. Then he frowned. “I mean, there will be fireworks here. There are fireworks here every night during the summer. But not these kinds of fireworks.” And he ground his hips against Dan’s again, and Dan was the one gasping now. Phil wrapped a hand around each of Dan’s wrists, then pinned them against the wall on either side of his head. He thrust against Dan again and they both groaned. “Because for these kinds of fireworks, I’d rather have you naked.” He waited to see how Dan would react.

Dan opened his eyes to look at Phil, and the pupils of his brown eyes were hugely dilated, though Phil wasn’t sure if it was in response to him or to the growing darkness. Dan’s body leaned limp against the wall, as if he’d collapsed, as if he’d completely submitted to Phil. He’d started out as the aggressor, but now he just gazed at Phil in willing, helpless abandon. Phil leaned in to kiss him again, licking his tongue into Dan’s mouth until the beautiful boy was groaning again, his body tight as a bow, pressing as close to Phil as he could get. Both his hands grasped at Phil’s back as if he were absolutely desperate. “Please?” he begged, pressing himself as tightly against Phil as possible.

“Oh, fuck it,” Phil ground out, and he let go of Dan’s wrists so he could reach down to unzip Dan’s jeans, slipping his hand inside to feel him hot and hard through his underwear with its rather obvious damp spot. Dan had been leaking pre-come while they were making out. The evidence only made Phil harder. “I can get you naked next time.”

Dan’s hand reached between them, fumbling to get Phil’s jeans open with eager hands.

“I’ve never done this before,” Phil laughed as they rubbed at each other there in the hidden corner where anyone could happen upon them.

“With a guy, or outside, or at work?” Dan asked, breathing heavily. He squeezed Phil’s cock briefly through the denim and Phil closed his eyes with pleasure.

“Oh, I’ve definitely done it with a guy,” Phil chuckled, “but never outside, and definitely not at work. But somebody tempted me too much for me to resist.” He leaned in to press their mouths together again and felt the eagerness in Dan’s returning kiss. He slipped his hand into Dan’s underwear and Dan cried out at the first touch of skin on skin. Phil quickly placed his other hand over Dan’s mouth, whispering, “Shhh. We don’t want anyone hearing us and coming back here to see what’s going on.” Dan nodded, and Phil took his hand away from the boy’s mouth. As he pulled his hand away, Dan licked his palm with a saucy grin.

He grasped Dan’s cock and pushed his underwear out of the way with his other hand. Meanwhile, Dan was still struggling to get Phil’s jeans open. Suddenly, Phil wondered if Dan had ever done this before. “How about you?” he asked, then stroked Dan’s cock lightly, not wanting this to be over too quickly. “Have you done this before?”

“Of course,” Dan replied, finally getting Phil’s jeans open and slipping a hand in to rub him through his underwear. Phil’s hips bucked toward the touch, but he’d heard the obvious nervous lie in Dan’s words, and this all of a sudden got even hotter. Not only was he exchanging hand jobs with a stranger at work, but it was the boy’s first time with another guy.

“I don’t believe you,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips. “I think I’m the first guy you’ve been with, even though you’re…” his words cut off in a moan as Dan’s hand slipped into his underwear and grasped him in a tight grip. “Even though you’re doing fantastic.” Phil bit his own lip in pleasure, then leaned forward to nibble at Dan’s arching neck, giving it a flick of his tongue in apology and wondering if he would leave a mark. He liked the idea of Dan returning to his family with Phil’s mark on him, even if it might not be the best idea. He decided to try to be more careful.

Dan was panting now, thrusting into Phil’s hand as he squeezed and stroked Phil’s cock with an obviously inexpert touch, unaccustomed to this angle. “Okay,” Dan admitted on a moan. “Yeah, I haven’t done this with a guy before.” He leaned forward for another passionate kiss before adding, “But you just … the way you looked at me … and then in those ripped jeans … like I said … shivers.” And Phil felt Dan’s body shiver again, just at the memory. But a moment later he realized it had been a different kind of shudder as Dan’s cock pulsed and he began to come. Ironically, the first boom of fireworks above them happened at nearly the same time, and Phil saw Dan’s ecstatic face illuminated by blue lights falling above them.

