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settertwins · 3 months

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Sooo, I FINALLY started my AO3 presence with an OsaHina. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Here's the link (please not that it is only available for registered users): https://archiveofourown.org/works/56559868

Sooo, I'll keep gushing about the writing process under the cut (warning: it'll be long). So, if you don't want to read further you can stop already. Thanks for the appreciation!

Some points about my writing process that I would like to tackle:

•Word count.

•OsaHina: how it started.

•Osahina: in the fic.

•Atsumu, AtsuHina, and the potential MiyaHina that could have been.

•Writing Humour: absurdism.

•Writing the smooching.

•A thank you and some (really brief) upcoming ideas.

•Word count:

I'm actually surprised I came this far. To be honest, I was expecting barely hitting 2k or 2.5k, which was kind of a letdown, but now seeing me almost reach 6k feels weird and sometimes a little bit too much even though my reader ass can eat up an 10k fic with all the pleasure in the world.

See, I like the fact that I could do that. Being totally honest, a small part of me was scared about the initial word count being too low to gain as much traction as a fic this length could get. But it is not a big part that bothers me. If anything, I write for myself first and any potential reader later, so I don't rock my brains with the idea of statistics too much. I rather get a well-written, crafted with love 2k fic rather than a messy and awkwardly cluttered 6k fic. So anything you will read (or you have already read) is made with love and fun.

This is something I should apply to my reading, too. 2k is actually a good length and being too spoon-fed with long (and good! By any means I'm implying that longer fics are less good) fics can make me forget sometimes about the amazing possibility of short yet powerful reading.

•OsaHina: how it started.

My first Haikyuu fanfic ever finished and published being an OsaHina wasn't on my 2024 bingo card, but I don't regret it.

Seems like a rewatch of the Inarizaki match before the Battle of the Garbage Dump movie did wonders to me. Man, I love the Miya Twins, and I was utterly surprised (mostly because I forgot) at how Osamu was also kinda fixated on Hinata, too. I loved how he compared the love for volleyball Hinata had with his love for food, and it fueled a lot of the inspo to write about them.

•OsaHina: in the fic.

Picking back the part where I said Osamu's commentary about food fueled this fic, I didn't knew it would become sort of a motto that he had during the fic. I didn't aim the fic as a character study or a more fleshed out version of the characters, so it can give the impression that my Osamu's whole personality is food. It's not like that in reality, I just decided to enhance (and maybe exaggerate) this trait. If I ever aim for a character study (I love them!) I fully know that food, while an important part of Osamu's life, isn't everything, and he has much more interesting sides to it.

In this case, food was an excuse to create a recurring thing that can make for Osamu's POV to feel his. In fact, this OsaHina was conceived as Osamu confusing the food-hunger with the lusty/attraction hunger since he calls both by the same name, but at the end I just decided to make them coexist. I also got advantage of the sense of absurdity the humour tried to build to make Osamu have a big crush in a ridiculously short amount of time, which would result in the eventual hookup.

In Hinata's case... he's constructed in a really bland way, at least for my taste. I didn't give him much thought, especially because we only follow Osamu. When everything was already planned for the hookup, I tried making him act timid to kind of give some ground, like showing that he's crushing too. Maybe timid Shouyou can be weird, but I think the last interactions made up for the weirdness a bit. I think he felt more like him.

•Atsumu, AtsuHina, and the potential MiyaHina that could have been.

It's my first published Haikyuu fic ever and an OsaHina one, so it would be hard to guess, but do you remember when I said I was surprised that this ship would be my first published one?

Well, the reason is that Atsumu is my favorite Haikyuu character. And AtsuHina is my dang OTP.

As a trivia, I'll say that before thinking about OsaHina, the idea was about making an AtsuHina fic with the premise of Atsumu jerking off to Hinata because of the hunger he exudes until I briefly did remember Osamu's food comparison. A rough plot idea was written in a side note, and when I tried to write it I couldn't stop. Nowadays, my AtsuHina idea is buried in the ground. RIP.

Moving on, the reason why I include this pairing in this writing process dissertation is because I was briefly considering making a MiyaHina (with no Miyacest). The reason of all the blame: Atsumu, and probably the setting of the fic.

Listen: the fic addresses a bunch of Osamu's thoughts about Hinata during and after the Inarizaki match, and that's the problem. Maybe with another setting I wouldn't have hesitated. Because the Inarizaki match addresses another thing that is relevant in the anime, and that is Atsumu's fixation on Hinata, culminating in The Promise.

So, in conclusion, Atsumu's existence is the problem here. In the anime and manga, he had to have all those moments of admiration, all the "I'm moved, Shouyou-kun" enhanced with Miyano's voice acting. So, for me, a big AtsuHina shipper that tries to write OsaHina, Atsumu was SO HARD to ignore. And that's a big reason why he's featured in this fic a lot. So much that I was starting to get worried that the OsaHina would feel weird, but I think it didn't end up being too bad.

So yeah, I briefly aimed for a MiyaHina, so much that the AO3 draft was originally built as such. At the end, I decided to back up since I wasn't sure how to portray all the smooching between three people instead of two (and mayyybe I'll try doing it one day).

•Writing Humour: absurdism.

Being honest, the humour was the reason why this fic was finished. And I'm not joking, I don't think I would ever be able to finish it if the fic was written with seriousness.

It's hard to explain, but adding humour, and especially absurdity, was a really good way to keep myself engaged with the fic. I think the easiness + fun it provided was a huge motivator to keep going, aiming for funnier things to add and eventually get to the moment of the hookup.

Absurdism, as I said earlier, was also a good way to approach this vision. Making Osamu (and by extension Atsumu) fall for Shouyou like I did wouldn't work in a more serious ambience, at least for my taste. The whimsical ambience fits better.

Also, the jealousy, kind of possessiveness and denial. I liked it, especially the absolutely nots. So fun to write, but also kinda uncomfy, but mainly because of the possibility of giving the impression of liking possessive people in real life (which doesn't happen in the slightest). Dumb, I know, but it doesn't affect me anymore. I look back with a "silly you!" attitude, but it bothered me a bit earlier haha.

•Writing the Smooching.

Sooo, this is the part I was really wanting to reach. After all, it was all clear in my head when I initially thought of the premise: they will smooch at the end. All the work leading to that point was fun and super enjoyable, don't get me wrong.

The thing is: it was my first time writing about making out.

I've had my fair share of unpublished smutty one-shots in the past, even though they weren't the best. Another bad thing is that it's been a LONG while since I wrote a spicy thing, even if not full-blown sex. So, it was getting a bit hard, and maybe it is easy to see that I wasn't the best at doing it. Hopefully, I'll try improving next time.

Going back to the point, two main points were important for me: establishing some sexual tension and the smooching itself.

In all honesty, I was feeling like my reading references were lacking, especially when it comes to making out. I didn't have many smooch-only references of my taste, and it was getting hard for me. I tried searching for some tips, and I my writing was kind of based on more general, smutty things I got from blogs, Reddit and fics I read. I did put some emphasis on what they were feeling, and I tried not to jump too fast in action. Not sure if I was able to produce the desired effect, but I think it did work with me. Normally, I associate good smut/tension with its ability to absorb and trap me in the situation.

I also tried to prolong the time of kissing (and only kissing. I was kind of tempted to add at least some frottage, but I preferred to stick with the initial plan). Normally, in the smut scenes I read kissing is a small part, but I sort of figured that for the smooching to be worth it, the moment had to be longer. So I did put myself to work and rocked my brains to make that as enjoyable as possible.

If anything, maybe the way the moment was cut and the way the fic ended might be abrupt and weird, but at least it did work for me. Not sure about y'all haha.

•A thank you and some (really brief) upcoming ideas.

So, if you read all this chunk (or the desired points) and you are here, thanks for staying. I hope to come back soon with more rambling, meaning more fics. Some AtsuHina, a couple SakuAtsu good ideas and a couple of character studies (one of them as a what if) are in my way as of right now.

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu #shoyo hinata #miya osamu #osahina #osamu x hinata #ao3 fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic

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milkytheholy1 · 9 months

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Star Wars Masterlist (NEW)

Tech:

There’s no reason to be sad - Tech x GNReader

Have a load of trash, think of it as a sequel of sorts to Starlit Night. It can also stand as its own thing, there's no real connection between the two and its mainly just me rambling. Enjoy!

Feelings - Tech x GNReader

A little story of how tech and the reader first meet. Like love at the first sight or something :3 idk maybe Tech a bit at a distance because he cannot classify these new feelings and so the reader thinks he hates (Y/N)

A beeping feeling - Tech x GNReader

A sitcom reality: Tech x Female reader

If you can tell where I stopped writing this then recently got back into it, extra brownie points for you. Enjoy this crap!

Why did you go? - Tech x GNReader

New trailer just dropped and I'm sad.

Howdy everyone, today I offer you a new Tech fic...mayhaps even a series? I was very much inspired by Wandavision but the plot doesn't really fit with the show so you don't have to worry about that. Hope you enjoy and perhaps want more because I have some cool ideas for this series if it goes ahead!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Sober suspicions - Tech x GNReader

Woah, I actually released a fic on Tech Tuesday, I swear that never happens? Anyway, have this crappy excuse of a story! Would anyone like to see a part 2 for this because I've got some ideas in mind?

Drunk confidence - Tech x GNReader

Okay, so here's part 2 to Drunken Confidence! Hope you all enjoy it and let me know if you want more Tech content!

Infested - Tech x Female reader

Howdy, so this is pretty long and essentially took me all day to do so have fun reading it! It's entirely based on today's episode, lucky number 13, so definite spoilers lie ahead! Enjoy!

Coffee run - Tech x GNReader

Howdy, another Tech fic because I love him. Also, I'm probably not the first person that said it, but I totally called that no one could drive the ship unless they read like all the manuals and knew how to fix it, I totally said Tech would be the kinda guy to do that and I think it's pretty funny how it's kinda confirmed in the latest episode. Anyway, without further ado, the new fic. Enjoy!

Singer in a smokey room - Tech x Female reader

Okay so I've had this idea for a fic before but never got around to writing it, and I'm super obsessed with this song and the movie it came from; it's one of my fav movies ever made. It's a little long but probably worth it, if you know the movie I'm referencing leave a comment below! Enjoy!

A baby for hire - Tech x GNReader

"Keep up, wouldn't want you getting lost now would we?" he bartered, flicking his head in your direction. He caught your harsh gaze, trying hard to hold back a smile at the state of your hair.

Starlit night - Tech x GNReader

I'm not going to lie, I really just wanted to write a Tech fic but had literally no ideas for it so have this garbage. Enjoy!

Good soldiers - Tech x GNReader

Oh mi gosh guys I actually did it! Somehow I managed to write it all before 10.30, it's a little crap but oh well, I just need more Tech content tbh. Now this is based on episode 7, so definite spoilers for that episode, so read at your own risk. Anyway, let me know if you want more bad batch fics and enjoy!

Flying lessons - Tech x GNReader

Howdy everyone, so I've been wanting to do a Tech fic since I first saw episode one of the new series. Now I will admit I haven't seen season 7 of clone wars, I'm actually only up to season 3, so I'm a little scared if I've messed anything up; but I'm sure you'll tell me! Hopefully, I'll get more confident in writing for these characters, until then, enjoy!

Hunter:

In the past - Hunter X GNReader

You calmed down your excited breathing, but couldn't knock the smile from your face "I couldn't help but wonder if I was in the correct location of Clone Force 99?" Your hands were folded behind your back, but Hunter could hear the creaking of the clipboard, felt how tightly your fingers were gripping the plastic.

The Mandalorian:

The waiting game - Mando/Din Djarin x GN Reader

Book of Boba spoilers - episode five and six.

Dream a little dream of me - Mando/Din Djarin x GN Reader

I was listening to this song and this oneshot idea just came to me and I had to write it down as soon as I could. I'm actually really proud of this and it's currently one of my favourite oneshots I've ever written so I really hope you enjoy it!

Cockpit silence - Mando/Din Djarin x GN Reader

So this is my first StarWars oneshot so be easy on me, also I've been obsessing over The Mandalorian recently and Pedro Pascal as a whole so enjoy this oneshot and If it's good expect more to come!

#starwars masterlist

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thattimdrakeguy · 1 year

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Every time i see someone try to defend James Gunn, they just repeat what he said while acting like it's genius. And it reminds me of apes eating their own shit.

like thanks, luv, really fucking putting in the man power to add to the conversation

couldn't give less of a shit people might like it, 'cause have you seen the dc fandom? they'll eat anything as long as it vaguely looks like something they may or may not like, or at least something in the peripheral of what they like

and it isn't a crime to like stuff, but it also isn't a crime to not like stuff either, honey bunch

but fucking hell. over a thousand likes on tweets that are saying absolutely nothing of merit. and i am so confused

No shit he's only going to be saying shit people want to hear.

And I'm some Snyder Cult bastard, I don't think I liked any Snyder DC movie all the way. Most of them were severely lacking.

but so many of james gunn's decisions are still wack as fuck

like how many of zack snyder's decisions are wack as fuck

James Gunn's skipping how many robins? and i know, he says he'll have all of them, but fucking hell that's so ridiculous if this universe is supposed to last awhile. all those stories that you can take inspiration from, critically adored stories that have immense cinematic potential

and james gunn's bright idea IS TO MAKE A BASTARDIZED ADAPTATION OF A STORY THAT ONLY WORKED BECAUSE OF VERY VERY SPECIFIC SITUATIONS THAT HE IS PURPOSELY NOT GONNA HAVE

that is one of the stupidest things i've ever heard in my life. the fact i haven't seen more people say that sounds ridiculous is baffling me. because while i can sometimes get why people wouldn't sometimes with many other things i say, i cannot with this. it's like he's TRYING to make a shitty batman movie. or at least an insanely disappointing one that let go of the gold he had literally right in front of him

i'm not asking for a word by word, panel by panel recreation of a story. JUST USE THE OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY EXISTING FANTASTIC WORK INSTEAD OF COMPLETELY MISUNDERSTANDING WHY AN okay at best STORY WORKED

and he's going to have all these random movies, but not include characters that would be important to the greater DC world?

and he got the guy that directed a flash parody and pretended it was a serious movie to do this batman movie? when he made batman look like the Dude from Big Lewbowski and talk in a way that didn't even resemble Batman? and made all of his problems seem like a joke?

also while they're making sequels the critically acclaimed Batman movie, that people are more likely to look more forward to, because even though i didn't care for the movie, it at least looks like some cinematic effort was put into it enough to be an enjoyable watch that doesn't make you question your life choices because of how stupid it is. it's a lacking movie to me, but at least i feel like the people involved tried in a way that didn't feel like a child writing a fan fiction

'cept maybe a teenager, with kurt cobain inspired batman

i don't have to take a side to decide shit is wack as fuck

many thinks, are incredibly wack

i am a human being with a brain, i can look at things and figure out that shit looks like it's going to be total garbage, and will at best only be a good movie if you know jack shit or have no standards

just watch and talk about shit like human beings. i don't care if you like it or not, because you know what saying falsified bullshit about a guy you don't know or like, looks like? like you're a fucking maniac

like it

don't like it

but why is it so hard to people act like people? i keep avoiding anything DC related on my recommended trends on twitter, then i have a moment where i hope for the best, and every time, it's just garbage everywhere

it's not difficult to consume things in a world layered with shades of gray.

this black and white bullshit is fucking infuriating and makes it real hard to enjoy anything, when you have an echo chamber of dumbasses clamping down on it on the internet

i'm not even asking people to act like well-mannered gentlemen. that would be boring, and i feel people should be free to express their emotions as long as they aren't hurting anyone

i'm just asking them to think a little harder before they say the dumbest shit imaginable

james gunn is the guy who made one of the main points of guardians 3, that heroes don't kill people. while every appearance of the characters is them killing people, because they deserve to be killed.

like i'm not making a plea about the importance of the death penalty

but giving an obviously highly dangerous person, who has the potential to dismantle the fucking universe at least a smackrel of a chance to get out, is fucking stupid

it's stupid

superman letting lex luthor live, because he's just a man, and hasn't done anything to that extreme, may make that make sense

having batman not kill because he's worried he won't stop killing himself gives us an interest character perspective

giving the villain who still has a chance to be better, a chance to get better, allows that moral to be a thing

but letting the heroic murderers let the guy that killed conceivably BILLIONS AND BILLIONS, UPON BILLIONS OF PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE HE WAS JUST A TICKLE UNPLEASED

STUPID

i'm not trusting that mother fucker to make a whole universe work. when his movies before have only worked, exclusively because they were allowed to be their own things in the corner of a universe, where they hardly have any meaning to the rest of the world, besides a relation to the big stories big bad

he is a good film maker. i like most of his movies

but fucking hell. it's not insanity to insist the guy who has shown he makes bad decisions so far, may be making bad decisions. even if in the end the decisions may not be AWFUL

it doesn't mean he's doing a good job in the slightest

i'll give the fact he isn't bringing back the whole justice league a break, because we just had a justice league and maybe time will be good

but his other decisions make him look like a moron to me

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slayerchick303 · 1 year

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I've been thinking about the characters in QAF and how I relate to each of them. It's part of why the show is so great.

●Brian Kinney- I completely agree with his utter contempt for society's expectations of us. I feel the same about his thoughts on marriage (and somewhat on his opinion regarding romantic relationships), but I'm not judgemental about people who disagree with us like he is. I also hate to appear vulnerable. His relationship with blood relatives and found family is also similar to mine. Not to mention, we're both cynical and stubborn. I'm with early Brian: uncredited guest appearances are the only part I want to play in a kid's life. I don't relate to his Ayn Rand worship at all. That's total garbage.

●Justin Taylor- His age gap start was pretty much my experience, too. Though mine was a 13 year gap, and a much more problematic age range (I was 14 and the guy 27). Fortunately, mine only went on for a weekend as he went back to Italy, and I went home from the camp I was at. Thankfully, I couldn't respond to the 2 letters he sent me, so he stopped writing to me. Justin was simultaneously braver and dumber than I was in regards to that. As a disabled person, I also really relate to Justin's disability journey. I have traumatic brain injury, a degenerative neuromuscular disease, etc, so that part of his story really resonates with me. Also, his being especially studious while simultaneously making some wild recreational choices as a teen (mine were early teen years, though). I don't want marriage, children, stables, or a pool, though.

●Emmett Honeycutt- Emmett is the person I aspire to be. I literally named my dog after him. Emmett is such a good man. He's the ultimate defender and champion of people he loves. He refuses to be anyone other than himself, and he supports others in being true to themselves. I identify with his devotion to his friends and his refusal to tolerate people who harm his or other's well-being. If I were given a large inheritance, I'd do the exact same thing that Emmett did with it. I wish I could be as confident and optimistic as Emmett.

●Michael Novotny- I love Michael with my whole heart. I have similar creative interests to Michael. I used to turn a blind eye to people mistreating me like he does. I spent years bending over backward to defend people who would never do it for me. I don't want kids or to get married, though I do love Ben. Ben is superior to David in every single way. I 100% relate to Michael's "nerdy" interests. At least once a week, Hal and I will geek out about comic books/movies. If it's not with me, then Hal does so with someone else. That's pretty much the only thing Hal and Michael have in common. As an aside, a few months ago, I convinced Hal to get an AI to write a new episode of QAF for us when he has time (which knowing his hectic schedule may never happen). If Hal can get me the scripts for every episode, I'll do it myself.

●Ted Schmidt- As much as I want to be Emmett, and I feel like Michael, I know I'm season 1 Ted. I have zero self-esteem. No, less than zero. I have -1,000 self-esteem. My interests and professional ambitions couldn't be further from Ted's, though I do love opera.

●Melanie Marcus- I love Melanie. I share her desire for true justice. Her disgust at hypocrisy is mild in comparison to my own. She doesn't suffer fools and loves fiercely. I'm like her in that I'll defend the rights of someone even if they make my blood boil with anger.

●Lindsey Peterson- I relate to Lindsey's artistic nature and her devotion to lifting up the community. Lindsey also hoping time and time again that she'll be treated well despite all evidence and experience showing her that'll never happen was absolutely me, once upon a time. Thankfully, I've mostly gotten over that. The whole maternal thing I could not relate to less. I have zero desire to have children. Children are fine in small doses, then they can be given back to their parents.

●Debbie Novotny- Everyone deserves a parent like Debbie. I'm like her in that I can be... course and sometimes crass. I enjoy slapping a loved one upside the head to show affection. If you hurt someone I love, I will destroy you. My mouth occasionally gets me in trouble. I'll say, "I told you so to someone's face." I don't know how she has the energy to do everything she does though. She's a true hero and mom to everyone in the community.

I'd love to see how all of you feel, too. How do you relate to each of these characters? Are there other QAF characters that you think should be on this list? Are there any people you can't relate to at all?

#qaf #qaf us #queer as folk #queer as folk us #queer as folk 2000 #brian kinney #justin taylor #emmett honeycutt #michael novotny #debbie novotny #ted schmidt #melanie marcus #lindsay peterson

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rodr1cks · 4 years

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manic pixie pizza girl | 1.4k

fluff; you’re rodrick’s favorite delivery girl

“12 Surrey Street,” you mumbled to yourself, plopping down into your car. You sped out of the parking lot, ready to get your last delivery of the night over with.

You pulled up to the house and grabbed the five pizzas from your passenger seat and headed towards the home.

You knocked on the scarlet colored door a few times. And then a few times again when the first knocks went unanswered. You were met with silence.

You could hear ridiculously loud music from where you stood outside and you were growing irritated. You knew there was somebody home and if these pizzas didn’t get paid for you were a deadman.

You tried one last time, delivering three extra hard knocks to the door and ringing the doorbell at least twice.

At last, the door swung open, revealing the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. Your annoyance quickly reduced to a dull afterthought.

The boy called back inside, “Yeah these mom bucks are a gold mine!” He turned to face you again.

“H-hi, uh, pizza?” You stammer. He nodded at you curiously, “Yeah… Pizza.”

“Right, that’ll be $52.50, please.”

What was happening to you? You had laid your eyes on the raven headed boy for less than sixty seconds and you felt like you were disintegrating in front of his gaze. Shakily, you took the cash from his hand.

“Keep the change,” he winked at you. Suddenly, you couldn’t move, or speak, or breathe. You held up your hand, waving awkwardly as he closed the door.

You practically sprinted back to your car, ready to soak in the humiliation from your previous interaction.

The next day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the interaction you had on Surrey Street. The boy’s deep brown eyes were ingrained into your memory. You even made a note of the small mole that sat next to his eyebrow. He was tall and slim and wait, was he wearing eyeliner?

It was agonizingly painful to get through your day.

It was a saturday, so you were delivering pizzas back to back the entire day.

Your night was finally coming to an end. You had one more delivery slated before you could go home and absolutely crash. Your coworker handed over the order.

“Oh, and they specifically requested you to deliver this, by the way,” your coworker rattled off, nonchalantly. “They said to send the awkward girl with the black car.

That was you alright.

Your heart skipped in your chest. You tried to contain your hope, telling yourself there was no way he would ever ask for you.

You cleared your throat, “And what is the address on that one?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Looks like it’s 12 Surrey Street.”

Your jaw fell to the floor.

“Do you know them, y/n?”

You stuttered, unsure of what to say, “Oh, u-uhm, no, not exactly.”

The drive over to the now familiar house was nerve-wracking. Your mind was racing.

Oh, god. You probably smelled like pizza and you probably looked like garbage and- Your navigation system pulled you from your thoughts. “You have arrived,” the electronic voice droned out.

No turning back now.

Before exiting your car, you made an effort to somewhat fix your appearance. It wasn’t easy, but you improved your looks at least a little bit. You also made sure to reapply your perfume.

You grabbed the pizza from the passenger side, only one box this time. You slowly approached the door, your anxiety running rampant.

You rapped on the door three times and rang the doorbell. Tonight, the door was answered almost immediately, as if somebody had been awaiting your arrival.

“Hey,” the boy from the previous night greeted you with a slight smirk.

So he does wear eyeliner.

He was leaning against the doorway, one arm elevated, holding the top of the doorframe. You allowed your eyes to linger on his biceps a little too long.

“Is that for me?” He asked, knowing good and well it was.

You nodded, drool nearly departing from your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth to tell him the total, but he spoke before you.

“This might be weird but do you wanna come in? I won’t kill you or anything, promise.”

What? The? Fuck?

Is he serious? Okay, play it cool, y/n.

You nodded again, letting out a small squeak. So much for playing it cool.

He stepped back into the house, holding the door open for you. You passed under his arm and into the inviting atmosphere.

You hovered awkwardly in the entryway, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Well, are you gonna tell me your name?”

“Oh right, of course, I-I’m y/n. Do I get to know your name?”

“I guess I can tell you. I’m Rodrick. You might’ve heard of me. I kinda run a band, Löded Diper.”

You’d never heard of it.

“Oh, yeah! Sounds familiar, actually!” You lied to protect his ego.

His eyes lit up, thrilled by your response.

“Wanna see my setup?” The pizza you brought was long forgotten.

Part of you knew that wasn’t really a question. Rodrick led you through the hallway and into the garage. It was covered with string lights and Löded diper posters. There was a small couch and coffee table against one of the walls.

“Please, y/n, have a seat. Take a moment to digest the man cave.”

He played a couple sets for you and honestly, he was better than you had expected.

After what was probably half an hour, he retired his drumsticks. You gave him a small round of applause and he gave you a dramatic bow.

You smiled up at him.

He plopped down next to you, resting an arm on the couch behind you.

“So… y/n, the ‘rents won’t be home for a while. We could… watch a movie or something. If you want.”

You still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“U-uh sure, what do you have?”

He smiled, immediately rattling off movie titles until one piqued your interest.

“Scream it is.”

Rodrick showed you up to his room. It was decorated similarly to the garage, complete with band and movie posters, colorful lights, and some miscellaneous items scattered on the floor.

One item being a playboy magazine. You blushed and he kicked it under the bed, attempting to laugh it off.

“Uhm, sit anywhere you’d like.” He was the awkward one now. Rodrick fumbled with the dvd, eventually sliding it into the disc player.

Despite this being your favorite movie, you found it impossible to pay attention. Rodrick had found a seat right next to you on his couch.

You were staring at Rodrick through the corner of your eye, unable to break eye contact from his fiddling hands. You watched the veins in his arms contract and flex with every small movement he made. You were enamoured.

Your breath caught as he moved his hand to rest on your upper thigh.

He looked over at you, searching for your approval, “Is this okay?”

You nodded as your heart rate increased rapidly. He began rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over your smooth skin. You could feel heat blistering in your cheeks and you were suddenly grateful that the only light illuminating your face came from the flickering tv.

You glanced over at rodrick, his pale skin and rosy lips glowing in the dim lighting. You wanted nothing more than to feel his plush lips on yours.

A surge of confidence rushed over you and you rolled onto his lap.

You repeated his own question to him, “Is this okay?” You could see his jaw fall open slightly as he nodded excitedly.

He placed his large hands on the small of your waist. He smirked at you, “How about this?”

You rolled your eyes at the little game the two of you had begun.

“And what about,” You leaned in and kissed him slowly. Your lips moved in sync perfectly. He tasted like sour candy and gas station icee.

“This?”

He pretended to think for a moment, “Hmm… not quite sure about that one. Let’s try again so I can be sure.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You kissed him again, prying past his pliant lips with your tongue. This kiss was far longer and far more sensual. Rodrick’s grip on your waist tightened as your lip lock progressed.

You pulled away from him and broke the silence, “You owe me $15.29 for that pizza, by the way.” You smirked at him playfully, having a feeling the rest of the night was going to be more fun than you could’ve imagined.

+ hi guys i promise i see your requests and i will write them!! this was in my drafts and i wanted to post hope u enjoy c: also pls feel free to message me or send me asks abt anything and everything!!!

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick #rodrick fanfiction #devon bostick #diary of a wimpy kid

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parkers-gal · 4 years

Note

Being tom’s costar & him setting you up with his brother, Harry. Maybe reader keeps saying no because she thinks Tom is asking her out

hello

combined with another request (hope you don’t mind)

Reader is dating Harry & Nikki like doesn’t her because she’s tom’s love interest in a movie. Harry & Tom defend reader

wc: a fat 3k (sorry lmfao took this too far)

—

When you were first called in for a dry run through of a script that would later be your next movie, you didn’t expect Marvel’s very own Spider-man to be there too. Of course, he didn’t expect you there either, but you were still pleasantly surprised that the director had called in for willing or suggested actors.

The two of you immediately hit it off, clicking on screen and off screen. And though you were playing lovers in front of the camera, your relationship with Tom was strictly platonic — and you were glad he was on the same page.

That didn’t, however, mean Tom wasn’t completely involved with your love life. After returning to your trailer directly after a date, Tom was waiting for you — and wondering where the hell you’d been. You confessed you’d gone out with someone, but the date wasn’t smooth and they weren’t your type at all. The date went pretty badly, and Tom pointed out later. Ever since then, he’d ask you if you were going on another date.

It had been a month and a half since then, and though you were ready for a relationship mentally, you knew it might be hard with all the press you and Tom would be doing around the world. You weren’t sure why you would be going on tour, though — it was a recreation of Sandra Bullock’s film While You Were Sleeping. Tom and you were popular enough as it was — a tour simply didn’t seem necessary. But, alas, you complied with your manager’s advice.

“Sooo…” Tom followed you into your trailer. It was around eight o’clock, and he was using the voice he used whenever he wanted something from you. “Are you seeing anybody?”

It had been about two weeks since the last time he’d asked, and you were already rolling your eyes. “No, Tom. I’m not interested in whatever offer you’re about to make.”

“But Y/N!” He whined, pouting. “I know somebody who’s perfect for you!”

“As perfect for me as Andrew from the Uncharted crew?” You raise a brow, setting your purse down while Tom huffs.

“He wasn’t that bad! How was I supposed to know that he doesn’t wash his beard?” “That seems like common knowledge to me, Tom!” You’re trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation. “I could smell it from across the table!”

“Alright, alright.” Tom winces at the details. “I’m sorry about that one. But this time, I’m sure of it.”

“I swear to god if you pull some weird cliche shit and say yourself, I’m going to kick you out of my trailer.” You deadpan, pouring yourself from coffee from the brewer he’d just used while you were out.

“It’s not me, Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, but you keep giving me dates with people that aren’t my type and then saying you have someone better. What if you’re buttering me up?” You smirk from behind the mug, sipping it smoothly. He rolls his eyes, but blushes nonetheless.

“It’s not me.”

“Whatever you say, Spidey.”

He rolls his eyes again, sighing dramatically before heading towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“For what? Our date?”

“Quit teasing me!” He spins around, body halfway out the trailer entrance. “I meant ‘I’ll see you on set.’” You laugh wholeheartedly, waving to the brunette as he leaves you alone for the night. When you awake, you’re due early for a shower and straight to hair and makeup. You’re not sure why your character always wakes up so damn early just to work in a train station, but you comply with the director.