“Faster,” Phil urged as Dan’s hand slowed during his own release. Obligingly, Dan sped up his strokes and soon Phil too was coming, his orgasm spurred by the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment, combined with awareness that Dan had never done this before and Phil was his first.

As their breathing slowed, fireworks continued to explode above them, occasionally illuminating their faces with a variety of different colors as they stared at each other. Phil hadn’t hoped for anything more than maybe a glimpse of the dimpled heckler, and he now guessed that Dan had probably hoped for nothing more than perhaps a quick make-out session. They both gazed at each other in wonder, chests still heaving.

“I saw fireworks. How about you?” Dan laughed breathlessly, his smart mouth finally making a reappearance. He was grinning, and his dimples were shadows in the light of the sparkles falling high above their heads.

“Definitely fireworks,” Phil replied and kissed that smart mouth. “And shivers.”

“And shivers,” Dan agreed on a quiet breath.

They lingered, kissing more softly now, their bodies leaning together as if they were holding each other up. Phil noticed Dan holding his hand away from his body and laughed. “My shirt is white. Nobody will notice before I get it home and wash it.” Dan didn’t seem to understand what Phil meant until Phil grabbed his hand and wiped the come off both of their hands onto his NASA t-shirt.

Dan laughed softly. “God, I hope we didn’t get my jeans. What’ll my parents think?” Phil guessed that he was probably blushing, though the hues of the fireworks hid any natural color of Dan’s skin.

“Probably nothing even nearly as good as the truth,” Phil joked.

He stroked his hand down Dan’s body again, making the boy twitch, but Phil merely slipped his hand into Dan’s jeans pocket to pry out the boy’s phone and type in his number. “Call me. Then we’ll see about more of those fireworks.” He grinned at Dan. “Like I said … they’re every night during the summer.” He kissed Dan softly again as he slid the phone back into Dan’s pocket.

Dan gazed at him with eyes deep and filled with stars. “What name should I look for in my phone?”

Phil frowned, confused. “What?”

“Did you just put your name as Prince Charming, or do your friends call you something a little less pretentious?”

Phil laughed and said, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I never told you my name. It’s Phil. My name is Phil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Phil,” Dan said formally, and then broke into giggles.

Phil pulled away and giggled along with him, seeing his own giddy happiness reflected in Dan’s face as the firework show’s grand finale exploded in multiple colors at once above them. “I have to … um…” Dan stammered shyly. “I have to go meet my family at the front gate.”

“I know,” Phil replied, then kissed him one more time, just a brush of their lips.

“But I’ll call you,” Dan hurried to add. “Phil.” And he smiled again.

“I know,” Phil repeated with a grin, and then gave him one last kiss. Dan turned to walk away, but looked back once before he disappeared into the crowd. Phil smiled and raised a hand, then chuckled to himself when he realized it was the one that was still slightly coated in drying bodily fluids.

When he was sure Dan was gone, Phil turned to walk back toward the employee lot where he’d parked his car. He walked loose-limbed, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his ripped jeans … and for the first time today, Disneyland really did feel like the happiest place on earth.

Author’s End Note: I’m just going to ignore the logistical difficulties of mutual simultaneous hand jobs when one participant is right handed and the other is left handed. Pretend I never even pointed out the potential awkwardness.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan smut #smutty phan #au phanfiction #au phanfic #phanfiction au #phanfic au #phanfichallenge #myphanfic

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expectyaytions · 6 years

Text

Bughead Wedding One-Shot ... Part II

Sweet Pea woke, hurried to the bathroom to relieve himself. He noticed movement on the bed and two wide eyes looking up at him.

“Hi sleepyhead.” She smiled at him through her pacifier. He walked over to her and sat on the bed, she crawled on his lap. He eyed the clock, 7:17. They were due for brunch at 9.

“You want to come to my room with me so I can get clothes?” She nodded, stood in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her blankie was up against his neck as she lay comfortably. He grabbed his phone and Veronica’s key to get back in. They headed down the hall to the elevator and up one level. He unlocked the door to his room and was hit by sunlight, he never closed his curtains. His bed was freshly made. He put Lena on the bed and found Winnie the Pooh on the tv. He rooted around his duffle bag for a pair of jeans. Lena was bobbing around while Tigger bounced around singing on the screen. After pulling out his clothes, he debated if he should jump in the shower. What if something happened, what if she fell off the bed, or tripped; how would he tell Veronica? He smelled like: sweat, sex and alcohol. A shower was necessary. Veronica probably did this all the time. He’d leave the door open and listen for any mishaps.

It was the fastest shower of his life. Once he pulled on clean boxers and black jean he emerged from the bathroom to find Lena in the exact same spot laughing and Pooh and Piglet. He debated between a button up and a T-shirt. He was so sick of dressing up. He longed to wear his sweatpants after this weekend. He put on a white v-neck shirt and pulled on a light blue and white vertical striped button up. He brushed his teeth and packed all his stuff into his duffel. He put the tux together in the rental bag and hung it up. He brushed his teeth and fixed his hair. Once he slipped his boots on, he snatched Lena and blew raspberries on her neck. She squealed with delight almost losing her pacifier.

“Are you ready to find mama?” She nodded excitedly. They weren’t going to find Veronica right away though. He was going to pop into the lobby Starbucks. He was dying without his caffeine fix. They made their way down to the lobby. Lena nestled into his arms waving at everyone who looked at her.

They ran into FP in the lobby - he was on the phone but raised an eyebrow and gave him a thumbs up. Lena waved to him and then tried a thumbs up. He ordered 2 black coffees and bought an apple juice for Lena. He grabbed sugars and creamers for Veronica and with Lena in one arm and a coffee in balancing in the other he headed upstairs.

Veronica was clad in only a towel with her hair still wet, when the door opened. Lena shouted for her mom, and V reached for her kissing her head.

“I wondered where you two got up to.” She smiled at her baby girl.

“Winnie the Pooh!” Lena told her mom. Sweet Pea stood in the door suddenly feeling like he was intruding and didn’t belong.

“Thank god you brought coffee.” She sighed. She nibbled her lip before leaning on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“Least I could do.” He muttered lamely with a goofy smile on his face. She set Lena on the floor and took the coffees.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I got it black and brought fixings.”

“I used to drink it black however, nowadays I drink it with two cream and one sugar. You know, in case you need that for the future.” She tried to smirk.

“Noted.” He kissed her, wrapping his hands around her waist, and lifting her off the floor.

“Can you get Lena dressed while I finish getting ready?” She asked nervously, “it’s okay if you’d rather not. I get it.”

“Of course I can, where are her clothes?”

“I laid them on the bed with a new pull up. Thank you so much Sweet Pea.”

“Pea!!” Lena shouted from the floor where she was shoving dry Cheerios in her mouth. Veronica and laughed before heading to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Alright Lena-Bena let's get dressed!” She stopped eating and started unzipping her footie pajamas. Once she was naked, she ran a few laps around the room laughing while Sweet Pea chased her. Once he caught her he blew raspberries on her tummy and kissed her cheeks. She shrieked with delight before letting Sweet Pea pull on her toddler jeggings and grey tunic that read ‘Feminist in the making’ in cursive. Sweet Pea chuckled, it was very fitting considering who her mom and aunt were. He slid little black toms brand shoes on her feet and attempted to put her black hair into a ponytail. She was way more patient than his sister’s boys - maybe it was a girl thing. He was clipping in the bow thing when Veronica emerged from the bathroom. She looked gorgeous and here he was, tongue between his teeth trying to clip a bow into a ponytail without hurting a one year old. Veronica had on black fitted pants and a black blouse that was speckled with white polka dots. Her hair- longer these days - was in a high ponytail.

“Oh you didn’t have to do that! I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay - sorry if I fu-messed it up.”

“It looks good - actually. I’m impressed.” She couldn’t help but smile at her. “Look at you my little cupcake, cute as can be. Sweet Pea did a good job.”

“Pea!” She yelled.