“G’morning.” You greet the assistant director with a smile, bagel in one hand and your script in the other.

“Morning,” He smiles before offering you some coffee. “Coffee?”

“Please?” You smile wider at the mention of the beverage, internally cheering as he makes your order — he’s memorized all of the crew’s by now, and it’s truly astonishing. You take up a conversation with him while you wait for your day to begin.

Tom comes in through the double doors, spotting you immediately — with another boy. He races over as quickly as he can manage with his tired body and with what’s left of his dignity. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, but he really thinks he’s found a promising boyfriend for you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greets before his jaw clenches subtly. “Morning Conor.”

Conor nods at him before pouring another cup of coffee for the Brit. You’re rolling your eyes at Tom — you know him well enough to know when he’s feeling anything but positively.

“Excuse us,” You smile apologetically at Conor. “I have a part of the script I’d like to talk to Tom about before we start.” Conor nods understandingly, and you pull Tom aside, walking behind the sets while you angrily sip your coffee. “Y’know, you don’t have to be so dry to the crew that happens to talk to me.”

“I wasn’t dry!” Tom defends, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket.

“Then what do you call that?” You gesture behind you with the roll of your eyes. “I thought we were on the same page about our relationship, here. I don’t like you in a romantical way, and I’d prefer it if you’d keep that base of our relationship out of work.”

“Y/N, Y/N.” He’s wide eyed, hands gesturing for you to slow down and listen to him. “I don’t like you in that way. I just… think I know somebody who you’ll really get along with.”

You groan. “Tom, you’re a shit matchmaker. Y’know that?” He gasps at your response, feigning offense. “Look, I’m being real with you! Nobody you’ve set me up with has lasted more than a week. You suck at this job, Cupid.”

Tom rolls his eyes but stops you from walking any further, grasping your arm to turn you in his exact direction. “Look, just trust me on this one?”

You ponder the idea almost with your body, head tilting in unsureness. “I don’t know…”

“Please,” He’s practically whining now. “Please, just… one more date?”

“Fine.” “Yay.” He smiles in victory just as the two of you are called back onto set. With heavy feet, you drag yourself to set, but this time, you can’t help but feel a little hopeful. Don’t fuck this up, Cupid.

You’d wrapped up filming last week, and the director’s were quite positive you wouldn’t need to come back in later for reshoots. So, you were flying out of Chicago and down to Atlanta with Tom for the weekend. He was going to “introduce you to his next option.” You still didn’t trust him, but you didn’t have any immediate projects, so you agreed anyways.

Tom was due to start filming Spider-man 3 on the upcoming Monday, so you knew you’d be going to the airport alone on your last night — that is, if things didn’t work out with this new date.

After receiving a text from Tom to be ready by eight o’clock, you’d showered and done your makeup. Settling on an outfit wasn’t as difficult because you had only what you brought with you. You were driving down to Tom’s rental home — apparently Marvel Studios always rented him that one — by seven forty-five. You were driving a rental car, and you mentally kicked yourself for not bringing a jacket in the middle of winter.

Parking in the open driveway, you rang the doorbell. Tom swung the door open, hair slicked back and trousers fitted nicely. You rolled your eyes with a groan, and before Tom could even greet you, you complained.

“Tom, I told you I’m not going on a fucking date with you- please ju-”

“No, no, no, love.” He laughed. “C’mon in, it’s game night with me and the boys. Your boy is inside waiting for you.”

You looked at him skeptically before walking up the steps and through the door. Tom led you through a rather modern-looking house, through an extremely large kitchen and into a back den room with a poker table. You rolled your eyes, but your facade dropped in the immediate moment where all eyes turned to you.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my co-star in that rom-com we just wrapped.” You saw Zendaya smile and wave, Jacob greeting you with a cheerful “hi!” and then you saw a freckled boy with red hair and immediately felt butterflies tickle your stomach. “Y/N, this is Harry. The guy I told you about.”

You wanted to curse at Tom for practically keeping this guy a secret. You wanted to curse him for setting you up with all those other tramps instead of this gorgeous boy right here. You wanted to curse at Tom for-

“This is my brother, Harry. Harry, this is Y/N, the girl I told you about.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out at his words, for reasons being that this “Harry” is his brother and that he’s talked about you to him. Keep your cool, Y/N.

“Uh, hi.” You nervously laugh, stepping forward to shake his hand. Harry smirks at you, hand reaching up as his lanky fingers make contact with yours, shaking from his seat without even standing.

“Hey.” His voice is deeper than Tom’s and it catches you by surprise. Tom had told you about his three younger brothers, but he never mentioned specific details like the ones you’re noticing now.

“Right then,” Tom clasps his hands together. “Y/N, you can share the seat with Harry while I get the drinks.”

You nod and try not to come off as too flustered, heart pounding against your chest, palms sweating. They’ve pulled up a loveseat to the poker table, suitable for two people, or two lovers. You wince at your own self, wanting to kick yourself again. But you don’t, instead sliding in next to Harry. He smiles, removing the toothpick that was sitting on the side of his mouth, sticking out like a truck driver. He throws it, and it lands directly into the garbage bin. You bite your lip and begin the game.

You end up staying in Atlanta for a lot longer than your two-day trip for the weekend. You’re there for a total of four weeks, and you’ve spent practically every hour with Harry. You were in a hotel for the first four and a half days before Tom had groaned at you leaving at one in the morning again, telling you to stay in Harry’s room and stop wasting your money on lousy hotels. The proposition made you giddy inside (and nervous, but they didn’t need to know that), and when Harry smirked at the idea, encouraging it too, you agreed.

So, you spent practically four weeks in Harry’s room, giggling at jokes and cuddling and watching movies and taking pictures. He’d taken you to set too, showing you around, talking nonstop about his cameras and their many different lenses.

The Spider-man crew was dispersing for a two week break, and Harry had already decided that you were going with him and Tom back to London.

“Love, are you ready?” Harry called for you from the bathroom connected to his bedroom. You shouted back your reply, zipping up your final suitcase while he walked back into the room.

You knew that after your trip to London, Harry would have to go back to work and you’d have to go home before starting your next project. But you didn’t care — the two of you had already discussed long distance relationships before confirming yours; you could make it work.

You would land in London by your two-month mark, you realized with a smile. Harry gave you a forehead kiss before talking both of your suitcases downstairs to the car. You grabbed the duffel bags and followed him out of the room where it all began.

The flight was exhausting but nostalgic in a weird sense. You spent the latter half of it curled up into Harry’s side, asleep or watching a movie. When you finally boarded off the aircraft, you went straight to Harry’s flat without protest. Normally, you’d fight about checking into a hotel so you wouldn’t catch anyone unprepared, but you were too tired to care.

Now, it’s been a day since your flight and you’ve promised Harry — and Tom — that you’ll go with him to their parents’ house for some lunch. You admit that you’re nervous and that it’s probably too soon to be meeting parents, but you pay no mind as you’re entering Holland's childhood home.

“Mum!” Sam, Harry’s twin who you’ve just been introduced to, yells out. “They’re here!”

You hear excited squeals as Sam leads the three of you through and into the kitchen. Nikki’s back is turned when you enter, but she excitedly turns around to greet her sons. She’s taken off-guard at the sight of you next to Harry, but still leans in to tightly hug her sons, who she hasn’t seen in quite awhile.

“And who’s this?” She inquires, gesturing in your direction. You’re a little taken aback at how unwelcoming she seems to be acting, but you shake it off as nerves.

“Mum,” Harry smiles, a hand on the small of your back, nudging you a little closer to him and his mother. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The whisk in her hand seems to stop mixing the recipe in the bowl. Your smile falters slightly, but Tom fills the silence at Nikki’s ajar mouth.

“Mum, she’s- uh, she’s my co-star in that rom-com I got casted for. Remember?”

“Oh,” She smiles a tight-lipped one, and you can tell it’s forced and fake. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Nikki.” She wipes a hand off on her apron before extending it for you to shake. You accept the offer with a hesitant but genuine smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” She hums but doesn’t respond, instead turning her attention to Tom. You make eye contact with Harry worriedly, and he shakes his head, bewildered. He kisses your temple before sending you in to meet Paddy and talk to Sam — somebody who actually welcomed you.

The day goes on like this, and though the tension is most obviously present, you don’t touch the subject, knowing it’s not your place or your home, especially since you came almost unannounced. You don’t want to be angry with a woman you barely know, so you try not to mirror her feelings.

“So, Y/N,” She directs her attention to you for the first time all day. You look up from your intertwined hands with a smile.

“Yea-”

“Did you just decide Tom wasn’t good enough based on his character and then move on to my next son?”

You’re shocked, mouth ajar as you blink. “W- what?”

“Tom told me about how many ‘date failures’ you had until you finally settled on Harry.”

You want to curse at Harry for offering to refill your drink, and you want to curse at Tom for spilling the secrets of your dating life. “I- I didn’t settle for anyone.”

“That’s not what my son says.”

Just then, both boys walk in together, laughing in conversation about something. You’re already crying, but the minute the door opens you stand abruptly, nearly knocking Harry off his feet.

He laughs at you, “Love? What’s u-” But he’s cut short when he notices your red eyes and fresh tears. He sets the glasses down, wiping your cheeks and grabbing both of your hands. “What happened? Hm?” He’s shushing you, trying his best to calm you down. “C’mon, angel. Tell me.”

“Your- your mom just said a few things.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrows, and so do Tom’s. They turn to look at the woman in the chair skeptically, questions flying out immediately.

“Mum? What did you say to her?”

You excuse yourself, not wanting to be a part of the conversation just yet. You run off to the bathroom to freshen up while Harry and Tom talk to Nikki.

“Harry, I’m just being a protective mother, okay? I didn’t say anything that bad.”

“Mum, you made her fucking cry.” Harry’s fuming, nostrils flaring while he glares at his mom.

“Don’t talk that way with me.” She points her finger at her son. “That girl is no good for you.”

“Mum, I introduced them.” Tom says. “I know her; she is good.”

“Not if she has to settle for Harry.” She clicks her tongue. “I remember all those dates you told me she went on, Tom.” She sighs while he scoffs. “Anyone that tries that hard to find a boyfriend is out for other things.”

“That’s bullshit.” Harry interjects. “She’s an actress, of course dating is hard.”

Nikki purses her lips but doesn’t reply.

“Mum, she’s crying.” Tom says softly, seemingly trying a different approach. “You haven’t talked to her at all, today. I think you shouldn’t have judged her too quickly.”

“Apologize.” Harry says finally before standing up. “Apologize or we’re leaving.” He walks out of the room, heading to the bathroom where you’re hidden away, sitting on the toilet while you catch your breath. He knocks, coming in with your permission.

He pouts when he sees your tear-stained face, face puffy and eyes red while you sniffle.

“‘M sorry.” You grumble the words while he kneels in front of you.

“What’re you sorry for, baby?”

“For causing all this drama.”

“Hey, hey,” His thumb rubs across your knuckles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She had no right to say those things to you.” You look at him as he finishes, engulfing him quickly, crying into his shoulder while he catches you with his arms, holding you against his chest lovingly. After a few minutes, there’s a knock at the door, and Tom’s voice rings through.

“Mum says she wants to talk to you guys.”

Harry makes eye contact with you apologetically, thumb still moving across the skin of your hand.

“Well,” he stands tall. “Shall we?” You wipe your cheeks one final time before standing with him, taking the hand he offered you as you head for the bathroom door.

“Guess there’s no avoiding this part if she’s going to be my future mother-in-law.”

Harry sucks in a breath, and as you make eye contact with a smirk, there’s a glint in his eyes that acknowledges that you’re feeling better. He smirks back, opening the door for you as you head back into the living room.

Keep your cool, Y/N. You inhale a deep breath, emerging into the room. Keep your cool.

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #harry holland x actress!reader #harry holland fluff #harry holland angst #harry holland fic #harry holland imagine #harry holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

Text

Noise (Request)

Avengers cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: can you do an avengers cast x teen!reader where the reader is like on set or at an event or something and it gets really loud and the reader get overwhelmed from all the noise? (sorry if this is too specific. also i really love you’re writing it always makes my day

Warnings: anxiety, something panic attack-like (?), language

(A/N): this post includes chris evans, chris hemsworth, anthony mackie, danai gurira, sebastian stan and scarlett johansson. this post is a special shout out to my boys donatello, michelangelo, leonardo and raphael! you rock🤩🤩

Comic-Con. You had been so excited to go there, so excited. You loved meeting fans, and Comic-Con was the place to do that exact thing. You had been put in an interview with about a dozen of your cast mates from the Marvel universe. This was your first appearance in the universe and you couldn’t be happier about it.

But you forgot about it. You always had trouble with loud noises. The first time you’d experienced it was in public. You wanted to say that you had gotten better, but it was still quite easy to tip you into panic-mode.

You just hadn’t taken that into account with Comic-Con, as you were blinded by the excitement of meeting fans. Now you were there and it was horrific.

You and the other people in the cast wore awkward and covering costumes provided by Marvel, so you could walk around unbothered. You walked in a rather large and random group all together.

Everything was so loud. There were multiple songs played at different areas and there were a staggering amount of people. It seemed like everyone was screaming at each other.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you were visibly shaking. You couldn’t breathe in the mask, you thought, and then wondered if you would even be able to breathe without it.

“You okay?” You recognized Chris (Hemsworth)’s voice. He was wearing a ridiculous teenage mutant ninja turtle outfit, baggy as all hell, to hide his rather telling muscular body.

Behind the mask you were crying, you realized. Tears trickled down your cheeks. Everything hurt so much, your heart felt like it was being squeezed. Anxiety danced on your nerves.

“I’m- I’m just a little nervous,” you yelled over the loud hall of people, voice cracking. You could pick up so many little conversations:

“It’s gotta be a number that’s special” then, “Eight” and then once more, “Eight? Eight’s not special. It’s the seven magic dwarves, not eight!”

“You’re into guys, right?” then, “yeah, why?”

“Hello guys, welcome to Herman’s Games!” then, “No one cares, Herman!”

Your senses were overflowing with input. Chris was looking at you through the eyes of Donatello (the turtle), and if you could’ve seen his eyes, you would’ve seen disbelief and obvious concern.

“Hey guys,” Chris (Evans) padded up to you. To match the other Chris, Anthony and Sebastian, he was wearing a Leonardo (again, the turtle) mask and costume.

You couldn’t focus on them. Or on anything, but your hurting heart and tingling stomach. Your legs felt like nothing. You needed to sit down.

Chris (Evans/Leonardo) took one look at you, and then looked to the other Chris (Hemsworth/Donatello), with concerned eyes. They whispered something to each other, but you didn’t notice. Everything was far too loud. You wiped the tears that had trickled from your eyes to beneath your chin.

Someone grabbed your hand and started pulling you away, and you followed limply, too bothered and uncomfortable to really do anything but exist.

A door closed, and suddenly the loudness was gone, or rather muffled. Everything was much, much quieter. The new room was dimmed and colder and quieter. Your legs gave out and you pressed yourself against the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Y/n, Y/n,” you looked up to see the two Chrisses. Your heartbeat was gradually slowing. “Are you okay? You were crying out there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?” They crouched down beside you, gently caressing your shaking shoulders.

“It was- It was just really loud, you know?” you said, taking your mask off to breathe properly. Your eyelashes were wet and clumped together and your eyes were red and puffy. You sniffled.

“Yeah, it was,” Chris (Evans) squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Just then, the door to the hall was opened, making your heart skip a beat. The door was closed again, and the rest of your group stumbled inside.