“That’s me.” He sung, still sitting on the floor. She rocketed toward him laughing. He caught her and tossed her in the air. Veronica watched. Her heart tugged. This is all she wanted since Lena was born, a family. Lena was normally very timid toward newcomers, especially men. But she had latched right onto Sweet Pea. She even let him hold her without Veronica in sight. The only people she let do that were Fred, Jughead and Betty. It seemed like a miracle. And she didn’t scream when he did her hair - she never let anyone except mama touch her hair.

“Heels or flats?” She asked holding one in each hand.

“Let me see them on.” He turned with Lena still sitting on his lap.

She put the blacks heels on - three inch black patent. “Very nice, now the flats.” She smiled, but switched shoes, pointy velvet flats. “Which or more comfortable?”

“They both are.” He raised his eyebrows. Neither of those shoes looked comfortable to him.

“What do you think Lena-bean? Which shoes should mummy wear?” He prompted the small child. She put her thinking face on - scrunching her eyebrows together and taping her finger to her head.

“Those!” She pointed to the heels.

“Heels it is.”

“I’d like to see you in something more casual at some point. What do you wear at home?” He stood, taking Lena with him. She reached her juice cup which Sweet Pea had filled when they arrived.

“I wear this. Not heels at home -unless I’m entertaining.” She was packing things and filling her purse with toys and snacks.

“What about sweatpants? Or slippers? Leggings?” Veronica just shook her head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever owned slippers. I may have had sweatpants in college. I did own maternity leggings though. They were a lifesaver, but you’d be surprised at how many designers have a maternity line.” She sipped her coffee leaving a lipstick stain. “Alright, shall we head downstairs?”

“Do you want to go together?” He asked hesitantly.

“Of course! You silly. Unless,” her voiced dropped. Had she been reading the situation wrong?

“I do. I really do. I just didn’t know if you wanted people thinking things.”

“I am no longer Riverdale High Veronica. I care very little about others opinions. If they’re that interested let them talk. But maybe after brunch we could discuss us and this.” She gestures between the two of them.

“I’d like that.” He kissed her, it wasn’t passionate, but it was sweet and lingering. He wanted more of those.

He held the door open for her and carried Lena. She offered, but Lena wanted wanted to be on Sweet Pea’s shoulders. They made their way to the Bughead brunch for their wedding party and family. There was a huge buffet full of breakfast foods, a yogurt parfait bar, a mimosa and Bloody Mary bar, and a donut hole tree. Sweet Pea shook his head. Only these two could pull something like this off.

“Clearly Jug’s books are selling well.” Veronica whispered. Cheryl and Toni swooped in, cooing over Lena.

“I love her shirt V.” Toni commented

“Thanks, I have one that matches actually.”

“Awww! That’s even cuter.” Toni lifted Lena down from Sweet Pea. “Went aren’t you a natural.” She teased.

“As long as you treat her right -I’m still fantastic at archery.” Cheryl threatened.

“Babe, stop.”

“So are you guys going to be next?” Sweet Pea asked, diverting attention from him and Veronica.

“We’ve been thinking about it.” Toni confessed. “I mean it’s all legal now.”

“There’s just a few bumps aka my mother.” Cheryl spat.

“You don’t need here there. You’ve got us.” Veronica soothed.

“But I wanted to give Toni a Blossom family ring. Nana Rose left it for me, and my mother snatched it. We’ll figure it out. Ever since you had Lena we’ve been talking about kids though - more important to us than a wedding- a real family.”

“That’s so sweet!” Veronica jumped a little smiling wide. “You guys would be such great moms! Lena needs some cousins.”

After catching up with a few of the serpent's, Fangs especially. He trailed after them talking up Sweet Pea and playing tag with Lena.

“You know I already slept with him right? Like he slept in my room last night. I’m pretty sure I know quite a few things he’s good at - without you telling me.” Fangs looked shocked at her bluntness.

“But sleeping together isn’t the same as dating someone and Sweet Pea is great at dates. I mean he and I play darts and listen to crime podcasts and watch 20/20. He also is amazing at pool. And he makes really good baked macaroni and cheese. He also always has blueberry pop tarts and Lucky Charms in his cupboard because he knows I like them.” Sweet Pea was just shaking his head at his best friend.

“Thanks Fangs. Thank you for attesting to all my attributes.” He was being sarcastic, but Fangs was too proud of himself to notice.

“You know he also loves kids. His sister is a total wench and leaves them with him all the time so she can go get drunk and high with her dirtbag friends, but Sweet Pea, he doesn’t mind. He feeds them, tucks them in and makes sure they have clean clothes.”

“Sweets you didn’t tell me that.” Veronica said looking at him and grazing his knee. He just shrugged, slightly embarrassed. He actually checked his phone - to see if his sister had texted him. Fangs continued rambling -moving into childhood stories now. Jughead rescued him, asking him to come outside with him. They headed to garden area making small talk.

“Thank god. I needed a breather.” Jughead sighed, sitting in one of the adirondack chairs. “I’m ready for this weekend to be over. My patience is wavering.” Sweet Pea laughed and nodded. “Things with you and Veronica look good.”

“Yeah, it feels weird. Like I’m suddenly living in a alternate universe. It’s sounds girly as fuck - but I feel like I belong a little.”

“Dad says you looked like a natural with Lena this morning.”

“I feel like an instant connection and protectiveness over both of them. I don’t know. Shit like that doesn’t happen in real life, that’s movie stuff.”

“What is, happiness? No, man it’s real and it happens. Even to guys like us. You deserve her! You deserve Lena. They deserve you. It does happen.”

“Families don’t fall into laps. Nothing is ever that easy. Jug, you know this.” Tears filled his eyes. Jughead was the only person Pea could get emotional around. He never mentioned it later I embarrass him or held it over his head. He listened and said what needs to be said.

“Sweet Pea, I know you’ve busted ass to get to where you are. I know you did it all yourself and it was hard. I won’t lie to you, dating Veronica won’t be easy. She’s got a cement wall up and Lena is number one. Archie is complicated and hard headed. But Sweets, all of that is worth it. It won't last forever. If its what you want - and I saw your face last night. I see your internal debate right now. They’re worth it. Veronica never even second glances at anyone. She never lets people get close to her, and I’ve never seen her look as calm, relaxed and happy as I have in the last 18 hours. With you, she’s like that because of you. So stop your self-hate, put on your charm, give Veronica your number and start the life you want with the woman you want.” He was out of breath after his rant.

“Did you rehearse that?” Sweet Pea calmly asked his friend.

“I may have talked to Betty about it last night .”

“Glad I was the topic of your wedding night.”

“I’m serious, Sweets. You’re one of my closest friends. You’ve turned your life around! You’re a PI! You catch bad guys. Now you’ve got one of the best people in Riverdale looking at you with heart eyes.”

“Does she really look at me like that?”

“Yes!” Jughead’s hands flew up in exasperation. “Her and Lena!” Sweet Pea sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know Jug.”

“What don’t you know? What are you scared of?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Jones.” Sweet Pea warned. “I don’t want to add a complication to her life. She’s got enough going on.”

“The least you could do it stick with your two date offer.”

“How did you -“

“Veronica texted Betty. Dude, she was that excited about it she texted Betty. She and Betts were texting all morning about you. All these things that were huge how Lena let you take her with you to your room and get coffee. Lena never lets anyone take her out her mom’s sight! Other than Fred and Betts and I. She was gushing about how you did her hair and -Sweets come on.”

“Okay, okay -I get it. I’ll take it slow.”

“Do what feels right, no one cares about slow and fast, go with what you feel.” Their heads turned as FP came towards them. His face hiding panic. “Dad?”

“Archie showed up, which was expected. But he caused a huge scene. Alice, Mary and Fred handled it, but Veronica is a mess and therefore Betty is a mess. So you two better get in there.”

“What did he say?” Sweet Pas asked cautiously.

“He went after Veronica, saying things he knew would upset her. That he was going after her for custody, that she was a terrible mother. He called her a serpent slut.” Jughead and Sweet Pea inhaled sharply at the insult. “Betty took her to the bridal suite and sent me to find you both.”

“Where’s Lena?” Sweets asked.