“Why’d you go in here?” Sebastian asked, and you realized you were in the currently unused (only for the next thirty minutes or so) backstage area of a panel. No one was there. Sebastian was confused, but then he saw you and his eyes softened.

“Damn, Y/n, what happened?” Anthony asked, lifting his Raphael mask. The two Chrisses backed off a little.

“Holy shit, yeah, are you okay?” Scarlett’s brows furrowed as she saw you. You nodded.

“It’s nothing much, I just-..” you trailed off, sure that they were gonna laugh at you, “I’ve just always been very anxious when there’s a lot of noise.” You avoided their eyes.

“That’s okay, honey. That’s totally fine.” This time Danai crouched down beside you, caressing your cheek gently. You nodded again, not sure why.

“Maybe you wanna leave? We’ve already done the panel, it’s totally fine if you’re not up for the rest of it,” Sebastian suggested. You sighed in relief at his suggestion, a small tear escaping your eye. Everyone frowned at the visceral reaction of relief. You must’ve been in a lot of pain, they thought.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” you whispered. Your voice was small.

Danai and Scarlett drove you back to the hotel, apparently also fed up with the event. They offered to stay with you for a while, the three of you watching a movie or something. You agreed.

In the end that day was kind of a shitty day, but the night was awesome, as you had a fun time with Danai and Scarlett, watching movies and exchanging stories, and most importantly eating pizza.

You felt so comforted, and you made sure to thank both Danai, Scarlett, Chris, Chris, Sebastian and Anthony the next day. They shrugged it off like it was nothing, but you insisted, hoping to express your gratitude.

At all of the next events of the press tour, they’d check in with you multiple times, and if you weren’t feeling well, they’d always make up an excuse for you to leave. They didn’t want you feeling unhappy or anxious, and if they could stop it they would. You were endlessly thankful for what they did, and you hoped so desperately that they knew. What would you even have done without them?

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906

#chris evans x reader #chris hemsworth x reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie x reader #danai gurira x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #mcu cast x reader #mcu x reader #marvel cast x reader

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layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

Text

“No boys”

Request: @soytrash

Hey beautiful 🤍 how about a cute little moment between reader and Logan with Laura regarding a crush 🥺And Logan is just overprotective, but prior to Laura coming home from school and talking about a crush, Logan is trying to get some from reader 🥵 please and thank you hun let me know if that’s okay or not 🥰 (maybe with the baby from your family series too) sorry if it’s too much I love your writing 🥺🤍

Warnings: Smut, swearing (if you squint).

A/n: Do you guys picture yourself when reading fanfiction? Cause I do and don’t haha. Typically when I read/write for Logan I picture myself as Scarlett Johansson in Match Point and The Island lol. I’d love to hear about you guys, so just let me know!

Reader is written as under 30 y/o, if you are older, just change the number :)

I hope this is good enough (I’m not really that confident in this one). Let me know if you have any constructive criticism.

[The Howlett Family series]

It was a particularly warm day in the Canadian Rockies, warm enough to open a few windows and have the cozy log house smelling of the fresh outdoor air. the window above the sink that you were currently standing at let a breeze into the house that tickled you just enough to have your body bear a small chill.

As you rinsed one of the bowls you had used this morning to prepare breakfast, your hips swayed side to side in a fluid manor that matched the rhythm of the song that lightly boomed out of the speaker which sat by the fruit bowl on the counter. The reason behind the low volume was that Logan was currently trying to put your youngest daughter down for her daily afternoon nap. If the wails and grumbling coming from the baby monitor was any indication, it wasn't going very well.

You dried off your hands and picked up the monitor, holding down on the button that allowed your voice to come through on the other end.

“You need some help?”

“We’re fine. I just cant find her goddamn pacifier.”

“Did you check on the shelf by her changing table?” you spoke again.

Suddenly the crying stops and you smile knowing he found it.

He lets out a quiet “Thanks.”

You set the monitor back down and go back the the half a dozen dishes left in the sink.

“Kid’s quite the screamer hm?” you announce as Logan walks out from the hallway a few minutes later.

“Yeah she is, I think she got it from her mother.” he jokes walking around the island to be closer to you.

You let out a breathy gasp like-laugh.

“Oh really?” you say in an exaggerated tone, humor still consuming it.

“Mhm, and speaking of screaming...” he places his hands on your waist and squeezes a bit.

“We can’t baby, Laura's gunna be home in like ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough time. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy--”

Before he can finish you interrupt.

“Logan, you know damn well ten minutes isn't enough time.”

“I just need something [Y/N].” he says as his hands find your breasts and you let out a small moan, abandoning the dish towel and griping the counter.

He kisses your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh, which brings forth light breathy moans from your mouth.

You turn your head to kiss him and you can feel yourself throb a bit when your lips meet. his hands dip into your top and pull your breast out of their confines, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

He continues to grope and kiss you as his dominant hand makes its way into your pants.

You moan loudly into his mouth as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit a few times.

His lips separate from yours so he can speak.

“Hmm, You like that?” he says in his breathy and gruff voice.

You can’t seem to make out any words, so instead you offer an almost whiny sounding “Mhm.” as his fingers inch lower.

You gasp, throwing your head back onto his shoulder, your right hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, as his middle and ring fingers enter your tight lubricated hole.His fingers curling in the classic “come hither” position, making you squeeze around his digits.

Even after all of the time you had spent with Logan, your body still didn't know how to handle the pleasure, that being evident in the way that your back arched and you sporadically bucked your hips back into his crotch with every jolt of pleasure that you felt.

Your moans were absolutely erotic as he seemed to push further into you, finding that spot that did in fact make you scream.

And the explicit squelching noises were making you even more desperate as he fucks you with his fingers.

As you let out another slew of loud moans, you feel his hand come up to cover your mouth.

“As much as I love hearing those pretty noises you make, baby, you gotta be quiet.”

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered shut at his his words and the vibrations from your moans bouncing against his cupped hand.

His thumb starts to circle your clit in the same rhythm that his fingers were moving in.

God, you were so done for.

He releases his hand from over your mouth before he asks:

“You gunna cum?”

“Mhmm” you let out in high pitched whine.

“Ouh! Don’t stop.” you pleaded as that marvelous feeling started to take over.

“That’s right baby, jus like that.” he speaks, egging you on until your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasmic euphoria taking over.

Eventually your body comes back down to earth.

“Look at that, you got three minutes to spare.” he coos in a triumphant tone.

Your breath is heavy and you whimper slightly when he pulls his fingers out of you.

You glance over to the built in clock in the stove before readjusting yourself and catching your breath.

Turning around, you plant your hands on the space where his shoulders and neck connect, and kiss him. Your tongues danced together sensually until you pulled away.

“I wish I could return the favor...” you hum and he kisses you again.

“You will later.” he says as the screeching of the school bus tires alerts you of Laura’s homecoming.

You look up at him and bite your lip, giving him a sensual smile as you nod.

You separate from him as you hear the front door open, going over to greet Laura.

“Hey honey, how was school?”

You could hear Logan in the kitchen, chuckling at your total change in demeanor.

You turn slightly to roll your eyes at him, but the small amused smirk on your face gives you away.

You turn back to your daughter as she answers you while getting her homework and lunchbox out of her backpack.

“It was alright. We got to watch a movie in my english class, so that was nice.”

You follow her to the kitchen where she sits at one of the bar stools at the dark wood island, slapping her purple folder and pencil onto the table.

You noticed something off with the young mutant, like she wasn’t telling you something.

When she looked up to see you and Logan analyzing her, she knew she would have to put on a better performance if she wanted to keep her secret. Fortunately for you, she wasn’t feeling up for a challenge today. And it’s not that she wanted to hide what her friends had told her was called a “crush”, but she knew how her parents would probably react.

“Laura, is there something you need to tell us?” Logan spoke.

“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything, right?” you squeeze her shoulder in a loving manor.

She nods, taking in a breath before turning to you and muttering: No puedes decírselo a papá... (You can’t tell daddy...)

Hearing this concerned you. Laura and Logan had a pretty open relationship, despite their constant bickering.

Your eyes quickly flick over to Logan, who was watching you and Laura, his arms crossed while he leans against the kitchen counter.

“Que es Laura?”

Logan was accustom to yours and Laura’s more private conversations you had in spanish. He wasn't really a fan, only because when they would occur, he felt left out. But, he figured this must be important and waited patiently before asking you what she had just said about him.

“Hay un chico en mi clase que está enamorado de mí.” (There is this boy in my class who is in love with me). Her voice is quiet, but her tone sounds exasperated.

Logan's brows furrowed when he heard “un chico”. He didn't know much spanish, but he did know that un chico meant a boy, and he did not like the sound of that.

You snort, your hand quickly flying up to cover your mouth before you speak.

“Aww Laura!”

A shy grin spreads across her face.

“What did she say?” Logan speaks up

You bite your lip, trying to hold in your small bit of laughter. You look over at Laura and can tell that, although she is nervous for what her fathers reaction may be, it would be best to tell him about her dilemma.

“Laura has a not so secret admirer.”

“He wrote me a note.” she says, grabbing a crinkled white paper from her pocket.

You could tell by her humorous tone that she found the situation comical, and didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings.

Logan on the other hand had immediately gone into full protective father mode, snatching the note from her hand, and reading over it to make sure nothing obscene had been written/drawn on it.

After he is finished looking at it he crumples it up and puts it in the garbage.

“No boys until you are 30.”

“Logan don’t be ridiculous.” you say, walking over to fish the note out of the can.

“I am not being ridiculous.” he scoffs, incredulously.

“In fact, I think I’m being a bit lenient. 30 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to start being romantic with someone.” he says, and now it was your turn to scoff as you hand the paper to Laura.

She makes a disgusted face and holds the very corner with her pointer finger and thumb. You couldn't tell if it was because it had been in the trash, or because of it’s contents.

You turn back to face Logan and cross your arms.

“You do realize that we’ve had a baby together and I’m not yet 30, right?”

He retracts slightly, and grumbles:

“That’s different.”

“Uh-huh” you reply sarcastically.

“The feelings are not mutual by the way.” Laura finally speaks up. Deciding to clear the air before an argument started brewing.

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“That’s my girl.” Logan says, and you chuckle.

“That conversation is not finished by the way.” you say while you walk over to the pantry to get Laura a snack, Logan grimaces, thinking of the conversation that would come later.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you and Mama end up together?”

“Uhh, well...” he starts, glancing up at you, not sure if it was the right time to share.

Yours and Logan’s story was a bit controversial. The reason being that you were only 19 when you first “got together”, and Logan was your ex-teacher. And it wasn't exactly the most orthodox either. Instead of the typical flowers and a dinner date, it was more like neither of you could sleep one night, and one thing led to another, which led to you waking up in his arms in the morning. You had always had romantic feelings towards The Wolverine. Though they were never truly discussed, you both knew they were there, and you knew they were unbreakable. So, after that night, you two became exclusive.

“We met at Charles’ school, you know that.” you speak, setting the packet of crackers in front of the pre-teen, and walking over to grab an apple to cut up for her.

Laura sighs, knowing that she probably wouldn't get the answer she was looking for if you weren't willing to share it.

She rips open the wrapper, glaring at Logan when he steals a cracker from her.

“Well, how did you know you had a crush on each other?”

You chuckle lightly as the knife cuts into the ripe and scarlet colored fruit.

“We didn’t exactly have a crush on each other, Laura.” Logan starts, but a dry cough finishes the sentence.

You look up at him, asking if he was alright with your eyes.

He gives you a blunt nod as he lets out a deep breath.

You notice your daughters furrowed brow as she munches on the biscuit, and elaborate on Logan’s previous statement.

“Your father and I’s relationship is a bit complicated and unconventional, Laura. What he was saying was that we have and had a connection on a level so much more than a crush.”

She nods and pops another cracker in her mouth.

“But,” the crisp sound of the apple interrupts you slightly.

“usually when you have a crush on someone, you get the feelings of butterflies in your stomach whenever you see or think about that person. You smile when they smile, and laugh when they laugh. You want to be around them all the time, and you try to get their attention. You sometimes get nervous, and jealous of others that are close to them.”

You place the apple slices on a plate and slide it over to her, cleaning up the slight mess you had made and you glance over at her.

Laura sat starring at the plate as she thought of all of her symptoms you had just listed.

“Why were you asking?” Logan asks, his voice stern and suspicious.

She looks up, once again nervous.

You smile, getting an inkling as to where this is going.

“Well, there’s this-”

“No Laura. No boys, remember?” Logan interrupts, his custodial protectiveness resurfacing.

“It’s not a boy.” she mutters.

Logan blinks a few times, looking over to your grinning face.

“It’s a girl?” he asks, making sure that he wasn’t getting mixed up at all.

Laura looks up from the oxidizing apples a second time and nods.

“Well,” he leans back in his seat, breathing out.

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

She grins and you smile back, lovingly.

And then she doesn’t stop talking about the girl with the dark umber skin and curly caramel highlights until you have to remind her to eat her apple slices.

#old man logan #wolverine #old man logan imagine #old man logan x reader #old man logan imagines #logan howlett #old man logan smut #Smut #laura howlett #laura kinney #logan 2017 #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine imagine #wolverine imagines #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me part 6 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Ah, the age old question: what to get for the guy who has everything and also when you’re trying make up for the fact that you actually missed his birthday entirely while spending as little money as possible?

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Percy asks as they wait their turn to disembark. “I haven’t been to Staten Island in ages.”

Annabeth has never been at all. She knows there’s a handful of Greek revival buildings in the Historic District, but she’s never had a car to get there, or the stomach to get on the ferry. Percy had practically climbed onto the bow, his own personal reenactment of Titanic, arms thrown out to the wind, while Annabeth attempted to keep her breakfast down.

Having spectacularly flamed out last week in Philadelphia, she can’t let Percy’s birthday go without some sort of commemoration. The Staten Island Ferry is just part one. “All in due time,” she says, checking her phone for directions. They still have a bus they need to board, and Annabeth is getting sweaty in her leather jacket. Thank God Percy volunteered to carry the backpack with all their gear; otherwise, when this jacket comes off, it’s going to smell worse than his tights at the end of a long day.

Like a magnet, his gaze is glued to the strips of the bay he can spot through the bus windows, his head resting on his chin, a soft, serene smile lifting his lips. All the tightness, all the stress he’s held in his shoulders the last few times she’s seen him, it melts away at the sharp, salty tang of rust and sea air which suffuses every corner. She doesn’t even mind that he isn’t looking at her.

Hand in hand, finally, they get off the bus, and walk to the overlook. Slinging the backpack off his shoulder, he sets it down at his feet, eyes fixed on the strip of shoreline which can be seen, even all the way over here. “What is that?” he breathes, shielding his eyes against the glint of the sun on the water.

“That,” says Annabeth, “is the Staten Island ship graveyard.”

Still stewing in her guilt over how she missed his birthday--despite the fact that he didn’t even tell her--Annabeth decided to swallow her pride and ask for help. It took an inordinate number of coffee orders and one instance of her actually getting down on her knees and begging, pleading to their long friendship together and swearing that Annabeth would never use this information for evil, but she had finally wheedled the secret out of Thalia: Percy’s greatest love, after the ballet, was sailing. Ship construction, naval battles, maritime history, they were, according to Thalia, the only things which could entice Percy to actually set down the tights and “get some frickin’ sunshine for once in his life.” Annabeth hadn’t believed her, until Thalia had dug up an old photo which had never been posted to his socials--and Annabeth had certainly scoured them for long enough, she would have recognized it had she seen it before--of Percy, on a glittering, jewel-like sea, a rope wrapped around his fist as he leaned over the side of a sailboat, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide in a graceless, unrestrained joy.

“Back in the eighties, there used to be over four hundred ships down there,” Annabeth says, coming up beside him. “A lot of it’s been scrapped or sold, but there are still maybe a hundred or so boats, including the USS PC-1264, one of the--”

“One of the two predominantly African American crewed Navy ships from World War II,” he interrupts, eyes light. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Annabeth grins, unzipping her jacket. The midday sun beats down on them, the air sticky and heavy, and she needs this thing off, pronto. “And, there’s a ship that was supposedly the command post for the General Slocum disaster.” Not that she really knows what that is.

He whirls around. “The Abram S. Hewitt is there? Holy sh--”

His jaw drops. His eyes bug out.

Part two of his present was the ship graveyard. Part three is the outfit.

Annabeth, one hand on her hip, slings her jacket over her shoulder with the other, the leather hot against her bare skin. She has chosen to forgo a shirt entirely, wearing nothing but her nicest pair of black jeans with the thick suspenders and a shiny, red bra. And yes, she had Thalia touch up her hair, five inches of curls lopped off on one side, undercut sharp and severe.

“I thought we could have a picnic here,” she says, a smile curling her lips without her permission. “Then, if you want, we could do some light trespassing? See the ships up close?”

Percy swallows. He breathes in through his nose, shuddering. “Sure,” he whispers, hoarse. “Sounds good.”

Dropping to the ground like a rock, studiously not checking her out, Percy unpacks their picnic, laying out the blanket, something blue, old, but soft Annabeth had knitted in a fit of pre-finals’ anxiety in college. Annabeth had hinted the night before that he should make them some food, as no one could make a grilled cheese like Percy, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to buy them some prepackaged, tasteless garbage.

Percy’s sandwiches, just like the man himself, are stacked: thick, sourdough slices (which she suspects he made himself), bacon, turkey, apple, tomato, lettuce, avocado, mayo for her but none for him. She’d always been under the impression that dancers needed to watch what they ate, endlessly in pursuit of some unattainable ideal of beauty. Nope. Percy eats everything and anything he can get his hands on, high carb and high protein and high everything else. It makes sense, she guesses, for someone who basically has to bench their own body weight daily. Every inch of him is tailored for power and velocity, to propel him out of the grasp of gravity--rabbit food just isn’t going to cut it here.

Munching down, he maneuvers himself into a number of splits and stretches, unable to give up his routine for a single day. “When I was probably thirteen or fourteen,” he says, halfway through a tirade of reminiscence, “my dad took me and Triton and Kym to Cyprus, for some family bonding time.” He rolls his eyes. “You can probably imagine how well that went. Most of that trip was… well, Cyprus was definitely the best part. We went to Kyrenia Castle, which has this amazing museum that holds one of the oldest known ships in the world. Like, this thing was operational during the lifetime of Alexander the Great, and it sank about a mile away from the harbor.” He takes a heroic bite, chewing with his lips firmly shut.

“Cool.”

He swallows. “Very cool. I love really old ships, but you can imagine how few of those are still left, and not just because we haven’t found them.”

Annabeth feels her neck heating up, despite the shade they sit in. “Well, I hope these ones are old enough for you.”

“Oh, these are incredible--don’t get me wrong! I had no idea there was anything like this so close to home. Who needs Cyprus when you have Staten Island?” He grins, placing his sandwich down, throwing his arms in a stretch.

“I know it isn’t Tokyo or Moscow or anything…” she trails off, self-conscious even as she doesn’t actually ask the question that’s on her mind.

Shamefully, she has found that she still thinks about what Will had said at his apartment over a month ago at this point: Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous. But if she actually asks, it will make her look like some totally jealous girlfriend or something, like she honestly cares about Percy’s past sexual conquests.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t.

He’s just led a really interesting life, and she wishes she could relate. That’s all.

“It’s not,” he agrees, bending his back with an audible pop. “It’s better.”

“Really? A little ship graveyard is better than the sites of Tokyo?”

“I didn’t see any sites in Tokyo,” he said. “Mostly just Mittie’s hotel room.”

“Mittie?”

Percy looks at his sandwich, suddenly very interested in the crust.

“She’s someone important, then?”

Silence.

Annabeth laughs to break the tension. “Okay, I'll bite--who’s Mittie? Another model?”

Taking a small bite of sandwich, he chews, methodical and deliberate. He swallows, clearing his throat. “Margherita Savoy.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who?”

“Princess Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia.”

Her mouth drops open a little. “A princess?”

Percy shrugs. “Technically. The throne of Sardinia doesn’t exist anymore, obviously, but she’s big into the money and the titles and stuff.”

A princess. A fucking princess. “But she lets you call her Mittie.”

He looks a little constipated. “She didn’t… until she took me to Tokyo.”

“Oh,” she says. Because what else is there to say? She’s certainly no princess.

“She was nice,” Percy says, softly. “You know, eventually. Once we got to know each other.”

Her phone is hot in her pocket, like it’s preemptively searching Google for pictures of Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia, downloading them all so Annabeth can scribble all over her face like a bad high school movie. “A pretender?” She scoffs, exaggeratedly, her fists tight against the grass. “Talk to me when you get a real princess.”

His ears go red. “Um…”

No way. “No fucking way.”

“Look, Eugenie was just kinda pissed when Triton broke up with her, and so she just thought that we’d have some fun.”

“Oh my god.” She says, looking at him in something like horror. And telling herself at least it wasn’t her distant cousin Madeleine.

“It was only for like a week or two,” Percy protests. “We went to a club in Berlin she knew Triton liked to go to so he would see us and get annoyed.”

“A princess dated you because she was pissed at your brother?”

“Only twice,” he says, casual, like any of this is normal and not absolutely insane. “Eleonore is one of Kym’s friends. And she’s technically, like, an archduchess, not a princess. But I don’t know. A couple of his other girlfriends wanted to get back at him, and I was in Europe and available, so we just…” He trails off. She can hear the ellipsis, hanging hot and heavy over them, each dot dropping like a stone. What is this, fucking Mamma Mia?

“When was the last time this happened?” she asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, gaze unfocused as he thinks. “Um… not since the week after Frank left, I think. Mittie wanted to go to Bora Bora but she didn’t want to go alone, you know?”

“No, I meant,” she pushes through as her stomach flutters, tight and uncomfortable, “girls using you to get back at your brother.”

His face falls, just a bit. “Oh. Last year, I guess.”

“Who was she?” And where is she so Annabeth can punt her off a building?

“Calypso Atlas.” He sighs, wistful, with more reverence than he had given any of the princesses, and Annabeth’s stomach flops, different from the flutter. Painful this time. “She actually liked me.”

“Everyone likes you,” she says, faintly. Maybe wearing the leather jacket is giving her heatstroke.

“You know, they really don’t. Not how it counts, anyway.” He picks at a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “Most of the girls who wanted to use me to get back at Triton only did it because they knew how much he liked to bitch about me--the ‘half-breed bastard.’” He rolls his eyes, huffs a laugh. “And even Kym’s friends didn’t actually like me. Like, yeah, they’d fly me all over with them, but they didn’t want to be seen with me. Mittie and I were on and off for years, and she gets photographed constantly. I’m not in any of them.”

Annabeth thinks she might actually be sick.

But he doesn’t stop. “It wasn’t so bad when they went around saying that I was a dancer with the Paris Opera, because I was, and I was proud of it. But it wasn’t… I don’t know. It wasn’t like with Frank, whose family does have a ton of money, but who only ever dated me because he liked me.” He picks another blade of grass, tearing it between his fingers. “Calypso, though. She was different.” And he smiles, a little.

“How?”

That smile grows wider. “She just called me one day, out of the blue, and very publicly asked me to be her date to Milan Fashion Week after she and Triton broke up and he immediately turned around and got engaged. She was super up front about it, didn’t try to sleep with me or anything, even though I know she was friends with some people and probably heard about my various talents.”

She knows exactly which talents he means. He winks at Annabeth, ironic and self-conscious, and she forces out a little laugh, as though the idea of him going down on someone else is charming.

“But then we actually had a good time together, and a few weeks later, she called me up again, and again, and again, until eventually she introduced me to her father--which was a hell of an experience, let me tell you. The Atlas family puts the Olympianides family to shame as far as dysfunction goes. But it was nice, in its own way; if I’d ever asked Mittie to introduce me to her dad, she’d have laughed in my face.”

“Sounds like you were pretty serious,” Annabeth manages.

“That was the problem.” He looks away, towards the sea. Always towards the sea. “She wanted to leave Paris, travel the world. And she wanted me to go with her.”

“To leave the Paris Opera?”

“To leave ballet entirely. I just…” He holds the silence for a moment, lost in the fog of reminiscence, the mist of possible futures long since dissipated. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. So, in March, she went to Dubai, and I started making calls back to New York.”

“You broke up with her this year?”

“She broke up with me,” he clarifies, turning back to her. “It was all very romantic. I always left my comp at the box office for her. She didn’t come to my show, but she showed up at the stage door the day before she was set to leave, telling me that she had an extra ticket with my name on it. I turned her down.” And then he looks her in the eye as he says, “I don’t regret it at all.”

She swallows, her face flushing, tongue numb as she searches desperately for something to say to that. “Atlas, you said her family was? It sounds familiar.”

“Oh, you’re probably thinking of Zoe Atlas,” Percy says, easing off for the moment. “You probably know about her because she and Thalia were archenemies in boarding school. Or maybe girlfriends? I have yet to get a straight answer.” Annabeth’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Thalia, in boarding school? What? “But I like Zoe. She’s an activist, and absolutely hates her father. Like I said, there’s a lot of dysfunction. And she came to my first show way back when, and she wasn’t even weird when I dated her sister when we ran into each other in Paris. So that was nice.”

“She went to your first show?” What in God’s name is up with these one-percenter families? It’s like they all overlap in one big incestuous slurry. And as the daughter of the Chases and the Pallases, she tries not to think where she might fit into that.

“Thalia brought her. Her first not-date. It was Thalia’s first ballet ever, too. It… it meant a lot.”

“What show was it?”

He smiles, wistful. “The Nutcracker. I was one of the kids at Clara’s party. Most scared I’ve ever been. When I got out backstage after intermission, Thalia was waiting for me with my mom. She punched my shoulder, called me ‘Kelp Head,’ and told me I did great. Then I hugged her,” he says, snickering. “She punched me again.”

Annabeth laughs, huffing through her nose. “Good to see some things never change.”

“That’s our Thalia for you--looking out for everyone, even when it kills her inside.” He glances at her pointedly.

It’s her turn to share.

Annabeth’s mouth is dry, like sandpaper.

She grabs her backpack, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil. Beside her, Percy sighs, deflating a little.

Annabeth flips open a new page, and starts drawing.

Each sketch delivers a challenge: bringing order to the whole through design, composition, tension, balance, light and harmony. Sometimes, buildings spring to life on the page, fully formed. Sometimes the page stays blank, an empty pencil.

Pencil to paper. Letting whatever wants to come out, come out. “My mom invited me to lunch one day,” she says. Her eyes follow the line of her pencil, ninety degree angles and symmetrical shapes. “I had moved to New York like six months before. Single girl, in the big city, to follow her dreams.” She’d gone to boarding school in New York before that, but it wasn’t the same as picking out her apartment and taking the train to the Manhattan skyscraper her office was held in. Sometimes she’d walk down the street, feeling like she was smack dab in the middle of Sex and the City, which she and Piper use to watch in secret, huddled under the covers in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. “Unfortunately, my mom didn’t love my dreams.”

“She didn’t approve of anarchist architecture?”

Annabeth’s laugh is hollow. “She thought I should have been charting some new path in business for a woman. But not in a feminist way. In, like, a capitalist way. But architecture was not really negotiable for me. And once that became clear, she had her own expectations about that, too.”

Annabeth has always been a prideful know-it-all. If all her mother had wanted from her was ambition, they probably could have made it work. Annabeth wanted to reshape the skyline, she wanted her name on buildings that would last and impress.

But even Annabeth couldn’t do that in six months.

“She wanted the best schools, the best companies, the best projects.” She sighs. “I was lucky to find a job in New York that wasn’t just carrying coffee.” She had gotten a bigger offer from a more well-known firm where she had interned one summer, but it had been for an assistantship, heavy on the assistant. Her eventual Junior Architect label hadn’t been great, but it had been something, being a rising star at a smaller firm. It seemed like a good fit. “I did not make my mother proud. I… she lived in New York, and I lived with my dad all over.”

Percy frowns. “Your mom didn’t have custody of you?”

“My mom didn’t want custody of me,” she laughs, bitter. God, it feels weird to tell someone else this. Piper and Leo and Luke knew, obviously, but they had witnessed it all firsthand. Telling someone else, out of the blue… Well, Percy had divulged his tragic backstory without complaint. It’s only fair that she does as well. “I mean, my dad didn’t either. But when it became clear my mom wasn’t an option, well, there we were. He stepped up as best he could. That wasn’t always a lot, but when compared to my mother, he seems like a perfectly involved parent.”

“Are you trying to make my parental situation seem more reasonable?”

“Is it working?”

“If you ever meet my dad, we can compare notes.” He shudders at the thought, playfully. “So, what happened with your mom?”

“She made her displeasure known.” Annabeth sighs again, shading a corner. “I mean, she’s always made her displeasure known. I wasn’t getting good enough grades, I wasn’t in the right activities, I wasn’t going to get into the right school, yadda yadda yadda. But for a long time… I don’t know, it at least seemed like she was worried about me.” She thinks of the Eta party, of the man in the brown suit, tutting about Athena Pallas’s druggie daughter, and scowls. “My mother has always had an all or nothing outlook. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well be nothing. But the thing was, this time I thought I was making real progress. And when she invited me to lunch after six months in the same city, I thought she would see that.”

She had not. Because to Athena Pallas, having a daughter who was an architect instead of an executive Vice-President on her way to CEO, having a daughter at a small but growing architecture firm instead of the best one in the country, was like having a daughter who was drunk in a gutter somewhere.

And Annabeth had realized as much that lunch.

All her work was never going to earn her mother’s love.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure what work had been her’s and what had been her mother’s ambitions.

She’d started crying. In the cafe and right now, on Staten Island, with Percy. “I’m sorry,” she sniffs, wiping her nose on her arm. “Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He reaches over and wraps an arm around her, gently, rubbing her shoulder, and she more or less crumples into his side. “It’s fine. Take your time.”

Her arm, still free, keeps moving. The drawing takes a shape that she can’t quite name yet. A tree, maybe, in a box. A window to another world, possibly. She spills tears on the paper.

“She disowned me.” Her thin line trembles, before righting itself. “I ran out of there. I stumbled into the first tattoo parlor that didn’t smell like piss, and got my owl done.” She brandishes her left arm, the grey shape blurry and faded against her elbow. She had had a stuffed owl as a little girl, her protector against the spiders in the closet. “I cut off my hair, got my eyebrow pierced, found a club, and just… had a rough couple of days. Got really really drunk that night.” Like, too drunk. Crying on the floor of a filthy bathroom drunk. “Thalia found me under the bathroom sink, took me back to her place, helped me kick the hangover the next day, and that was that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Annabeth says. And most of the time, she isn’t. She wipes her eyes, smudged makeup getting smudger.

“Your mom sounds like she sucks.”

“She does.”

“What about your dad?”

She sniffs. “What about him?”