“Pretty sure Fred has her. I’m not sure she could handle seeing her mom hysterical.” They entered the room, everyone was milling around murmuring to one another -no doubt about what had just happened. They breezed passed everyone and entered the hallway where Fred was walking and bouncing a sobbing and hysterical Lena, who was hiccupping for her “mama.” Sweet Pea’s heart ached for her, he slowed down and approached Fred. Jughead stopped with him. FP has stayed behind -no doubt getting updates from Alice. Lena flung herself at Jughead. Who held her to his chest, rubbing soothing circles into her back. Sweet Pea fished one of her pacifiers out of his pocket and gave it to her. She immediately plucked it into her mouth and reached for her blankie that Fred has over his shoulder.

“They went up to the bridal suite last I heard.” He clasped a hand on Sweet Pea’s shoulder, “Don’t let anything my son says or does affect your feelings for Veronica. He’s not in the picture.” He walked back into the room. Lena seeing Sweet Pea through her tears reached a hand for him. He ran a hand over her hair and tapped her running nose. She put both arms out to him and Jughead handed her over. She laid her head on her blankie, sucking on her pacifier and hiccupping every now and then. She had a hand clasped on the collar of his shirt. He kissed her head. She softly whined for “mama.” The trio made their way up to the penthouse bridal suite.

“It was one of Veronica’s wedding gifts to us. A full weekend in the penthouse bridal suite. It’s been awesome.” They entered to find the two women sitting on the balcony. Betty was running a hand over Veronica’s back as they spoke. They both looked up as the guys entered the balcony. Sweet Pea took in Veronica - her makeup runny and smudged. Black tear stains fell below her chin. He hurried over to her as she stood, he wrapped his free arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Unbeknownst to the pair, Betty and Jughead slipped out, back into the suite.

“I’m sorry.” She said sniffling.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said, tilting her chin upwards and pecking her lips. “The only person that should be apologizing is a certain redhead. I don’t care what he has to say.” She chuckled a little bit.

“You got dragged into my mess. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave this weekend as a weekend thing. Never to be brought up again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. I still owe you two dates.”

“You don’t have to-“ she started, but Sweet Pea cut her off

“I want to.” She hugged him a little tighter.

They said their “see you soon” two hours later. Once was over, he helped her pack her and Lena’s stuff and carried it to her car. He carried a sleepy Lena down and buckled her into her car seat -kissing her forehead before closing the door. He told Veronica he’d see them both at 9am sharp Saturday for a full day date. He kissed her, full of passion against the driver side door.

“Text me when you get home?” He asked her.

“Okay.” She smiled. He opened the door for her and helped her in. “You better drive carefully on that thing.” She warned. Eyeballing his motorcycle parked next to her car.

“Always have always will.” He put on his helmet and straddled the bike. He pulled his sunglasses from his shirt and revved the engine. She rolled her eyes, but blew him a kiss and pulled out. He followed suit.

Veronica was unpacking clothes and starting a load of laundry when the doorbell rang. She’d only been home for an hour - who could possibly be stopping in. She opened the door to find a gentleman behind a huge bouquet of flowers.

“Veronica Lodge?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s me. These are for you.” He handed her the bouquet.

“Thank you!” She called to his departing figure. She smiled, these were beautiful. She plopped them on her kitchen island and pulled out the card.

“Thank you for a wonderful weekend. Check your front porch.” She hurried to the entrance and yanked the door open. There was Sweet Pea, holding a box of chocolate covered strawberries.

“I may have missed you a little already.” He grinned.

“You took the words out of my mouth.” She opened the door to allow him inside.

“Where’s Lena?”

“Just put her down for a nap.” He nodded looking a little disappointed.

“Thank you for the flowers.” She said reaching up and pulled him down for a kiss. “If you’re up for it, I’d like to thank you properly.” He smiled and nodded against her lips. They pulled apart and he grabbed his hand to lead him upstairs. “Did you know chocolate covered strawberries taste better in bed… naked.”

He shook his head. “Well you’re about to find out how good.” She winked seductively as she pulled him into her room and shut the door.

#sweetvee #veronica x sweet pea #sweet pea #veronica lodge #riverdale #fp jones #alice cooper #jughead jones #betty cooper #bughead

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