“You just haven’t really mentioned him. What’s he like?”

Shrugging, she wipes a tear from her cheek. “He’s a history professor.”

“And?”

“That’s about it.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

She shrugs again. “Sure.” There was a lot to like about Frederick Chase. “I haven’t really spoken to him in a while.”

Mouth in a sympathetic twist, he brushes the curls from her eyes, a gesture so sweet it makes her heart pound. “You should call him,” he says. “I’m sure he misses you.”

Her phone burns in her pocket, heavy with the weight of unread texts. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to change the subject?” he asks.

“Please,” she blurts out, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “God, please. Let’s go back to your cute backstory. Tell me more about your first ballet. I want to hear all about the time you were in the Nutcracker.”

Percy fishes out a napkin from somewhere, handing it to her. Grateful, she blows her nose into it, wet and disgusting. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “But I have been in the Nutcracker, like, fifteen times.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “It's the big moneymaker. Have you ever seen it?”

“It's a holiday classic,” she scoffs, a little wetly. “Of course I’ve seen it.”

He snorts. “Like, for real, or the recorded one they play on Netflix with Macaulay Culkin?”

“I've seen it live! My dad lived in San Francisco when I was in high school. They have a fancy ballet there.” She’d seen it as a little kid in NYC, she thought, too. Maybe when her parents were still married, or her mother was still willing to take her for Christmas.

“Would you be willing to see it again?”

“Like, for real,” she parrots back at him, “or the recorded one they play on Netflix?”

“Ha ha. I mean for real.”

“I mean… maybe if they switched things up a bit.”

“It's a classic!” He protests. “I mean, it isn’t like we do the Balanchine everywhere, every time. But… it's a classic.”

“I’m sure the dancing is fine.” Annabeth says. She remembers going with Luke in Boston and thinking it was nice, but also hoping Luke would kiss her at the end of the night, so she hadn’t really paid attention. “But they get to design a land of magic and sweets and fairies, and every time the costumes and the sets are just, like, pink glitter and white gauze mixed with weird racial stereotypes. There’s no imagination.”

“Well, okay then.” There’s something in his smile, in the turn of his head that she can’t quite identify. “What would you do?” he challenges.

She holds his gaze for a moment, looking into those eyes that almost reflect the color of the sea around them. Her eyes feel a little puffy still, but he doesn’t look away. Then, without breaking away, she flips open a new page in her sketchbook.

“Space,” she says. “It needs space.”

“Outer?”

“Negative. Lots of space for dancers to move around.” Her pencil scratches over the paper, familiar blocky shapes springing to life. Doric fluted columns split the wings, because of course. “It’s Christmas, so we want color: no sterile, snowy landscape. We know it’s all frozen over--we don’t need to see it again. Obligatory Christmas tree here,” she sketches a crude triangle off to one side, approximately along the golden ratio, “and a big fireplace in the center, preferably a functional one.”

“You know there was this dancer in the nineteenth century that died because her costume caught fire, yeah?”

Annabeth tilts her head, capitulating. “Fair point. We’ll raise it up on a pedestal, keep it out of the way.” She draws a little platform beneath it. “But color is key.” Up above, she draws a pediment crowning the proscenium. She scribbles in the empty space, a placeholder. “Everyone knows the story, so you lay it out up here, episodes merging into each other from start to finish.”

Percy peers down at her page, his chin perilously close to resting on her shoulder. She can’t draw like that. “Kind of reminds me of the Parthenon.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Couple of times. I thought you said you wanted color, though. The Parthenon’s all white, isn’t it?”

“Not originally,” she says. “Do they not explain that on the tours?”

“Um…” Sheepish, he looks away. “I, uh, I’m not always great at listening.”

God. It’s so endearing. What the hell. She kisses him on the cheek, enjoying the way he flushes lightly. “Me either.” He is so fucking handsome. “But no, the original Parthenon, all those white statues, they were painted. Ergo, color.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned. “Wouldn’t--uh, wouldn’t that distract from the dancers? People would just be staring at the ceiling.”

“Then… it’s only lit up before and after the show. During the show, you turn the lights down, bring the focus back down onto the stage.” She considered it. Something she’d worked on for a production once, a fashion show Piper had done at Pratt. “Or, you set it up so the colors are mostly lights. Lights that shine through during the snowflake dance and when Clara rides off with the prince. But then you also get the white for the frosted look. But, they’re still too pink, so I don’t think some color variety is bad.”

“So, not to kill your vibe,” Percy says, pulling back a bit, “but I gotta say, I don’t see how this is that different from the billion other Nutcrackers out there.”

She glares, lips pursed. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. Dick. “The set is only half the problem,” she says. “You'd need to redesign the costumes, too.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come see my show in December, and then you can tell me all about how you’d fix it.”

“Me and every tourist in New York at Christmas time?”

He nods, like he was expecting it. “Then come to my current one. September isn’t Christmas, so it’ll be a lot less crowded.”

“I don’t know,” she grimaces, sketching a star in the corner of the page. “I don’t really think I’d fit--'' Fit in with those people like the ones from the Eta awards, who thought not being her mother’s lackey was the same as being in rehab.

“Annabeth.” Percy takes her drawing hand, lifting it off the page entirely. The pencil is caught between them, an ineffectual barrier to the sweet, rubbing thumb on the mound of her palm. “I want you to come to my show. I’ll leave you a ticket. No one will care what you look like, I promise.” He stares at her, baby seal eyes in full effect.

Fuck.

“As long as you leave me a ticket,” she says, weakly. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to afford a good seat.” The lie slips out, easy as anything. She can’t help it.

He smiles, soft and warm and way too inviting. “And in the meantime,” he says, softly, you can come with me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m going to my parents’ for dinner. It’ll be just my mom, Paul, and my sister. They’d love to meet you.”

“I can’t,” she replies, immediately, almost without thinking. “I’ve got--I’ve got work to do.”

She doesn’t. But boys don’t bring girls like Annabeth home anymore. She isn’t meant to settle down. She’s meant for grimy bars and ship yards. She'll leave it to the princesses to be brought home.

He deflates, just the slightest bit. If she hadn’t had so much up and personal time with his naked chest and the movement of his shoulders, she probably would have missed it. “Maybe next time, then?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not entirely certain if she means to follow through. “Maybe next time.”

#ballet au #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #byima #uhhh whoever else #my fic #pjo fic #look at them having a real conversation and then immediately blowing it

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docholligay · 4 years

Note

Please rant/rave (well, we already know which one it will be here) about Harry Potter!

GEE I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH WAITING FOR

OH MY GOD. The level of hatred I have for Harry Fucking Goddamn Potter, the culture around Harry Fucking Potter, extending its poisonous tentacles even to the concept of young adult fiction, fantasy, and the United Kingdom as a country and people.

When you being on this, you may think, “Oh, Doc will explain that Harry Potter sucks because JKR hates trans women” and I will say, oh no, dear reader, that is a fantastic reason to hate the author, and I really suggest we all continue to hate her, and perhaps not purchase the QUEEN’S TONNES of officially licensed merchandise and movies and theme parks that give her stupid little fucking hands all that cash, but no, that is not why I hate the work. There are a number of great works done by terrible people, and the further out the lens of history gets the truer this is.

I hate Harry Potter because it fucking sucks, and mentally stifled an entire fucking generation.

“Well, Doc, Harry Potter was really there for me when--” Oh my god I could not fucking care LESS about your personal emotion connection to “orphan wizard boy turns out to be a rich aristocrat yet somehow less woke than Cinderella though” I have personally emotional connections to hot fucking garbage pails of media properties, and if someone came barreling through talking about the myriad ways in which they were horrible, I would be like, “Oh, you aren’t fucking wrong, pal”

Harry Potter gained wild ass popularity in part due to its magnificent sorting system of Smart, Brave, Evil, and Other, because there’s nothing liberals like more than being able to put everyone’s personality into an easily labeled box, which is why astrology is so popular, or for the intellectuals, Myers-Briggs, which is just as fake but with the veneer of science. This allowed people to give into the tribalism they so desperately liked to pretend they did not possess, and also allow them to write thinkpieces about “The misunderstood Hufflepuff” or “Slytherins aren’t all bad!” or really anything that allows them to write a very real piece about their very imagined oppression for being a part of a totally fake house in a children’s book. Excellent use of your sociology degree, Kai, I thought the addition of phrases like, ‘Content of socialization” and “axes of oppression” really spoke to the struggles you face when wearing a green and silver scarf.

The other reason it became popular is that it’s essentially wallpaper paste formed into characters. I have read all of the books, and I could not tell you even remotely what Harry’s defining personality traits are other than “protagonist”. In American, at least, a large part of it was the fascination with all things British, with the idea of boarding school and prefects and uniforms that aren’t inexplicably chinos and polo shirts for nine year olds. It allowed children to project onto something so bland that it could be anything. And for children, THAT’S FINE. There is a great deal of bland media made for children, but what I’m speaking to is the fandom, which is largely well over the age of 18.

Because if we look at the books, are they...actually good? Was it good, or did I experience it as a child? I mean, honestly, on a literary level, are they, or was it just like we all watched Friends, we did it because everyone else was doing it, because I have a distinct memory of a series that involves such greats as “magical geegaws with poorly defined rules that are quickly forgotten despite being able to solve later problems quickly” or “Everyone loves Harry or is a bad guy, or secretly loved Harry all along”

Oh, speaking of, man, if this was an actual well-written book, wouldn’t it have been wild to have Snape’s whole thing be to teach us that sometimes people do good things for the wrong reasons? Instead of naming your fucking child after the guy who ‘protected you’ because he still wanted to bone your mom? “After all this time” “Always.”

While all this could have been explained, we have Quidditch added into the mix instead because 20 pages of the goddamn Puppy Bowl is exactly what I was looking for while I was waiting for JK to move the goddamn ball on literally any of these actual magical concepts.

Harry Potter is a fucking trust fund baby, star quarterback, who grows up to be a cop and marries his high school sweetheart. (Speaking of, why were we shocked that JKR turned out to be a piece of shit when this was and always has been the conclusion of Harry Potter? Why are liberals so fucking into this series that upholds structures like it ain’t no one’s business? It’s a series that opines that those beneath us “Muggles” should be kept in the dark from us) Literally, he finds out he is a wizard and has a dragon-guarded fucking VAULT OF CASH. At 11. It’s such a series for little tyrants, you are special from birth and need do nothing to prove it, here is a letter certifying as such. Oh, not only are you rich and the greatest seeker and have excellent quips, but also your parents were not only rebels, but the best of rebels, and so deeply involved that your parents were killed by the big bad personally, again, because you are so special. His mother’s love literally saves his ass over and over again, because he was SO SPECIAL. He fought Voldemort FROM THE BEGINNING, and WON. It’s literally the most privilege baby fantasy in the world.

“But Doooooooooooc, it’s for chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiildren”

A) Yeah, and you’re 32, you’re making my fucking point about Harry Potter setting an entire generation up for intellectual failure to launch.

B) Okay, and? I can think of a bunch of kids’ books off the top of my head that in no way require specialness to be given by birth so as to roll out the red carpet for master protagonist. The Hunger Games. Watership Down. A Series of Unfortunate Events. The Chronicles of FUCKING NARNIA, about which I have only a small handful of particularly kind things to say. I’ve never read Percy Jackson, but it’s my understanding that despite his being a literal demigod, the attitudes of the supporting cast are allowed to fall between the extremes of “Appreciates Percy” and “naughty or will learn” Harry does nothing to improve himself even after knowing that he is HUNTED BY THE BIG BAD! “I won’t do this because I don’t like Snape”. So There” which, again, if this series were written with the slightest bit of care or know-how, could be a humbling fucking plot point! BUT NO THAT WOULD BE NAUGHTY.

But the real reason I hate Harry Potter so much has everything to do with the fandom surrounding it, and how it intellectually stunted a generation of adults. The promise of Harry Potter was that it was supposed to make a new generation of readers, and so the popularity of them was pushed, and so there was discussion of teaching them in schools, but I tell you fucking what, I know a whole lot more folks who grew up reading Harry Potter that never advanced beyond reading YA, or even just rereading the entire series every year and that’s pretty much them done and dusted.

In the attempt to recapture whatever it was about Harry Potter that attracted children (A lot of it was your peers doing it. I read them all as they came out, and it was literally the equivalent of watching the game so you could talk at the water cooler. That was never going to be recaptured) people, who by this time were likely in their teens, kept getting recommended stuff at the same and same level. No one ever felt pushed to read things that are challenging, to read things that have some of the concepts or themes of Harry Potter but maybe complicate. I know FAR more adults who read adult books that aren’t into Harry Potter, even if they were as children, than the reverse.

But Doc, why is reading only books meant for 14 year olds a problem??? I mean I suppose I can’t convince you that comfort is not the job of literature or of life, it is the job of an easy chair, because Americans especially are decadent as fuck about being comfy cozy all the time and if anything causes them distress or pain it should be immediately avoided. But Maybe I can convince you that you’re fucking up these books for actual ass children who deserve to have their own writing section without adults bringing their fucking asses into it. They deserve their own spaces. There’s a number of YA editors who have talked about the difficult space YA now occupies because since Potter’s blowup, it’s no longer a niche category, but basically “adult easy reads” and so they have been buying books that are more about the tastes of adult buyers than of literal 14 year olds.

Is that not...sad? To anyone else? Honestly, and this is not part of the essay because it’s a broader reaching problem, but CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS NOT FOR US. CHILDREN’S MEDIA IS FOR FUCKING CHILDREN. The fucking 40-23 set really needs to get their shit together and grow up a little bit and engage in some fucking adult media, and maybe, if we support what we’re actually looking for FOR ADULTS, it will come to us. No one is saying you can’t read Harry Potter or watch some Cartoon Network show, but like, search your heart and come the fuck on. Engage in something more complex. If not for yourselves, for the kids getting shoved into simplified adult stories. It should not be about us.

ANYWAY, my larger point is that it was Harry Potter, a badly written series about a magical boy who was chosen and magic and also rich and also a favorite of the headmaster and also more clever than most adults and also spoke the same magical snake language as the big bad and was also star quarterback, but at least there was a system in which you could buy a scarf in block colors and feel like you belonged to a team.

(But not a sports team! lol handegg! I’m cool I don’t get into sports! Except Quidditch.)

#TO say nothing of the fact that I haven't been able to wear gold and burgundy together without some dumbass comment for years #despite being a favored color combination #Anonymous #Eight Days 2020 #Holligay Rants and Raves #I didn't even GET to every point I had but it's been over an hour #GOD I HATE THIS FUCKING SERIES SO MUCH #Doc do you hate me for liking it?#oh sweet thing allow me to reassure you: Yes. Absolutely.#also the prose is god-awful #I've taught teenagers with better rpose

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jadedlavendergemini · 3 years

Text

A Summer To Remember

Pt 2

Summary: Lexi Goldstein has one goal in her life, to be a model. Her boyfriend, who is inspired to become a big time actor insists on taking a break and working at a summer camp with the rest of their friends. What go wrong?

A/N: I’m so terribly sorry for the long wait. I’ve been extremely busy with both jobs. Thank you guys for giving me a great amount of support with my fics. I just wish I was able to update more frequently. As always, let me know what ya’ll think!

Tag list (if anyone is still interested) : @instincts-baby @lovelylangdonx @fckinsupreme @7-wonders @angelicmichael @dark-mei-rose @langdxn

Part one

—————————————————————————-

“Alright great job everyone!” Xavier exclaimed to the class. “Just remember I wont be teaching for a couple of months but that doesn’t mean you can slack off! I want every one to be ready to go as soon as I get back!”

The class slowly made their way out of the door, some stopping to wish Xavier a good summer break. He flashed his famous white tooth smile, waving them off. His eyes wandering to his girlfriend who was in deep conversation with Montana Duke.

“So how was the dick last night?” Montana asked bluntly, still stretching her legs. The blonde chuckled at her friend’s wide eyed expression. “Oh don’t be so modest, Lex. You’ve been smiling like an idiot since the both of you got here.”

Lexi just shook her head before crossing her arms and leaning in, lowering her voice. “It was very nice.”

Before Montana could get in one of her many responses, Ray had stepped in and placed an arm around both of the girls.

“Okay, enough with the chit chat and let’s get GOING. I want to get to RedWood before it gets late.”

“What is your deal with leaving the city so soon, huh?” Xavier made his way over to the group and shoved Ray’s arm off of Lexi.

“Like I said, this city is about to get crazy. Just want to get a head start, man.” He moved his other arm off of Montana and nervously wiped his forehead.

“Right, well we’re going to hit the showers and we’ll be ready.” Montana looped her arm through Lexi’s and took off.

After showering, Montana and Lexi met up with the boys in the gym lobby. Lexi fell into Xavier’s side on the couch. Chet sat opposite of them, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. Ray sat halfway off the arm of the couch looking on edge as per usual that week.

“Alright so the drive to RedWood should only be about two hours so if you guys need anything, get it done now because I’d like to make as less stops as possible.” Xavier said to the group.

The group all shook their heads and Ray jumped to stand.

“Nope!” He said enthusiastically. “Let’s get rolling!”

Xavier and Chet rolled their eyes as they began to stand to exit. Before any of them could even head to the door, the doors to the lobby opened and small brunette hastily made her way to Montana.

“Montana!” She exclaimed, practically shocking the hell out of the blonde. “I- can I still come with you guys?”

“Of course, Brooke. What’s going on?”

“You look shaken,” Chet chimed in, dropping his bag to the ground and stepping towards the girl. “Are you alright?”

The girl, Brooke, was on the brink of tears. “H-he came for me last night. The Night Stalker! He broke into my apartment, he tried to kill me!”

Montana nodded, and guided Brooke to the couch. “What? You’ve got to be kidding! Are you alright?”

Lexi moved from Xavier and ran to the nearest water machine to grab a cup for the girl. The group just stood by as Montana tried to calm her down.

“Are you sure that’s who it was, Brooke?” Ray asked. “Not just some random dude?”

“Of course it was him! He said,” she lowered her voice. “He said he wanted me to swear on satan.”

Xavier sighed, brows raised. “Damn, that’s fucked up. You’re still welcome to come though.”

Montana nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Come with us, we’ll be out in the woods. You’ll be safe there with us.”

As Brooke nodded, Lexi made her way back to Brooke with the water. “Here drink and just breathe.”

Brooke took the water with a small “thank you.” She looked around at the group. “I- I packed a bag just in case-“

“We’ll get the van loaded, no worries!” Ray spoke, signaling the boys to follow him.

“Yeah, plenty of room.” Chet gave a small smile towards the brunette before leaving the girls to sit in silence.

Lexi stood up from where was kneeling next to Brooke. “I’m Lexi, by the way. You must be Montana’s new friend.”

Brooke nodded. “Yeah, we met yesterday in class.”

“Lexi is Xavier’s girlfriend.” Montana said. “And my best friend, well more like a sister.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Brooke spoke.

“Same.” It remained quiet again until she spoke once more. “So do you really think it was him? There’s a lot of crazy shit that goes down in this city.”

“It was him.” Brooke declared, sitting the plastic cup on the coffee table. “He said he was going to come after me!”

Montana held her hands up. “Brooke, chill. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll come with us to Camp RedWood and by the time we get back, the cops will have most likely found him.”

Lexi nodded. “Exactly,” she patted Brooke’s shoulder for reassurance.

Brooke nodded and stood. The two blondes stood with her and they all made their way out of the gym.

———————————ASTR————————————

The first hour during the ride was filled with laughs and promises of the best summer to come. Lexi sat close to Xavier in the front of the van as the others chilled in the back. Brook sat between Montana and Chet, still obviously on edge.

Ray offered some alcohol to the brunette in hopes of calming her nerves. “I still don’t really know what happened.” She managed to say before taking a swig from Ray’s flask.

“Face it, Brooke. You’re a badass.” Montana smiled at the girl.

“The cops are going to find him right?” Brooke asked, still in not convinced.

“I’m sure they will, hun.” Lexi turned around in her seat to give Brooke a reassuring smile.

“What’s better than a few weeks out in the wilderness? And get paid for it!” Montana said, bringing a hand onto the brunette’s knee. “Brooke, you’re totally doing the right thing coming with us.”

“Absolutely, it’s going to be a nonstop party.” Ray spoke next. “The kids, the camp. I’ve got us enough blow and weed to last us through the summer. And let’s just hope that we don’t have to take any drug tests.” Ray, Lexi, Montana and Xavier laughed as Chet huffed.

“No, it’s not fucking funny. Point zero zero one. That’s how much shit those morons said was in my blood stream.” Chet huffed and crossed his arms.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, Chet was disqualified from Team USA. He peed a pharmacy, so they kicked him out of the Olympics.” Montana said to Brooke, who tried to keep her eyes from starting at the man.

“Come on, you can be honest with us. We’re all friends!” Xavier chuckled.

“But I didn’t do anything! I worked my ass off for that spot!” Chet whined, now moving to pull his shirt off. “I mean look at this bod. Have you ever seen a body like this?”

Brooke shook her head and replied quietly with a “no.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Ray chimed.

“Yeah? What the hell do you got, huh? Let’s see it!”

Montana, who had been watching the whole exchange with smirk spoke. “Yeah, I’m up for a good laugh.”

Lexi giggled as Ray struggled to remove his shirt but managed to finally get it off. He flexed whatever muscles he had. “Eat my shorts!”

A bright flash from Montana’s Polaroid camera blinded him for a moment. She just grabbed the film when it finally printed. “For memory purposes.”

“It’s like the ad always says ‘there’s always room for jello.’”

Ray rolls his eyes and digs through his backpack something. Then brings out a little clear vial of a white substance.

Without a word he gestures it to Chet who hesitates but gives up.

“What the hell! It doesn’t matter what I put in my body anymore anyways.” He says before taking hit off his finger.

Chet passes it back to Brooke, who shyly declines. Which it was now handed to Montana who was obviously down.

“More for me,” she snorted what she could before handing it to Lexi. “And for Lexi.”

Lexi rolled her eyes before lifting the vial towards her nose. She took a big wiff from the line in which she poured onto her hand.

Lexi managed to trade the coke for one of Ray’s famous blunts. She sunk back into seat next to Xavier with the blunt placed in between her fingers.

The curvy blonde took two hits before holding it up to her boyfriend’s mouth. Xavier rolled his eyes at whatever chatter his friends were causing in the back seat. He leaned into the joint that Lexi had held up for him.

Not bothering to wait for him to release the Smoke he had inhaled, she moved closer and placed her lips onto his plump ones. The smoke from the joint seeking its way back into Lexi’s mouth.

The two didn’t notice their friends were watching. Ray, being the more playful friend, decided to call them out.

“Come on you two, cut that shit out before Xav crashes the damn van!”

Lexi only smiled bashfully and sat back in her spot in the passengers seat. That didn’t stop Xavier from taking his large right hand to squeeze her thigh.

And in a low voice, avoiding their friends. He whispered into her ear. “Don’t forget what I said about sex in the woods.”

Lexi just smiled “Oh baby, don’t tease.” She winked.

Not much longer the group arrived at what looked like an older, broken down gas Station. Which was kinda eerie to Lexi, considering her knowledge of horror movies with gas stations like this one.

Everyone had hopped out to stretch their legs. Xavier moved passed the gas station attendant.

“Fill her up. How much?” He asks the older man.

“About a quarter,” he responded.

“And the pay phone?” He asked. The older man grunted And pointed towards the back by a garbage dump.

Lexi settles for a coke from a soda machine nearby. She scraped together a dollar from the change from Xavier’s van.

“You guys want anything from the vending machine?” Lexi asks the girls who are busy stretching their legs and talking.

“Nah, I’m good.” Montana replied.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Brooke responded.

Lexi shrugged and headed back to the vending machine to get her drink.

“Actually, Lexi could you do me a favor?”

“What?” She grabbed her soda and joined Montana And Brooke.

“I don’t know if you could tell but I think Brooke here has a crush on our dear, pain in the ass, Chet. Does she have you blessing?”

“It’s not what you-“ Brooke was cut off.

“Brooke, I really don’t care about you and Chet. Just go for it. Honestly, we only dated for 6 months.”

“You don’t care?”

“Nope. Chet And I have moved on from each other. And now I have Xavier.” Lexi said, eyeing her man walking back towards them. “So have fun!” She giggled to Brooke.

“See? I told you not to worry about her!” Montana Schabe Brooke’s shoulder a shove. “Xavier let’s go! We need to start making a move if we going to get to RedWood before dark!”

“Did she say RedWood?” The old man asked.

“Yeah, camp RedWood. We’re all camp counselors there for the summer.” Brooke answered.

“Turn around. Go back to the city.” The old man responded. “They should have never opened that place again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How much do we owe you?” Xavier interrupted, his hand resting on Lexi’s lower back.

He helped her into the back of the van as Ray paid the gas station attendant.

“Xav, what is he talking about?” Lexi asks.

Xavier shakes his head. “Nothing. Probably some random shit he says to anyone heading the same way. Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe.”

Xavier hopped back into the drivers seat. Chet stole Lexi’s spot but she was glad to be in the back with the girls and Ray.

Xavier was just finding the right tunes for the rest of the drive when the old man slapped a hand on the hood, causing them to jump in surprise.

“You’re all gonna die.” He spoke in such a deep tone that gave Lexi goosebumps.

The blonde just winked. And drove them off back towards the way.

Lexi however, couldn’t stop thinking of those words. What was he talking about? How much of Camp Redwood did this man know about? Obviously something she did not. And she wasn’t the only one.

——————————-ASTRM————————————

A/N: I know it’s shorter than expected but I’ve already got chapter 3 going. Please let me know what you think.

#a summer to remember #ahs:1984 fic #xavier plympton #Xavier plympton x oc #cody fern #ahs

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note: Well hello my friends! Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?! STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers! This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share. As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story! Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl! Thanks lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request: @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc. References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go." Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe. It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know. It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it." Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words. Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate." Still, her compliment made you smile. It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers.

Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath. Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin. It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows. Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips. And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors. For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide. Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen. It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly." Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie! That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun. And, worse case? You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case. Worst case? He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh? And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin. She was right. Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head. Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly. You could do this. You wouldn't be alone. And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it. You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go? We're already stupid late."

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over? Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess. I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight. Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage. Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice. Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter. Truly."

"Aw! Really, Mr. Loki? Ya mean it?" That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do! Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party. The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap. Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night. Everything was brightly lit. Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling. Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice. On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible. A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza. Well, dozens of pizzas. The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam. Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice. Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket. Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank! Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!" Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest. No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them. Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything. Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up! Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room. So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there. You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion. Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system. At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off. It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet. Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing. Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk. Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands. Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you. Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you. “Oh. It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all. Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back. Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night. The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness. You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving. But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you. Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally. Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response. Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek. Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing. It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect. Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight. Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit. All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you. Soft, full skin under his broad palms. The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own. How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation. And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all. Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick. Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair. Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes. Your dream has come true.” Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them. He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it? I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s. I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself. The suit was totally of its time. Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe. His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white. Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account. The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress. The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall. In short, an avarice little asshole. So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement. Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now. And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh? Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh. No way. You would not be so easy to seduce this time around. Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again. Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous. Genuine, at least for you. And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much. He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag. Basic bitch? Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt. You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him. Loki couldn't want you. You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you. His soulful kisses that stole your breath. The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips. His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face. “I thought you said I was plain. Simple. Boring.”

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat. How could you think that? Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out? I believe that. And, let me tell you this-” Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.” Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will. In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable. Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion. Was he really going to indulge in this? Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together? Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere. Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again. Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring. Not at all! There was plenty to distract you and you let it. Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache. Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?” She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued, “Really? Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so. Was coming on awfully strong too. But… he’s been a jerk, right?”

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner. More of a lone wolf. In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to. Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit? And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to. Loki thinks I’m a bore? Too basic for him? Fine. I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually. Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile. There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!” There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match. Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man? You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend. You all remember this?” From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first. Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers. Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found. Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee. Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary. Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note. When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt. It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well? What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment. The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music. A drunken moment of clarity had descended. Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response. Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that. Not after what he’d said. Not after your one night together, right? But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.

Refusing didn't enter your mind. With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do. Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner. Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered. No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own. Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki. The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart. A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe? You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care.

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength. Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips. Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close. “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark. Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light. He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight. It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric. You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy. Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer. Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips. Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up. I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you. I don't care. Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body. Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own. Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard. Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain. Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch. Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess. But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot. Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention. He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs. “I just need to feel you, dove. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.” It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core. When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls. Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle. You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight. Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK! The sound made you both freeze. Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! What do we have here?” Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here? It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes. Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking. Very quietly.” When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing. Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips! We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends. You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes. Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way. Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet. Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling. “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things? That I was… boring? Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never. What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips. “Good. Good to know. Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really? I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.” Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.” Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation. Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.

“You’re welcome.” “Ah! Yes, many thanks Tony.”

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight! Treat her right.”

“Of course. I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries! No worries!” Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list: @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #1000followers #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #80's #80's loki #80's mcu

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midnightsnyx · 4 years

Text

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 5

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: surprise!!! it’s part 5!! i wont be home sunday so i wanted to post this today. i’m really iffy on this part because i wrote and rewrote a lot of the scenes because i wasn’t happy with it and i’m still not 100% happy with it but if i keep picking it over i’ll end up deleting the entire thing and rewriting it from scratch

but yeah i hope u guys like it & thanks again sooooo much for the love on this story <3 you guys rock.

word count: 2.6K

warnings: swearing, angst w/ a lil fluff again and bad editing lol

ALSO the first part in italics is a flashback to before Matt missed the appointment!

Part 5

“You’ve gotta stop moping, man.” Noah said, bumping his shoulder against Matt’s during morning practice.

Matt knew he was moping but he couldn’t get you out of his head and it was driving him nuts. He was attracted to you the moment you met even though you hated him, but lately something was different. He wasn’t sure if it’s from seeing you carry his child but the past couple months, you were all he could think about.

And it drove him insane.

“I’m not.” He mumbled, attempting to deny his teammates statement. Noah didn’t buy it though, because he grinned.

“You, me, and drinks?” He pointed at Matt. “Tonight at 9. We’re getting you laid.”

Matt forced a smile and nodded, knowing that Noah wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed.

“The ultrasound is in the morning though so I can’t stay out late.” Matt reminded him.

“We’ll have you back in time for the appointment.” Noah promised and Matt believed him which was why the hurt on your face the next morning broke him.

. . .

21 weeks

“Noah Hanifin is at your front door.” Becca says, looking through the peephole before turning to look at you. Piled under a mountain of blankets with tissues surrounding you and an empty tub of ice cream sitting on the coffee table, you‘re the perfect picture of a broken heart.

You have been dodging calls and texts from Matthew for the past two weeks but in the last couple days, he’s been radio silent and you’re not sure if it hurts more, or less.

“Tell Noah Hanifin to fuck off.” You mutter, trying to dig yourself deeper in the pile of blankets. You know why Noah is here and it pisses you off.

Becca opens the door a little and you can see Noah standing there, holding a bag and looking uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with something?” Becca asks shortly and Noah sighs.

“Good to see you too, Becs.”

Becca’s shoulders tighten and you know without seeing her face that she is glaring at him. “What do you want, Hanifin?”

He hands her the bag he was holding. “This is for Y/N. It’s from Matt. He says he’s sorry.” Then he looks at you. “He’s in bad shape.”

You know he’s in bad shape because even though you’re hurt and angry, you’ve been watching his games. He’s being careless, taking stupid penalties, picking fights more than normal and you know he hasn’t been getting much sleep because there are bags under his eyes.

So you don’t need Noah Fucking Hanifin to tell you that Matthew’s in bad shape.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Oh come on, Y/N.” Noah says a little too harshly for your liking. “He fucked up, he knows that. Cut him some slack, he’s twenty two and he’s about to be a fucking father. He’s scared!”

“And I’m about to be a mother!” You snap. “He doesn’t think I’m scared?”

Noah groans in frustration. “Look. It was my fault, okay? I talked Matt in to going out that night because I wanted him to stop moping over you.”

You try to ignore his comment about Matt moping over you but your voice is unsteady when you answer him.

“Matt is a big boy, Noah. He can make his own decisions and he made the wrong one.” You watch Noah’s face fall. “Stop trying to stick up for him.”

Noah shakes his head and sighs. “You should cut him some slack. It was my fault.”

You watch as he leaves without saying another word. When he’s gone and Becca shuts the door behind him, she turns to face you.

“He doesn’t deserve forgiveness just because Hanifin ‘talked’ him in to going out and getting drunk. He made that choice.”

You slowly nod, watching as she walks to your kitchen preparing to throw the bag Noah dropped off in the garbage. You’re not sure what prompts you to stop her but you call out before she throws it out.

“Wait.”

She looks at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Let me see what he brought.”

You know she’s pissed, but she brings it over and hands it to you.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” She says and you nod, watching as she walks down the hallway. When she’s out of sight, you peak in the bag.

The first thing you see is a chocolate bar. It’s your favourite, and you’re surprised he remembered. There’s some candy and a box of popcorn and your lips turn up in a tiny smile when you pull out a movie.

It’s What to Expect When You’re Expecting, the movie you were very against watching because of how unrealistic it would be compared to actual childbirth. There’s a little sticky note that says, you should watch this even though it’s totally not accurate.

Then, at the very bottom of the bag, there’s a bigger note and you want to ignore it like you’ve done with every text he’s sent you but you read it out of curiosity.

Y/N,

I know that I can’t make up for missing the appointment and I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better so all I’m going to do is say sorry. I am so, so sorry and I know I keep saying that and they are only words but it’s all I can think of to say.

So I’m sorry and I hope that you can forgive me soon because I miss you and I want to be there for you without having to ask my mom for updates on how you are. Please call me, or even text me. I just want to know how you’re doing.

Matt

You’re sniffling by the time you’ve read the note but when you hear Becca approaching, you wipe away the tears and shove the paper back in the bag.

“What did he give you?” She questions, sitting on the couch next to you.

You don’t want to tell her about the note so you just shrug. “A movie.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.” You lie. “Will you watch it with me?”

“Sure.” She says, taking the movie from you and putting it in to the DVD player before returning to the couch and curling up on the opposite side of the couch.

You try to focus on the movie but you can’t get Matt’s note and Noah’s words out of your head. You’re confused from what Noah said about Matthew ‘moping’ over you. The two of you were friends and you used that term loosely. If it wasn’t for the baby, you know you never wouldn’t have gotten so close to him. You never would have gotten to know the side of him that the rest of the world has never seen. You wouldn’t have learned how terrible he is at cooking but how gentle he can be.

But you also wouldn’t be in this situation right now. By yourself and pregnant with a broken heart.

So you’re not sure what hurts more. The thought of never having known him the way you do or having your heart broken.

. . .

22 weeks

Johnny: I’m really sorry to bother you but can you please come pick Matt up? He’s in bad shape and he won’t go home unless its to you.

It’s this text that has you standing outside a bar that Matt and the guys are. For Johnny to text you, you know that it must be bad and you’re proven right when the doors open and Noah and Johnny carry an extremely wasted Matthew Tkachuk out. You’re not sure he’s even awake until he lifts his head when Noah shakes him.

“Y/N’s here, bud.”

His eyes are closed but they open when he hears your name and his face lights up and he shrugs the boys off, stumbling towards you. He’s unsteady so you reach out to steady him, grateful when he doesn’t put much weight on you.

“You’re here.” He breathes and you nod slowly.

“And you’re drunk.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m sober as a judge!”

You hear Noah chuckle but you don’t react to him, pulling Matt’s arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon. Lets go home.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Noah calls out and you’re still pissed at him so you don’t bother looking back.

“Yeah.”

You get Matt in your car without a problem and when you start the drive back to your apartment, you try to ignore how he’s staring at you but it feels like he’s burning holes in the side of your head.

“What?” You mutter eventually and you see him shrug out of the corner of your eye.

“’m surprised you came to pick me up. I know you hate me.” He mumbles and you sigh.

“I don’t hate you.” You tell him, “I was angry with you. And I had every right to be.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers quietly and when you glance at him, he’s no longer looking at you. He is staring at his hands and you notice the cuts from the fight he got in to at today’s game. It was a heavy loss and had a lot to do with how many penalties Matt took. They were dumb penalties, all of which he never would have taken if his head was in the game. You know it’s not entirely your fault but you still can’t help but feel a little guilty because you know he’s playing like this because you haven’t been talking to him.

“I know.” You say, pulling in to the parking lot of your apartment building. You could have very well dropped Matt off at his house but you know he’s too drunk and leaving him by himself could be dangerous.

He’s sobered up a little by the time you’re in your apartment. You make him drink a couple glasses of water before guiding him to your bathroom so he can brush his teeth with his toothbrush he keeps at your apartment and when you give him clothes that he keeps here too, you realize how much time he really spent here.

“I can sleep on the couch.” He says and everything in you is screaming to agree but he just looks so tired and you know he won’t get a wink of sleep on that couch so you shake your head.

“It’s fine.” you say, ignoring the small look of hope on his face, instead sending him out of the bathroom so you can get ready. You take your time, hoping that he will be asleep when you go to your bedroom but you find him laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t look at your face when you settle on the bed next to him but you do notice his eyes flicker to your stomach before you pull the blanket over you.

“It’s bigger.” He says.

“What?”

“Your stomach.” He clarifies. “It’s getting bigger.”

“Well that’s what happens when you’re growing a human being inside you.” You remind him and his lips turn up in a small smile.

“Y/N-” He starts to say but you cut him off.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

He looks disappointed but he’s still drunk enough that you’re not comfortable having the conversation the two of you need to have. There are things that need to be worked out and said and you don’t want him to only remember half of it.

So you watch him nod and drift off before letting yourself fall asleep.

. . .

You wake the next morning before Matt. He snoring quietly and his back is to you which makes getting out of bed easier. He’ll be hungover for sure, so you decide to make breakfast while you wait for him to wake up. You’re also trying to think of what exactly you’re going to say to him.

You don’t know if you have it in you to still be so angry at him. He messed up and it’s not something you’ll ever forget but Noah made a good point when he said that Matt is only 23. You’re both still so young and about to be parents and despite wanting him to be perfect and never mess up, you can’t expect him to be.

“Hey.”

You turn to see Matt walking in to the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey.” You reply, turning back to the stove. You can hear him sit down on a bar stool and he’s quiet for a moment before speaking up.

“Thank you.” He says softly and it surprises you because you were expecting him to say sorry again.

“You didn’t have to come pick me up last night but you did.”

You shrug, turning around to look at him. “I know you would’ve done the same.”

“I would.” He says. “And I know you’re tired of me saying it but I am really sorry I missed the appointment. I promised I would be there and I let you down.”

You nod, walking over and sitting next to him. “You did, but I’m starting to think that I was too hard on you. You made a mistake, we all do.”

“I swear I’ll never miss one again.” He promises.

“Good, because I’ll shun you if you do.” You chirp and he grins.

After breakfast, the two of you are watching hockey replays and Matt is quietly talking to the baby. You can’t hear exactly what he’s saying but suddenly he looks up and grins.

“Can we tell everyone now? I thought we could make up an Instagram post or something.”

“I may already have one prepared.” You admit sheepishly and his smile lights up the room.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #matthew tkachuk imagines #consequences series #allies writing #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton

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k-llama-llama · 4 years

Text

FWB (epilogue)

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

This is in an alternate universe!!!

A/N: What did you think? ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

~One Year Later~

“That was a terrible idea.” Zoey groaned.

“Why?” Changkyun rolled over. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Zoey buried her face in the pillow. “We’ve got a show tomorrow and I’m not going to be able to walk.”

“You can take a bath. I think this place has a jacuzzi.” Changkyun swung his legs out of bed, grabbing the two robes on the other bed and tossing one to Zoey.

“I’m starving.” Zoey kept herself tucked under the covers, leaving the robe lying next to her. “Can we order some dinner?”

“It’s only four, how are you already hungry.” He hoped up on the other bed an opened up his laptop.

Zoey snorted. “You know how. Order me food since I let you have sex with me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t jump on this as soon as you found out we were sharing a hotel room.”

“It’s…an added benefit.” Zoey rolled over onto her back. “But I’m hungry and I don’t want to get dressed, so please make the food come to.”

Changkyun looked over at her. She did look very worn out, and he was sure he didn’t look much better. They were more than halfway through the tour, and they’d both had a lot of steam to work off. And to be honest, he didn’t really feel like having to go further than the hotel lobby in search of food.

“Please?” Zoey begged. “We can order food now and order some more later. We’ll have a movie night or something.”

“You’re supposed to go shopping with Hyungwon.”

“I already bailed. Told him I had a headache.” Zoey smirked. “Please? I just really need a full day of lounging around in bed, eating food and watching movies with my bestie.”

Changkyun rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yah.” She puckered her lips in a mockery of a kiss. “Food.”

“Fine, but only because you’re so pretty.” He chuckled, grabbing the guidebook off of the nightstand. “What do you want?”

“What do they have?”

“What does the city of New York have?” He demanded. “Come on, Zo, give me something here.”

“Chinese food?” She propped her head up on her elbow. “I heard New York has really good Chinese food.”

“There we go.” He flipped to that section of the book. “What are you thinking? Fancy, cheap?”

“Lots.” She offered. “I want lots of food.”

“Cheap it is then.” He scanned the page. “Oh, this says it can feed a family of six.”

“Then it’ll be perfect for us.” Zoey grinned.

“I’ll order it.” He opted to open the app on his phone and order through that, so that he could track the progress of the delivery.

Zoey groaned loudly as she finally managed to sit up, stretching with her arms above her head.

“I’m exhausted.” She declared.

“You’re welcome.” Changkyun smirked.

“Oh, shut up.” She chucked a pillow at him. “I’m going to shower before food gets here.”

“Be my guest.” He glanced over at her. “Just…put the robe on, okay?”

“In the shower?”

“Until you’re in the shower. It’s distracting.”

Zoey laughed, but pulled the robe on as she climbed out of the bed. She walked over to his bed, leaning down to take a look at what he’d ordered. “Do you need my card to pay for it?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He looked up at her and smiled.

“You’re the best.” She kissed his cheek. “Shout if you need me.”

“Will do!” He waved her off as she went to get into the shower.

About ten minutes past and he had just heard the shower turn on when there was a knock at the front door. He closed his laptop and went to open it, stepping aside when Wonho walked in.

“You should have come earlier, we just ordered food.” Changkyun said.

“I did too.” Wonho smiled. “I just need Zoey’s headphones. The Bluetooth on mine isn’t working and I don’t want to buy new ones until tomorrow.”

“It’s probably with the rest of her stuff.” Changkyun hopped back on the bed, checking the tracking on their dinner.

Wonho picked up Zoey’s bag and placed it on the desk, and started digging through it.

“She has so much garbage in here.” He pulled out a handful of caramel wrappers. “This is….”

He trailed off.

It took Changkyun a second to realize he’d fallen silent, and he glanced up. “What’s wrong?”

Wonho was staring into the garbage. “Is that…are those condom wrappers?”

Changkyun froze. “Definitely not.”

“They are.” Wonho looked closer. “I’m not touching but….they are. Did you…did she…which one of you.”

“Zoey.” Changkyun said. “I just got back. It was definitely Zoey.”

Wonho blinked trying to process how Zoey could have had a random hookup in a foreign city, and then looked back at the beds.

His gaze zeroed in on Zoey’s bed.

“That’s your shirt.” He said simply, pointing at the pile of clothes on the foot of the bed.

“Um…yeah.” Changkyun winced. “I took it off when I got back.”

“Why is it underneath Zoey’s clothes?” Wonho’s mouth dropped open. “Unless you…took them off together?”

Changkyun hesitated a second too long.

“You guys slept together!” Wonho shouted.

“Shut up!” Changkyun stood, but it was too late. He heard the shower turn off.

Wonho made for the door, but Changkyun blocked his way. “You just need to let us explain.”

“Explain? Why would you…how did you…”

“I was gone for like five minutes and you told him?” Zoey hissed as she stepped out of the shower. “What is wrong with you?”

“We…didn’t really cover our tracks this time.” Changkyun said quietly.

Zoey smacked him on the back of the head.

“THIS TIME? Has this happened before?” Wonho stared at them. “Wait a second…that time when I…when you…you didn’t actually have a guy over, did you? You guys have been having sex for like a year.”

Zoey bit her lip. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t believe this. I’m…” Wonho looked like he was going to be sick, before he focused his attention back on Changkyun. “I’m going to kill you.”

“No, please.” Changkyun scurried back into the hotel room.

“Oppa.” Zoey stepped in his way. “We’re both adults, and we can…do things…with whoever we like.”

“Not you! And definitely not with him.” Wonho was outraged. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

“Okay, I’m not that bad.” Changkyun protested.

“This has to be illegal. I’m making it illegal.” Wonho shook his head. “Young lady, when Kihyun finds out he’s going to-“

“You can’t tell him!” Zoey grabbed his arm.

“Why not?”

“He’ll kill me!” Zoey and Changkyun shouted together.

“But I…but you…” Wonho glared at them. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

“Please, Oppa. You can’t tell anyone.” Zoey begged.

He stared at her. It wasn’t in his nature to say no to Zoey, even when he desperately wanted to.

“Please?” Changkyun added quietly.

Wonho sighed. “Fine. But I better never see, or hear about this again.”

“Totally secret.” Changkyun promised.

“That is not what I meant.” Wonho glared at him again, before looking at Zoey. “Seriously, Zo. You’re out of his league.”

“For the record, she came on to me.”

“Kyun!” Zoey snapped.

“As if I’d believe that.” Wonho shook his head. “Urgh, I’m leaving because my food is almost here. But I’m mad at both of you.”

“Thank you, Oppa!” Zoey smiled sweetly as he left the room.

The second he was gone, she whipped around to glare at Changkyun. “You seriously couldn’t keep it a secret for ten minutes?”

“I’m not good under pressure!” He protested.

“Apparently.” Zoey groaned, pulling at her hair. “I’m going to go finish washing my face, and you’d better have food when I come back.”

“Or else?”

“Or else I lock you on the balcony, naked.” She threatened.

“Right…” He winced. “Do you want ice cream? I’ll go buy you ice cream.”

#monsta x #monsta x au #monsta x imagines #monsta x 8th member #female kpop #female!kpop #female member kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop imagine

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